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 University of Illinois Library 
 
 m -L
 
 l>Vi/h 

 
 THE SEARCH 
 
 BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ROSA XOUCHETTE CAREY 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 NELLIES MEMORIES,' ' NOT LIKE OTHER GIRLS,' 'OxNLY THE GOVERNESS, 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON 
 
 |)ubUsIuvs in Q^^rbinari) to ^)er ^tajcstu the C^ucen 
 
 1889 
 
 [A// rights reserz'td]
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTtR 
 
 I THE PROEM 
 II. THE LADIES AT THE HALL 
 
 III. AUNT CATHERINE 
 
 IV, AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 
 
 V. ' SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER ?' 
 VI. ' THE lady's WALK ' 
 VII. UNLOCKING PANDORA's BOX 
 
 VIII. Virginia's story 
 
 IX. ' HE WAS so PRETTY, OLGA 
 
 X. A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 
 
 XL LA MAISONNETTE 
 
 XII. A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 
 
 XIII. THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 
 
 XIV. A BUTTERFLY HUNT 
 XV. A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 XVI. THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 20 
 
 39 
 57 
 76 
 
 95 
 113 
 
 152 
 170 
 
 187 
 205 
 223 
 241 
 260 
 281
 
 THE 
 
 SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 OLGA'S STORY. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PROEM. 
 
 ' A man only understands that of which he has already the 
 beginnings in himself.' — Amiel's Journal. 
 
 I SUPPOSE If one were to look back over 
 one's past life that special days and hours 
 would glide out of the darkness and stand 
 out with almost mirage-like brightness against 
 the dusky background, where all manner of 
 confused childish fancies are hopelessly mingled 
 together ; that In our sober-eyed maturity we 
 should be at times startled by the ghost of our 
 child-life looking at us across the years with 
 a tender pathos and pity that would appeal 
 strongly to our inner consciousness., 
 
 There Is something touching, even to a 
 commonplace mind, in. the memory of one's 
 childhood. Once upon a time we lived upon 
 enchanted ground ; we skimmed across our 
 own little plot of earth with irresponsible, bird- 
 
 I — 2
 
 4 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 like motion ; we were as giddy as insects in 
 the sunshine ; our world was peopled with 
 fairies ; all sorts of delightful miracles took 
 place before our eyes. True, the grown-up 
 people were a little tiresome — they invented 
 strange laws : to go to bed when one was not 
 sleepy, for example — but perhaps it was their 
 nature to be tiresome. 
 
 How well I remember a litde scene painted 
 on my memory in indelible colours ! I can 
 see it all so vividly — the brown wainscoted 
 parlour, bright with firelight ; outside, the snow 
 falling, a noiseless white shower. The rest of 
 the family had gone to church, grumbling and 
 protesting against the weather, and we two 
 children had been left to amuse each other, 
 Jem proud of being left in charge of his little 
 sister. 
 
 We were sitting huddled up together on the 
 low window-seat, with Fox's 'Book of Martyrs' 
 between us, and Jem was gloating over the 
 horribly realistic pictures with the relish of 
 boyish curiosity. 
 
 'Jem,' I exclaimed suddenly, 'when I grow 
 up I mean to be a martyr !' 
 
 ' Don't be a goose, Olga ! Look at this 
 fellow on the rack ; he must be a plucky one, 
 1 should say.' 
 
 'Don't show me any more pictures, please,*
 
 THE PROEM 
 
 I pleaded ; ' they make me feel bad. I am 
 thinking of that poor lady at the stake, and 
 how brave she was. Mother says it is a 
 grand thing to die for one's religion ; I heard 
 her say so to Hubert. When I am quite 
 grown up and as tall as mother I mean to be 
 a martyr.' 
 
 ' Oh, you silly !' and here Jem looked at me 
 with lofty contempt. * As though people were 
 burnt now !' 
 
 * No, not here — not in England ; but among 
 the savages, Jem.' 
 
 ' Oh, oh ! it is a female missionary you would 
 be ! What a baby you are, Olga ! Why, you 
 cannot bear the least little bit of pain ! You 
 cried when your finger was pinched in the door 
 the other day. Hallo ! what are you about ?' 
 in an astonished voice. ' Oh, you ninny !' 
 
 But here Jem broke off to watch my pro- 
 ceedings with breathless interest. Stung by 
 his boyish derision, and elevated by my vague 
 longing for martyrdom, I walked up to the 
 grate and thrust a small finger into the ruddy 
 flame. 
 
 Shall I ever forget the fierce smart, the hot, 
 throbbing anguish of the next moment ? 
 
 ' Oh, Jem, it hurts ! oh, I can't bear it!' and, 
 throwing myself on the rug. I burst into heart- 
 broken sobs.
 
 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 It was long before Jem could comfort me ; 
 the smart of my scorched finger had entered 
 my childish soul. 1 had no longer any hope of 
 belonging to the company of celestial maidens 
 who had won their crowns. The desire was 
 there, but the pain was too terrible ; and there 
 was Jem wiping away my tears, and every 
 now and then breaking into a shout of boyish 
 laughter. 
 
 ' What a queer little thincr you are, Olga ! I 
 don't believe another child would have done it.' 
 
 'Don't tell Hubert,' I whispered, for Jem 
 was cuddling me so nicely that I was in a fair 
 way to be comforted. 
 
 I did not mind Jem laughing one bit while 
 his eyes looked so kind ; but if Hubert should 
 hear it ! Why did we always say that ? and 
 yet there were but three of us — Hubert and 
 Jem and I ! 
 
 I wonder if the grown-up (Jlga is so much 
 wiser than the child Olga, who scorched her 
 chubby finger in the desire to prove herself 
 strong enough for martyrdom. Sometimes 
 even now I have had wild dreams of self- 
 sacrifice, and then have shrunk back at the 
 mere thought of testing them. 'Oh, Jem, it 
 hurts; I cannot bear it!' I seem to hear the 
 old childish note of pain ringing in my ears 
 now. ' Olga, you are a dreamer of dreams,'
 
 THE PROEM 
 
 Hubert has said to me more than once, and 
 has quoted Kingsley's beautiful words, ' Do 
 noble things, not dream them all day long.' 
 Indeed, he recited the whole poem one day 
 to Kitty and me. Kitty sighed and said it 
 was very true, but I held my peace ; I loved 
 that little poem so. Jem and I knew it by 
 heart ; and Hubert had spoiled it by repeat- 
 ing it in that measured voice. I never liked 
 Hubert to read poetry to me. 
 
 Jem often told me that I was unjust to 
 Hubert; that I did not make allowances for a 
 slow, quiet nature. I dare say he was right ; 
 but though I was fond of Hubert as an elder 
 brother, and tried to do my duty to him, and to 
 bear with Kitty for his sake, I could not love 
 him as I did Jem. 
 
 Hubert was a o^reat deal older than either of 
 us ; he was a full-grown man when Jem was a 
 raw schoolboy. Several brothers and sisters 
 had come between us and had died in infancy. 
 On his deathbed my father had made Hubert 
 our guardian ; and when my mother died, and 
 Hubert married Kitty, he brought us to his 
 house. I remembered how Jem and I begged 
 to be allowed to live together, and how Hubert 
 pooh-poohed the notion in that grand way of 
 his. 
 
 * Who ever heard of a couple of children
 
 8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 keeping house together ! Please don't cry 
 about it, Olga. Kitty and I hope to make 
 you very comfortable ; and there is the baby 
 to amuse you when Jem goes to Oxford.' 
 
 I am sure now that Hubert meant to be 
 kind, and that in his heart he was very sorry 
 for us. Neither then nor afterwards did he com- 
 plain of his added responsibilities ; he made 
 every possible arrangement for our comfort, 
 and I am bound to say that Kitty seconded 
 him. They both welcomed us in the kindest 
 manner, and took pains to show us that we 
 were not in the way ; indeed, Kitty tried very 
 hard to be a sister to me. 
 
 Six years had passed since Jem and I said 
 good-bye to our dear old home and went to 
 live at Fircroft. Thincrs had chano^ed much 
 since then. Kitty had ceased to be the Kitty 
 of old ; the dark-eyed, high-spirited girl who 
 had welcomed us with girlish good-nature had 
 developed into a pale, fretful Kitty, who had 
 lost all her kittenish roundness, and the bright 
 winning ways that had first won Hubert's heart. 
 Perhaps the cares of motherhood oppressed her, 
 or the children came too fast for her strength, 
 or the monotonous routine of domestic life 
 hardly suited her pleasure-loving nature ; but 
 as the years went on Kitty grew careworn 
 and peevish. Her very love for her husband
 
 THE PROEM 
 
 and children developed into fretful anxiety for 
 their well-beino-. She toiled early and late in 
 their service, with no thought for her own 
 comfort, taking all her husband's kindly atten- 
 tions with a martyr-like meekness which at once 
 puzzled and distressed him. 
 
 Ever since his marriage Hubert had added 
 private tuition to his curate's work. He had 
 three or four pupils living with him — young 
 men who were backward, or in delicate health, 
 or who wanted the services of a private tutor. 
 Jem stepped into one of these vacancies, and 
 worked under Hubert until he went up to 
 Oxford. We were not utterly dependent on 
 Hubert, which made things easier for us ; for, 
 with a generosity for which we would not have 
 given him credit, Hubert only repaid himself 
 for our bare maintenance, and so made it pos- 
 sible for Jem to realize his ambition of going to 
 Oxford. The Rector of Brookfield was in bad 
 health, and compelled to live abroad for a year 
 or two, so Hubert was practically curate-in- 
 charge, and his parochial duties, combined with 
 his pupils, kept him fully employed. 
 
 I was very happy at Fircroft when Jem was 
 with me, for he was always ready to listen to 
 my grievances, and sympathize with my disap- 
 pointments ; but his first term at Oxford was a 
 severe ordeal for me. The pupils did not
 
 lo THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 interest me. Kitty was too much engrossed 
 with her domestic duties, and too over-weighted 
 altogether to be a companion to a girl of nine- 
 teen ; and if it had not been for the ladies at the 
 Hall — -and especially Aunt Catherine, as Jem 
 and 1 called her — I should have had rather a 
 dull life ; and yet I tried to do my duty to Kitty 
 and the children, and kept all my discontent to 
 myself. 
 
 Why is it, I wonder, that we are so depen- 
 dent on our environment ? that we are so 
 clogged by circumstance ? that we are unable to 
 rise above the low level of every-day life ? 
 Why did Hubert's commonplaces and dry 
 matter-of-fact reduce me to indignant silence, 
 while Jem's mockery and masculine disdain of 
 sentiment only stimulated and amused me ? 
 Why did Kittys plaintive goodness try me 
 more than downright selfishness would have 
 done? Why was I so critical of my belongings, 
 so observant of their short-comings ? Why, 
 indeed ! 
 
 One day I read a passage in a book of Aunt 
 Catherine's that struck me greatly. It was 
 written by a man who had let all his oppor- 
 tunities slip, and whose life was a failure. And 
 yet this Amiel was a kindly, gifted creature, with 
 noble impulses and a warm heart, and a lofty 
 intellect ; but intense timidity and distrust, and
 
 THE PROEM II 
 
 an unwholesome habit of introspection and 
 subtle self-criticism spoiled his life-work. ' The 
 man who insists upon seeing with perfect clear- 
 ness before he decides, never decides,' as he 
 himself truly says ; ' accept life, and you accept 
 regret/ 
 
 But the passage that touched me most was 
 this : ' Recognise your place ; let the living 
 live ; and you, gather together your thoughts ; 
 leave behind you a legacy of feelings and ideas. 
 You will be most useful so. Renounce your- 
 self; accept the cup given you, with its honey 
 and its gall, as it comes.' 
 
 ' Gather together your thoughts ; leave be- 
 hind you a legacy of feelings and ideas. You 
 will be most useful so.' I cannot tell why the 
 words haunted me. Could a girl's thoughts and 
 feelings benefit any human being } Is there 
 anything in my small experience that could 
 interest or encourao^e a fellow-creature ? That 
 is what I want to know^ ; that Is why I am ran- 
 sacking the past in the hope of finding a stray 
 pearl or tw^o of wisdom. The child Olga 
 scorched her finger in the presumptuous search 
 for martyrdom. Perhaps, after all, the girl 
 Olga was no wiser. 
 
 I was sitting in the garden one afternoon 
 overlooking the children at their play. Kitty
 
 12 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 was mending, as usual, in the great empty 
 dining-room ; her head ached, and her voice 
 had been more plaintive than usual, as she 
 reluctantly yielded to my request for work. 
 
 ' There is no need for you to slave, too, Olga/ 
 she said, with a certain thinness and acerbity of 
 tone that she always used when she was cross, 
 poor little soul ! * Of course it is my duty ; but, 
 as Jem said yesterday, you were not to be made 
 a drudore.' 
 
 So that speech had rankled. It was only 
 one of Jem's foolish blunders. Jem had been 
 put out because I stayed to help Kitty in the 
 nursery, instead of going down to the Hall 
 garden with him to hear the nightingales. It 
 was just a fit of boyish impatience that meant 
 nothing. But Kitty had fretted over it in 
 tearful fashion all the evening, and here it was 
 turning up again, as such ill-favoured weeds of 
 speech have a knack of doing. 
 
 ' Please let me have Wilfred's tunic to finish,' 
 I returned quickly, ' for I never care to be idle ;' 
 and I stretched out my hand for the work — for 
 it was no use arguing with Kitty when she was 
 in this mood — and carried it off in triumph. 
 But before I was half-way down the lawn my 
 conscience began to prick me : why could I not 
 have said something kind to cheer her for the 
 rest of the afternoon ? Kitty always looked
 
 THE PROEM 13 
 
 happier if Jem or I said a kind word to her. 
 And here again a speech of my favourite Amiel 
 seemed to prick me with fine needle-like sharp- 
 ness, for it was so true : ' Oh 1 let us not wait to 
 be just, or pitiful, or demonstrative towards 
 those we love until they or we are struck down 
 by illness or threatened with death ! Life is 
 short, and we have never too much time for 
 gladdening the hearts of those who are travel- 
 ling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to 
 love ; make haste to be kind !' With a sudden 
 impulse I went back through the dining-room 
 window just as Hubert entered it by the door. 
 
 * My dear, are you very busy ?' with a rueful 
 glance at his wife's overflowing work-basket. 
 
 ' 1 am always busy, Hubert,' returned Kitty 
 rather severely; 'but of course if you want 
 me ' 
 
 'It is only those letters ; they must be 
 answered before post-time, and I have to go 
 down to the schools ; but you seem rather over- 
 whelmed, so perhaps Olga might help me,' 
 looking at me rather beseechingly. 
 
 ' No, no,' replied Kitty hastily ; ' give them 
 to me, Hubert. It was only last night that Jem 
 complained that we had turned Olga into a 
 perfect drudge, and that she never had time for 
 anything. I would rather slave night and day 
 than hear Jem say that again.'
 
 14 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * My dear, what can you mean ?' and Hubert 
 looked at us both in solemn disapproval. 
 Kitty's sharp little speeches always took him by 
 surprise ; he had a habit of laboriously picking 
 them to pieces to find out their meaning, which 
 was just going on the wrong tack with Kitty, 
 for when people say more than they mean, it is 
 never well to take them literally ; but Hubert 
 was literal and exact by nature. 
 
 * Kitty is talking nonsense,' I interposed. 
 ' Jem meant nothing by his speech ; he does 
 not really think I am put upon, for he knows i 
 like to be useful. If you want me to write your 
 letters, Hubert, you must say so quickly, as the 
 children are waiting for me in the garden.' 
 
 ' I always write Hubert's letters,' replied 
 Kitty with dignity, for she was not above 
 jealousy, and on certain occasions would stand 
 on her wifely rights. * Put them down beside 
 me, Hubert, and they shall be ready by post- 
 time. And you may say what you like, Olga, 
 for )0u always take Jem's part, but he really 
 meant what he said — that we take advantage 
 of you. It is not the first time Jem has made 
 these speeches.' 
 
 * Well, well, have your own way, Kitty,' I 
 said wearily, for I found the discussion fatiguing. 
 I left Hubert to hear the remainder, and to 
 groan in spirit over Jem's selfishness. Somehow
 
 THE PROEM I 5 
 
 my afternoon's enjoyment was spoiled — human 
 misunderstanding had thrown a shadow over the 
 sunshine. But I was rather taken aback when 
 I heard Hubert's footsteps following me. 
 
 ' You are too quick, Olga,' he said reproach- 
 fully. ' I wanted to ask you a question. Is it 
 Kitty's fancy, or does Jem really think we put 
 upon you ?' 
 
 ' You had better ask him,' I returned scorn- 
 fully. And then I relented at the sight of his 
 evident perplexity. ' Oh no, Hubert ; Jem 
 never meant it at all. He was only cross for 
 the moment because I could not attend to him. 
 Why will Kitty make a fuss over every little 
 word ?' 
 
 ' She is very sensitive. Jem knows that, 
 and ought to be more careful.' 
 
 * You cannot expect a young man always to 
 measure his words, Hubert. Jem is far too 
 kind-hearted to give pain consciously. Kitty 
 is too exacting.' 
 
 ' You must not find fault with her to her 
 husband, Olga;' and I knew by Hubert's voice 
 that he was much displeased. ' Kitty has far 
 too much to do, and she is not as strong as she 
 ought to be. I think you and Jem might 
 make allowances for slight irritability, if not for 
 Kitty's, at least for my sake.' 
 
 I liked Hubert all the better for standing up
 
 i6 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 for his wife. If I had a husband I would not 
 allow anyone to find fault with him, I am quite 
 sure of that. But, all the same, 1 was bound 
 to defend Jem, and it seemed to me as though 
 Hubert was attacking me personally. 
 
 ' I am always ready to help Kitty,' I re- 
 turned in an injured tone ; ' neither you nor 
 she has any cause to complain of my conduct. 
 It is not quite fair to speak to me in that way.' 
 
 Hubert looked a little taken aback by this ; 
 he was a quiet, even-tempered man, and was 
 for peace at any price. 
 
 * Well, well, don't put yourself out, Olga. 
 Of course, Kitty and I know we have no right 
 to turn you into a household drudge, and, of 
 course, we are very grateful for your assistance. 
 You have always acted kindly by us, but as 
 Kitty felt herself aggrieved by Jem's unlucky 
 speech, I thought I must put matters right. 1 
 am not the least offended with you.' 
 
 ' I would much rather you were offended 
 with me than with Jem.' 
 
 ' How you do spoil that boy !' And here 
 Hubert looked at me reproachfully. ' Nothing 
 Jem says or does is wrong.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Hubert !' But all the same he 
 w^as right. I never could blame the dear 
 fellow. I was a little touched when Hubert 
 looked at me in that melancholy fashion, and
 
 THE PROEM 17 
 
 Stroked his coat-sleeve penitently. I believe 
 he had a fatherly fondness for us both. 
 Could it be possible that he was just a tritle 
 jealous of Jem ? — that he thought his only 
 sister should be more to him — was that the 
 reason of his sad look ? ' Don't talk any more, 
 Hubert,' I said, dismissing him with a smile ; 
 ' I want to finish Wilfred's tunic. Go back to 
 Kitty, and cheer her up a little.' 
 
 ' No ; I must go to the schools.' 
 
 But he took my hint, and walked off. I 
 watched him across the lawn. Many people 
 admired Hubert ; Kitty did with all her heart. 
 He was a fair, gentlemanly-looking man, and 
 his beard and spectacles were imposing. He 
 was slightly bald, too, which gave him a patri- 
 archal appearance ; but to me his face was like 
 his sermions — heavy, sensible, and wanting in 
 animation. Hubert had one very tiresome fault 
 — he could not understand a joke. Jem and I 
 puzzled him dreadfully at times. He would look 
 at us and shake his head, and then go on with 
 some learned disquisition intended for our edifi- 
 cation. 1 am afraid the pupils took advantage 
 of this want of humour, Mr. Vivian especially. 
 
 The children were playing under the big 
 mulberry- tree, Hugh in charge of the twins as 
 usual, and Girlie-ga — as baby called herself — 
 toddling over the grass, hand in hand with 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Wilfred. She screamed with delight and 
 dropped Wilfred's hand at the sight of me. 
 Her big white sun-bonnet had tumbled off, and 
 the rough yellowish curls shone like gold in the 
 sunlight, as she stumped up to me on her little 
 fat legs, and emptied her pinafore into my lap 
 with the lavish generosity of infancy flinging 
 its all with both hands. ' Oo's dot 'em now,' 
 she said, looking lovingly at the cropped daisies 
 and languishing buttercups. How easy to 
 forget one's grievances in the sunshine! As I sat 
 with the children playing round me, I felt that 
 it was a lovely world after all. 
 
 The white butterflies were skimming over 
 the flower-beds, and the great brown bees 
 were humminor secrets amongr the hives. 
 Hugh's fantail pigeons were strutting about the 
 roof, and the deep cawing of rooks sounded 
 from the Hall grounds. Some thrushes were 
 singing in the shrubbery, and a pair of linnets 
 were twittering in their nest above us. The 
 freshness and sweetness of early summer were 
 over everything. They would soon be making 
 hay in the Hall meadows. Fircroft was a 
 rambling old house without any pretension to 
 beauty, but the garden was delightful. A tennis- 
 lawn lay before the drawing-room windows, 
 closed round by shrubberies. This led to the 
 Surprise, as the children called a small inner
 
 THE PROEM 
 
 19 
 
 lawn, with a mulberry-tree and a medlar, and 
 surrounded by beds of old-fashioned flowers 
 which bloomed in their season : bushes of spiky 
 lavender and tall gleaming lilies, and lady's lilies 
 and St. John's, spicy carnations and humbler 
 pinks, lupins and hollyhocks, and quaint old 
 monk's-hood ; even the much-despised London- 
 pride and sweet-william kept company with 
 sweet peas and nasturtiums — a veritable wilder- 
 ness of sweets, very different to the stiff beds 
 of geraniums and verbena which were Hubert's 
 special pride. The Surprise was the children's 
 play-ground ; here on summer afternoons the 
 twins sat in the low branches of the medlar- 
 tree with their favourite dolls, and the black 
 and white kitten, Smut, while Hugh and Wilfred 
 worked in their gardens, and I sat reading or 
 working with dear old Rollo at my feet. 
 
 Rollo was my dog. Mr. Vivian had given 
 him to me when he was only a puppy ; he was 
 a splendid black retriever with a beautiful head, 
 and was my constant friend and companion. 
 When Jem went to Oxford, Rollo quite seemed 
 to understand that I was in need of sympathy. I 
 have seen him look at me — well, not with actual 
 tears in his eyes, though I do believe dogs cry 
 sometimes, but with such a pathetic expression 
 in them, as though he were sorry for me, and 
 wanted to comfort me in his doggish fashion. 
 
 2 — 2
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL. 
 
 'What deep interest there would be in the most common- 
 place society if we could associate with human beings in this 
 wondering, inquiring way, exactly as the chemist interrogates 
 every new subject by innumerable tests, until he has discovered 
 its properties and affinities.'— Rev. Frederick Robertson. 
 
 An hour afterwards a light, springy step sounded 
 on the gravel path behind me, and a rough 
 tweed coat-sleeve was Interposed between me 
 and my work. 
 
 ' No, Jem, I am not a bit startled !' I re- 
 turned, coolly keeping the big brown hand 
 prisoner; and then I drew him down beside me 
 with a welcoming smile. 
 
 I am afraid It would not be right to call Jem 
 handsome. He was very big, and strong, and 
 brown ; but he had not a fine profile like 
 Hubert, and his features were blunt and 
 irregular. But I liked his honest eyes, and his
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 21 
 
 bright smile, and the merry laugh that always 
 seemed to lighten one's heart, and I think I 
 was even more proud than Jem himself of the 
 dear little buddinof moustache that looked so 
 fine and silky. ' As though it matters whether 
 a man is handsome or not,' as I would say to 
 Kitty, when she vaunted of Hubert's good 
 looks, and w'ondered why Jem was so different 
 to his brother. In my heart I admired Jem 
 excessively, and thought I had never seen a 
 hner young fellow. I liked his strength and 
 his skill in athletic sports. He was a fine 
 cricketer and a good oarsman, and he could 
 swim, and shoot, and ride, so it was no wonder 
 that he did not work quite as hard as other 
 men ; besides which, he was so popular at 
 Oxford that one need not be surprised if he 
 were just a little bit spoilt. 
 
 ' What have you been doing all the afternoon, 
 Jem ?' 
 
 ' Oh, Vivian and Cam.pbell and I started for 
 Drayton, but there was something wrong with 
 my bicycle, so I had to come back — and a pre- 
 cious long walk I had ; and just by the Hall I 
 met Aunt Catherine, and she asked if you would 
 come up to tea, and so I said I would bring 
 you : but it seems that would not do — Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst is not so well as usual, and poor 
 Aunt Catherine looked a bit w^orried.'
 
 22 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Do you really think she wants me, 
 Jem ?' 
 
 ' I suppose so,' flinging up his straw hat and 
 catching it again, for Jem could not be still a 
 moment. ' She said, " Olga has not been here 
 for a week, and I am sure Virginia misses her ;" 
 the meaning of that is pretty evident.' 
 
 ' Yes,' hesitating a little ; ' but I don't want 
 to tell Aunt Catherine why I kept away. I 
 think Kitty is a little hurt that they never ask 
 her now — she says it is such a slight, and she 
 complained to Hubert about it : but how can I 
 help it if they like me best.'^' 
 
 ' Kitty is a humbug,' returned Jem, in a dis- 
 gusted tone; * as though she, and Hubert too, 
 do not know what you and Aunt Catherine are 
 to each other !' 
 
 * Yes, indeed. I have always loved her so,' 
 with tears in my voice. * I can never forget 
 how kind she was to us both when we first 
 came to Fircroft : she made our life ever so 
 much happier.' 
 
 ' Of course, she is a trump ; I always told you 
 so. I wish she were our real aunt — don't you, 
 Olga ? I should not mind being her favourite 
 nephew.' 
 
 * You mercenary boy ! but there is Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst to consider — the Hall really belongs 
 to her. Aunt Catherine is not such a rich
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 23 
 
 woman, after all ; at least, her sister seems to 
 have the lion's share.' 
 
 ' Indeed, you are wrong ; they are co- 
 heiresses. But I believe the old squire left in 
 his will, that if either of his daughters had a 
 son, the Hall was to go to him when he came 
 of age. I don't know how they will arrange 
 matters now ; perhaps there may be a chance 
 for me, after all. I shall not a bit mind taking 
 the name of Sefton— that is only a detail ; and 
 then you can come and live with me, and lord 
 it over Kitty.' 
 
 ' No ; nonsense, Jem ! how you talk ! but I 
 can't stop to listen to you. I shall go across in 
 my garden-hat, and you shall tell Kitty that 
 Aunt Catherine sent me a message ; if I go 
 back to the house there will be another discus- 
 sion and more grumbling. Oh, Jem, if I were 
 only as free as air !' stretching my arms over 
 my head, and drinking in a deep draught of the 
 sweet summer air. 
 
 Jem looked at me with full understanding 
 and sympathy, and then whistled to Rollo. 
 Nurse had just come in search of the children, 
 so I folded up my work and gave it to her, and 
 then we sauntered down the kitchen-garden, 
 between apple and cherry trees, until we reached 
 a door in the wall. This opened into a green 
 paddock, where our one cow. Ruddy, was
 
 24 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 feeding. She was a pretty creature, with a soft, 
 tawny coat and great wondering eyes, full of 
 unconscious wisdom, that reminded me of Aunt 
 Catherine's. Ruddy was quite a pet ; she fol- 
 lowed us all down the paddock in spite of Rollo, 
 and when I turned to stroke her she thrust her 
 cold, wet nose into my hand, and rubbed her 
 horns gently against me. 
 
 ' If you are late I shall come and fetch you,' 
 were Jem's parting words, as he let me through 
 the gate ; and then he leant over it and watched 
 me until I turned the corner, and I could hear 
 him singing the Eton boating song at the top 
 of his voice, as I walked down the elm avenue 
 that led to the Hall. 
 
 Brookfield Hall was a gray old house, hardly 
 as pretentious as its name ; It had no special 
 beauty of architecture, but it had a staid, vener- 
 able look, as though its gray roof had sheltered 
 generation after generation ; for even as far 
 back as the time of the blessed martyr Charles, 
 — whose memory I secretly worshipped — many 
 a fair Sefton dame had strolled down the elm 
 avenue and listened to the same cawing of 
 rooks, or had diverted herself with pulling 
 posies in the stiff old garden, where peaches 
 and nectarines still grew against the sunny 
 walls, and where many a generation of peacocks 
 had perched on the mossy sundial.
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 2; 
 
 How Jem and I loved that garden! — though 
 I have heard people call it old-fashioned and 
 out of date, and marvel openly at Miss Sefton's 
 preference for homely flowers. But to Aunt 
 Catherine it was full of historic interest. She 
 loved the smooth grassy terrace, planted w^Ith 
 elms, that lay on one side, where a certain 
 Gwendoline Sefton used to meet her Puritan 
 lover. The story ran that the poor young man 
 was killed at Naseby by one of her brothers, 
 Hugh Sefton. Anyhow, he never came again 
 to the terrace. And Gwendoline watched for 
 him evening after evening ; and the rooks 
 cawed, and the peacocks screamed from the 
 sundial, and the nightingales sang in the 
 shrubberies, and still she watched for him in the 
 summer moonlight, or when the winter snow 
 lay on the Hall garden, and if anyone crossed 
 her path she asked them the same question, 
 ' Have you seen Ralph Annersley, whom they 
 call Ralph the Iron- Heart, for methinks he is 
 long in coming this evening ?' For you see 
 she was mad, this poor Gwendoline — crazy 
 with long waiting, and I could not have borne 
 to have listened so often to her story but for 
 the comfort of the end. For joy came to her 
 on her dying bed, when she was an old woman 
 with hair white as the winter snows ; for, as 
 they were praying beside her, she suddenly
 
 26 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 looked at them, and there was a wonderful 
 light in her eyes, and she ceased her aimless 
 mutterings, and said, in the clearest possible 
 voice, ' Yea, for is it not written, '' Heaviness 
 may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
 morning "? For truly I shall meet my beloved 
 again — my Ralph of the Iron- Heart — in the 
 world where none shall ever say farewell !' 
 
 Ah, well ! they are re-united now. But how 
 pitiful to think of that long life, filled with one 
 maddening thought, one long waiting for the 
 impossible, the whole of God's fair creation 
 walled up and stifled in one crushed brain ! If 
 one were to love like that — God forbid ! — it 
 were better to taste death at once. But Gwen- 
 doline's story had ever haunted me ; and, 
 though I loved the terrace on a fine summer's 
 morning or in the full glory of the afternoon, 
 twilight always banished me from the spot. I 
 could not have paced under those dark trees 
 alone without fancying I heard a soft footfall 
 behind me ; and though I have no abject belief 
 in ghosts, still, if a white figure were suddenly 
 to start up and wring its hands, I 
 
 ' Dreaming as usual, Olga ?' 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine,' in a confused voice, for 
 there was Miss Sefton standing in my path, 
 and I could see the amused look in her eyes, 
 * I was thinking of the Lady Gwendoline,' I
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 27 
 
 blurted out. ' What put her into my head, I 
 wonder ?' And then Miss Sefton laughed as 
 she kissed me. 
 
 * I think Mr. Leigh is right. You are an 
 inveterate dreamer, Olga. We shall have to 
 cure you — Jem and I. But how late you are, 
 my dear ; they are bringing tea, and Virginia 
 has been in the drawing-room for the last hour. 
 Look at these lovely roses. I have been 
 gathering them from my favourite tree. You 
 shall have one of them to enliven your sombre 
 gown. Never mind, it is a very pretty gown ' 
 — with an approving smile — ' though it is a 
 little too dark to suit you, Olga. But then, 
 you know, I like young people to be gay.' 
 
 * Jem asked me the other day why you 
 always wore black, Aunt Catherine,' I observed 
 rather wickedly, as I took the spray of roses 
 from her hand. 
 
 ' Because a plain, middle-aged woman always 
 looks best in black,' was the imperturbable re- 
 sponse. 'Now, Olga' — as I was inclined to 
 contradict this blunt statement — ' don't argue 
 on such an uninteresting subject. When I was 
 your age I remember fretting for a good hour 
 because I had overheard some ill-conditioned 
 visitor speak of me as the plain Miss Sefton, 
 and I bemoaned myself bitterly because I was 
 not as handsome as Virginia. But, my dear,
 
 28 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 age offers us delicate compensations. We out- 
 live our morbid griefs and youthful ambitions. 
 I should feel no special pang now if anyone 
 called me the plain Miss Sefton. I have buried 
 all that,' finished Aunt Catherine quaintly, with 
 the smile that was her great charm, for she knew 
 that Jem and I admired her with all our hearts, 
 with that finest admiration that is born of love. 
 
 * She has such a dear face,' as I said once to 
 Jem. 
 
 * Yes, awfully jolly, don't you know,' was 
 Jem's answer. 
 
 But it was quite true that Aunt Catherine 
 had been no beauty in her youth — one under- 
 stood that in a moment ; but she had a pleasant, 
 thoughtful face, and eyes that were wonderfully 
 young and clear, and her brown hair was 
 just threaded here and there with gray. In 
 spite of her forty-five years. Aunt Catherine 
 was slow in growing old. Her youth lingered 
 strangely ; her figure was still almost girlish in 
 its willowy grace ; she had not forgotten how 
 to blush at times when she was pleased or 
 excited. There would be a vividness, a depth 
 in her gray eyes that took one by surprise. 
 Now and then there would be bursts of elo- 
 quence — picturesque, unrestrained, disjointed — 
 as though something in her nature had been 
 repressed and must find vent.
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 29 
 
 This made Aunt Catherine so interesting : 
 she had no cut-and-dried formulas of actions ; 
 no mJddle-aged mannerisms — she was so unlike 
 other people. So few persons nowadays dare 
 to assert any special individuality ; they prefer 
 a polite, discreet, mummy-like swathing. Now 
 Aunt Catherine was a real, imperfect woman, 
 true to the core, simply because she was herself. 
 
 ' Mrs. Lyndhurst is not so well to-day, Jem 
 tells me,' I observed as I followed Miss Sefton 
 into the big square hall, somewhat dimly lighted 
 by a large stained window, the handsome oak 
 furniture making it still darker. But I had an 
 odd sort of reverence for those carved cabinets ; 
 and what talks Aunt Catherine and I had had 
 on that oak-settle that stood before the great 
 fireplace, now full of fir-cones! In winter a 
 glorious fire was always burning, before which 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst's favourite pug, Nix, loved to 
 bask, curled up on the tiger-skin. 
 
 Aunt Catherine shook her head rather sadly 
 at my question. 
 
 ^ She is never well ; I think she grows more 
 restless every day. She has much to bear — 
 more than most of us ;' and then she threw 
 down her garden-hat and gloves, and, still 
 carrying her roses, led the way to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 * Olga is here,' she observed in a very dif-
 
 30 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ferent voice, Into which a Httle cheerfulness was 
 evidently forced. ' I hope we have not kept 
 you waiting for your tea, Virginia ?' 
 
 ' What does It matter, Catherine !' was the 
 indifferent reply, as Mrs. Lyndhurst put down 
 her knitting and held out her hand to me with 
 her usual gentle smile. ' How are you, my 
 dear ? I am glad to see you. You have not 
 been near us for a week, Olga — a whole week ; 
 but I suppose you find us dull company ?' 
 
 I laughingly disclaimed this speech, and sat 
 down by Mrs. Lyndhurst. I was very fond of 
 her, and very sorry for her ; but I did not love 
 her as I did our dear Aunt Catherine. Her 
 nature was a depressing one, especially to young 
 people — trouble had aggravated a naturally low 
 and morbid temperament — and in spite of her 
 gentleness and a sort of attractive softness that 
 was very winning to strangers, I often found 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst exceedingly trying. Diseased 
 sensibility, unhealthy views of life, and the 
 incessant broodings of self-consciousness are 
 singularly repellent to youth. i\t times I felt 
 a sense of Impatience, of critical disapproval. 
 Why had Mrs. Lyndhurst weakly succumbed 
 to her troubles ? Why had she suffered them 
 to overmaster and crush her, instead of over- 
 living them as other women did ? Why did 
 she burthen Aunt Catherine with this weary
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 
 
 charge — the responsibility which the strono-er 
 and more selfless nature always takes upon 
 itself? Aunt Catherine never spoke of her 
 sisters trouble — never mentioned her except 
 in a tone of divine pity, such as one might 
 use to a sick child. ' Virginia had so much 
 to bear ;' and yet the little Brookfield knew of 
 her story hardly accounted for a melancholy 
 that at times bordered on despair. Unhappy 
 marriages have never been rare in England. 
 Many a woman has found wedlock not the 
 state of bliss she imagined it, and has dragged 
 on a miserable and disappointed life ; and Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst's married life had been a brief one. 
 
 Hubert had told me the little I knew on the 
 subject ; but I had no idea how he had gained 
 his information. 
 
 The old squire had been a hard-natured man, 
 with an obstinate temper, and a most exagger- 
 ated notion of his own importance and dignity. 
 His wife and daughters had been greatly in 
 awe of him, and even Mrs. Lyndhurst, who 
 had been his favourite, had not dared openly to 
 contest his will. 
 
 During a winter spent in Rome, a young 
 artist, Paul Lyndhurst by name, had been 
 much in their company, and a secret attach- 
 ment between him and Virginia had been the 
 result. The only one who was cognizant of
 
 32 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 the State of affairs was Aunt Catherine, and 
 she pleaded vainly and with tears that her 
 sister should give him up. 
 
 'It is an infatuation,' she said over and 
 over again. ' He is not a good man. He is 
 terribly handsome. He has fascinated you 
 with his good looks and cleverness ; but I 
 distrust him, and father will never permit you 
 to marry a poor artist.' 
 
 ' I will never give him up.' had been Virginians 
 answer ; ' I love him so that I am ready to die 
 for him.' And, alas ! she made up her mind to 
 live for him. The very day before they left 
 Rome there was a secret marriage, and after a 
 terrible scene, during which JMr. Sefton lashed 
 himself into a state of fury, and forbade his 
 daughter ever to enter his house again, Paul 
 Lyndhurst took his wife away, and for months 
 they did not hear a word of poor Virginia. 
 But one day — about two years after the un- 
 lucky marriage, a few months after Mrs. Sefton 
 had died of a lingering disease — Virginia 
 suddenly and unexpectedly made her appear- 
 ance at the Hall. Hubert could tell me no 
 particulars of that return, or by what means the 
 father's wrath was appeased. Her husband 
 w^as still living, but she had left him for ever. 
 She looked ill and altered ; indeed, her health 
 seemed permanently broken. Perhaps his wife's
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 33 
 
 death had softened the father's heart, for he 
 did not refuse to take his child back ; and during 
 the last year of his life Virginia was his favourite 
 companion. 
 
 This was all I knew, and Aunt Catherine 
 never spoke of the past. From the first she 
 had accepted the sacred charge of her sister's in- 
 firmities, and had shaped her own life to meet 
 her sister's requirements. 
 
 I looked at Mrs. Lyndhurst as she rose to 
 lay aside her work. She always walked feebly 
 and slowly, as though she were tired to death ; 
 her graceful figure seemed to droop with 
 fatigue. There was something pathetic in her 
 appearance. She always wore a black gown that 
 was almost widow-like in its straight, severe 
 folds ; but there were no delicate white finishes 
 to the neck and cuffs. Instead of that relief she 
 generally wore a black lace scarf wound loosely 
 round her slim throat ; this gave a strange 
 contrast to her pale, sad face and silvery hair. 
 Her eyes were dark and soft, and would have 
 been beautiful except for their unrestful look. 
 
 * Mrs. Lyndhurst always looks as though she 
 has lost something,' Kitty once said in her 
 shrewd way. 
 
 I was foolish enough to repeat this speech to 
 Aunt Catherine. I noticed that she coloured, 
 as though the remark did not please her. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 'She has lost her life's happiness,' she returned 
 gently. 'Mrs. Leigh is right; but there are 
 some losses that cannot be made up in this world 
 — my poor Virginia's is one of these. 
 
 The drawing-room at the Hall was a charm- 
 ing room, with three windows opening on 
 the Italian garden, as it was called — a straight 
 stone terrace, with antique vases, leading down 
 by steps to a long gravel walk bordered by gay 
 flower-beds : this led to the Lady's Walk. On 
 the other side was the old Elizabethan garden, 
 with the sunny south wall where the peaches 
 grew, and where the peacock plumed himself on 
 the sundial : this was Aunt Catherine's special 
 garden. Mrs. Lyndhurst, who had no love for 
 flowers, preferred the elm avenue and the 
 terrace where her unhappy ancestress had 
 walked. 1 thought Mrs. Lyndhurst looked 
 unusually ill this evening : her eyes were bright 
 and feverish. She seemed disposed to be talka- 
 tive. Aunt Catherine, on the contrary, was 
 somewhat silent. 
 
 ' You are looking very well, Olga.' 
 ' I am perfectly well, thank you — in a state of 
 rude health, as Jem expresses it.' 
 * I hope Mrs. Leigh is well also ?' 
 ' Kitty is only so-so ; she is rather thin, and 
 does far too much, and then Hubert worries 
 himself about her. It is such a pity people
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 
 
 cannot be sensible, Mrs. Lyndhurst, but that 
 they will always attempt the proverbial last 
 straw — Kitty always does.' 
 
 * She has an anxious mind, I suppose ;' but 
 evidently Mrs. Lyndhurst had not listened to 
 my little tirade ; she was following out some 
 thought of her own, for she spoke absently. 
 
 ' Olga/ she continued in a different tone, ' do 
 you think your sister-in-law could spare you? 
 We have such a nice plan in our heads, Catherine 
 and I. May I tell Olga about it, Catherine ?' 
 
 I thought Aunt Catherine seemed a little 
 startled at the question. 
 
 ' There is no hurry, is there, dear ?' she re- 
 turned gently. ' I never thought you meant to 
 speak to the child this evening.' 
 
 * No hurry !' repeated Mrs. Lyndhurst irrit- 
 ably ; ' that is what you always say, Catherine — 
 next w^eek, next month, a year hence, what does 
 it matter to you ?' with a singular inflection on 
 the last word ; ' and yet you told Dr. Langham 
 yesterday that it was all arranged.' 
 
 * And so it is arranged. Please do not excite 
 yourself, Virginia. Have I ever gone from my 
 word yet ? Olga,' turning to me with the 
 worried look I knew so well, that always told 
 me so plainly that Mrs. Lyndhurst had been un- 
 usually exigeante, 'my sister wants me to tell you 
 about our plan. I have to go abroad next month 
 
 3—2
 
 36 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 on business — a little family matter that has to be 
 settled,' and Aunt Catherine spoke somewhat 
 nervously. ' Virginia does not like me to go 
 alone, and St. Croix is a very pretty place. 
 You have always wanted to see something of 
 foreign life — do you think your mother and Mrs. 
 Leigh could spare you ? It shall be no expense 
 to you, 1 can promise you that, and I shall be 
 very glad of your companionship ;' and here 
 she paused and looked at me inquiringly, and 
 I suppose my face was sufficient answer. ' You 
 would like it, Olga ?' 
 
 ' To shake off Brookfield dust for once in 
 my life I Oh, if only Jem were here now ! 
 To go to St. Croix — with you — you ! Oh, 
 I must kiss you, Aunt Catherine ! You are 
 such a dear, you know ! If only It is not too 
 good to be true I' 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst smiled benevolently over 
 my girlish rhapsodies ; but why did Aunt 
 Catherine look so grave — she who loved to 
 give young people pleasure ? She even drew 
 back, in a pained sort of way, when I kissed 
 her. 
 
 * I am going on business, Olga ; you must 
 understand that.' 
 
 ' As though that matters to Olga,' interposed 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst anxiously; 'there is nothing 
 to prevent her amusing herself. Strange to say,
 
 THE LADIES AT THE HALL 
 
 my dear,' addressing herself to me, ' we have 
 some EngHsh friends Hving at St. Croix, and 
 they have agreed to let us have their house. 
 Mrs. Milner's father, a clergyman in Liverpool, 
 is ill — dying, they fear — and they wish to come 
 to Englandc The house is ours for three 
 months if we like.' 
 
 ' But surely you are not going to St. Croix 
 for three months, Aunt Catherine !' I exclaimed. 
 
 ' I should think not. I have fixed no time ; 
 perhaps a week or two may settle my business. 
 I should not care to leave Virginia longer than 
 I could help. If I could only have persuaded 
 her to come, too !' and here Aunt Catherine 
 looked wistfully at her sister. 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst's pale face grew paler than 
 ever at this appeal. 
 
 ' What do you mean, Catherine ?' she said, 
 in an alarmed voice ; ' have we not talked over 
 all that — you and I ? Do you not know me 
 better than to propose it ? Do you think I have 
 strength for such a journey ?' 
 
 * Dr. Langham has always recommended a 
 sea- voyage. It is only twelve hours, Virginia.' 
 
 ' It would kill me — I tell you it would kill 
 me ! You are cruel, Catherine, to agitate me 
 in this way. Nothing will induce me to leave 
 the Hall. If you do not wish to go, say so. 
 I have no rieht to overburthen vou. But the
 
 38 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 child will be disappointed, and the Milners 
 too, for they thought everything was settled.' 
 
 * And so it is settled, my dear Virginia. 
 What can you mean ? Have I not promised 
 you solemnly to settle this business as well 
 as I can ? Perhaps you could have made it 
 easier for me, if you could have overcome 
 your nervous dread of the journey ; but we 
 will not say any more about that. Olga, when 
 you go home, perhaps you will speak to your 
 brother and Mrs. Leigh about this. Or shall I 
 call and ask them myself.'* You are not of 
 age yet, you know,' with a faint smile — why 
 was Aunt Catherine so unlike herself ? — ■' and 
 then there is Jem to consider.' 
 
 ' Jem has a tutorship,' I replied quickly. 
 * He leaves Fircrofc next week.' 
 
 ' And most likely I shall start the week after. 
 Well, settle it as you like, my dear ; but I will 
 undertake to talk over your brother, and if 
 Mrs. Leigh should be obdurate, you must send 
 for me.' 
 
 And then Aunt Catherine got up in a hurry, 
 and said she must put her roses in water ; but 
 I think she wanted to end the conversation, so 
 I took the hint, and observed that Jem would 
 be waiting for me. And then Aunt Catherine 
 said that if I would wait a few minutes she 
 would walk down the avenue with me.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 AUNT CATHERINE 
 
 ' Like alone acts upon like. Therefore do not amend by 
 reasoning, but by example ; approach feeling by feeling ; do 
 not hope to excite love except by love. Be what you wish 
 others to become. Let yourself, and not your w^ords, preach.'— 
 Amiel's Journal. 
 
 I THOUGHT Mrs. Lyndhurst looked uneasy at 
 this proposition, but she said nothing until Aunt 
 Catherine had carried away her flowers ; when 
 the door closed she beckoned me to her. 
 
 ' You are pleased with my little plan, Olga ?' 
 ' Is it your plan, Mrs. Lyndhurst ? Oh yes, 
 I am delighted ! I shall not be able to sleep to- 
 night ; but are you sure Aunt Catherine wants 
 me to go ?' 
 
 ' I think, after all, it was she who proposed 
 it. We were talking over Mrs. Milner's letter 
 with Dr. Langham. Women cannot do without 
 a man to advise them, and Dr. Langham has 
 always been our confidant. He was laying
 
 40 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 down the law to us after liis usual fashion. 
 Catherine must not ^^o alone — she would be 
 dull, and all that sort of thino ; she must have 
 someone to make thinc^s cheerful for her. And 
 then Catherine said, "Very well, I will ask 
 Olga to o^o. She has never been out of iMii^land, 
 and the chani^e will do her good ;*' and Dr. 
 Langham gave a hearty assent, for you are a 
 great favourite of his, my dear. Indeed, if he 
 
 were only a little younger ' and then she 
 
 looked at mv. meaningly, and of course I laughed, 
 for this was an old joke a very old joke indeed. 
 Poor Mrs. Lynd hurst ! as though Jem and 
 1 did not know better than that. Why, l^rook- 
 fK^ld was of a far different opinion ; it privately 
 held the notion that if the doctor had been a 
 bolder man he would willingly have aspired to 
 one of the ladies of the Hall, and that he was 
 not indifferent to Miss Sefton's middle-aged 
 comeliness. Now I cannot vouch for the 
 truth of this ; it might only be village gossip 
 after all. Brookfield, like most villages, was a 
 scandalous little place, and made very free with 
 its neighbour's namci. Dr. Langham and Aunt 
 Catherine were the best of friends. I think 
 she had a sort of kindly feeling for him, and 
 compassionated him for his bachc^lor loneliness; 
 but as for any other thought, I am sure such a 
 notion would never have entered her head.
 
 AUNT CATHERINE 41 
 
 It was profanity to imagine it. Aunt Catherine 
 was the sort of woman one would never dare 
 to question on such subjects. Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 would have her feeble little jokes ; but I never 
 heard Aunt Catherine talk about love or lovers, 
 except in a very staid, sober way — only some- 
 thing in her manner, in her very avoidance of 
 such topics, made me think she held very 
 solemn views on the subject. Any light talk 
 on such matters displeased her. ' We ought not 
 to joke on sacred things,' I heard her say once; 
 * surely love — real love, I mean — is sacred.' 
 
 I was not ever likely to know if popular 
 gossip were correct in crediting Dr. Langham 
 with any special tenderness for Aunt Catherine ; 
 but he certainly respected and liked her more 
 than any other woman, and was always ready 
 to help her to the best of his powers. As for 
 Aunt Catherine, she looked on him as a trusted 
 friend, and always consulted him on all diffi- 
 culties ; besides which, he was the guardian of 
 her sister's health and well-being, and I always 
 suspected that he was deep in their confi- 
 dence. 
 
 * People are afraid of growing old,' she once 
 said to me — ' they fear the loss of many of their 
 pleasures ; but I always maintain that every 
 age has its compensation. What can be better, 
 for example, than to watch new friendships grow
 
 42 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Stronger as we get older, to feel how they ripen 
 and mature with the years ? We no longer fear 
 that the friends of a lifetime will grow weary of 
 us and change ; we have proved them. Don't 
 you recollect, Olga, what your favourite Amiel 
 wrote ? " To know how to grow old is the 
 master-work of wisdom, and one of the most 
 difficult chapters in the great art of living." 
 And then again, and this well applies to the 
 same subject, that hackneyed subject of grow- 
 ing old : " Do not despise your situation ; in it 
 you must act, suffer, and conquer. From ever)- 
 point on earth we are equally near to heaven 
 and to the Infinite." I wish we discontented 
 middle-aged people would take that to heart.' 
 
 How 1 loved the way Aunt Catherine talked ! 
 It was generally when we two were together 
 that she would break out into one of these 
 eloquent little monologues. In mixed company 
 she was rarely talkative; the light coinage of 
 conventional intercourse never seemed to elicit 
 much response. With me she was often grave ; 
 she liked to give me her views on life, books, 
 duty, or any abstract subject. She called it 
 * working off steam.' ' My mind is too closely 
 packed,' she said once. ' I have crammed it 
 with miscellaneous reading, and can only 
 assimilate a certain amount of intellectual 
 nourishment. The other day I was very
 
 AUXT CATHERINE 43 
 
 much struck by a remark Robertson made in 
 one of his letters. I have copied it out for you, 
 Olga. He says, " Multifarious reading weakens 
 the mind more than doing nothing, for it be- 
 comes a necessity at last, like smoking, and is 
 an excuse to the mind to lie dormant ; whilst 
 thought is poured in, and runs through, a clear 
 stream, over unproductive gravel, on which not 
 even mosses grow. It is the idlest of all idle- 
 nesses, and has more of impotency than any 
 other.'" 
 
 Aunt Catherine was certainly not in one of 
 her talking moods when, after a brief delay, she 
 joined me in the avenue ; for though she took my 
 arm in her old way, she did not once break the 
 silence until the road was in sight, and then my 
 impatience was not to be repressed any longer. 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine,' I burst out in a tone of 
 mingled affection and vexation, ' I do wish you 
 would tell me what is troubling you ; you are 
 not a bit like yourself this evening. I am sure 
 that you are not going to St. Croix for your 
 pleasure or convenience ; someone is putting 
 some troublesome business on your shoulders, 
 and you are too kind to refuse to help. That 
 is always the way ; you never think of your 
 own comfort.' 
 
 ' I think I told you that I was not going to 
 St. Croix for pleasure, Olga.'
 
 44 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' But can no one else do the business ?' 
 ' Only Virginia, and you can see for yourself 
 how the mere idea harasses her. She has never 
 slept out of the Hall for a single night these last 
 five-and-twenty years ; it is one of her unhealthy 
 fancies that any change would be bad for her. 
 I think I love my home as much as anyone, 
 but I like to go away sometimes, if only for the 
 pleasure of coming back. One has such a 
 luxurious feeling of home-sickness towards the 
 last, and that makes the welcome all the sweeter. 
 I do not think any sound is more melodious to 
 me than the cawing of our own rooks on the 
 first evening of my return, after I have been 
 away a week or two.' 
 
 * How can you help loving such a beautiful 
 home ? I wish I could feel as much affection for 
 Fircroft. I am far too glad to leave it. Aunt 
 Catherine, are you sure that I shall be any 
 comfort to you ; that there is no one else whose 
 company you would prefer ?' 
 
 ' No ; you suit me exactly — how often have I 
 told you that, Olga I' 
 
 'It is very strange,' I returned musingly; 
 ' I often wonder how you can find pleasure in the 
 society of an insignificant girl — a clever woman 
 like you!' and then Aunt Catherine did summon 
 up a smile. 
 
 • You are not insignificant, Olga ; the word
 
 AUNT CATHERINE 45 
 
 does not suit you in the least, you have far too 
 much individuaHty. Liking becomes a habit, I 
 believe, and I have grown to love you as my 
 own child. This sort of adoption is very sweet. 
 Single women are often lonely ; but I have 
 come to think that it is their own fault. With a 
 world full of human beings, there must be some 
 whom they can love and take into their 
 life !' 
 
 ' I know I owe all my happiness to you/ I 
 returned gratefully. We had retraced our steps, 
 and were still walking over the crisp, short turf 
 under the elms. ' I should have had such a 
 different life without you. Think what it would 
 be if the Hall and you and Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 were effaced from my existence ! How meagre 
 and unsatisfactory everything would be ! Only 
 Hubert and Kitty and the children ; just dull 
 prose — not a bit of poetry ! Oh, the treats you 
 have given us ! Jem and I count them up 
 sometimes. Do you recollect those weeks at 
 Hastings ?' 
 
 ' To be sure I do ; you and Jem behaved like 
 a couple of babies.' 
 
 ' We were children let out of school. Oh, 
 what fun we had ! And then last summer, when 
 you and I stayed at the Randolph, was not that 
 a glorious time ? If I live to a hundred I do 
 not think I shall ever forget the quadrangle at
 
 46 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Magdalen, with the moonlight silvering every- 
 thing ; and that afternoon in Addison's Walk ! 
 And do you recollect how we came back to 
 Jem's room to tea, and the dark young man, 
 whom they called the Atheist, dropped in, and 
 he was not an Atheist at all — not even an 
 Agnostic — though he had some queer ideas of 
 his own. All Jem's friends fell in love with 
 you, Aunt Catherine ; they could not help 
 themselves. I was just nobody — only Leigh's 
 sister ; that was what they called me — Leigh's 
 sister. It was Miss Sefton round whom they 
 crowded, even the Atheist ; but as for poor 
 little me, I was just Leigh's sister — that was 
 all.' 
 
 This sort of talk was doing Aunt Catherine 
 good ; to certain fine natures nothing gives 
 greater pleasure than to be reminded that their 
 very existence creates joy for some lives. Aunt 
 Catherine was never satisfied with purely per- 
 sonal enjoyment ; she was essentially a lady in 
 its old-fashioned, Saxon meaning — the Hlaf- 
 weardige, the bread-keeper — only she liked to 
 break her loaf with others, to be perpetually 
 dispensing largesse. I have often heard her 
 groan over the burden of her own wealth. 
 ' There is too much,' she would say piteously, 
 ' there is far too much for Virginia and me to 
 spend on our two selves. We have neither of us
 
 A UNT CA THERIXE 47 
 
 any luxurious tastes — Virginia does not under- 
 stand art, neither do I. We have no kin — what 
 is the use of filHng the Hall with beautiful 
 things just for us to enjoy, when we do not 
 
 know who is to succeed us. If ' but here 
 
 her face clouded, and a sort of wistful look 
 came into her eyes, but she did not finish her 
 sentence — ' If she had married and had children,' 
 is that what she would have said ? 
 
 Aunt Catherine had resumed her natural 
 manner now, she even volunteered to be more 
 explicit. 
 
 ' I know you think me unsatisfactory this 
 evening, Olga,' she observed by-and-by, when 
 we had reached the Hall for the second time ; 
 * but the fact is I am very much worried. 
 Virginia, poor dear, is a little unpractical. She 
 and Dr. Langham insist on my having a com- 
 panion during my stay at St. Croix, and without 
 a moment's hesitation I fixed on you ; and now- 
 Virginia is unwilling that you should be told 
 the object of our journey. Perhaps, in my heart, 
 I am as unwilling as she ; but how are you to be 
 any help or comfort to me if I may not repose 
 confidence in you ? You will go your way and I 
 shall go mine, and there will be no question of 
 pleasure for either of us ; when you see me 
 worried you will not venture to question me, 
 and as for me, my lips will be closed. " Why
 
 48 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 need we tell anyone ?" that is all she says — you 
 know Virginia's way.' 
 
 I must confess I was somewhat hurt at this. 
 They were so much to me, these two dear 
 women, and 1 was so much to them ; and now 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst had judged me to be unworthy 
 of their confidence. I was only a girl, only 
 Olga ; it was safer to be silent ! 
 
 Aunt Catherine looked in my face, and read 
 my thoughts. 
 
 * No, you are not unworthy of our confidence,' 
 she said quickly ; ' if you are young you are 
 reliable. Virginia knows that as well as I do. 
 But there are difficulties, complications : it is a 
 troublesome sort of business — you must let me 
 think over it quietly. If I make up my mind 
 that it is necessary to tell you, Virginia will 
 have to yield, for I shall go only on my own 
 terms. I think, after all, the chief difficulty 
 consists in my own reluctance to tell a painful 
 story.' 
 
 Of course, after this there was nothing more 
 to be said, and I was ready to go to St. Croix 
 in passive ignorance if she wished it. Nothing 
 could really cloud the pleasure of our inter- 
 course. I was not particularly curious by nature, 
 or given to meddle in other folk's business, 
 whatever Jem might insinuate to the contrary ; 
 so I only begged Aunt Catherine not to disturb
 
 AUNT CATHERINE 49 
 
 herself. ' Whatever you decide will be right,' I 
 observed conclusively, when at last I bade her 
 good-bye. 
 
 I wanted Jem to be the first to hear my 
 wonderful piece of news, but to my disappoint- 
 ment he was playing tennis with Hubert, and 
 Kitty was sitting in her long cane chair outside 
 the drawing-room window watching them. 
 She was wTapped in her favourite gray woollen 
 shawl, and looked very tired and bored. I 
 knew just as well as though I had heard him, 
 that Hubert had coaxed her to put away her 
 work and rest a little — he had made her believe 
 that he would enjoy his game all the more if she 
 were looking on, and it was not in her wifely 
 soul to refuse compliance with his request after 
 such a compliment. 
 
 ' Forty — love,' shouted Jem, for he always 
 beat Hubert, and then he waved to me with his 
 racquet, and Kitty looked up at me wath a 
 dubious sort of smile. 
 
 * You might have told me you were going to 
 the Hall,' were her first words as I sat down 
 beside her. 
 
 ' Mights ' and ' oughts ' made up a great part 
 of Kitty's conversation. 
 
 ' I was in the Surprise when Jem brought 
 me Aunt Catherine's message,' was my suave 
 answer, for I could afford to be good-natured 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 this evening, * and it was too much trouble to 
 come up to the house. Jem told you where I 
 was gone ?' 
 
 ' Yes, Jem told me when I was tired of 
 wondering why you did not come in to tea. 
 Of course, you are your own mistress, Olga ' 
 (I wish I were); ' but you might have thought 
 1 should like to send a message.' (A second 
 * might,' now for an ' ought.') ' I wish you were 
 more thoughtful in little things.' 
 
 I took no notice of this dignified rebuke, 
 which meant that Kitty would have liked an 
 invitation too. 
 
 * It is such a warm evening,' I observed care- 
 lessly, ' how can you mufile yourself in that 
 shawl ?' 
 
 ' I am never warm now,' she replied, and 
 she actually shivered as she spoke. ' Hubert 
 wanted me to sit out here ; but I would much 
 rather go in — I have not half finished my 
 work ;' but here she caught Hubert's eye, or, 
 more truly, the gleam of his eyes through his 
 spectacles, and nodded and smiled at him in 
 her old sprightly way. 
 
 What a pretty creature she had been when 
 Hubert first brought her home ! Even now, 
 when anything pleased her and she looked 
 bright and animated, and the colour came to 
 her face, and her eyes got dark, and big, she
 
 A UNT CA THERINE 5 1 
 
 reminded me of the Kitty of old. I do not 
 believe Hubert noticed the change in her ; he 
 admired her as much as ever in his simple, 
 honest way. I have seen him gazing at her 
 through his spectacles in the most lover-like 
 manner ; and, to do her justice, she admired 
 him just as much in return. 
 
 * I wish Hubert played as well as Jem,' she 
 said rather disconsolately, as another ' fifteen — 
 thirty ' reached our ears. ' Jem has been beat- 
 ing him all the time, and yet Hubert is so fond 
 of the game.' 
 
 ' I don't believe Hubert minds being beaten. 
 He knows Jem is a crack player, as Harry 
 calls him. He should not play single against 
 Jem ; they are not evenly matched. Mr. Cun- 
 ningham is a better opponent for Hubert.' 
 
 ' I should like him to win one game,' returned 
 Kitty rather pathetically, as her eyes followed 
 the two players. ' I dare say you think me 
 foolish, but you will understand it yourself, one 
 day, how one likes one's husband to win.' 
 
 ' Even in a game,' rather sarcastically, for I 
 thought pathos a little out of place here. 
 
 To bring strong feelings into the trifling 
 amusements of life seemed to me as wise as 
 children playing at soldiers with real swords ; 
 we should be sure to cut and wound each 
 -other all day long. But, then, Kitty never 
 
 4—2
 
 «;2 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 liked Jem to excel in anything. It was my 
 private opinion that she shut her eyes wilfully 
 to Hubert's slowness, and that she 'made 
 believe,' as children say, that he was the wisest 
 and cleverest of men. 
 
 I thought it better to chanoe the subject, 
 for really Jem was playing splendidly. His lithe, 
 agile figure seemed literally to bound over the 
 grass ; he never seemed to miss a ball. Hubert 
 was blundering more than usual ; so I dis- 
 tracted Kitty's attention by telling her of Aunt 
 Catherine's proposition. 
 
 She listened to me in silence. 
 
 ' You are a very fortunate girl, Olga,' she 
 said, when I had finished my recital ; ' people 
 always seem to take a fancy to you ;' and here 
 she paused and looked at me in a critical sort 
 of way. 
 
 ' I wonder why people take a fancy to you ?' 
 was evidently her unuttered thought. 
 
 ^ I am sure I don't know,' was my careless 
 answer ; but Kitty started and coloured as 
 though I had read her truly. 
 
 ' Of course, you are very nice, dear,' she went 
 on, with ready repentance. ' When 1 was a girl 
 people took a fancy to me too ; but that is so 
 long ago.' 
 
 * You were so pretty that people could not 
 help falling in love with you.'
 
 AUNT CATHERINE 53 
 
 'Well, I suppose not,' was her candid answer; 
 for, with all her faults, Kitty was singularly de- 
 void of vanity. She liked Hubert to admire 
 her, but, with that exception, she cared little 
 for compliments. ' But many people think you 
 are nice-looking, too, Olga — that is, when you 
 take pains with yourself.' 
 
 ' Thank you, Kitty,' I returned gratefully, for 
 I knew that she had done her utmost for me in 
 that sentence. My glass had long ago told me 
 that I was no beauty, and Jem's brotherly frank- 
 ness had not left room for doubts. 
 
 ' Hubert is the only good-looking one of the 
 family,' he said once ; ' for a girl you are very 
 so-so ; your complexion is all right, but your 
 upper lip is too long, and your nose is just what 
 a nose ought not be, and your forehead is too 
 high. I like a forehead to be like Clyte s, low 
 and broad. Yes, your eyes are nice — but there, 
 what does it matter ? we are all as fond of you 
 as though you were a daughter of Venus,' and 
 after this speech I had no farther illusions on 
 the subject of my personal beauty. 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine is anxious to know if you 
 can spare me,' I went on, for Kitty seemed in 
 such a comfortable frame of mind. Unfor- 
 tunately this seemingly harmless remark grazed 
 her sensibilities too closely. I knew by the 
 way she pursed up her pretty little mouth —
 
 54 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 Kitty had such a pretty mouth — that she was 
 thinking of Jem's unlucky speech. 
 
 ' Do you think I should allow my selfish con- 
 siderations to stand in your way, Oiga ? I 
 wonder what Jem would say if I deprived you 
 of such a treat ; all the same,' relenting visibly, 
 • I shall miss you dreadfully, and so will the 
 poor children. I think you have spoilt us by 
 beine so crood to us.' 
 
 Could I believe my ears ? 
 
 * Do you really mean that you will miss me, 
 Kitty ? that sounds almost too nice to be 
 true.' 
 
 ' Have I been such an unkind sister that you 
 do not believe in my affection ? I did not think 
 you w^ould have misunderstood a few sharp 
 speeches,' and here there were actually tears in 
 her eyes. * I have always been fond of you, 
 Olga — always ; you have such nice ways with 
 the children, and you never seem to think any- 
 thing a trouble. Of course it is very dull for 
 you here — Hubert says so sometimes. You are 
 clever, and I am not a companion for you ; but 
 I want to do my best for you, and so does 
 Hubert, and he is goodness itself, although he 
 is not Jem.' 
 
 Now what could I do but kiss her and tell 
 her that she was a dear little soul, and that of 
 course I was as fond of her as possible ? and so
 
 A UXr CA THERINE 5 5 
 
 I was, though she never gave me any real 
 comfort. Very sensitive people always remind 
 me of a hedgehog : there is no going near 
 them without pricking one's self against their 
 bristles. 
 
 'What has become of Hugh ?' I exclaimed, 
 after we had gone through this little scene 
 of reconciliation. I always thought Kitty loved 
 scenes. 
 
 ' He is learning his imposition in the school- 
 room. He did his lessons very badly this after- 
 noon, and so Hubert kept him in.' 
 
 I sighed ; poor little Hugh was so often kept 
 in — he had inherited his father's slowness. 
 Hubert had been stupid as a child. I wonder 
 why the parents did not remember this ; kind 
 as they were to all their children, they were 
 disposed to be hard on Hugh. He was my 
 favourite. Wilfred was a dear little fellow, and 
 the twins, Jessie and ^Nlab, were bright, pretty 
 little girls, but none of them came up to Hugh 
 in my estimation. He was such an unselfish, 
 tender-hearted boy, so devoted to his parents 
 and to his brother and sisters. I have known 
 him go without things — his share of fruit or 
 sweets — that the twins might have more ; 
 perhaps he was not clever, but he was the most 
 perfect little gentleman — no one ever heard him 
 say a rough word ; all the pupils were fond of
 
 56 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 him, because he was always ready to do them a 
 service ; in his childish way, for he was only 
 nine, Hugh had a passion for service. 
 
 Poor Hugh shed many tears over his own 
 stupidity. He could not learn as quickly as other 
 boys of his age, and I used to fancy that Hubert 
 was a little exacting ; his boy's lack of brains 
 seemed a reproach to himself. I used to speak 
 to Kitty sometimes on the subject, but I never 
 could get her to see with my eyes. In the first 
 place, she would have to blame Hubert, a piece 
 of presumption that never entered her head ; 
 and in the second place, she would have to take 
 her son's part against his father — an equally 
 impossible proceeding ; so she always silenced 
 me with the same speech : ' Hubert knows best ; 
 it is not for me to interfere with my husband.' 
 For Kitty always got the best of an argu- 
 ment: when every means failed, she rolled her- 
 self round in certain stereotyped feminine 
 aphorisms, much as the hedgehog afore-men- 
 tioned transforms himself into a dust-coloured, 
 spiky ball ; and ' Hubert knows best ' clinched 
 the most obstinate discussion.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AN EVEXIXG AT FIRCROFT. 
 
 ' I do believe that there ought to be more interest in humanity, 
 and more power of throwing one's self into the mind of everyone, 
 so that no visit should appear dull' 
 
 Rev. Frederick Robertson. 
 
 Just at this moment Hubert threw up his 
 racket with a despairing groan, but Jem 
 promptly and figuratively patted him on the 
 back. 
 
 ' Cheer up, old man ; you will do better next 
 time. You did not play so badly last set.' 
 
 ' It is no use playing against this fellow/ 
 observed Hubert ruefully ; ' he has beaten me 
 hollow, as usual. Never mind, I will have my 
 revenge yet.' 
 
 'AH right,' returned Jem cheerfully, as he 
 threw himself down on the grass by my side, 
 looking quite cool and fresh in comparison with 
 Hubert's flushed face. ' Well, what have you
 
 58 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 two young women been talking about all this 
 time ?' 
 
 * I was just going to ask the same question,' 
 put in Hubert, who had taken possession of the 
 sole remaining chair. 
 
 Now we were both of us longing to tell the 
 same story. I — because it was my own peculiar 
 and legitimate piece of property — being both eye 
 and ear witness of the whole affair ; and Kitty — 
 because she always liked to monopolize Hubert's 
 attention — and to be tlie channel through which 
 he should receive all interestinof communications. 
 
 o 
 
 Knowing this peculiarity of Kitty, and being 
 bent on being the spokeswoman on the present 
 occasion, I commenced at racing speed ; not- 
 withstanding which, Kitty's Interpolations 
 tripped me up every minute much as follows : 
 
 ' Oh, Hubert, I have such a delightful piece 
 of news to tell you ! Do listen, Jem, and don't 
 tear my new print gown with your clumsy 
 foot.' 
 
 * Yes, indeed, I call it a piece of good fortune, 
 Hubert,' from Kitty. 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine is going to St. Croix on 
 business ' 
 
 ' Most important business,' corrected Kitty. 
 
 ' And she has asked me to accompany her.' 
 
 ' And Olga will not have a farthing of 
 expense. Think of that, dear !'
 
 AN EVENIXG AT FIRCROFT 59 
 
 'Some friends of theirs, the Milners, have let 
 their house to Aunt Catherine for three 
 months.' 
 
 ' But we could not spare Olga all that time, 
 could we ? and, indeed, Miss Sefton would not 
 require her nearly so long,' from the irrepres- 
 sible Kitty. 
 
 But I frowned her down, and went on : 
 
 * St. Croix is a lovely place, about two miles 
 from the town of St. Genette, and the house is 
 delightfully situated ; but Aunt Catherine would 
 not describe it to me. And there are several nice 
 English families, only Aunt Catherine says she 
 will have no time for visiting, and she has par- 
 ticularly desired the Milners not to ask their 
 friends to call.' 
 
 ' I am afraid that will be a litde dull for 
 Olga ; she does so love society.' 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine purposes to start early next 
 month, and I am to get my things ready ; and 
 she hopes, Hubert ' 
 
 ' Of course you can have no objection, dear ? 
 Olga is her own mistress, and it will be such a 
 nice change for her.' 
 
 ' Dear me, Kitty, I think you had better 
 finish yourself, for Hubert is staring at us both 
 as though he were utterly bewildered,' which 
 was the fact — he was looking at us blankly 
 through his spectacles ; his slow comprehension
 
 6o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 had evidently not groped its way to a full 
 understanding. 
 
 ' I think if you were to talk one at a time ' 
 
 he said helplessly. 
 
 And then Jem gave me such a look! He once 
 observed, rather profanely, in my hearing, that 
 he wondered Hubert had been ordained at the 
 usual age, as he must have been twice as long 
 as other men in making up his mind about the 
 Articles of the Christian Faith, ' though I will 
 say this for him,' finished the irreverent boy, 
 ' that when he had once settled what to believe, 
 he would stick to it for the rest of his life.' 
 
 * Poor old duffer !' Jem's look said so plainly 
 that I burst out laughing, and Kitty looked a 
 little offended. I knew by the way she bridled 
 her neck and elevated her little white chin, that 
 no amount of pressure would induce her to say 
 another word on the subject ; so, as Jem after- 
 wards remarked, I had my innings, and could 
 put the whole matter plainly before Hubert. 
 He was very much pleased when he fully under- 
 stood it all, and expressed himself as being very 
 grateful to Aunt Catherine for her kindness 
 to me. 
 
 ' She is a good creature,' he observed feel- 
 ingly, * and I am very much obliged to her.' 
 
 ' She is a darling !' ejaculated Jem, under his 
 breath.
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 6i 
 
 ' I think we ought to call at the Hall and 
 thank her, Kitty, Will you go with me to- 
 morrow afternoon, my dear, and then we can 
 inquire after Mrs. Lyndhurst ?' 
 
 ' I think you had better go alone, Hubert,' 
 returned Kitty, with a touch of her old plaintive- 
 ness. ' I am afraid I am out of favour at the 
 Hall, for they never ask me now. The only 
 one they want is Olga — they make that very 
 evident.' 
 
 ' Stuff — nonsense !' broke from Jem's lips. 
 He was never tolerant of Kitty's morbid fancies. 
 ' You are a pretty sort of clergyman's wife, 
 Kitty, to let your husband pay all his pastoral 
 visits alone. I thought a clergyman advocated 
 charity, and all that sort of thing, and here you 
 are harassing the curate-in-charge with doubts 
 about his parishioners. I will wager my best 
 hat that Miss Sefton, and Mrs. Lyndhurst, too, 
 will be delighted to see you to-morrow. If I 
 were you, Hubert, I would make her go. What 
 is the good of being a husband if one can't 
 order one's wife about?' 
 
 Strange to say, Kitty did not take umbrage 
 at this plain speech, though Hubert looked 
 alarmed at Jem's audacity. 
 
 ' Of course I shall go if Hubert wishes it,' 
 was all she said ; and Hubert looked as 
 delio^hted as though she had paid him the
 
 62 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 choicest compliment. It was such a pity 
 Hubert had so little tact. He did not in 
 the least understand how to manage Kitty. 
 In spite of her little tempers and tiresome 
 ways, she was a good little creature at the 
 bottom. Jem would have made her a much 
 better husband ; he would have tyrannized over 
 her in a good-natured way, and rooted out all 
 her fancies, and dominated her for her own 
 good, and there would have been an end of 
 all these weary discussions and misunderstand- 
 
 mgs. 
 
 The gong sounded as we reached this point 
 in our conversation, and we could hear the 
 young men racing down the passages on their 
 way to their rooms. 
 
 'We must go and change, Jem.' and Hubert 
 started up, and Kitty and I followed them more 
 leisurely. 
 
 But I had not forgotten poor little Hugh, 
 and I hurried up to the schoolroom to see how 
 he was getting on with his imposition. Contrary 
 to my expectations, I heard voices, and on 
 opening the door I was surprised to see Harry 
 Vivian sitting on the schoolroom table with 
 Hugh's slate in his hand, and Hugh standing 
 beside him with a radiant face. 
 
 ' Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Vivian ; I quite 
 understand it now.'
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 
 
 'All right, little 'un; now go and show it to 
 your governor.' 
 
 And then he caught sight of me, and jumped 
 up with a boyish blush on his face, as though 
 he had been discovered in some wrong-doing. 
 
 * Have you been helping Hugh, Mr. Vivian ? 
 That is very good of you.' 
 
 * Yes ; isn't he awfully kind, auntie ? He has 
 been here ever so long showing me how to do 
 my lesson.' 
 
 'Well, it was hard lines on him, poor little 
 chap, being mewed up on such a lovely evening. 
 Now, do as I tell you, Hugh : go and show your 
 imposition to Mr. Leigh, and then run out in 
 the garden.' 
 
 And Hugh, with a grateful look at his friend, 
 tucked his books under his arm, and ran down- 
 stairs to his father's dressing-room. 
 
 ' I wish Mr. Leigh were not quite so strict 
 with the little fellow,' observed Mr. Vivian, as 
 soon as he found himself alone with me. ' I 
 beg your pardon if I am saying too much, but 
 I always think both he and Mrs. Leigh are 
 rather hard on the boy ; they don't give him 
 credit for his good intentions. He does his 
 work to the best of his ability, and we are 
 not all blessed with the same amount of 
 brains.' 
 
 ' I agree with you,' I assented warmly; ' thank
 
 64 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 you SO much for helping the poor child. I am 
 quite as grateful to you as he is/ 
 
 ' Nonsense ; I liked doing it, don't you know. 
 I have not forgotten how a boy feels under these 
 circumstances. Must you go. Miss Leigh ? 
 What have you been doing all the afternoon — 
 taking a walk with Rollo ?' 
 
 ' I am going to leave Rollo in a week or two ; 
 will you be very good to him in my absence ?' 
 and I gave Mr. Vivian a hasty sketch of my 
 plans. His face fell at once. 
 
 'You are going away, Miss Leigh, and we do 
 not break up until the second of August — nearly 
 a whole month without you ; what will Rollo 
 and I do ?' 
 
 ' You will do excellently well,' was my unfeel- 
 ing reply. ' Rollo will miss me, of course — dear 
 old fellow — because he is myconstantcompanion; 
 but, now I come to think of it, why should I not 
 take him with me ? Miss Sefton will not mind. 
 Yes, Rollo shall go too ; he shall take his first 
 sea-voyage, and see foreign life with his mistress. 
 Oh, how delightful !' and I clapped my hands in 
 pure girlish glee. 
 
 ' You care more about that dog than you do 
 for the whole of us put together,' returned Mr. 
 Vivian reproachfully. ' You are so different 
 to other girls ; one cannot make the least im- 
 pression on you.'
 
 .^.V EVEXIXG AT FIRCROFT 65 
 
 ' Au revoir, monsieur,' I replied lightly, mak- 
 ing him a profound curtsey, and the next 
 minute I was in the passage. 
 
 We all liked Harr\' Vivian, he was such a 
 nice, gentlemanly boy — young man, I suppose I 
 ought to say, for he was twenty. He had been 
 in bad health for some years, and this had re- 
 tarded his education ; but since his recover}- he 
 had made up for lost time, and was now working 
 to some purpose. Hubert was in hope that he 
 would be ready for his matriculation in a few- 
 months. He and Jem were great friends ; they 
 had the same tastes and opinions. I liked him 
 immensely ; indeed, I preferred him to the other 
 two pupils. Mr. Campbell was handsome, but 
 he was decidedly stupid ; and Mr. Cunningham 
 was unpleasantly rich, and thought too much of 
 himself in consequence ; but Harry — I called 
 him Harr\' to Jem — was always nice and good- 
 natured and ready to do kind things, and if 
 only he would not tr}- to make pretty speeches ; 
 but that was so like a boy, and I suppose he 
 could not help his nature — only it sometimes 
 gave me a good deal of trouble to keep him in 
 proper order. I could not help laughing, as I 
 dressed myself, at the remembrance of his long 
 face. ' Nearly a whole month without you !' Poor 
 bov ! I am the onlv sfirl about, so he thinks he 
 is obliged to fall in love with me. How Jem 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 would chaff him if he knew ; but he is too nice 
 a boy, and I will keep his litde secret for him. 
 Why, Kitty had half a dozen lovers before she 
 was eighteen, and I am a whole year older, and, 
 with the exception of Harry Vivian, no one has 
 ever paid me a single compliment ; but ' when a 
 person has too long an under lip and a nose that 
 is ever}^thing a nose ought not to be,' recalling 
 Jem's severe criticism, ' that fact need excite no 
 special wonder ;' and in this philosophic frame 
 of mind I finished my toilet. 
 
 The dinner-hour at Fircroft was always the 
 most wearisome to me in the twenty-four. 
 Hubert's bland conversation, somewhat tinged 
 with pomposity, seemed to cast a dead-weight 
 over everything. His twofold character of pastor 
 and master invested him with added dignity ; 
 and with Kitty in her pretty evening dress at 
 the other end of the table, drinking in his words 
 of wisdom as though he were Solon and Solo- 
 mon combined, no wonder he seemed to ex- 
 pand with mingled importance and benevolence. 
 I alwa}s sat between Hubert and Mr. Cunning- 
 ham — a position I hated. If Hubert's rounded 
 sentences were not to my taste, Mr. Cunning- 
 ham's remarks were even less so. I never 
 knew a young man so entirely satisfied with 
 himself. He ought to have married Miss 
 Kilmanseg with her golden leg, for every
 
 AN EVEXIXG AT FIRCROFT 67 
 
 word related directly or indirectly to what re- 
 generate souls term filthy lucre. Egotism eked 
 out with a stammer and an eye-glass had little 
 attraction for me. 
 
 ' Have you heard from home lately, ]\Ir. 
 Cunningham ?' 1 would remark, with an attempt 
 to be gracious. 
 
 ' Yes — my — my — father wrote. He — he — 
 has had a stroke of luck — made a pot of m-m- 
 money lately ;' and thereupon would follow 
 some stuttering account of speculations or in- 
 vestments which I did not pretend to under- 
 stand, or anecdotes of 'my hunter, my dogs, my 
 people.' 
 
 I never knew anyone so fond of the posses- 
 sive pronoun. When Jem was at home things 
 were far better. He always sat opposite to 
 me, and when Hubert was unusually prosy we 
 would telegraph our amusement to each other, 
 or Jem would strike into the conversation ; he 
 was the only one who dared to contradict the 
 master of the house. 
 
 ' Come, come, we have had enough of these 
 Greek fellows,' he would say ; ' they were 
 precious ruffians, I can tell you. It is too bad 
 to talk shop and hinder our digestion. Did 
 you see Roberts, of xMerton, has distinguished 
 himself ? He was always a plucky one.' 
 i\ctually the audacious boy would change the
 
 68 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 conversation after this fashion. Or he and Harry 
 Vivian, who always followed his lead, would 
 begin a sparring match ; witticism would follow 
 witticism. It was droll to see how Hubert 
 looked through his spectacles trying to under- 
 stand them. 
 
 ' What do you two fellows mean ?' he would 
 ask helplessly. ' I wish you w^ould talk sense, 
 Jem.' 
 
 ' Only clever people can talk nonsense,' Jem 
 retorted once. ' If you would only try your 
 hand at it for half an hour, Hubert, it would 
 do you a world of good.' 
 
 ' You have forgotten, then, the great Roman 
 warn in Of : " Nescit vox missa reverti " — that 
 means, Olga,' with explanatory courtesy, ' that 
 a word once uttered is irrevocable.' 
 
 Jem shook his head sorrowfully. 
 
 ' You are crushing butterflies with a garden- 
 roller. Can't you find a lighter implement to 
 brush the powder off our gauzy wings ? Vivian 
 looks quite depressed ; he is choking with con- 
 scious guilt. " Nescit vox missa reverti." My 
 poor Harry ! what is to become of all thy 
 breezy jokes ?' 
 
 'Really, Jem,' and Hubert drew himself up 
 in an offended manner, ' there are limits to 
 everything — even to jesting ;' for his feelings 
 were hurt on perceiving his quotation had
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 69 
 
 failed to make its mark. But Jem contrived 
 to soothe him. The brothers were really 
 attached to each other ; but Jem could not 
 always forbear a joke at Hubert's expense. I 
 am afraid he and Harry delighted in getting a 
 * rise ' out of him, as they called it ; and really, to 
 watch his puzzled expression over one of Jem's 
 ridiculous jokes, was enough to make one die 
 with laughing. No, the dinner-hour was never 
 dull when Jem was at Fircroft. 
 
 It was our habit — Jem's and mine, I mean — 
 to escape the tedium of the drawing-room circle 
 as often as we could, and retire to the garden, 
 where Harry would join us. 
 
 Hubert and Mr. Campbell generally played 
 chess — a game of which they were both pas- 
 sionately fond ; but Hubert, who was a strict 
 disciplinarian even in trifles, had laid down 
 the law that music was a necessary part of 
 every evening's entertainment. Mr. Cunning- 
 ham played the flute atrociously, and Harry 
 had lately taken lessons on the violin ; so Kitty 
 or I were in requisition as accompanists to these 
 misguided young men. To add to our misery, 
 Mr. Campbell had recently discovered he had 
 a fine bass voice. The adjective ' fine ' was 
 dubious ; but, alas ! the voice was undeniable, 
 and the game of chess was often curtailed in
 
 70 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 order that Mr. Campbell's sonorous notes might 
 be heard and admired. 
 
 Now, a musical evening made to order, and 
 with indifferent musicians, has always been my 
 abomination of abominations; and yet I protest, 
 by the shades of Beethoven and Handel, that 
 I am a devout lover of music ; but a cut-and- 
 dried routine of badly-executed pieces, wherein 
 the same faults recur every evening, was enough 
 to sicken anyone. Kitty was far more patient 
 under the ordeal. 
 
 * That's right, Kitty, my dear; you and Cun- 
 ningham played that last piece very well. Bravo, 
 Cunningham ! that does you credit, really ;' and 
 Hubert, who had not the least ear for music, 
 and whose nervous system was proof against 
 any amount of diabolic squeaks and quavers, 
 though even Rollo protested against them in 
 his doggish way, would beam on the complacent 
 youth who had just distinguished himself. 
 
 ' I make a point of encouraging my pupils' 
 musical tastes,' I heard Hubert once say to an 
 anxious parent. * Nothing harmonizes young 
 men more, or better disposes them to domesticity. 
 My wife and sister are accomplished pianists ' 
 (oh, Hubert, what a fib! though certainly Kitty 
 had a pretty touch), 'and our evenings are de- 
 lightful. We have the flute, the violin — quite 
 an orchestra.'
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 71 
 
 Who ever heard a flute in an orchestra, you 
 silly fellow ? 
 
 I was bent on making my escape this evening, 
 so I whispered to Jem as he opened the door 
 for us after dinner : 
 
 ' Get rid of Harry ; I want you all to myself;' 
 and he nodded in his quick way. 
 
 Jem always understood me in a moment. I 
 found him waiting for me in the hall a minute 
 later. 
 
 ' Don't go in the garden, Olga,' he said ; 
 ' Campbell and Vivian are smoking their cigar- 
 ettes out there. Let us take a turn in the Elm 
 Avenue instead; no one will find us there ;' and 
 of course I consented to his proposition. 
 
 We had so much to talk about that I am 
 sure we walked miles before we had half ex- 
 hausted the subject. Jem was full of my pro- 
 jected journey to St. Croix — he always took an 
 interest in my smallest concerns — and he wanted 
 me to tell him everything Aunt Catherine had 
 said. 
 
 I was so full of my recital, and Jem was so 
 nice and sympathetic, that I took no notice of 
 where we were going ; but all of a sudden I 
 awoke to full consciousness. The elms, with 
 the slumbering rooks, were no longer over our 
 heads ; we were walking down a side-path in 
 the Italian garden, and just before us was the
 
 72 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Lady s Walk, looking more sombre and mys- 
 terious than ever In the moonlight. 
 
 ' Jem,' I remonstrated, ' why have you brought 
 me here ? You know nothing on earth will 
 induce me to enter the Lady Gwendoline's 
 Walk.' 
 
 ' What nonsense, Olga ! Do you mean you 
 are afraid to go there with me ?' And Jem's 
 voice had a touch of scorn that nettled me in 
 spite of my nervousness. 
 
 ' I would rather not. Don't be tiresome ; 
 Everyone has his or her special fancy. I 
 cannot bear that ghostly terrace. I always 
 imagine Oh, Jem — Jem! what Is that?' 
 
 And I pinched his arm In my agitation, for, 
 as though my nervousness had found its actual 
 embodiment, a white figure glided from behind 
 the dark trees. Was It Lady Gwendoline 
 waiting for her Puritan lover, Ralph of the 
 Iron-Heart ? ' Oh, Jem !' 
 
 'Hush, Olga! don't be a fool.' Jem was 
 just a little rough with me because my paleness 
 alarmed him. ' What a goose you are ! don't 
 you see it Is Mrs. Lyndhurst ?' 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst ! I recovered in a moment. 
 Of course it was she, only she looked so strange 
 and unlike herself Her black gown was hidden 
 under a loose white burnous, and she had 
 drawn its hood over her gray hair, so that she
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 
 
 /3 
 
 really looked ghost-like in the moonlight. The 
 next minute 1 begged Jem in a whisper to come 
 away. 
 
 ' Do come, dear ! She will be so vexed if 
 she thinks she is watched. Aunt Catherine 
 has told me so. She often takes solitary walks, 
 and nothing annoys her more than for anyone 
 to follow and speak to her. You know^ she is 
 odd in her ways. She is coming towards us 
 now ; what shall we do ?' 
 
 But Jem, with ready presence of mind, drew 
 me behind a great flowering shrub, that com- 
 pletely hid us, though we could just see through 
 the branches. 
 
 How I wished we were safe in our own 
 Surprise ! It was so uncanny to be hiding 
 there in the moonlight. Mrs. Lyndhurst was 
 coming towards us with a soft, gliding motion 
 that conveyed no sound ; her pale face was paler 
 than ever, and there was a fixed look upon it, 
 as though some sad thought dominated her. 
 Just as she was opposite to us — opposite our 
 hiding-place, I mean — she suddenly stopped 
 and wrung her hands, as though with involun- 
 tary pain. 
 
 ' Oh, my sin !' we heard her say — ' will it 
 never be condoned in this world ? Will there 
 never be an end of all this suspense and 
 misery ? Only God knows !'
 
 74 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 And then she turned away, and we heard 
 such a heart-broken sigh. 
 
 ' Now we can go,' whispered Jem eagerly ; 
 ' quick, Olga, before she turns.' And, holding 
 my arm tightly, we ran Hghtly down the 
 garden-paths and gained the avenue ; but we 
 neither of us spoke until the Hall was out of 
 sight. 
 
 ' Oh, Jem ! what does it mean ?' 
 
 ' That is not for us to inquire,' was the 
 unexpected response. ' Poor woman, I always 
 guessed that her life had an unhappy secret in 
 it. I never saw sorrow more legibly written on 
 any human countenance.' 
 
 ' I knew her husband was a bad man.' 
 
 ' Yes, we all know as much as that ; but, Olga, 
 we must forget what has just passed. We 
 must not even let our thoughts dwell on it. 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst imagined that she was alone — 
 you must remember that.' 
 
 * But I can never forget her words, Jem.' 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; but I do not mean to think 
 about them. If I can, I will wipe them out of 
 my memory. They shall be to me as though 
 they had not been spoken.' 
 
 I knew Jem had a keen sense of honour, 
 but I never felt before how much he was above 
 me in that respect. I am afraid women are 
 often faulty in this respect. I do not mean by
 
 AN EVENING AT FIRCROFT 75 
 
 this that they would Hsten at doors, or volun- 
 tarily intrude into other folk's conversation, 
 but they are often wanting in the finer points 
 of honour. I do not fancy a man, for example, 
 would criticise his visitor as soon as the outer 
 door closed on him, and yet I heard ladies 
 discuss their friends in the most heartless way, 
 and indulge in innuendoes at their expense. 
 
 ' Poor dear woman ! Yes, we will forget all 
 about it, Olga,' repeated Jem decisively, as 
 we reached Fircroft. 
 
 But though I tried hard to follow this advice, 
 I found it impossible. All that night, waking 
 or dreaming, the words seemed to haunt me : 
 * Oh, my sin ! will it never be condoned in this 
 world ? Will there never be an end of this 
 suspense and misery ?' and ' only God knows !' 
 seemed to echo and re-echo through my brain.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ' SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER ?' 
 
 * In no relation does woman exercise so deep an influence, 
 both immediately and prospectively, as in that of mother.' 
 
 Carter. 
 
 Human nature is exceeding complex ; it is 
 many-sided and Proteus-like in its shifting 
 transformations. There is something mys- 
 terious, almost baffling, in seeing anyone we 
 know intimately under an entirely new aspect 
 — the sudden metamorphosis stardes and alarms 
 our inner consciousness in much the same way 
 that a flash of lightning dazzles our outward 
 vision. The arrowy brightness of electricity 
 illuminates the darkness, bringing sombre depths 
 and unknown objects into strange significance ; 
 but before we can grasp the meaning of the 
 spectacle the weird effect is swallowed up in the 
 blackness of vacancy. 
 
 In the same way human nature suddenly
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 77 
 
 reveals itself; in a moment some unseen force 
 or agency, some combination of circumstance 
 at once grotesque and terrible, asserts its power ; 
 with a shock, an upheaval as of an earthquake, 
 our foregone conclusions tumble about our ears, 
 our preconceived opinions are thwarted — 
 strangled. Nothing is the same, there is con- 
 fusion, chaos, the old order chano^es ; then the 
 turmoil subsides — there is quiet, a cessation of 
 strife ; but to us the calmness is ominous — what 
 has been may be again ! 
 
 It was in this way that I thought of Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst the next morning on waking ; my 
 girlish faith had sustained a shock. Jem 
 would have scoffed at the idea of a few wild 
 words altering my estimation of a person, but I 
 could not take them lightly ; to me they w^ere 
 pregnant with mysterious meaning — they hinted 
 at something chaotic, terrible. If only I could 
 have talked it over comfortably with Jem ; if 
 he could have reasoned my doubts away — but 
 no, there was his sense of honour warnine me 
 off forbidden ground. On certain points Jem 
 was inexorable. I knew him too well ever to 
 hope that his reserve would yield to curiosity ; 
 it was no affair of his or mine ; we had been 
 innocent eavesdroppers, that was all. Jem 
 would have cried shame on me for letting my 
 truant imaginations play about a neighbour's
 
 78 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 secret. ' Have you no sense of honour ?' he 
 would have said, with crushing sternness, if I 
 had weakly applied to him for a solution. 
 There was no comfort to be got out of Jem on 
 these sort of emergencies. If only I could follow 
 his creditable example, and wipe out the 
 memory of those words ; but to me it was im- 
 possible. All the world knew that Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst was an unsatisfied, unhappy woman, but 
 that she had sinned — no, impossible. It was 
 that word ^ sin ' that haunted me, and the de- 
 spairing tone in which it had been uttered. 
 
 I felt I could not go up to the Hall ; my looks 
 would have betrayed my inward uneasiness. I 
 was a bad actor ; Jem always told me so. I 
 should have felt like a culprit before Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst, and should have stammered over 
 the simplest sentence ; and in spite of her 
 gentleness Mrs. Lyndhurst was very clear-eyed 
 and observant. She was by no means indifferent 
 to people's good opinion ; she liked to stand well 
 with her friends ; any want of respect or con- 
 sideration would have hurt her grievously. 
 
 ' I suppose I had better not go to the Hall 
 this afternoon,' I said rather tentatively to Jem, 
 when I encountered him in the garden ; but 
 Jem refused to see the feeble bait I flune out 
 to him. 
 
 * I suppose not, as Hubert and Kitty are
 
 •SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 79 
 
 going,' he replied drily ; ' there is no need for 
 the whole family to show up, is there ?' and he 
 went off without another word, the tiresome 
 boy. Of course, he saw from my face that I 
 was dying to talk to him, but I might as well 
 have attracted a whale with a gaudy fly ! such 
 is masculine human nature and the manners of 
 brothers, that I believe Jem thoroughly enjoyed 
 disappointing me. 
 
 But my morbid curiosity was not to be re- 
 pressed, and on Kitty's return I followed her 
 upstairs on some pretence or other. Kitty was 
 not averse to my company, and she chatted 
 comfortably about her visit, as she smoothed 
 out the fingers of her gloves, so skilfully that 
 they looked like new. It was a sort of educa- 
 tion to watch Kitty at her toilet ; she had 
 wonderfully methodical little ways. She had 
 lost her parents when she was a child, and had 
 been brought up by her grandmother ; all 
 Kitty's prim habits had been inculcated by her 
 aged relative. Kitty's room, her drawers, were 
 models of tidiness ; she often volunteered to 
 turn out my drawers and boxes, and reduce 
 their chaotic contents to the same state of 
 elaborate neatness — her lectures to me on this 
 point were highly edifying and amusing. 
 
 'Well, it is a shame for girls to be untidy,' 
 Jem once said when I retailed part of Kitty s
 
 8o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 lecture, giving it a humorous meaning. ' Kitty 
 is quite right, and you ought to turn over a new 
 leaf. A pretty sort of wife you will make, Olga ! 
 I quite pity the poor fellow who ever aspires to 
 be my brother-in-law/ which was rude of Jem, 
 and a cowardly going over to the enemy. 
 
 ' Did you see the ladies, Kitty ?' for, in common 
 with the whole of the village, we always called 
 them ' the ladies.' 
 
 'Yes; and Miss Sefton insisted on our re- 
 maining to tea. They were nicer than usual, very 
 kind and friendly, only Mrs. Lyndhurst looked 
 dreadfully ill. I never saw her face so pinched 
 and white. Hubert noticed it ; he spoke to me 
 directly we left the Hall. '' How wretched 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst looks !" that was what he said.' 
 
 'You and Hubert generally think alike, do 
 you not ?' But there was no sarcastic meaning 
 in my question. 
 
 Kitty took it seriously, as usual. 
 
 ' When I first married I thought husbands 
 and wives were bound to think alike,' she said 
 quietly, as she tried to smooth her dark, curly 
 hair. Kitty's hair would ripple into soft little 
 curls and waves above her forehead, though she 
 vainly tried to repress them ; but she might as 
 well have tried to straighten Girlie-gar's curly 
 crop. ' I was so young, you know, Olga, and 
 so dreadfully inexperienced. Why, I was only
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 8i 
 
 twenty when dear little Cecil died,' for Kitty 
 had lost her first baby, and it had been a great 
 sorrow to her. ' I remember how hard I tried 
 to agree with everything Hubert said; but it 
 was no use, one must have one's own opinions, 
 so I gave it up.' 
 
 ' I am glad you were so sensible.' 
 
 ' I did not become so for a long time,' with a 
 faint sigh ; 'girls are dreadfully silly. Hubert 
 cured me at last, but I am not going to tell you 
 how; you will find it out for yourself some day, 
 when you are married. I think I like dis- 
 agreeing with Hubert now and then, because 
 he takes so much trouble to bring me round to 
 his opinion, and there is the pleasure of giving 
 in at the end.' 
 
 ' And it would be too matter-of-fact to think 
 alike on every point ?' 
 
 ' Of course ' — with a knowing nod — * too 
 humdrum altogether ; I am afraid ' — penitently 
 — ' I often give Hubert a great deal of trouble 
 with my little tempers ; but he is so dear and 
 patient that it makes me love him all the 
 better.' 
 
 1 pondered over this wifely speech, which 
 Kitty made with a good deal of feeling ; then I 
 shook my head. 
 
 * If I had a husband,' I remarked, ' I should 
 wish to be perfect in his eyes. I should not 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 allow him to see my faults more than I could 
 help.' 
 
 ' That sounds rather fatiguing, Olga, as 
 though one were to be in permanent full-dress. 
 One could not keep that up, you know ; there 
 would be a break-down soon.' 
 
 ' Do you think so ?' doubtfully. 
 
 ' I am sure of it. Why, my dear, two people 
 cannot live together without a good deal of 
 friction, without rubbinof ag^ainst each other's 
 angles. Men are so dreadfully tiresome, you 
 see; they are obtuse, and do not notice little 
 things, and that aggravates a woman. They 
 want you to think them perfect ; and if you 
 point out a defect, well, they are as hurt as 
 possible, and yet they will lecture you for half 
 an hour at a time, and tell you not to do this 
 and how to do that ; and they expect you to 
 listen with a smile on your face, and if you turn 
 the least bit cross they are off in a moment, 
 and think you unreasonable and ill-tempered.' 
 
 ' I am sure Hubert is not one of those 
 men.' 
 
 ' How do you know ?' turning on me quite 
 sharply; 'he has his little faults like other people; 
 he can be dense, too, and misunderstand one. 
 Not that I have not often given him a bit to 
 bear,' with another sigh, ' and of course it was 
 oftener my fault than his. I know that as well
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 83 
 
 as you do, Olga ; for I quite understand what 
 your hint impHes, and what you and Jem think 
 — that I have never been good enough for 
 Hubert; 
 
 Oh, good gracious ! I was in for it now ; 
 but fortunately Kitty only grazed the dangerous 
 points and went off at a tangent. 
 
 ' I dare say you are both of you right, and I 
 am an uncomfortable sort of person to live with ; 
 but I cannot help my nature, and Hubert seems 
 happy enough. Well, we won't talk about that 
 any more, though I do wish I were different, for 
 all your sakes.' 
 
 ' My dear Kitty, I don't believe Hubert 
 wants you to be different ; he is far too fond of 
 you.' 
 
 She broke into a little smile at this. 
 
 * Hubert is my husband, so of course he is 
 good to me ; but, Olga,' looking at me wistfully, 
 ' I wish you and Jem understood me better. 
 You don't know,' her voice trembling, ' how 
 hard it is never to feel well, or as strong as 
 other people. It makes me fanciful. I re- 
 member when I never ailed anything — when 
 life was just beautiful to me. I never thought 
 then that I should ever come to feel as I do 
 now.' 
 
 'Are you feeling worse than usual, Kitty ?' I 
 asked, somewhat troubled at this. 
 
 6—2
 
 84 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' No ; I am neither better nor worse. It is 
 the same every day. Dr. Langham says it is 
 want of vitality. I suppose he is right. I try 
 not to trouble Hubert more than I can help. I 
 do not like him to know how tired and good-for- 
 nothinof I am ; he has enough on his mind 
 without that.' 
 
 ' I ought to help you more,' I began, feeling 
 rather conscience-stricken ; but Kitty would not 
 allow me to go on. 
 
 ' You do help me, Olga, and I would not 
 willingly monopolize your time. This is your 
 season of pleasure,' looking at me kindly ; * I 
 have had my time. Yes, indeed, I have much 
 to be thankful for. Hubert is good to me, and 
 I have the children. Perhaps if I were stronger 
 I should enjoy my life more, but we are not 
 sent into the world for our own enjoyment,' 
 finished Kitty, with vivid recollection of last 
 Sunday's sermon. 
 
 We had wandered far away from Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst, and I dare not return to the subject, 
 especially as Kitty seemed disposed to moralize ; 
 but all at once she changed the subject some- 
 what abruptly. 
 
 ' We have settled about your trip, Olga. Miss 
 Sefton wants you to get your things ready at 
 once. I suppose you will require a new dress ; 
 your summer tweed is rather shabby.'
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 85 
 
 ' I am not sure that I shall buy anything,' 
 rather dubiously. ' I have spent my quarter's 
 allowance already.' 
 
 ' What a pity !' Kitty had quite recovered 
 herself now. ' If only my things would fit you! 
 Hubert made me get that gray gown and 
 jacket, and I have not worn them more than 
 three times ; but you are too tall,' regarding me 
 ruefully, for Kitty was one of the most generous 
 of beings, and would have stripped herself of her 
 pretty things willingly. ' So it is no good think- 
 ing about that ; you must just ask Hubert for a 
 cheque ; tell him from me, if you like, that you 
 must have a new tweed dress and jacket and a 
 hat to match. Miss Sefton must not be dis- 
 graced by your shabbiness. He is in his study 
 now. Why don't you go to him and get it over, 
 and then w^e can buy the dress to-morrow ?' 
 
 This was sensible advice, and after a minute's 
 hesitation I resolved to follow it. Perhaps 
 Kitty saw the reluctance with which I made up 
 my mind, for she patted me on the shoulder 
 kindly and said : 
 
 ' You need not be afraid ; Hubert is sure to 
 give you what you want ; he is always generous.' 
 
 Perhaps it was my pride ; but I did so hate to 
 ask for money. So I marched into the study in 
 rather a shamefaced way. To add to my em- 
 barrassment, Hubert was making up parish
 
 86 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 accounts, and looked up with rather an annoyed 
 air at the interruption. 
 
 * What do you want, my dear ? This is Friday 
 evening, and I am extremely busy — will not the 
 business keep until another time ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes, of course, Hubert, only Kitty 
 wanted me to come. It is about money ; but I 
 can wait very well until to-morrow.' 
 
 * No, no ; perhaps you had better tell me 
 now,' he returned fussily; ' but Kitty might have 
 remembered ; it is rather inconsiderate to inter- 
 rupt me just now,' and then he leant back in his 
 chair and took off his spectacles and regarded 
 me in a reproachful way as I stammered out my 
 request. He was still shaking his head over 
 Kitty's want of consideration as he wrote out 
 the cheque and handed it to me. ' Another 
 time please do not choose Friday evening/ he 
 said with mild insistence. 
 
 I had gained my point ; but, in spite of his 
 rebuke, I lingered a moment to ask after Hugh, 
 who had been missing all the afternoon. 
 
 ' Do you know where he is, Hubert ?' I ven- 
 tured. 
 
 Hubert's fussiness vanished, and he put on at 
 once his stern schoolmaster s air at the mention 
 of Hugh's name. 
 
 'He is in his own room. I sent him there a 
 couple of hours ago. He had to do his sums
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 87 
 
 over again. His work has been disgraceful this 
 week — absolutely disgraceful ! I am beginning 
 to think he needs competition. We seem at a 
 dead-lock at present. He must go to school. 
 Vivian thinks so too ; only Kitty is so against 
 it ; but it has come to this — that I cannot teach 
 him any longer.' 
 
 Hubert was walking about the room as he 
 spoke. In mentioning Hugh's name I was 
 touching on a very sore point. His boy's slow 
 perception was a bitter humiliation to him. His 
 parental pride suffered a martyrdom. I felt for 
 him ; but, all the same, he was too hard on 
 Hugh. 
 
 'Oh, Hubert,' I exclaimed, 'do try him a 
 little longer. You have no idea how hard he 
 really works ; only lessons are not so easy to 
 him as to other boys. I think it will break his 
 heart to send him to school.' 
 
 ' He is breaking mine with his stupidity !' re- 
 turned Hubert, so bitterly that I stood aghast to 
 hear him. Hubert rarely spoke strongly about 
 anything. ' I can do nothing with him. I 
 talked to him yesterday for nearly half an hour 
 about his bad preparation, and he promised to 
 do better; and this morning his lessons were 
 worse than ever, and his only excuse was, one 
 of his rabbits had died and put everything out 
 of his head.'
 
 88 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 I half smiled. Hugh was very babyish for 
 his age, but I knew he was devoted to his pets ; 
 but Hubert's sternness did not relax. 
 
 * He is my greatest trial. It is hard to be 
 punished in one's children. I thought I should 
 have been so proud of Hugh — he was such a 
 bright litde fellow once ; but he must go to 
 school — I have made up my mind on that point. 
 Where is Kitty ? I want to talk to her. These 
 
 accounts must keep ' and Hubert stalked 
 
 off, grim and melancholy, to find his wife. How 
 I wished I had not mentioned Hugh ! Xow he 
 would make Kitty miserable for the rest of the 
 eveninof. 
 
 I hesitated for a long time before I ventured 
 to go in search of the culprit. When Hubert 
 was in one of these moods it was dangerous to 
 go against him ; even Kitty did not dare to 
 oppose him. Slow-naiured men like Hubert let 
 their wrath smoulder unperceived for a long 
 time ; but when they are once at white heat, 
 they are not easily mollified. His very love 
 added fuel to his anger. Hugh's punishment 
 was likely to be commensurate with his father's 
 disappointment. After a time I took courage 
 and crept up to Hugh's room. I could hear the 
 click of spoons and cups in the schoolroom as I 
 passed — the children were having tea. I won- 
 dered if nurse had remembered Hugh. The
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 89 
 
 room felt hot and close as I entered it, and 
 Hugh was stooping over his books in the hottest 
 corner. He looked up at me piteously as I 
 entered, and then put down his head on the 
 table and sobbed. 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Olga, I cannot do my sums! My 
 head is so hot, and all the figures dance about 
 so. I have been trying for hours, and they will 
 
 not come right, and father says Oh dear ! 
 
 oh dear ! what shall I do ?' and the poor little 
 fellow cried as though his heart would break. 
 
 ' Have vou had vour tea, Huo-h ?' 
 
 * No — o ; father said I was to stop here until 
 I had finished my sums.' 
 
 I glanced at the hopeless array of figures and 
 at the dog's-eared book, and then spoke with 
 decision : 
 
 ' Don't cry any more, Hugh ; it is babyish. 
 Boys ought not to cry. Go and wash your face; 
 sponge it well, and brush your hair ; and I will 
 bring you some tea. Why don't you open your 
 window wide ? there, the room will be fresher so. 
 Now do as I tell you, and I will be back 
 directly ;' and I nodded cheerfully and vanished. 
 Hugh was a great favourite with nurse, so she 
 willingly supplied me with all I wanted, and 
 even cut an extra laree slice of cake. 
 
 Hugh had finished his ablutions when I re- 
 turned ; but he could not call up a smile even
 
 90 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 at the sight of the cake. Still, he was very 
 glad of the refreshing cup of tea, and I coaxed 
 him to eat by telling him an amusing story of 
 adventure that I had just read. It was deli- 
 ciously horrible — just what boys love, and the 
 anxious puckers in his face relaxed involuntarily 
 as he listened. 
 
 ' What a wonderful man he must have been, 
 Aunt Olcra ! I should like to be a traveller 
 when I grow up. Father says I shall never 
 make a clergyman, because I can't do my Latin, 
 and this morning he said I should not even do 
 for a business man,' and here his chest heaved 
 ominously. * I know I did my lesson badly ; 
 but I had to bury poor little Cuddy — you know 
 Cuddy, the white rabbit you liked so. He was 
 such a pretty little fellow. Something poisoned 
 him, and I found him dead this morning, and 
 Mr. Vivian made a coffin for him, and we had a 
 funeral, and the old gray rabbit had a crape 
 
 bow, and ' but I sternly checked these 
 
 reminiscences. 
 
 'We will talk by-and-by, Hugh; but it is 
 getting late, and I want to help you with those 
 sums — at least, I will explain the principle, and 
 you must work them out yourself.' 
 
 Hugh nodded, and sat staring at me with his 
 beautiful eyes, trying with all his might to under- 
 stand my instruction ; but it was hard work. I
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 91 
 
 could comprehend Hubert's fit of disgust and 
 impatience. Hugh was dreadfully slow. We 
 succeeded at last, but not before Hugh com- 
 plained that his headache had returned ; so I 
 persuaded him to go to bed. 
 
 ' I will put the books in your father's study,' 
 I said ; ' but there is no need for you to come 
 downstairs. You have worried yourself into a 
 fever. You see, the sums were not so difficult 
 after all.' 
 
 ' You made it all so easy. You explain 
 things so nicely, auntie. Oh, if I were only as 
 clever as you and mother ! I wonder what 
 makes me so stupid ? Do you think I was born 
 so ? It is not really naughtiness, as father 
 thinks ; it is not, really, Aunt Olga.' 
 
 I told him that I was sure of that, and he 
 looked a little happier at this assurance, and just 
 at this minute Kitty interrupted us. She was 
 dressed for dinner ; but I could see from her 
 eyes that she had been crying. 
 
 * Hugh has done his sums,' I observed hastily ; 
 ' but his head aches, and I persuaded him to go 
 to bed.' 
 
 ' My head does really ache, mother,' added 
 Hugh anxiously. 
 
 Kitty went up to him without a word and 
 felt his forehead and hands ; then she glanced at 
 the empty tray ; finally she sat down by his bed.
 
 92 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 Hugh, who adored his mother, threw his 
 arms round her. 
 
 ' Are you going to stop with me a little ?' he 
 said joyfully. ' Aunt Olga has been so kind. 
 She showed me how to do my sums. I did try 
 so hard, mother, only father will not believe it.* 
 
 * Are you sure you tried, Hugh ?' And then she 
 continued sadly, ' You are making your father 
 and me very unhappy. I don't think father has 
 ever been so angry with you before. He says 
 he cannot teach you any longer — that you must 
 2fo to school.' 
 
 The boy's arms fell away from her neck in a 
 moment. He seemed to shrink into himself at 
 this announcement. 
 
 ' Oh, mother!' was all he said; but his tone 
 touched Kitty's motherly heart. She was very 
 tender with her children. 
 
 * Father has tried his very best,' she said 
 softly ; ' but he feels it is all no use — that a 
 stranger will teach you better. He has been 
 talking to me about it, and I can see he means 
 what he says !' 
 
 ' Shall you let me go, mother?' in a reproach- 
 ful voice. 
 
 ' I must let you go,' she replied quietly ; ' you 
 are father's boy as well as mine, and he knows 
 what is best for you. I don't want to part with 
 you, my darling,' as the boy lay shaking with
 
 'SHALL YOU LET ME GO, MOTHER?' 93 
 
 sobs, and she stooped over and kissed him very 
 lovingly ; ' but I must help father to do his 
 duty. He is not sending you away because he 
 does not love you ; but because he knows it will 
 be best for you to learn with other boys.' 
 
 The gong sounded at this moment, and I was 
 obliged to go ; but I left Hugh more comfort- 
 ably. I knew Kitty would not leave him 
 until she had drawn the sting from his pain. 
 Her maternal instinct was very strong. She 
 was always at her best with her children. 
 
 When I had finished dressing I stole to the 
 half-opened door and peeped in. Kitty was on 
 her knees beside the bed. She seemed speak- 
 ing very solemnly, though I could not hear the 
 words. When she had finished, Huo;h said : 
 
 * Mother dear, won't you say another prayer, 
 asking that I may be a clever boy ? I often 
 do.' 
 
 ' I don't think those sort of prayers help us, 
 dear,' she returned gently. ' Perhaps it is God's 
 will that you are not as quick as other boys ot 
 your age. It may be your trial ; we all have 
 our trials, Hugh. Only try to believe that 
 father loves you as much as he does Wilfred 
 and the twins, and that we are only sending 
 you away for your own good ; and ask God to 
 make you brave, and more willing to go — that 
 is a much better prayer.'
 
 94 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Very well, mother. Now you must go 
 down to dinner ; I must not keep you any 
 longer.' 
 
 * Good-night, then, my dearest boy !' 
 
 What put it into Kitty's mind to say that ? 
 Was he, after all, her dearest, although at times 
 she had seemed hard to him ? I could fancy 
 the happy smile on Hugh's face. The boy 
 doted on his parents. If he could only bring 
 himself to believe that he was as dear to them 
 as their clever, sprightly Wilfred, he would be 
 a far happier boy. 
 
 I drew back from the door as Kitty came 
 out ; but I could not help kissing her for being 
 so nice to Hugh. There was a wonderfully 
 gentle expression on her face as she smiled 
 back at me ; but she did not speak, neither 
 did I.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' THE lady's walk.' 
 
 ' 'Tis life whereof our nerves are scant ; 
 More life and fuller that we want. 
 No heart in which was healthful breath 
 Has ever truly longed for death.' 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Hugh's childish griefs had banished the tragical 
 recollections of last night from my memory, but 
 they revived with added intensity when, later 
 in the evening, a note arrived from the Hall. 
 Aunt Catherine was going to London on busi- 
 ness the next morning, and would be away the 
 whole day. Mrs. Lyndhurst was more unwell 
 than usual, and — here the words were under- 
 lined — would I take my work and spend the 
 afternoon with her, and so shorten the hours of 
 her loneliness ? 
 
 There could be only one response to this. 
 I was accustomed to these friendly demands ; 
 it was quite a usual thing for me to sit with
 
 96 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst during her sister's brief ab- 
 sences in town ; nevertheless, for the first time 
 I was unwIlHng to obey the summons. When 
 I passed the note to Jem I looked at him 
 meaningly and shrugged my shoulders, but his 
 sole answer was a blank stare. This vexed 
 me, and I said with some degree of pettish- 
 ness : 
 
 ' These visits to town are endless just now ; 
 it is rather a bore leaving home so much during 
 your last week — don't you think so ?' 
 
 * If Aunt Catherine wants you, I don't think 
 we ought to consider ourselves,' he replied in 
 the most indifferent voice. That was the worst 
 of Jem — he never would encourage what he 
 called sentimentality ; with all his affection for 
 me — and I believe he felt far more than he 
 expressed — he always damped anything like 
 effusion ; lingering leavetakings, terms of en- 
 dearment, or unnecessary caresses were ab- 
 horrent to his somewhat stoical nature. 
 
 This little appeal that vaguely implied a 
 necessity for his presence did not touch him in 
 the least, and when I begged him rather 
 urgently to keep himself free for the following 
 afternoon, that we might have a nice long walk 
 together, he returned dryly that Vivian had 
 already booked him for a bicycle trip. 
 
 This was too much for my philosophy.
 
 'THE LADY'S WALK' 97 
 
 ' Oh, Jem, and we shall only have two whole 
 days together after that!' 
 
 Jem put down his carving tools ; he was 
 making a bracket for Kitty, and looked at me 
 with profound anxiety. 
 
 ' Do you feel ill, Olga ? This is the first I 
 have heard about it, but ' — with a glance at 
 the timepiece — ' it is not so very late, scarcely 
 half-past nine, so I can easily go down for Dr. 
 Langham.' 
 
 ' What do you mean ?" I returned, utterly 
 bewildered. 
 
 Had Jem taken leave of his senses ? he was 
 actually holding my hand and fumbling at my 
 pulse ; but I wrenched it from him quite crossly. 
 
 ' I thought you were going to die or do some- 
 thing equally disagreeable, as we had only two 
 whole days before us ; it made me feel quite 
 bad for a moment ;' and the tiresome boy sighed 
 heavily, and took up his tools again. And then 
 what did he do but paraphrase Airs. Hemans's 
 exquisite litde lament : * Oh, call my sister back 
 to me ! I cannot play alone;' but I would not 
 listen to him. 
 
 I am afraid I was decidedly cross with Jem 
 that night — as though he cared ! I heard him 
 laughing as I left the room. I would not say 
 good-night to him. Yes, 1 made up my mind 
 that that would be a fitting punishment for his 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 hard-heartedness and want of feeling. I knew 
 the resolution would cost me a good cry, for I 
 was so fond of Jem that I could not bear to 
 be angry with him for a moment, and I very 
 seldom was ; but his manner was decidedly 
 trying this evening ; and he must be taught 
 that a sister had feelings. As I was still in the 
 same humour half an hour afterwards, I went 
 up to my room, taking no notice of Jem, who was 
 still busy with his bracket ; but a short time 
 afterwards there was a great flap against my 
 door. It was a sound I knew well, most likely 
 Rollo wanted some water ; but when I opened 
 it there was Rollo wagging his huge tail with 
 an air of immense satisfaction, and holding a 
 brown-paper parcel in his mouth, which he 
 dropped at once at my feet. I eyed it gingerly. 
 Could Harry have dared ? I was quite afraid 
 to touch it; it was so unpleasant giving back 
 
 presents, and yet if I kept it but I was too 
 
 sensible to think of doino^ such a thinof. I 
 hesitated so long that Rollo whined and scratched 
 at the parcel with his clumsy paw, as much as 
 to say, ' Why don't you open it ?' So, to keep 
 him quiet, I untied the string. 
 
 But to my delight it was not from Harry at all; 
 it was actually from Jem. Oh, the dear fellow ! 
 it was his own handiwork, a pretty little carved 
 box with a lock and key, that he had made to
 
 ■'THE LADY'S WALK' 99 
 
 surprise me, most likely — his parting gift ! 1 1 
 was quite empty. No, there was a folded paper 
 inside. I opened it eagerly — a copy of verses ! 
 Oh, Jem, how delicious ! 
 
 ' Oh ! call my brother back to me, 
 But do not call too loud. 
 Poor chap ! alas, I warrant thee 
 He lies within his shroud !' 
 
 and so on. 
 
 At this moment I heard a low whistle. 
 Rollo heard it, too, for he pricked up his glossy 
 ears and vanished. I followed and peeped 
 over the banisters. Jem was coming lazily 
 upstairs with his candle, but he suddenly thought 
 better of it, and deliberately sat down on the 
 staircase, while Rollo squatted on his haunches 
 beside him. In this position the most remark- 
 able colloquy ensued. 
 
 ' I say, Rollo, old fellow, what's up with Olga? 
 Tell us, there's a good chappie.' 
 
 ' Don't be vulgar, Jem,' in a hoarse voice ; 
 ' '* chappie's " low, dear boy.' 
 
 ' Oh, shut up ! none of that.' 
 
 * Well,' still more hoarsely, ' mind your 
 manners then ; but I am sorry to tell you the 
 missis is horribly cross.' 
 
 ' No, you don't say so.' 
 
 *In a regular passion. "Rollo," says she, 
 '' where's that rude, unfeeling boy, Jem ?" says 
 
 7—2
 
 loo THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 she. '' Talk of brothers, he's a regular bad one," 
 says she, '' and I should like to box his ears ; but 
 as I shall only have a brother for two whole 
 days " and here she fetches out her hand- 
 kerchief and cries awful.' 
 
 ' Awfully, Rollo, awfully !' but here I came 
 upon Jem like a whirlwind ; and if, as he said 
 afterwards, he had not had the presence of mind 
 to blow out the candle, nobody would have 
 known what might or might not have happened, 
 for he was in imminent danger of strangulation. 
 
 But in spite of his struggles and Rollo's wild 
 barks of joy I managed to thank him my own 
 way. 
 
 He was quite limp and melancholy when I 
 got him into my room at last, and looked at 
 Rollo in a very feeling manner. 
 
 ^ What a pity our nice little tete-a-tete was in- 
 terrupted,' he observed sadly ; ' my peculiar 
 nature needs sympathy and plenty of it—'' what 
 I takes I takes strong," as the charwoman ob- 
 served when the cabman pressed her to take 
 a glass of something 'ot — that's the way the 
 lower orders talk ; *' but, old chappie," says 
 she ' 
 
 * Now, Jem, I will not have it — not a word 
 more ; it is no use your pretending to be vulgar 
 — of course I understand what your ridiculous 
 remarks meant.'
 
 'THE LADY'S WALK' 
 
 ' Indeed !' and Jem looked at me stolidly — 
 such an absence of expression I never saw in 
 any human face. 
 
 • Yes, you wanted me to understand that 
 these little matters of detail do not matter a bit ; 
 that I have got you, and you have got me ' 
 
 ' Observe how exquisitely worded,' groaned 
 the incorrigible Jem ; * go ahead, Olga — you 
 have got me and I have got you ; all right, 
 what comes next ?' 
 
 * This ;' and then I did actually box Jem's 
 ears, and he called out and Rollo barked 
 furiously, and Hubert's voice was heard in the 
 distance asking what on earth was the matter — 
 were we going to wake the children ? And 
 then Jem gave me a hasty kiss and fled. How 
 I lauehed when Rollo and I were left alone ! 
 Jem could be ridiculous when he liked, but 
 all the same he meant to teach me a little 
 lesson. 
 
 This absurd scene had refreshed me, and I 
 set off for the Hall the next day in much better 
 spirits. I found Mrs. Lyndhurst in her private 
 sitting-room, a small room on the first floor, 
 with a window overlooking the Elm Avenue. 
 It was not so handsomely furnished as the 
 library, which was Aunt Catherine's special 
 sanctum, but it was a pleasant room neverthe- 
 less ; the furniture was old-fashioned, and the
 
 I02 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 walls were covered with family portraits, but 
 there was an air of cosiness about it. Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst was lying back in a low cushioned 
 chair that she used as a lounge. As I entered 
 she held out her hand to me with a beseeching 
 look ; It was a look that seemed to say a good 
 deal — to claim, in a dumb sort of way, a large 
 portion of forbearance and sympathy. I never 
 knew eyes to express so much ; to-day they 
 reminded me of some animal in pain ; for the 
 first time I felt confused as I met them. 
 
 ' You are very good to come so early, Olga,' 
 she said, without noticing my embarrassment ; 
 ' will you take off your hat ? I see you have 
 brought your work ; that is nice. I have not 
 been feeling myself for some days, so Catherine 
 thought your company would be soothing. 
 You see I am so used to you,' with an affec- 
 tionate smile ; ' the society of some young 
 people would make me restless, but I never 
 feel so with you.' 
 
 This little compliment touched me. 
 
 ' I always like coming here,' 1 returned 
 graciously. ' Jem walked with me to the door ; 
 he sent his love to you ; he was so sorry that 
 you were not well enough to see him. Bennett 
 told us so.' 
 
 I thought Mrs. Lyndhurst looked disturbed ; 
 her face clouded.
 
 THE LADY'S WALK 
 
 ' Quite right ; Bennett knew that 1 was not fit 
 to talk to young men. Jem is a nice boy — a 
 very nice boy ; Catherine is exceedingly fond of 
 him. But no, I could not see him ; it would 
 have troubled me — it ' 
 
 She passed her hand over her forehead as 
 though she were tired or harassed ; a sort of 
 feebleness came into her face. I do not know 
 how to describe the expression, but it always 
 distressed me when she looked like that, so I 
 hastened to set her mind at ease. 
 
 ' Jem quite understands — he never minds 
 being sent away. Perhaps you may be well 
 enough in a day or two to bid him good-bye — 
 he is going back to Oxford on Tuesday ; oh, I 
 am so sorry ! Fircroft is never the same with- 
 out Jem ; he is so full of life, he energizes so, 
 he puts spirit into one's daily existence — oh, I 
 do not know how to express it, but he seems to 
 pervade the whole house.' 
 
 ' The other young men will be still there, 
 will they not ?' she said, smiling a little at my 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 ' Yes, but they are just young men ; nobody 
 wants them. They are often in the way ; 
 young men are so stupid. Perhaps Mr. Vivian 
 is an exception. He is really nice ; not at all 
 insipid or slow, like the others ; but he is not 
 Jem.'
 
 fo4 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Jem will not always be the first, Olga.' 
 
 * Yes, indeed he will,' rather vehemently, for 
 though of course I knew what Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 meant — and why will middle-aged people al- 
 ways hint at these sort of things ? — I felt con- 
 fident in my own mind that no one but Harry 
 would ever think me attractive, or want to make 
 love to me, and I should certainly never listen to 
 him. Harry would never be anything but a nice 
 boy to me. 
 
 ' Well, well, we shall see. Now, Olga, do 
 you feel inclined to read to me ? The box has 
 come down from Mudie's, and there are some 
 nice new books. You can choose any you 
 like.' 
 
 This was an unexpected treat. Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst did not often ask me to read to her ; but 
 she seemed too fatigued to talk much, so I 
 made my selection and read aloud with the 
 greatest enjoyment to myself, and, I hope, to 
 her, until Mrs. Lyndhurst's maid brought up 
 the tea. Marsden was a kind-hearted creature, 
 and devoted to her mistress, and she always 
 seemed pleased to see me. She smiled as she 
 placed the low table beside me and arranged 
 the cups and saucers. 
 
 ' I am glad you are able to come, ma'am,' 
 she said pleasantly, ' for my mistress seems a 
 little low to-day.'
 
 'THE LADY'S WALK' 105 
 
 ' That is no new thing, Marsden/ returned 
 Mrs. Lvndhurst, who had overheard this. 
 
 ' It is none the better for being old, is it, 
 ma'am ? and I am sure Miss Olga's company is 
 always good for you. Young folk have cheerful 
 ways with them. Will you ring for anything 
 you want, ma'am ?' 
 
 And Marsden, with another benevolent look 
 at us both, withdrew. 
 
 Making tea at the Hall was one of my minor 
 luxuries ; it was a pleasure to me to handle the 
 beautiful Worcester cups, while the mere sight 
 of the little melon-shaped silver teapot, with its 
 rich chasing, and the quaint dumpy cream-jug, 
 eave me a feeline of satisfaction. I was, like 
 other girls, very partial to pretty things. It 
 was so peaceful at the Hall this afternoon ; 
 only the hoarse cawing of the rooks broke the 
 stillness. The avenue looked as quiet as 
 though it were a glade in an enchanted forest ; 
 patches of sunlight were chequered by faint 
 purple shadows, while a zigzag of golden mist, 
 shot through with radiant colour, seemed to 
 stretch between the tree-boles like a fairy- 
 ladder, all vaporous brightness. We talked 
 for a little while, and then I took up the book 
 again ; and so the time passed, until Marsden 
 came to warn her mistress that it was time to 
 dress for dinner. I rose to take my leave, but,
 
 io6 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 to my surprise, Mrs. Lyndhurst refused to part 
 with me. I iiad done her good, she said, and, 
 as Catherine would be late, I might stay and 
 keep her company. My white dress was quite 
 nice enough for anything, and Bennett should 
 send a message to Fircroft ; and, as Marsden 
 looked at me rather wistfully, as though she 
 would beg me not to refuse her mistress, I con- 
 sented to remain. 
 
 So it was settled, and Mrs. Lyndhurst and I 
 dined in state in the big dining-room, waited 
 upon by Bennett, the white-haired butler, and 
 his subordinate, Reynolds. Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 hardly spoke, and ate very little, and the 
 silence was only broken by the servants' quiet 
 movements about the room. Now and then I 
 looked up, and saw the whole scene reproduced 
 in a long mirror that hung opposite to me. 
 The sad, pathetic-looking woman, in her black 
 draperies, sitting silently at the head of the 
 table, and facing her a slim girl in a white 
 gown, with smooth brown hair, and large 
 questioning eyes that seemed to appeal against 
 the dulness. I think Bennett felt for me, for 
 he handed me everything himself without 
 waiting for Reynolds ; and there was something 
 persuasive in his tone as he named the various 
 dainties, as though he feared a refusal. Bennett 
 and I were on excellent terms. At the Hall
 
 THE LADY'S WALK' 107 
 
 I was generally Miss Olga to the servants, 
 never Miss Leigh. 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst proposed a turn in the 
 garden after dinner, and to this I willingly 
 assented. The long sitting had cramped my 
 young limbs. I felt restless, as though I 
 wanted to run, to laugh, to do anything, in fact, 
 but accommodate my steps to Mrs. Lyndhurst's 
 languid pace ; but she took my arm, and leant 
 rather heavily on it, as though she were weary. 
 As usual, she led the w^ay to the Lady's Walk, 
 and I dared not remonstrate. The sun w^as 
 setting, but under the thick shade of trees it 
 was already twilight, and the old eerie feeling 
 crept over me. 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst did not seem to notice my 
 uneasiness. The soft evening air refreshed 
 her, and she began talking in her ordinary 
 w^ay : 
 
 ' You have done me good, Olga. I am glad 
 Catherine proposed sending for you ; but it has 
 been a long dull day for you, my dear.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' I interposed hastily. 
 
 * It is kind of you to say so ; but I am not an 
 amusing person. Catherine is used to me, and 
 so she puts up with all my odd ways. After all, 
 there is nothing like a sister. Catherine has 
 been far too good to me all her life. I am a 
 great trouble to her, but she never wall own it.'
 
 io8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 I knew the sisters were devoted to each 
 other ; but they were not demonstrative, and 
 seldom spoke of their feeHngs. I was glad to 
 hear Mrs. Lyndhurst express herself after this 
 grateful fashion, for I knew she often gave Aunt 
 Catherine a great deal to bear. 
 
 ' You will miss her very much when she goes 
 to St. Croix.' 
 
 *Yes; but I must not think of that,' she re- 
 turned quickly. ' One must not consider one's 
 self in the matter. There is business to be done 
 — important business — and no one can do it but 
 Catherine — she is so strong, so clear-headed. 
 She is so different to me altogether. I am not 
 old, Olga, in spite of my gray hairs, and yet the 
 time has come to me when the grasshopper 
 is a burthen. Do you remember how the Wise 
 Man puts it : " And fears shall be in the way " ? 
 It seems to me as though I dread my own 
 shadow sometimes.' 
 
 ' I wish I could help you and Aunt Catherine,' 
 I began wistfully, but I dared not proceed. 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst gave me a furtive look. 
 She understood without words what I meant. 
 
 ' That is for Catherine to decide. She has 
 been talking to me again. She makes me 
 miserable — as though I had not enough to bear 
 without that. I do not like reposing confidence 
 in young people — they are so hard, they judge
 
 'THE LADY'S WALK' 109 
 
 SO severely. It is the old who are merciful, who 
 know, how to make excuses/ 
 
 ' Mrs. Lyndhurst, it is you who are hard now. 
 When you were young you would not have said 
 that.' 
 
 ' Was I ever young ? — it is very long ago 
 then ; but you must not quote me as an example. 
 Olga.' 
 
 ' Why not ?' rather curiously. 
 
 ' Because I was not good — not what a girl 
 ought to be. I was self-willed, and bent on having 
 my own way. Catherine would tell you that she 
 does not condone the past, for all her pity. If I 
 had only listened to her, if I had allowed her 
 to be my conscience, I should not be the lonely, 
 unhappy woman I am now.' 
 
 She seemed profoundly agitated, and I dared 
 not question her any more ; but my thoughts 
 were very busy over this speech. Why was 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst lonely? she had Aunt Catherine; 
 and, in reality, Aunt Catherine was just as 
 lonely as she, and yet I had never heard Aunt 
 Catherine complain. 
 
 It might be that in her secret heart she would 
 have preferred a fuller life ; that the love of 
 husband and children would have been as 
 precious to her as to other women ; but she 
 never bemoaned her solitary state — on the 
 whole, she seemed busy and happy. Perhaps
 
 no THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I was not competent to judge ; but it always 
 seemed to me that the position of the ladies at 
 the Hall was singularly enviable. They had 
 wealth, freedom and consideration ; they were 
 beloved by their poorer neighbours, and re- 
 spected and liked by all who shared their 
 friendship. After all, was it a bad thing to be 
 free as air, to do what one liked, to follow one's 
 bent unchecked and untrammelled by a husband ? 
 That obedience was a formidable item in the 
 marriage ceremony — to love would be com- 
 paratively easy ; but to voluntarily submit to a 
 master was quite another thing. I began to 
 take counsel with myself, if it would not be as 
 well always to remain Olga Leigh. 
 
 I was roused from this reverie by a touch on 
 my arm. Mrs. Lyndhurst was looking at me 
 fixedly ; her manner was full of suppressed 
 melancholy. 
 
 ' Do not take example by me, Olga,' she said 
 imploringly ; ' if I had my life over again — oh, 
 if we only could ! — how differently I would act 
 now ! It is terrible to grow old, my dear, when 
 one's youth has been a failure. It is as though 
 some inexorable power were compelling us to 
 sit still and watch the result of our life-work 
 — we cannot turn our eyes away if we would — 
 *' Give an account, add up the losses of the years 
 before death comes," that is what it says ;
 
 THE LADY'S WALK 
 
 and some of us who are miserable bankrupts 
 fear to turn over a single leaf 
 
 ' Dear Mrs. Lyndhurst, we are none of us 
 without faults.' 
 
 * But some are more guilty than others, Olga. 
 You are young, but you are good and true ; 
 keep so ; dread the first stain of wrong-doing. 
 One wrong act involves another, until we are 
 entanorled in our own web. I am talking 
 strangely to-night, dear child ; but one of my 
 melancholy fits is on me, and the sense of loss 
 is heavier than usual' She paused, and I could 
 see her eyes were full of tears. ' It is getting 
 late now, and you must go home. Leave me 
 to take a turn by myself; solitude often soothes 
 me.' 
 
 'Must I go, Mrs. Lyndhurst?' 
 
 ' Yes, my child, I think it better ; but to- 
 morrow you may come to us again.' 
 
 She kissed my cheek with her cold lips and 
 turned away. I was left by myself, and the 
 uncanny feeling returned — Lady Gwendoline 
 might be near me. I sped away through the 
 garden-paths as though my feet were winged ; 
 only once I looked back. The moon had just 
 risen, its faint, silvery light illumined the dark 
 walk. Mrs. Lyndhurst was pacing up and 
 down it slowly. I could see her tall, graceful 
 figure distinctly ; she had drawn her lace-scarf
 
 112 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 over her gray hair, and she looked weird and 
 strange in the dim Hght. Suddenly she stopped 
 and flung up her arms. I could see her thin 
 white hands clasping each other. ' Will it be 
 too late ?' — did I hear the words or only dream 
 them ?— ' Too late for me ? too late for him T
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 UNLOCKING pandora's BOX. 
 
 ' Heigh ho ! daisies and buttercups, 
 Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall ; 
 A sunshiny world full of laughter and leisure, 
 And fresh hearts unconscious of sorrow and thrall ! 
 Send down on their pleasure smiles passing its measure, 
 God that is over us all !' 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 Soon after this I had to bid good-bye to Jem. 
 It was always a trying ordeal, and no amount 
 of usage could reconcile me to the parting. 
 The floods of tears that that boy cost me ! Not 
 that I would have let him know how I cried 
 my eyes out directly he was out of sight ! 
 Jem's behaviour during the last few days had 
 not been wholly satisfactory. To tell the truth, 
 I found his light-hearted philosophy very trying 
 under the circumstances ; his cheerfulness was 
 almost aggressive. He took no notice of my 
 lugubrious looks, and while I was counting up 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 the hours and minutes Hke a miser, and be- 
 grudging every duty that called me away, 
 Jem lounged away his time in the young men's 
 study, talking nonsense with Harry Vivian, or 
 boxing or fencing with Mr. Campbell. The 
 bicycle trip had come off, and Jem had been 
 late for dinner that day, and though he had 
 invited me for a walk the following afternoon, 
 I found to my chagrin that Harry was to be of 
 the party. I could not help giving Jem a 
 reproachful look as Harry went on to open the 
 gate for Rollo, who was wild to get out. 
 
 ' What's the matter now ?' he asked In- 
 nocently. 
 
 ' Why did you ask Harry ?' I whispered 
 crossly, for really Jem was incorrigible ; ' you 
 might have remembered that I should want you 
 to myself for our last walk.' 
 
 But my remark did not make the least Im- 
 pression on him ; he only whistled, and then 
 began to laugh as though he were amused. 
 
 * That's the way you mean to talk to your 
 young man, I suppose, if you ever get one ?' 
 observed the rude boy. ' You will have to mind 
 what you are about, Olga. Not many fellows 
 would be so good-natured as I am. Here are 
 Vivian and I putting ourselves out for your 
 pleasure, and this Is the way you treat us. 
 Vivian, I hope your young woman will behave
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX. 115 
 
 herself better than Olga does ; she is always 
 grumbling at me for something or other. 
 Why don't you do this or do that ? I have to 
 put my foot down pretty strongly, I can tell 
 you ; it is the only way when one has to deal 
 with girls,' finished Jem in a disgusted manner. 
 
 And then to punish me for objecting to that 
 tiresome Harry's company, he talked to him 
 exclusively for the next mile or two ; but he 
 was very nice the remainder of the way, as 
 though to make up for it. 
 
 It was always an understood thing that I 
 should help Jem pack, so on the last morning 
 I went up to his room. I thought Jem was in 
 better spirits than usual ; he rattled on volubly : 
 no other word would rightly express his bright 
 and inconsequent talk, or the rapidity with 
 which he hurried from one topic to another. 
 
 'Catch hold of these shirts,' and a pile of 
 linen descended on my lap ; ' ram them in hard, 
 Olo^a. I don't believe women know how to 
 pack ; it wants a mathematical brain to calculate 
 distance and economize space. There are my 
 new socks,' a flutter of gaudily-striped things 
 aimed from the other end of the room, and 
 caught with difficulty ; ' now set to work, old 
 girl, while I pack my coats,' and Jem 
 whistled an air from ' Les Huguenots.' If 
 one or two tears dropped on the new shirts 
 
 8—2
 
 ii6 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 no one was the wiser. Of course it was only- 
 Jem's way, and it was natural that he should 
 be a little elated at the idea of his tutorship ; it 
 was such a beautiful house where he was ,S^oing, 
 and he would have plenty of fishing, and shoot- 
 ing, and tennis, and a host of pleasant new 
 acquaintances, and what could a young man ask 
 more ? and of course he could not take me with 
 him, so I was a goose to fret ; but, still, if he 
 would only talk to me, or let me talk to him, 
 and not go on quoting French in that ridiculous 
 fashion. 
 
 Jem ate an excellent lunch ; he was joking 
 with Harry all the time. Harry was going 
 with him to the station — he did not address me 
 at all until the last moment. I had run up to 
 his room to see that nothing was left behind, 
 when I heard him spring up after me three 
 steps at a time. 
 
 ' Good-bye, old girl !' he said, catching hold 
 of me ; ' take care of yourself, and don't get 
 into mischief without me.' 
 
 * Oh, Jem, don't go yet,' I implored ; ' I want 
 to speak to you.' 
 
 ' I can't stop, the cab's waiting ;' and he would 
 not let me detain him one moment. I followed 
 him to the door, and he waved his hand to me 
 with a cheery smile. Not even saying good-bye 
 to me for five whole months — for I should not
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 117 
 
 see him before he went back to Oxford — could 
 make Jem look grave, even for an instant. I 
 shut myself up in his empty room, and had 
 what women call a good cry, and it really did 
 me orood. 
 
 When I w^ent into the drawing-room, two 
 hours later, feeling very sad and subdued, I 
 found Harry there alone. He was evidently 
 waiting for me, and I was quite sure, from his 
 voice, that he was very sorry for me. 
 
 * It always seems strange without Jem, doesn't 
 it ?' were his first words. ' I am sure he felt 
 going away very much this time ; he was 
 terribly glum as we drove to the station — that 
 is not like Jem at all.' 
 
 Jem glum ! I could not believe my ears. 
 
 • He did not talk a bit, and seemed quite down, 
 poor old fellow. He does not like leaving 
 you. Miss Leigh, that's what it is ; and of course 
 it is natural — for if you were my sister ' 
 
 And here Harry heaved a tremendous sigh 
 which aggravated me in my tender state, and 
 made me rather short with him. 
 
 ' But I am Jem's sister, you see.* 
 
 ' Yes,' and here Harry sighed again ; ' but if 
 there is anything I can do for you in Jem's 
 absence — any little service, I mean — I am sure 
 I would gladly do it ; it would be no end of 
 pleasure,' continued the poor boy rather sadly ;
 
 Ji8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' for though I know I am nothing to you beside 
 Jem — and where would anyone find a nicer 
 fellow ? — still, I do think a lot of you, as you 
 know, and it would be just a happiness to me 
 to find out anything I could do for you.' 
 
 After all, sympathy is very soothing, espe- 
 cially when one is very low, so I could not 
 help looking kindly at Harry, and thanking 
 him ; and I suppose my manner was softer than 
 usual, for the foolish fellow turned quite red 
 with pleasure. 
 
 ' You could not think of anything just now, 
 could you, Miss Olga ?' 
 
 ' No, not this minute ; but I will pour you 
 out a cup of tea, as Kitty is keeping us waiting.' 
 I did not like that ' Miss Olga,' it was too fami- 
 liar ; and I did not quite like the expressive look 
 that accompanied it. Really, young men were 
 very difficult to manage ; to think of all the 
 snubs I had given Harry, and yet he presumed 
 to call me ^Miss Olga ' in that tone. But I was 
 too low-spirited to resent it actively, and so 
 Harry had the best of it that day. 
 
 Jem wrote me a nice little note the next day, 
 to tell me of his safe arrival at Middleton Park. 
 
 ' I am in clover,' he wrote ; ' it is an awfully 
 jolly place — deer park, and such preserves, and 
 the house as big as a barrack. The widow ' 
 (Mrs. Middleton had lost her husband the
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 119 
 
 previous year) * is very civil ; but, of course, she 
 is a trifle melancholy, which is to be expected, 
 poor thing ! and the boy is a nice fellow, only 
 not very robust. I expect to have a real good 
 time here, and to meet no end of swells. You 
 may write to me as often as you like, and mind 
 you tell me everything about yourself I always 
 feel responsible for you, and though I don't like 
 finding fault — being a soft-hearted fellow — there 
 is a vein of sentimentality in your character 
 that gives me a good deal of trouble. The 
 worst of an impulsive person is — you never 
 know what they are going to do next. But no 
 more of this, from your affectionate brother — 
 Jem/ 
 
 Perhaps people might say there was not 
 much in the note to make me feel so much 
 happier, but I could read a great deal between 
 the lines : Jem wanted to hear from me, he 
 was anxious to continue my confidant ; I was 
 to tell him anything and everything ; and, 
 best of all, his stoicism had been intended 
 as an antidote to my sentimentality, and was 
 not really want of feeling. And when I had 
 made all this clear to myself, I cheered up 
 immensely. 
 
 I was happier, too, about Hugh, after a little 
 conversation we had together. 
 
 I was sitting on the lawn one evening,
 
 I20 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 watching an exciting tennis match between 
 Harry and Mr. Campbell, when Hugh ran 
 over the grass and joined me. 
 
 ' Do you know where mother is, Aunt 
 Olga ?' 
 
 ' Yes, dear ; she is in the schoolroom. Mab 
 and Jessie wanted her to hear their new duet ; 
 they have been practising it so nicely. I am 
 sure she will be quite pleased to hear them. 
 Where have you been all the afternoon, 
 Hugh ?' 
 
 For the boy had a bright, excited look. 
 Hugh was not a handsome boy ; the twins 
 were decidedly pretty little girls, and Wilfred 
 had his father's well-cut features, but Hugh 
 was somewhat ordinary, and only his soft 
 brown eyes redeemed him from plainness. 
 Still, he was a gentlemanly-looking little fellow, 
 and, after all, a boy does not need beauty. 
 
 ' I have been with fattier,' he returned, in 
 answer to my question. ' We have been for 
 such a long walk — to Bletchley and round by 
 Wardley, which was ever so nice.' 
 
 ' You like a walk with father ?' For his 
 voice was quite eager. 
 
 * Oh yes ! And he talked to me such a lot. 
 Aunt Olga — all about my rabbits, and the 
 chickens, and our new plan for the garden ; 
 and he has promised to let Mr. Vivian help us
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 121 
 
 build our new summer-house ; and. then ' — here 
 Hugh's voice dropped a httle — 'he talked 
 about something else.' 
 
 ' You mean about the school ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; did you know it is all settled, and I 
 am to go to Mr.' Fulton's next term ? Father 
 says he knows Eastbourne well, and that it is 
 such a nice place, and that I am sure to like it. 
 There are eighty boys, and the house is so big, 
 and they have a field to play in, and three 
 times a week the boys go down to the sea to 
 bathe ; and they have cricket-matches, and paper- 
 chases, and all sorts of fun ; and he says, too, 
 that Mr. and Mrs. Fulton are such kind people, 
 and that he knows I shall be very happy there.' 
 
 ' Dear Hugh, I am so glad !' 
 
 ' That I did not like it at first, you know, 
 not until father talked to me. I used to cry 
 about it every time I went to bed. I did not 
 know what the twins would do without me ; 
 and there was mother. But father was ever so 
 nice' — Hugh's favourite expression; 'he told 
 me that he did not like parting with me, but that 
 he knew it would be for my good, and that I 
 should learn better with other boys ; and that if 
 I wanted to please him, and make him proud of 
 me, I must be brave, and not mind leaving 
 home, as my fretting made mother unhappy. 
 And so I promised, and he kissed me, and I
 
 122 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 think there were tears in his eyes. So you see, 
 Aunt Olga ' — with a curious blending of grief 
 and triumph in his tone — * father really does 
 love me, though I am so stupid. He said it 
 gave him great pain not to be able to keep me 
 with him ; and then he stopped suddenly and 
 began talking about other things, and then we 
 came home.' 
 
 I was very glad to hear Hugh's account, but 
 I had no opportunity to say more just then, for 
 Mab came running out of the house, closely 
 followed by Jessie as usual — no one ever saw 
 the twins apart. 
 
 ' Oh, Hughie !' she exclaimed breathlessly ; 
 ' mother is so pleased with our duet 1' 
 
 ' Yes ; and we are to play it to father this 
 evening,' added Jessie. ' We are to sit up on 
 purpose. Shall we ask mother to let you sit 
 up too ?' 
 
 ' Hugh must hear us, of course,' observed 
 Mab decidedly. Both of the twins were de- 
 voted to Hugh. They each of them took a 
 hand as they spoke. ' Let us go and speak to 
 mother at once. Come, Hughie dear!' 
 
 And they carried him off. What a pretty 
 picture they looked — the little girls in their 
 white smocks, with their fair hair streaming 
 behind them, and Hugh's dark, closely-cropped 
 head between ! Once all the three heads
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 123 
 
 seemed to touch each other in their eager talk. 
 Two little arms went round Hugh's neck. 
 
 ' Oh, Hughie ! must you go ?' I heard Jessie 
 say in a very sorrowful voice. 
 
 Hugh was telling his story over again then. 
 There would be lamentations and tears when 
 Hugh left his little sisters ; he was at once 
 their master and their slave, the patient victim 
 of all their little whims, and the grateful re- 
 cipient of their overflowing affection. 
 
 ' Of course he must go if father sends him,' 
 remarked Mab, who was mxOre strong-minded 
 than her sister. * Never mind, Hughie darling, 
 we will write you long letters and tell you about 
 the rabbits and everything, won't we, Jessie ?' 
 and then they each kissed him, and the arms 
 went round his neck again, and in this fashion 
 they proceeded solemnly to the house. 
 
 Kitty was not the woman to refuse such a 
 request. She was far too fond of spoiling her 
 little daughters. When the twins played their 
 duet that evening, Hugh was in the corner 
 beside the piano. Kitty watched them de- 
 lightedly : 
 
 ' Aren't they darlings?' her eyes seemed to ask. 
 Her voice was full of maternal pride when she 
 spoke. 
 
 Hubert was far more moderate. 
 
 ' Very nicely played, my dears,' ho. said when
 
 124 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 they had finished. ' Kitty, my love, your pupils 
 do you credit,' and he made a bow to each of 
 them in turn. How the twins laughed! ' We 
 shall have great pleasure in seeing these 
 young ladies in the drawing-room again, eh, 
 Cunningham ? Now run away to bed, and, 
 Hugh, open the door for your sisters like a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 Hugh obeyed, but Harry and Mr. Campbell 
 were before him, and stood at the door like a 
 pair of sentries. 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Jessie, lifting up her sweet 
 little face rather shyly to the young man as she 
 passed ; but Mab, who saw the humour of the 
 situation, exploded into a little laugh. 
 
 ' Aren't big people funny sometimes ?' I heard 
 her say when they were outside. ' Why did 
 you get so red, Jessie ; you always do. I am 
 sure father liked our piece quite as well as 
 mother did.' 
 
 During the week that followed I saw very 
 little of Aunt Catherine. True, I had resumed 
 my old habits and went almost daily to the Hall, 
 but I saw most of Mrs. Lyndhurst. x\unt 
 Catherine was always busy and pre-occupied, 
 and never pressed me to stay. 
 
 *We shall have plenty of time to talk pre- 
 sently,' she said once, dismissing me with a 
 wistful smile.
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA 'S BOX 125 
 
 I had nearly finished my modest preparations 
 by this time. A new travelling-box, the joint 
 gift of Kitty and Hubert, stood in one corner of 
 my room. I used to look at it every night with 
 the pleasurable anticipation with which a pilgrim 
 might eye his staff and scrip. It was a sort of 
 Pandora's box to me, and most surely Hope 
 was at the bottom. Oh ! divine gift of all the 
 goddesses, the especial heritage of youth, with 
 what soft rainbow tints dost thou paint the 
 future ! what golden rays hover amongst those 
 misty distances — the visionary hilltops that 
 enclose the fabulous kingdom of the Might-be ! 
 I verily believe that to my young home-bred 
 enthusiasm St. Croix seemed a sort of en- 
 chanted place. In youth the very charm of 
 novelty is an exhaustive pleasure — to wake up 
 in a foreign land, to hear a different language, 
 to see fresh sights, to reap new experiences. 
 What could be more delightful ? It is the 
 tedium, the routine, the changelessness of daily 
 life, that weary the young. To inherit only a 
 small bare corner of the globe seems very piti- 
 ful to the heir of all the ages. 
 
 In looking back on those days I am almost 
 tempted to exclaim with the aged Faust : ' Oh, 
 stay ; the moment is so fair !' As though one 
 could arrest that strange, sweet dreaming-time 
 that we call youth !
 
 126 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I was beginning to wonder when marching 
 orders would reach me, and to chafe a Httle 
 at the delay, when one morning one of Aunt 
 Catherine's brief notes was put into my hand. 
 All her arrangements were made, and she would 
 be glad to see me the following afternoon. Would 
 I come as soon after luncheon as possible — this 
 was all it said. I scribbled off an affirmative 
 answer, and then rushed upstairs in a high 
 state of excitement to try on the new tweed 
 dress and the hat that Kitty had trimmed for 
 me. Then, I am ashamed to say, I sat down 
 on the floor before my box and indulged in a 
 delicious day-dream — in which position I was 
 discovered by my nieces. The little girls 
 seemed mystified, and stood hand-in-hand at the 
 door regarding me in perplexed fashion. 
 
 ' May we come in, Aunt Olga ?' It was Mab 
 who spoke. ' We wanted you to tell us how to 
 dress our new doll.' It was always ' our doll ' — 
 our everything. The twins had everything 
 in common. 'You weren't busy, were you?' 
 eyeing my lowly position rather dubiously. 
 ' No, I was only thinking.' 
 ' Do you always think on the floor, auntie ?' 
 'Oh dear no. I do my thinking anywhere!' 
 ' We never think quite so hard, do we, 
 Jessie? We thought you were asleep, Aunt Olga; 
 your head was quite down on the box, and
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 127 
 
 Rollo was sitting up staring at you. It did 
 look so funny, didn't it, Jessie ?' 
 
 * Very funny,' replied Jessie, who generally 
 repeated her sister's words with parrot-like 
 precision. 
 
 Mab had far more originality. Now, I do 
 not know what fit of idle mischief was on me 
 that I should infect those innocent little creatures 
 with my grown-up nonsense ; but I made them 
 sit down one on each side of me, while Rollo 
 blinked at us between his paws, and thereupon 
 I told them a wonderful tale of an enchanted 
 kingdom, called Dreamland, wherein all manner 
 of loveliness dwelt, and how there were magic 
 keys forged that would unlock the mysterious 
 portals, and how I was wandering in this strange, 
 fair country when they disturbed me. 
 
 I saw Mab knit her brows at this point, 
 as though she were trying to understand, but 
 Jessie exclaimed : 
 
 ' Why, you were sitting on the floor, auntie, 
 doing nothing at all !' 
 
 ' Nurse never likes us to do nothing,' put in 
 Mab ; ' she always says doing nothing is helping 
 to spin Satan's web. She says so, doesn't she, 
 Jessie ?' 
 
 This was not a pleasant idea. Could it be 
 possible that these spangles I was weaving 
 were any part of the arch adversary's work ?
 
 128 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Nurse's Puritan notions had spoiled everything. 
 My aerial car of fancy dropped from the 
 clouds. 
 
 ' My dear Mab/ I observed sententiously, 
 ' only clever people can talk nonsense. Little 
 girls like you cannot be expected to under- 
 stand everything. Now, where is the doll, that 
 I may give my opinion on her toilette ?' 
 
 And then, as Jessie produced her piece- 
 bag, we were soon as busy as bees. Why 
 do we always use that comparison ? Spiders 
 are busy, and worms and moles in a dark under- 
 ground way ; but to be busy as a worm somehow 
 suggests a crawling policy, and subterranean 
 deeds unfettered by wholesome daylight. To 
 be busy as beavers would be better and more 
 original. I do love those dear clever architects 
 and builders ! 
 
 The next day, as ill-luck would have it — 
 Hubert would have preached me a sermon if 
 he had heard me use that most heathenish ex- 
 pression — some old friends whom we had not 
 seen for years bore down upon us from an 
 unexpected quarter, invaded our luncheon- 
 board, and, upon pressing invitation, remained 
 to tea. It was in vain that I pleaded my en- 
 gagement with Aunt Catherine in an impor- 
 tunate aside to Hubert. I must remain and 
 help Kitty entertain our guests, that was his ^
 
 UNLOCKING PANDORA'S BOX 129 
 
 reply. They would leave early, and I should 
 still have time to pay my visit to the Hall 
 before dinner. 
 
 If there were one point on which Hubert was 
 fussy, it was on the duty of hospitality, and the 
 necessity of putting ourselves out even for 
 those who were personally antagonistic to our 
 tastes. ' The law of kindness is too much set 
 aside in these days,' he remarked in my hearing 
 once, and I am afraid the admonition was in- 
 tended for my special benefit ; for Kitty was 
 always gracious to the most unwelcome visitor. 
 * " Thy own friend and thy father's friend forsake 
 not." I am always reminded of that text when 
 I see young people yawning metaphorically in 
 the presence of their elders, and mentally 
 stigmatising them as unmitigated bores. We 
 should try to remember that by-and-by we shall 
 be old bores, too, and that a younger generation 
 will turn its cold shoulder to us. What a pity, 
 then, to withhold our kindly looks and words 
 where perhaps they are greatly needed. " Do 
 as you would be done by," that is the golden 
 rule, after all.' 
 
 Now as Hubert always tried to practise what 
 he preached in his own gentlemanly way, and 
 Kitty, like a true wife, aided and abetted him, 
 people generally stayed twice as long at Fircroft 
 as they would have done at any other house ; 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 luncheon visitors remained to tea, and so on. 
 * It is difficult to tear one's self away from this 
 delightful house, dear INIrs. Leigh; had often 
 been the speech of a gratified visitor, and on 
 the present occasion I really thought Colonel 
 Morison and his sister would never go. I sat 
 literally on thorns the latter part of the after- 
 noon. I saw Kitty look at me reproachfully 
 once or twice as though she thought I was not 
 taking my fair share in the conversation. 
 ' Olga knows this,' ^ Olga will tell you that,' 
 she kept saying. ^ Olga, will you show Miss 
 Morison the photo of Jem in his undergraduate's 
 cap and gown ?' — and so on. 
 
 Well, it was over at last. Hubert had taken 
 up his felt hat to walk with his visitors to the 
 gate, and Kitty had accompanied them to the 
 door. I saw my opportunity for making my 
 escape ; in another minute I was crossing the 
 lawn like a lapwing ; the kitchen garden, the 
 paddock, were soon left behind ; long before 
 Hubert had finished his good-byes I was walk- 
 ing up the Elm Avenue, and the rooks were 
 cawing a welcome. 
 
 I encountered Bennett in the hall ; he told me 
 that Miss Sefton was in the garden, that I 
 should find her by the sundial, and I proceeded 
 there at once. 
 
 I should have known where to have looked
 
 UXLOCKIXG PANDORA'S BOX 131 
 
 for her, even if Bennett had not informed me ; 
 the seat by the sundial was her fav^ourite place. 
 It was a quiet, sheltered spot, shut in b)- high 
 walls covered with fruit-trees ; the broad walk 
 was planted with standard rose-trees, and every 
 few yards a rose-covered arch spanned the path. 
 In the rose season the effect was beautiful. 
 
 Aunt Catherine was in her usual seat, and 
 Jasper, her especial pet, was strutting up and 
 down before her, trailing his glorious tail behind 
 him, followed by the mincing steps of his 
 humbler consort. Beryl. She held out her hand 
 to me, with her quiet, welcoming smile. 
 
 ' You are late,' she said gently ; ' I was be- 
 ginning to fear that you were not coming 
 after all.' 
 
 ' Oh, it has been so tiresome !' I exclaimed, 
 and I began to explain volubly the reason of 
 my delay ; but Aunt Catherine heard me rather 
 absently — she was evidently thinking of some- 
 thing else. 
 
 ' What does it matter ?' she said, when I had 
 finished ; ' you are here now, and there is plenty 
 of time for our talk. Look at Jasper !' for the 
 beautiful creature had mounted the sundial and 
 was slowly unfurling his plumes. ' Virginia 
 had a headache, and remained in her room, so 
 I had tea alone, and came out here. I wanted 
 to see you especially this evening, Olga. 
 
 9—2
 
 132 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Do you guess what it is I have to say to 
 you ?' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, do you mean that you 
 are really going to tell me your business at 
 St. Croix ?' 
 
 * Yes, child, I am. I think, after all, it will be 
 best. Virginia is against it — that is what has 
 caused her headache ; she knows I mean to tell 
 you this evening. I am reposing great trust in 
 you, Olga, but I know you are reliable.' 
 
 I squeezed her hand without making any 
 reply ; words were hardly needed, Aunt 
 Catherine and I understood each other. 
 
 ' Well, then, I may as well tell you at once 
 that I am going to St. Croix solely and entirely 
 on Virginia's account ; that the business is hers, 
 not mine.' She paused, as though she found it 
 difficult to proceed. ' We have obtained a clue 
 — at least, I hope to obtain it — a clue by which 
 we may discover a treasure she has lost.' 
 
 Was that all ? but her manner was very 
 strange. 
 
 ' What sort of treasure do you mean, Aunt 
 Catherine ?' 
 
 * I mean Virginia's son,' she answered 
 calmly.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Virginia's story. 
 
 ' " What is good for a bootless bene ?" 
 The falconer to the lady said : 
 And she made answer : "Endless sorrow !" 
 For she knew her son was dead.' 
 
 Anon. 
 
 I UTTERED an exclamation, and almost jumped 
 from my seat. Never, never in my whole life 
 had I been so surprised ! But Aunt Catherine 
 did not look at me. She merely repeated the 
 words, with a certain dreary inflexion, as though 
 she had learned them by rote : 
 
 ' I am going to look for Virginia s son.' 
 ' But, Aunt Catherine,' I stammered, turning 
 very red, for I was so confused, so taken aback 
 altogether, that I hardly knew what to say, ' no 
 one in Brookfield knows that Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 ever had a child.' 
 
 * Dr. Langham has always known it,' she re- 
 turned composedly. ' And now you know our
 
 134 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 secret, Olga — the secret of my sister's unhappy 
 life. He was only a year old when she lost him, 
 and that was five-and-twenty years ago.* 
 
 Five-and-twenty years ! I could scarcely 
 realize it. I knew that Mrs. Lyndhurst had 
 married young, and that she was three or four 
 years older than Aunt Catherine. Her son 
 must be a full-grown man of six-and-twenty. 
 How had she lost him ? What did it all mean ? 
 
 All at once I recalled the evening when Jem 
 and I had wandered in the Hall garden, and we 
 had encountered the weird, ghost-like figure in 
 the Lady's Walk ; and again a sudden flash of 
 memory brought before me vividly the pale 
 face and silvery hair over which the white hood 
 was drawn so closely ; and the words sounded 
 in my ears as though they were freshly uttered : 
 ' Oh, my sin ! Will it never be condoned ? 
 Will there never be an end to all this suspense 
 and misery ?' and ' God only knows !' uttered 
 in a despairing voice. 
 
 ' Olga ' — and here Aunt Catherine looked at 
 me pleadingly, and I could see she was much 
 agitated — ' my great fear in telling you this 
 miserable story is this, that you will blame 
 Virginia ; but you must not — indeed, you must 
 not. She has been very weak ; she has suffered 
 — and the pain has been too great for her. We 
 are not all alike ; some of us are stronger to
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 135 
 
 endure than others. I would have you re- 
 member this, and not judge her harshly. Who 
 should know her so well as I do ? and I have 
 never blamed her, except for marrying Paul 
 Lyndhurst.' 
 
 * Will you tell me all about it, Aunt 
 Catherine ?' 
 
 ' I will tell you as much as it is necessary for 
 you to know ; but there are some things that 
 must not be repeated, neither do I care to 
 dwell on the story of Virginia's mad infatuation 
 for her lover. Why is it, Olga — but you are 
 too young to answer such a question — why is it 
 that an evil nature — an utterly perverted and 
 immoral nature — can ever dominate and gain 
 the mastery over an innocent one ? Virginia 
 was good — yes, in spite of her little faults and 
 vanities, she was a good, pure-minded girl — 
 but her love for Paul Lyndhurst blinded her. 
 She would believe nothing against him — 
 nothing.' 
 
 ' I have heard — I think it was Hubert who 
 told me — that Mr. Lyndhurst was a singularly 
 handsome man.' 
 
 ' You are right ; I think his face was almost 
 perfect. The features were finely-cut, as we 
 see them in Greek sculpture ; his physique was 
 magnificent ; he was just a beautiful, soulless 
 animal. I was very young then, not more
 
 136 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 than eighteen or nineteen, and very shy and 
 diffident ; but I had my ideal — every girl has 
 that, I suppose.' She caught her breath and 
 hurried on : 'I cared for goodness in a man 
 more than any degree of attractiveness, and I 
 used to shrink instinctively from the subtle 
 sneer that lurked in Paul Lyndhurst's hand- 
 some eyes. 
 
 ' I remember once arguing with Virginia 
 until I was on the verge of tears. 
 
 ' " You must not have him," I said ; " he is 
 not good. I am. sure he is not good, Virginia. 
 He says horrid, sneering things in a polite way. 
 Oh, his manners are fine — I know that — but he 
 is inwardly cruel ! I am sure of it. He dis- 
 likes old and plain people. He makes fun of 
 them, and derides their little infirmities ; and 
 he is not kind to animals. See how he treated 
 his dog yesterday ! Oh, Virginia ! do struggle 
 against this infatuation ! Rome is a bad place 
 for you. Let us ask father to take us away. 
 We shall be safer at Brookfield — dear old 
 Brookfield !" 
 
 ' But I might as well have spoken to the wind. 
 
 ' *' You are prejudiced," she said coldly ; " Paul 
 said only yesterday that you had disliked him 
 from the first, and that it was because he was 
 poor and had no friends. You are hard on him, 
 Catherine. He Is very unhappy. He says he has
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 137 
 
 not a friend in the world but me ; that there is no 
 hope for him if I forsake him ; but I never will give 
 him up — he knows that, my dear, noble Paul !" 
 
 ' Ah, he had bewitched her, or she never could 
 have used that word of Paul Lyndhurst. 
 
 ' Of course, I know now, Olga, that I ought 
 to have warned my father, but we were too 
 much in awe of him for any such confidence. 
 If our mother had lived I would have spoken to 
 her at once ; but our father — no, it was im- 
 possible. I dreaded his anger too much. It is 
 a sad thing, Olga, when children fear their 
 parents. Virginia had always been our father's 
 favourite. She was a bold, high-spirited girl, 
 and he was very proud of her. It was Virginia 
 who was always the spokeswoman — who could 
 coax him to do anything ; but I was timid and 
 awkward in his presence. It needed more 
 courage than I possessed to tell him the state 
 of things between Virginia and Paul Lyndhurst ; 
 and, as though to accelerate matters, father had 
 taken a strong fancy to the young artist, and 
 had him perpetually to the house. 
 
 ' Our stay at Rome was drawing to a close, and 
 I was beginning to breathe more freely, hoping 
 that time and absence would weaken Virginia's 
 unhappy attachment, when all at once the 
 blow fell ! Without giving me a hint of her rash 
 resolve — without biddingme good-bye— Virginia
 
 1^,8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 left the house secretly one morning and was 
 married to Paul Lyndhurst, and when the news 
 reached us she was on her way to Venice with 
 her husband ! Olga, It is useless to dwell too 
 much on a painful past. I will leave you to 
 imagine my father's bitter anger and my own 
 grief. I saw the letter he wrote in answer to 
 her piteous plen for forgiveness — it was a cruel 
 letter for any father to write ; but I can make 
 more allowances now. He told her that she was 
 no child of his now, that he would never see 
 her again, that he had done with her for ever. 
 She had disgraced her name. He would never 
 acknowledge the beggarly artist she called her 
 husband. Her little fortune, bequeathed to her 
 by her mother — about three thousand pounds — 
 should be made over to her at once ; but she 
 need never expect a penny of his — it should all 
 be Catherine's. Poor father, he was almost 
 beside himself with anger and mortified love 
 when he wrote that letter.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, how dreadful !' — for she 
 paused a moment in her recital. 
 
 ' Yes,' she replied gently ; ' such scenes and 
 such words are very dreadful to remember ; one 
 longs for a draught from Lethe sometimes. My 
 child, those two years were the saddest years 
 of my life. I had my own troubles, and the 
 Hall was desolate to me without Virginia. I
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 139 
 
 had never been my father's companion, and I 
 could do Httle to comfort him in his trouble. 
 In my heart I reproached him for his hardness ; 
 but I never dared to mention Virginia's name. 
 Now and then during the first year of her 
 absence she wrote to me, but her letters were 
 very brief and unsatisfactory. She seldom 
 mentioned her husband's name, or said she 
 was happy. My questions on that point 
 were left unanswered. They were always 
 moving from place to place — one letter was 
 from Naples, the next from Munich, a third from 
 Basle. I never knew where to find her, and 
 more than one of my letters came back to me. 
 The last one I received was written in pencil, 
 and told me of the birth of her boy. 
 
 "' He is not like Paul," she wrote ; '* he is more 
 like our family, and I mean to call him Basil, 
 after our little brother who died. Perhaps when 
 my father hears that, he maybe touched. How I 
 long to show you my baby, Catherine ! He is 
 such a pretty little fellow, and so good ; he 
 hardly ever cries. My husband does not wish 
 to have him baptized. Paul is a freethinker, 
 you know, and laughs at my superstition, as he 
 calls it ; but my baby shall not grow up a 
 heathen. I am determined upon that. If there 
 be no other way, one of those kind-looking 
 priests at St. Sulpice shall baptize him. I
 
 I40 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 would rather have him baptized in the Roman 
 Catholic Church than have him a heathen ; but 
 there is plenty of time." The letter ended 
 abruptly here ; but a postscript had been added 
 a few days later : " I have been ill again and 
 could not finish this, I will send it as it is. Do 
 not be anxious if you do not hear again soon. 
 Paul does not like me to write ; he says I have 
 no one but him now. Oh, Cathy, darling, why 
 did I not listen to you ? I have sown the wind 
 to reap the whirlwind. Baby is prettier than 
 ever ; he grows so fast. God bless you. Your 
 loving sister, Virginia." 
 
 ' I laid my letter on my father's desk. I had 
 never dared to show him one before. When 
 I went into the study the next morning it was 
 gone ; but he never spoke of it. I thought it 
 had been destroyed ; but after his death we 
 found it in an old pocket-book he always carried 
 about with him. The letter was creased and 
 almost illegible, and in its folds was the tiny 
 lock — scarcely more than a few hairs — poor 
 Virginia had cut off her infant's head. I remem- 
 ber how bitterly Virginia cried when she saw it.' 
 
 As Aunt Catherine again paused her eyes 
 were full of tears. 
 
 ' Oh, it is all so sad — so sad,' she went on, * it 
 gives me the heartache even now to remember 
 it. I noticed a change in my father from that
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 141 
 
 day ; he become more abstracted and melan- 
 choly, nothing seemed to interest him. At 
 times he seemed restless and unsettled. Now 
 and then, as we sat alone together, he with his 
 book, and I with my embroidery, he would look 
 at me fixedly, as though he wanted to say some- 
 thing ; and then his lips would close more firmly 
 than ever, and he would turn away and take up 
 his book again. I used to wonder sometime^ 
 if he were thinking of Virginia, but I dared not 
 ask him the question. 
 
 ' One night — it was a wild autumnal night, I 
 remember, for the wind was crashing among 
 the elms, and I heard the fall of a great branch 
 once — we were startled by the loud ringing of a 
 bell. It was late, and the servants had just gone 
 up to bed, so my father went to the door and 
 undid the bolts himself, while I followed him. 
 
 ' As he flung the door wide open, a tall veiled 
 lady, muffled up in a foreign-looking mantle, 
 quietly stepped into the hall. 
 
 ' We were both much startled. '' Madam " 
 
 began my father, in his quick, haughty way, but 
 the lady put back her veil and looked at him. 
 '' Good heavens ! it is Virginia!' he exclaimed, 
 turning very pale. 
 
 ' '' Yes, father, I am come back. Will you 
 take me in ? Shall I go down on my knees to 
 you ?" She laughed rather strangely ; her eyes
 
 142 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 were wide and glittering. '' Cathy, why do 
 you not kiss me ? Have you forgotten we are 
 sisters ? Do you know what I have done ? 
 I have run away from Paul ! I have left him, 
 
 and I have left " but here her face became 
 
 very white, she put out her hands as though 
 feeling blindly for some support, and if my 
 father had not caught her she would have 
 fallen at his feet in that deathly swoon. We 
 were unwilling to summon help, so we carried 
 her between us, and, laying her down on the 
 drawing-room couch, applied all possible re- 
 medies ; but it was a long time before she 
 recovered consciousness, and she did not speak 
 to us again that night. She lay motionless, with 
 closed eyes, only every now and then a con- 
 vulsive shudder seemed to shake her from head 
 to foot. If my father's anger had ever been 
 bitter against her, it died a natural death now. 
 He only seemed to remember that she had 
 come back to him again. Her very helpless- 
 ness and misery appealed strongly to his father- 
 hood. He sat beside the couch holding her 
 hand, and every now and then stroking it, and 
 once he looked at me pitifully, as though to 
 demand sympathy. My poor father ! the furrows 
 of his hardness were broken up for ever ! I 
 knew then how he had loved her, and how 
 cruelly his pride in her had been wounded.
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 143 
 
 ' She was sadly changed, our poor Virginia ! 
 Her girlish beauty was gone ; she looked ten 
 years older than when we had seen her last. 
 Her face was drawn and haggard, and there 
 were dark circles round her eyes. In the 
 broken-down creature before us, who could have 
 recognised our bright, high-spirited girl ? 
 
 * I thought that night would never have 
 passed. Now and then she opened her eyes 
 and looked at us, but only a low moan escaped 
 her lips. Towards morning my father roused 
 the servants, and sent off one of them for Dr. 
 Langham — it was old Dr. Langham then. A 
 terrible fear had assailed us — Virginia's mind 
 was unhinged by trouble ! But when Dr. 
 Langham arrived, he comforted us a little on 
 this point. 
 
 ' *' She has had a shock," he said decidedly ; 
 " very possibly a series of shocks, for she is 
 worn almost to a skeleton, and it has brought 
 on this attack of the nerves. From her appear- 
 ance I should judge that she has not touched 
 food for hours. We must be very careful," he 
 continued by-and-by ; " indeed, I may say 
 there is urofent need of care. The brain is a 
 very delicate piece of machinery at present ; 
 she is as much in possession of her reason as 
 you or I, but the brain is torpid. These 
 nervous disorders are very misleading to non-
 
 144 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 professional people — In extreme cases they 
 certainly approximate to insanity. Her mind is 
 over-strained — unhinged, if you prefer the word. 
 A little more, and I would not answer for the 
 consequences." 
 
 ' Dr. Langham was right ; he was a clever 
 man, and we soon realized the truth of his 
 words. For some days Virginia lay in this 
 strange torpid state ; she was perfectly tract- 
 able, and would take food from our hands like 
 a child ; but she did not seem to recognise us — 
 at least, she never spoke to us — only, when my 
 father kissed her, she would turn aside, and lie 
 with her face to the wall, moaning in a sort of 
 heart-broken way. 
 
 ' *' You must give Nature time," Dr. Langham 
 would say ; '* every power of mind and body is 
 exhausted at present. By-and-by, when she 
 can speak, she will explain everything." And 
 ao^ain he was riorht. 
 
 o o 
 
 ' About a fortnight passed, when one day I 
 noticed a change in her. Dr. Langham noticed 
 it too. *' She is coming round," was all he said ; 
 ''this restlessness is a good sign. Get her to 
 speak, it will relieve her." 
 
 ' But there was no need for any effort on my 
 part. Dr. Langham had hardly left the room 
 before I heard Virginia's voice calling me. 
 
 ' *' He is wise — very wise," she said feebly.
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 145 
 
 *' Yes, let me talk, Cathy ; let me get rid of all 
 that is oppressing me " — here she put her hands 
 on her breast, as though a weight were there. 
 I lay down beside her on the bed, and she 
 crept nearer, till her face was against my 
 shoulder — and then the whole miserable story 
 came out. It was well my father was not there ; 
 no man could have controlled himself and 
 listened quietly. Long before she had finished, 
 my tears had dried up in a blaze of womanly 
 anger — that he should dare to treat a Leigh 
 so! 
 
 ' I can only touch briefly on that story. If 
 Paul Lyndhurst had ever loved Virginia — and 
 there was grave suspicion for this doubt — his 
 love did not survive the honeymoon. Before 
 many weeks of their ill-starred union had 
 elapsed, he had thrown off his disguise and 
 shown himself in his true colours. The first 
 quarrel had been about her money : he chose 
 to consider himself injured by the smallness of 
 her fortune ; her father's threat of disinheriting 
 her in my favour made him savage. '' If you 
 had played your cards better we should not 
 have landed ourselves in this hole," he said to 
 her angrily. It was in vain poor Virginia pro- 
 tested that it was no fault of hers ; that to 
 please him, and him only, she had consented to 
 the secret marriage. He only flung away from 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 her with a covert sneer at the easiness with 
 which he had won her. 
 
 * Oh, he was a bad man, this Paul Lyndhurst, 
 a cold, black-hearted villain. Think of the 
 misery of a pure-minded, delicately-nurtured 
 woman, carefully sheltered from all knowledge 
 of evil, suddenly finding herself tied for life to a 
 man without a shred of honour, without prin- 
 ciples, without religion, and, lastly, without love 
 for herself. 
 
 * Alas ! there were darker shades in Paul 
 Lyndhurst's character, which she found out by- 
 and-by : an inveterate gambler, he soon squan- 
 dered half her little fortune ; and to complete 
 her disgust, she soon discovered he drank 
 deeply. Poor unhappy Virginia ! nothing but 
 her pride, and her despair of her father's for- 
 giveness, prevented her from leaving him and 
 returning home; and by-and-by another reason 
 kept her. After the birth of her boy her hus- 
 band treated her better, but this peaceful state 
 of things did not last long. After a time his 
 cruel moroseness returned ; something had gone 
 WTong with him — his work suffered, and, as usual, 
 he wreaked his ill-temper on his wife. Virginia 
 had been long in recovering from her confine- 
 ment ; before she had regained her strength 
 they left St. Croix, where her boy was born, for 
 Havre, and here she had a second illness.
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 147 
 
 ' On her recovery she saw a change for the 
 worse in Paul. He had always been uncertain 
 in his temper, but now his moods were savage ; 
 he seemed as though he hated her, and was 
 determined to embitter her existence. There 
 were cruel scenes, and Virginia, weak and 
 broken-spirited by daily insults and ill-treat- 
 ment, conceived at last a perfect terror of her 
 husband. The very sound of his voice or his 
 footstep threw her into a state of nervousness 
 that was almost indescribable. One night — 
 but I will spare you the details, Olga — Viro^inia, 
 almost wild with terror and shame, rushed out 
 of the house like some hunted thing, and wan- 
 dered up and down the dark streets, with only 
 one thought, to hide herself where Paul could 
 never find her again. By some strange fortune 
 she found herself presently on the quay. Sud- 
 denly it occurred to her that at this hour the 
 boat would be starting for Southampton. Like 
 one in a nightmare she took out her purse. 
 She had sufficient money, so she paid her fare, 
 muttered something about her luggage being 
 too late, and, going down to the cabin, threw 
 herself upon a vacant berth.' 
 
 I could keep silence no longer, 
 
 * But her child, AuntCatherine? — herlittleboy.'*' 
 
 Aunt Catherine shook her head. She looked 
 at me almost imploringly. 
 
 10 — 2
 
 148 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Do you not understand, Olga ? She was 
 not herself — my poor Virginia ! The cruel pain 
 had blotted out her memory.' 
 
 * Do you mean she had forgotten him ?' 
 Aunt Catherine bowed her head solemnly. 
 
 * Don't, Olga — don't speak yet. Did I not 
 say you must not blame her ? I know what you 
 are thinking, " Can a woman forget her sucking- 
 child, that she should not have compassion on 
 the son of her womb ?" But that such things 
 can be we are also told In the same text ; but 
 let me repeat her own words : 
 
 ' " I knew nothing — I thought of nothing, 
 but to escape Paul. My brain was on fire. 
 Perhaps I was mad. God grant it, but I fear 
 I was not ! Only I had forgotten everything 
 In my unreasoning terror. In the darkness of 
 night, just before dawn, my memory returned. 
 I heard the groaning of the paddle-wheels and 
 the long wash of the waves. A child In the 
 next berth woke up crying. The sound went 
 through me like an electric shock. My baby ! 
 I had forgotten my baby ! I had left him 
 asleep in his little cot, with his bonne beside 
 him, and had come down to Paul, who had been 
 already cursing at my delay. He had bade me 
 fetch my bonnet and mantle, for some wild ex- 
 pedition he had planned. It was my refusal to 
 accompany him that had brought on the shame-
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 149 
 
 ful scene. I thought he meant to kill me, for 
 he was mad with drink, and I fled out of the 
 house." ' 
 
 ' Poor thing — poor thing ! And she did not 
 go back to him ?' 
 
 ' No ; her one thought was to take refuge 
 with us. She kept saying to herself all the re- 
 mainder of the way, '* Cathy is kind ; she will 
 bring me my baby." But when she reached us 
 her strength was gone ; that night of agony 
 had done its work.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine !' — and I was crying 
 bitterly now — ' surely you or the Squire tried 
 to find her child for her ? It is too dreadful to 
 think of, that dear baby left with the cruel 
 man !' 
 
 ' My dear, I could not leave Virginia, and 
 my father was too old and broken for such a 
 business. But we put it into the hands of our 
 solicitor, to gain possession of the child ; and a 
 trustworthy person was sent over to Havre to 
 settle matters with Paul Lyndhurst. There 
 had been an inevitable delay of some weeks. 
 When the agent arrived he was too late. Two 
 days before, Paul Lyndhurst, accompanied by 
 the child and the bonne, had left Havre ; but 
 no one knew where they were gone. 
 
 ' '' Monsieur had been in a terrible humour 
 ever since madame had left," the woman of the
 
 I50 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 house had informed him ; " nothing had given 
 him satisfaction. When old Lisette had taken the 
 boy to him he had sworn at her and bade 
 her keep the brat out of his sight. Lisette was 
 a bold woman to accompany him, for monsieur 
 was one who feared neither /e bon Diac or the 
 devil, but he paid her well, and — well, one does 
 anything for money. Lisette was a proper 
 nurse ; she was devoted to Monsieur Bebe. 
 Monsieur Bebe was smiling like an angel when 
 they left the house." And this was all : father 
 and child had vanished as though the earth had 
 swallowed them up. In vain we advertised 
 and spent time and money in the search. My 
 father and I went again to Rome. France, 
 Germany, Switzerland were all searched by our 
 agents ; but nothing could be heard of Paul 
 Lyndhurst. Once we thought we were on the 
 right track ; an artist answering to the descrip- 
 tion had been found nearly frozen to death on 
 some Alpine pass ; but on questioning the 
 monks he proved to be a German. 
 
 ' Olga, you may imagine the rest : the heart- 
 sick suspense and longing, on Virginia's part — 
 the alternation from hope to despair. One 
 moment she believed her boy was dead, the 
 next she cried out that he was alive, and that 
 Paul had depraved him and made him like 
 himself. Her boy's future was ruined, and
 
 VIRGINIA'S STORY 151 
 
 all through her ! Yes, you may guess the rest : 
 Virginia's trouble has been the bunhen of my 
 life. It is a good many years since we re- 
 linquished all hopes of ever finding Basil ; but 
 the thought that, if he be living, his grand- 
 father's v/ill has made him master of the Hall 
 has given us a new incentive for action. A 
 few weeks ago we received information from 
 one of our agents that Paul Lyndhurst was 
 dead. It is to verify this that I am going to 
 St. Croix ; but I cannot induce Virginia to 
 accompany me, poor dear ! She will have it 
 that he may not be dead, and that she is safer 
 at the Hall. 
 
 ^ The priest who is our real informant of 
 Paul's death is supposed to be the same who 
 baptized Basil; anyhow, it was at St. Croix, at 
 the very St. Sulpice that Virginia mentioned 
 in her letter, that the child was secretly baptized. 
 Now you know all, Olga, and I am terribly 
 weary. I can talk no more.'
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ' HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGa!' 
 
 I now must change these notes to tragic' 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Aunt Catherine's tired face certainly verified 
 her words, and I pressed her to go back to the 
 house and rest. 
 
 * Perhaps it will be best,' she returned after a 
 moment's hesitation. * I can see my story has 
 excited you ; it would be well for us not to 
 discuss It now. Go home, dear child, and to- 
 morrow come to me again, and I will tell you 
 my plans for next week.' 
 
 And then we walked together to the Hall 
 door, and parted without another word. As I 
 looked back for a moment to wave my adieux, 
 I saw Mrs. Lyndhurst watching us from her 
 window ; but she gave no sign of recognition ; 
 on the contrary, when she saw she had attracted
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA r 153 
 
 my notice, she drew down the blind hastily, 
 and I walked rapidly down the avenue. 
 
 The first gong sounded as I entered the 
 house, so there was no time to lose. I dressed 
 hurriedly and took my place at the table, and 
 tried to talk as usual ; but my manner must 
 have been strange, for I saw^ Kitty look at me 
 inquisitively once or twice ; she was as sharp as 
 a needle, and was very quick to detect the least 
 thing amiss. When we went back in the 
 drawing-room she followed me under the 
 pretext of showing me her work ; she was 
 smocking a little frock for Girlie-ga. 
 
 ' Is there anything the matter, Olga T she 
 whispered. ' I hope there is nothing wrong at 
 the Hall !' 
 
 * What should be wrong ?' I answered 
 shortly, for this sisterly espionage annoyed 
 me. 
 
 ' I don't know^ ; only your eyes look as though 
 you have been crying.' 
 
 * Nonsense !' — still more abruptly ; * you are 
 always fancying things, Kitty. Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst is not very well ; but that is nothing new. 
 I sat with Aunt Catherine in the garden, and 
 we had a good long talk. Jasper was lovely. 
 He spread out his tail just to attract our 
 attention, and Beryl kept pecking at Aunt 
 Catherine's gown, to remind her of the sweet
 
 154 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 cake she had promised her. ' What beautiful 
 creatures they are !' 
 
 ' And which day do you start ?' asked Kitty, 
 not particularly interested in these details. 
 
 This was embarrassing. I coloured up, and 
 answered rather awkwardly : 
 
 * Aunt Catherine did not tell me. I am to 
 know to-morrow. She was tired, and I did not 
 stop so very long.' 
 
 * Only two hours,' was the somewhat sarcastic 
 rejoinder, and then Kitty carried away her work. 
 
 I had not deceived her in the least. In her 
 own mind she was quite sure that something 
 had happened. It was trying to have such a 
 tell-tale face, and really that habit of blushing 
 over every trifle was extremely ridiculous. I 
 was thankful that Jem was not there to add to 
 my embarrassment. Everything was tiresome 
 that evening. Hubert, as usual, requested 
 some music, and as Kitty was busy, I was 
 obliged to remain at the piano for the next 
 hour to accompany Mr. Cunningham's flute. 
 The pieces were long and difficult, and I played 
 worse than usual. To add to my vexations, 
 Mr. Cunningham begged my pardon at every 
 mistake, and entreated me to go over the erring 
 passage again. 
 
 ' No one is listening,' he observed ; 'and we 
 may as well get the thing perfect. Let us try
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA P 155 
 
 that page again, Miss Leigh. One, two, 
 three/ 
 
 The mild 'tout, tout' of the flute recommenced. 
 Mr. Cunningham's head wagged contentedly 
 over his beloved instrument. Crash went the 
 pedal. I was fast losing patience and temper 
 under the ordeal, when Harry interposed. He 
 had been watching us both for some time, though 
 he had only been pretending to tease Rollo. 
 At the next break-down he came to my rescue : 
 
 * Why don't you shut up that beastly noise, 
 Cunningham T he said quite crossly. ' Don't 
 you see Miss Leigh is tired out ? You ought not 
 to trespass on her good-nature. Here you 
 have been a good hour blowing on that con- 
 founded flute, and no one has a chance of 
 speaking a word !' 
 
 I am afraid Harry was very rude ; but we 
 were none of us too polite to Mr. Cunningham. 
 I do hate a rich, lumpish young man. 
 
 Mr. CunninHiam unscrewed his flute. He 
 was affronted, and no wonder, by Harry's un- 
 civil remarks. 
 
 ' You have no soul for music, Vivian,' he 
 returned stiflly. * People who cannot play 
 themselves, and know absolutely nothing of 
 music, generally set themselves up for critics. 
 Thank you, Miss Leigh ; you played that last 
 passage charmingly. I like a staccato move-
 
 156 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ment,' but 1 would not listen to his heavy en- 
 comiums any longer. I gave Harry a grateful 
 smile and slipped away to my room. 
 
 I am afraid to say how many hours it was 
 before I slept that night. Mrs. Lyndhurst's 
 sad story haunted me. I went over it point by 
 point, and again my tears flowed as I thought 
 of the miserable mother who had lost her child 
 so strangely. My heart ached for her, and yet 
 my sympathy was not unmixed with blame. 
 ' How could she have done it ?' that is what I 
 kept saying to myself over and over again. It 
 was right for her to leave that wicked husband. 
 No one could blame her for that, if she had only 
 taken her baby with her ; but to forget her own 
 child — and yet she was not mad — to leave that 
 boy in his father's power ! Oh, how could she, 
 how could she? that was always the summing-up. 
 No ; I could not understand it. The utter 
 horror of it all baffled me. It is almost im- 
 possible for youth, witti its healthy, natural 
 views of life, to comprehend the workings of a 
 morbid temperament, dominated by a subtle 
 and cruel power. The complex mysteries of 
 human nature are not to be unriddled by the 
 young. Such a case as Mrs. Lyndhurst's 
 needed the wide comprehension of a psycho- 
 logical student — wise in the science that is most 
 conversant with the phenomena of the mind.
 
 HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA P 
 
 57 
 
 If I had been older, the difficulty would have 
 been easier of solution, for no thoughtful person 
 who has lived long in this world will deny the 
 singular contradictions and surprises of human 
 nature. The man, the woman, acts in a diametri- 
 cally different way to what we expected ; strano-e 
 things are done on sudden emergencies — there 
 is utter collapse of the reasoning powers. Can 
 human nature betray itself after this fashion ? 
 ' Look at Judas, at Peter, at a hundred examples 
 of failures,' would be the answer of the psycho- 
 logist ; ' " Judge not " is the command of the 
 All-knowing and All-merciful.' When I went 
 to sleep that night I felt I loved Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst less ; but none the less I pitied her 
 sincerely. When the morning came I was still 
 in the same mind, only 1 was determined Aunt 
 Catherine should never know the change in my 
 feelings. I went up to the Hall in the after- 
 noon. Aunt Catherine was writing letters In 
 the library. She received me with her usual 
 kindness, and began at once talking about her 
 plans. It was Saturday, and we were to start 
 the following Wednesday. We were to take 
 an early train to town, lunch at an hotel, and 
 go down by the boat-train to Southampton ; the 
 boat would not start until midnight. There 
 was a little more talk about arrangements, a 
 few questions about luggage, and so on ; and
 
 158 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 then Aunt Catherine turned again to her daven- 
 port. 
 
 ' These letters must go by the afternoon post,' 
 she said quietly. ' Will you go up to Virginia 
 now, Olga ? and we will meet again at tea-time ;' 
 and as I seemed a little taken aback at this pro- 
 position, she continued : ' Virginia wishes to see 
 you. She knows we were talking yesterday ; 
 she made me promise to send you up to her.' 
 
 Could anything be more embarrassing ? But 
 I had no excuse ready; Hubert and Kitty were 
 paying parochial visits — no one at home wanted 
 me — so I was obliged reluctantly to leave Aunt 
 Catherine's comfortable presence, and go in 
 search of Mrs. Lyndhurst. On my way up- 
 stairs I encountered Marsden. I thought she 
 looked at me a little oddly as she drew back to 
 let me pass. 
 
 ' Mrs. Lyndhurst is in her sitting-room, I 
 believe ?' I asked, by way of saying something, 
 for J knew quite well where I should find 
 her. 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am ; but. Miss Olga,' addressing 
 me rather hesitatingly, ' my mistress is very 
 poorly this afternoon. She seems low and 
 nervous. It is cheerfulness she wants, not any 
 sort of sad talk — I mean, you will be careful 
 with her. Miss Olga ?' 
 
 I never knew Marsden strange in her manner
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA P 159 
 
 before ; her round, good-natured face looked 
 quite prim and solemn. Was it possible that 
 she was in her lady's confidence ? She was 
 an old servant, and a very faithful one, but 
 somehow I hoped Marsden did not know about 
 little Basil. 
 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst was in her usual place. I 
 am afraid as I greeted her my manner was a 
 little constrained, for she looked in my face 
 very searchingly as she held my hand. After 
 a moment she dropped it, but she did not ask 
 me to sit down, or question me in her usual 
 pleasant way. 
 
 * Aunt Catherine told me you wanted to see 
 me, Mrs. Lyndhurst,' I began rather awk- 
 wardly. 
 
 * Yes,' she returned sadly ; ' I wanted to see 
 for myself. " When she comes into the room I 
 shall know," that is w^hat I said. You are not a 
 good actor, my dear — has anyone told you that 
 before ? I dare say Jem has. Your face- tells 
 everything in a moment. You were sorry that 
 I sent for you; you have no wish to see me — 
 that is all written very legibly, Olga.' 
 
 ' Please don't, Mrs. Lyndhurst.' 
 
 * Is it painful for you to know that ? Young 
 people are seldom hypocrites ; they are too 
 eager; their impatience betrays them. It is 
 better for you to be true, Olga, even though you
 
 i6o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 do condemn me. What is it ? I said to 
 Catherine, '' Do not tell the child — do not, 
 do not." It is the young who are the most 
 pitiless of our judges. They make no allow- 
 ances ; with them black is black and white 
 white — there are no medium shades, no mercy, 
 no extenuation. You have done wrong ; you 
 must suffer for it. Is it not Draco whose laws 
 were written in blood ? Well, the young are 
 Draco-like.' 
 
 I was nearly crying by this time. Why 
 would she say such dreadful things? and how 
 was I to answer her ? It was cruel of Aunt 
 Catherine to expose me to such an ordeal ! 
 
 ' I can read the question in your eyes, Olga,' 
 she went on. ' You have pretty eyes, my 
 dear, very soft and gray ; but they have a 
 terrible way of askin^r questions. *' How had 
 you the heart to do it, you unnatural mother ?'' 
 that is what they say.' 
 
 ' Oh, hush, please, Mrs. Lyndhurst !' 
 
 * My dear, I cannot hush ; there is a time for 
 everything — Solomon said that, did he not ? — 
 and my time has come for speaking. '' How 
 could you do it ?" Olga, that is the question I 
 have asked myself for twenty-five years, and I 
 have not found the answer yet.' 
 
 It was terrible to hear her ; her voice was 
 thin and strained, and there was a pinched look
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA T i6i 
 
 about her face ; but she took no notice of my 
 entreaties to her to spare herself and me. 
 
 * If I have sinned, I have had my punish- 
 ment. Think of a punishment lasting five- 
 and-twenty years ! — five-and-twenty years !' 
 Can I ever forget the dreary tone in which 
 she repeated these words } * It is more than 
 your whole lifetime, Olga.' 
 
 I felt a curious revulsion of pity as she 
 spoke. My youthful severity was not proof 
 against such misery : without asking myself 
 again how such things could be ; I threw my 
 arms round Mrs. Lyndhurst, and begged her 
 not to talk so sadly. 
 
 ' Indeed I will not blame you !' I said 
 earnestly, and I fully meant what I said. ' It is 
 not easy for me to understand. I am so young, 
 you see, and so happy, and I have never been 
 tried ; but, indeed, I will not be hard. Only 
 you must not talk like this.' 
 
 For there was a wildness in her manner that 
 frightened me, for it brought back the scene in 
 the Lady's Walk. 
 
 My caress soothed her ; she was one who 
 depended on sympathy. The rigid muscles 
 relaxed ; a softer look came into her eyes. 
 She stroked my hand without speaking for a 
 few minutes, and then she said more quiedy : 
 
 ' Yes, I am to be pitied. God only knows 
 
 VOL. I. I I
 
 i62 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 what I have suffered all these years ! Oh, he 
 was sb pretty, Olga — my baby ! He had such 
 dear little hands and feet, and such a cooing 
 voice. Somehow I always think of him still as 
 my baby, and yet he is a full-grown man.' 
 
 I was silent. It would not hurt her to talk 
 in this quiet fashion ; perhaps it might be a 
 relief. It certainly pained me to hear her; but 
 what of that ? — were we not told to bear one 
 another's burdens ? 
 
 ' I have always dreamt of him,' she went on, 
 * Sometimes the dreams were happy, but at 
 other times they were terrible — terrible ! They 
 were never quite the same. I used to dream of 
 him as a little child, and then as a school-boy. 
 Once he was showing me his prizes. I was 
 opening one book after another. " Basil 
 Theodore Lyndhurst " was written in every 
 one. I called him Theodore after my father — 
 the gift of God. I used to say it over to 
 myself sometimes. It was so true — my baby 
 was the gift of God !' 
 
 I would not interrupt her by a word, and she 
 went on softly, as though talking to herself. 
 
 ' Once he had some childish ailment ; he was 
 feverish and suffering, and I remember how 
 frightened I was. *' If my baby die, I shall 
 die too," I said to Lizette. She was a good 
 old creature. She w^as rocking the old-fashioned
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA /' 163 
 
 Flemish cradle as I spoke, and she looked up 
 and shook her head at me. " Le bon Dieu 
 will not take the little angel," she said solemnly. 
 *' He knows, and the Blessed Mary knows, that 
 madame has trouble enough. It is only our 
 Lady of Sorrows who has her heart pierced 
 through and through with pain. Madame will 
 not have to suffer. She is young and feeble, and 
 le bon Dieu knows that." Poor old Lizette ! 
 she was very good to me. But, Olga, she little 
 knew, if I had lost my baby then I should have 
 wept like other mothers, and have been com- 
 forted. I should not have wept tears of blood 
 all these years.' 
 
 ' God has watched over him, dear Mrs. 
 Lyndhurst.' 
 
 ' Ah ! so Catherine says. That is how she 
 comforts me. If it were not for that thought 
 I must have lost my reason. Now and then 
 all hope fails me, and I dream that he is dead. 
 When I wake it seems to me that I must 
 search the world over, only to find his 
 grave.' 
 
 ' Poor, poor Mrs. Lyndhurst 1' 
 
 'But that is not my worst fear' — and here 
 she shuddered — 'there are times when far more 
 terrible thoughts assail me. What if he should 
 have become like his father ? Catherine has 
 tcld you about my husband. Do you think a 
 
 II — 2
 
 i64 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 man like Paul would be a fit guardian for an 
 innocent child ?' 
 
 * He had Lizette,' I interposed, eager to give 
 a crumb of comfort ; for she had touched now 
 on the very point that troubled me. 
 
 ' Yes ; but he would not require a nurse 
 long ; Lizette would be dismissed, and then how 
 would it fare v/ith my boy — no mother to coun- 
 teract his father's teaching ? What if he should 
 have grown up a freethinker ? What if he should 
 have learned to scoff at religion, at women, at 
 everything — like Paul ? Could he touch pitch 
 and not be defiled ? Could he live for years 
 with that godless, bad-hearted man, and not be 
 utterly depraved ? Oh, if this be the case, 1 
 pray— I pray most solemnly that I may never 
 see my son's face in this life.' 
 
 Her voice had grown more intense, more 
 tragically earnest. A cold shiver ran through 
 me at her words. This awful probability had 
 already crossed my mind. If it were true, oh, 
 how much better it would be to stumble on 
 some foreign tombstone, some wooden cross, 
 in a far-off cemetery, and read the name of 
 Basil Theodore Lyndhurst engraved there ! 
 If I could only find some word to comfort her ! 
 And then I remembered the beautiful story of 
 Monica and St. Augustine : the reckless pro- 
 digal feeding on husks ; the weeping, praying
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA /' 165 
 
 mother ; the consolatory speech, so strangely 
 prophetic, spoken by a holy man — ' The child of 
 so many prayers and tears cannot be lost.' 
 Mrs. Lyndhurst kissed me when I had finished 
 the simple story. If she had heard it before she 
 did not say so, but a faint smile came to her face. 
 
 ' It may be so — God grant it! — and my prayers 
 may have been an invisible shield to Basil. I 
 will try to think so, and then my pain will be 
 less.' 
 
 ' Yes ; and Aunt Catherine hopes that she 
 may hear some news of him at St. Croix.* 
 
 ' The news will be very vague, I fear/ she 
 returned sadly. ' Pere Lefevre, the priest who 
 baptized my little Basil, has only lately returned 
 to St. Genette. You know St. Croix is only 
 the suburb. He is again attached to the parish 
 church, St. Sulpice. We have heard a rumour 
 that he has been attending the death-bed of an 
 English artist. The description tallies with that 
 of my husband.' 
 
 * Is that all ?' for I thought at least that some 
 clue had been discovered of Basil. 
 
 ' That is all at present ; it is for Catherine to 
 find out all she can from Pere Lefevre. If it be 
 not under the seal of confession he will tell us 
 what he knows. These priests have kind hearts. 
 If we could only find old Lizette ! — but she must 
 be lone dead.'
 
 i66 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Was she very old ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps not. It is difficult to judge of the 
 age of these peasants. Their hard work makes 
 them look older than they really are. She 
 might have been fifty.' 
 
 * That would make her seventy-five now.' 
 
 ' Yes, if she be living, but I doubt it. There 
 is nothing but doubt and regret all round. Even 
 if I find him, even if Catherine is successful, 
 and one day I shall hear Basil is alive and 
 is coming home, do you think even such 
 blessed news as that can atone for the past? 
 Think what 1 have lost, never to see him in 
 his childhood, his boyhood, his early manhood, 
 to have some strange bearded man suddenly 
 come to me and say, " You are my mother ; I 
 am Basil, your son. Where is my grandfather's 
 property that belongs to me ? Where are my 
 goods that I ought to have enjoyed all these 
 years ?' How am I to recognise him whom 
 I saw last as a baby ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I see what you mean ; it is very 
 hard for you.' 
 
 ' Will he be like Paul, and frighten me with 
 his father's likeness ? Will he love the stranger 
 who calls herself his mother ? Oh, they talk 
 of nature, of instinct, but instinct is sometimes 
 blind. I may say to him, " Come, embrace me, 
 my son ;" and he may answer coldly, " How am
 
 'HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA /' 167 
 
 I to feel you are my mother ? — affection in a man 
 cannot be forced. We have never been any- 
 thing to each other ; the whole world has divided 
 us. How am I know my English mother from 
 any other w^oman ?" ' 
 
 * Is this how you have tortured yourself all 
 these years, Mrs. Lyndhurst ?' 
 
 ' Yes, Olga. Ask Catherine, for she has been 
 my guardian angel ; ask my good faithful 
 Marsden how I have tried them. There were 
 times when, like Cain, my punishment was more 
 than I could bear — then it was that Catherine 
 was a tower of strength to me. " You have 
 still a sister," that is what she would say to 
 me. I could not have borne my life without 
 Catherine.' 
 
 Just then Marsden interrupted us. She had 
 a tea-tray in her hand. As she set it down she 
 looked at her mistress's agitated countenance 
 with disapproving eyes. 
 
 ' You have talked too much, ma'am/ she said, 
 with a solemn shake of her head. ' I warned 
 Miss Olga; but I see it has been no use. Now 
 you will have one of your bad headaches.' 
 
 'It was not my fault, Marsden,' I pleaded; 
 for the good creature seemed greatly disturbed. 
 
 ' No, Mary, you must not scold the child. 
 I was obliged to talk, and I think she has done 
 me good. Go down now, my dear, and leave
 
 i68 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 me with Marsden. We quite understand each 
 other, and she knows she may scold me as 
 much as she likes ;' and she smiled up in 
 Marsden's face, but the faithful soul was hardly 
 mollified. She saw signs of suffering in her 
 mistress's drawn face and weary eyes, and was 
 anxious for my departure. 
 
 Aunt Catherine was awaitino^ me in the 
 drawing-room. She looked at me scrutiniz- 
 ingly as I sat down beside her. 
 
 ' Well, Olga, can you forgive Virginia now ?' 
 I forget what my answer was, but I know it 
 satisfied Aunt Catherine, for she took my hand 
 and said soothingly : 
 
 * Don't cry, dear ; I am afraid you have had 
 a painful scene with my poor sister ; but it was 
 better for you to see for yourself — now you know 
 what my life has been.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, how could you have 
 borne it all these years ?' 
 
 * That I can hardly tell you. We all have 
 our work in life — Virginia is my work.* 
 
 ' But it must have been so depressing.' 
 ' I would not allow it to depress me. I had 
 many duties — the care of our property, our poor, 
 the search for Basil as our ricrhtful heir, the old 
 name to keep up in the county. Then I had 
 my pleasures, my books and garden, and ' — here
 
 HE WAS SO PRETTY, OLGA /' 169 
 
 she looked at me very sweetly — ' the affection 
 of my adopted daughter.' 
 
 * Oh, Aunt Catherine, am I indeed a comfort 
 to you ?' 
 
 Her answer took me by surprise, for she was 
 rarely demonstrative, and seldom expressed her 
 feelings. 
 
 * Sometimes I think you are my greatest 
 comfort. You are a great deal to me, Olga ; 
 you always have been. Now drink your tea, 
 my dear, and let us talk of something else.'
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE. 
 
 ' I give you my word I am heart-whole.' 
 
 Red Gauntlet. 
 
 ' If we cannot be better friends, do not at least let us entertain 
 harder or worse thoughts of each other than we have now.' 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Aunt Catherine kept me with her a long time. 
 She saw that I was much upset, and she wished 
 to change the current of my thoughts, and as I 
 still seemed low-spirited and unlike my usual 
 cheerful self, she took me up to her room under 
 the pretext of showing me a new travelling rug 
 that she had just bought. After which she 
 unlocked her wardrobe and brought out her 
 jewel casket. 
 
 ' I have never shown you my trinkets, Olga/ 
 she said quietly, ' and I know girls love to see 
 pretty things. These all belong to me. Vir- 
 ginia's are at our bankers'. She has never 
 worn a single article of jewellery these five-and-
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 171 
 
 twenty years, with the exception of one or two 
 diamond rings ; and as her ornaments are much 
 handsomer than mine, it was hardly safe to keep 
 them in the house.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, what lovely things !' I 
 exclaimed in ecstasy, as she opened one case 
 after another, and showed me their glittering 
 contents. ' I think I have seen that ruby 
 pendant before ; you wore it when you went to 
 the Collingwoods' — that night I helped you 
 dress, and you wore your black satin. I know 
 Kitty told me how well you looked — the best 
 dressed woman in the room.' 
 
 ' What a distinction !' she returned, smiling at 
 my enthusiasm, but I knew she liked the little 
 compliment. ' Well, Olga, you seem entranced 
 with my treasures. I suppose you think me 
 enviable to be the owner of all those fine things .'^' 
 
 I am afraid I did think so. 
 
 ' They give me very little pleasure,' she went 
 on, without waiting for my answer. ' I suppose 
 if Basil be living these will go one day to his 
 wife. That is why Virginia hoards hers so 
 jealously. You see they are chiefly old heir- 
 looms. They have been in our family for years 
 and years. Do you see that enamel pendant 
 set round with pearls — see how discoloured the 
 pearls are with age — they say that belonged to 
 the Lady Gwendoline, and that Ralph of the
 
 172 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Iron Heart gave it to her. No one has worn it 
 since — it would have been considered unlucky ; 
 but they unclasped it from her neck as she lay 
 in her coffin. Think of the contrast, a love- 
 token reposing on the shrivelled neck of an 
 aged woman ! If it were not for the knowledge 
 that love is eternal, and that the heart cannot 
 grow old, one would disbelieve the reality of 
 such things.' 
 
 * Lady Gwendoline's story is so terribly sad.' 
 
 * It is not sadder than many other women's 
 stories,' she answered, and her tone was a little 
 peculiar. * Not so sad as Virginia's, for ex- 
 ample. If Gwendoline had accepted her fate, 
 and had not bewailed over her misery until her 
 poor brain was crazed, she would have led a 
 more peaceful existence, dolni^ her daily work 
 with patience until death called her to rejoin her 
 lover. Poor soul, the truth was revealed to her 
 at last ! Do you remember her dying words : 
 " Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy 
 Cometh in the morning " ?" 
 
 Aunt Catherine's manner had orrown a little 
 
 o 
 
 solemn. 
 
 * There are thousands of unspoken and un- 
 written stories — some of them as sad as poor 
 Gwendoline's. Love comes to most women, 
 but it does not always bring happiness with it. 
 Some hide their pain like the famous Spartan
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 173 
 
 boy of old hid his fox. They keep their own 
 secret unflinchingly to the end ; others take 
 it meekly as their appointed cross. " What I 
 do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know 
 hereafter " — I would write those words on many 
 a single woman's grave.' 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine,' I began timidly, but she 
 stopped me by showing me another trinket. 
 
 ' The others are heirlooms, as I told you, 
 Olga ; but my father gave me this, and I have 
 always meant it for you — don't blush so, child. 
 I suppose I may give you a trinket if 1 like, 
 and I know you have so few pretty things.' 
 
 This was the truth, for my mother had been 
 a poor vicar's daughter, and her few simple 
 ornaments had been given her by her husband. 
 Only a bracelet and a ring or two of no particu- 
 lar value had come into my possession. 
 
 ' But, Aunt Catherine, this is far, far too 
 beautiful for me !' I gasped. 
 
 ' Why so ?' pretending to misunderstand me ; 
 ' it will look very well on your round, white 
 throat, and it is so simple and girlish.' 
 
 ' It is perfectly exquisite,' I stammered, and 
 indeed it was very unique and uncommon. It 
 was a necklace formed of a single row of gems 
 — all of them different — set very lightly. Some 
 of the stones were costly, others less so, and 
 the effect was extremely good.
 
 174 THE SEARCH EOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Do you like it, Olga ? I am so glad. I 
 have always meant it for you. Now help me 
 to clear up all this finery. If there ever be 
 such a person, Basil's wife will have ample 
 choice, will she not ? for all these must go by 
 right to her. There, let me lock them up safely ; 
 and now you must run home, or Virginia will 
 be wondering what has become of me.' 
 
 I carried off my treasure and showed it 
 proudly to Hubert, who was sitting alone in 
 the drawing-room. He examined it curiously, 
 and then looked at me with rather an odd 
 expression. 
 
 'Do you admire it, Hubert? is it not kind 
 of Aunt Catherine to give it to me ?' 
 
 ' It is very good of her. I think it extremely 
 handsome,' he returned in his precise way. 
 'You are a lucky girl, Olga. There is no 
 doubt at all that Miss Sefton is much attached 
 to you.' 
 
 ' That is nothing new,' I replied pertly, for I 
 thought his manner rather tiresome. 
 
 ' But it is more evident now. Jem was only 
 saying something of the sort the last evening he 
 was at home. You see neither Mrs. Lyndhurst 
 nor Miss Sefton is young, and they have no 
 
 heir. So, as Jem says ' but I was not going 
 
 to hear what Jem did say, and I took away my 
 necklace rather crossly, for it annoyed me to
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 175 
 
 see Hubert dangling it on his fingers, and peer- 
 ing at it through his spectacles while he talked 
 such nonsense. 
 
 ' I am quite sure Aunt Catherine will never 
 leave me a penny of her money, if that is what 
 you mean,' I observed in a vexed voice ; ' and 
 what is more, I do not want it ; and I cannot 
 bear you and Jem to say such things — it is 
 dreadfully mercenary, and ' 
 
 ' What a silly child you are !' he replied 
 good-humouredly ; ' but there, Jem and I will 
 keep our thoughts to ourselves if they annoy 
 you. I hope you will show Kitty your neck- 
 lace.' 
 
 And then I marched oft with a good deal of 
 dignity. How tiresome of Hubert and Jem to 
 think of such nonsense ! But of course they 
 did not know of Basil's existence, so perhaps 
 they were not so much to be blamed, after all. 
 I was doubly anxious now for poor Mrs. Lynd- 
 hurst to find her son, if only to prevent people 
 thinking of such ridiculous things. 
 
 I went up to the nursery to find Kitty ; on 
 Saturday evenings she was always up there for 
 an hour helping nurse. Nurse was busy in the 
 inner room, and Kitty was sitting by the window 
 putting in clean tuckers in the children's Sunday 
 frocks. The twins had just been saying their 
 prayers ; they were standing by their mother in
 
 17- 
 
 SEARCH FOR BASIL LYSDHURST 
 
 their little blue dressing-gowns, looking fresh 
 and fair from their ablutions. 
 
 ' May we stay a little, mother ?' exclaimed 
 Jessie eagerly, as she perceived me. 
 
 * Auntie will soon be going away,' observed 
 Mab as a conclusive argument- 
 
 And then they both climbed up in my lap 
 and pleaded for a stor^^ 
 
 * It must be a Sunday stor}-. I am afraid, 
 finished Jessie, *' because we have just said our 
 prayers and hymn, and mother would not like 
 fair)- -stories after that.* 
 
 * No, darUng, you are quite right/ returned 
 Kitty. ' But. indeed, you must not keep them, 
 Olga : it is quite time for them to be in bed.* 
 
 * Let me show them this first,' I suggested, 
 opening the case. And then there was an ex- 
 clamation from mother and daughters, 
 
 * WTiat a beauty you will look in it, auntie !' 
 from Jessie, 
 
 * Auntie is quite a beaut}- without that,* con- 
 tradicted Mab — oh, the lovely innocence of 
 childhood I — * but she will look ever so much 
 nicer in it — quite a grand lady.' 
 
 ' Let me see it, children dear. Aunt Olga 
 rr.e^r.: to show it to me.' And Kitty held it in 
 her hand admiringly. ' Yes. it is very hand- 
 some : it will just suit you, Olga. Miss Sefton 
 is extremelv srenerous.'
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 177 
 
 But though she said no more, I could read 
 her thought : * The ladies have no heir, and 
 they are fond of Olga !' Good gracious, how 
 I longed to shout ' Basil Theodore Lyndhurst ' 
 into her pretty little ear ! 
 
 The little girls left us reluctantly after this, 
 and then Wilfred came in to say his prayers. 
 I always liked to watch Kitty with her children. 
 Her tired face — and how very, very tired she 
 always looked now ! — had a soft, motherly ex- 
 pression on it. 
 
 * Mother, why do you always stroke my 
 head when I say my prayers ?' Wilfred asked 
 suddenly. * Is it to keep time with the words ? 
 I think I am too sleepy to say my hymn ; 
 please let me off.' 
 
 ' I will say it for you, Willie.' 
 
 And as the little fellow nestled up against 
 her, she sang it in a low, crooning voice that 
 was as good as a lullaby. Nurse carried him 
 off half-asleep after this, and Kitty turned to 
 her work again. 
 
 ' Do let me help you,' I pleaded ; but she 
 shook her head, smiling. 
 
 ' There is so little to do, and I like doing it, 
 Olga. I do so love working for my children ; 
 they will not always be little ; when they are 
 grown up they will not need me. Don't you 
 think Mab is growing very fast ?' 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * Yes ; she Is much taller than Jessie.' 
 
 ' She Is quite a little mother to Willie and 
 baby now, and she Is so nice to her father. 
 Hubert was only saying so yesterday. If any- 
 thing were to happen to me — I mean, If they 
 lost me — Mab would take care of them 
 all' 
 
 ' Thank you, Kitty ; I suppose you have 
 forgotten my existence,' I returned, In a half- 
 affronted tone. * Mab, indeed !' 
 
 Kitty laughed — she could not help It — but 
 her tone was still melancholy. 
 
 * I beg your pardon, Olga. I thought, of 
 course, you would be married. You do not 
 suppose that I should ever ask you to sacrifice 
 yourself for my children ? What would Jem 
 say ?' 
 
 ' Whatever he liked. Kitty, why will you 
 talk in this doleful fashion ? It Is quite 
 ridiculous. Mab and Jessie are both so pretty 
 that they will be sure to marry young. Mab 
 would just do for Harry, when she grows up, 
 and then you and Hubert will be Darby and 
 Joan. V/hat a handsome old couple you will 
 be!' 
 
 Kitty looked at me thoughtfully, as though 
 she were trying to imagine the picture. 
 
 ' Hubert is always saying things like that. 
 **When the children leave us," ''When Wilfred
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 179 
 
 is a man," and so on. It gives me rather a 
 shiver to hear him.' 
 
 ' Why ? You are very incomprehensible this 
 evening.' 
 
 ' Oh, I don't know ' — folding up her work. 
 ' I never think of the future. I cannot imagine 
 myself old. It takes all my strength to live my 
 daily life ; I am too tired to look beyond. I 
 have all I want now — Hubert and the children, 
 and you and Jem. I have a sort of faith that 
 as long as my children need me I shall be here. 
 I know you think me odd, Olga, but my mother 
 died young, and I suppose that gave me the 
 notion that perhaps I should never be old either.' 
 I looked at her anxiously. Kitty was always 
 prone to low spirits. Was it my fancy, or did 
 she look a little thinner and more fragile than 
 usual ? * Want of tone,' Dr. Langham called it. 
 Well, no one thought much of that. 
 
 ' I hope you do not talk to Hubert in this 
 way,' I observed, in a scolding tone. 
 
 ' Oh no ; it would only make him unhappy, 
 poor fellow ! he takes too much care of me 
 now. I don't know what Hubert would do 
 without me, Olga.' 
 
 * I don't know what any of us would dowithout 
 you,' I returned, with a remorseful kiss or two, for 
 how often Jem and I had been cross with Kitty ! 
 ' Now, pray — pray don't talk any more in this 
 
 12 — 2
 
 i8o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ghoul-like manner — It is just overwrought 
 nerves — for you will tire yourself so dread- 
 fully ; and oh ! how angry Hubert would be 
 if he heard you ! He would send for Dr. 
 Langham at once, and order you up to bed.' 
 
 ' That is just why I do not tell him,' she 
 returned ; and a little mischievous sparkle 
 came to her eyes. ' He is so fussy, dear old 
 fellow, and makes so much of every little ail- 
 ment, so I just keep my bad feelincrs to 
 myself, and never tell him what makes me so 
 cross sometimes.' 
 
 'Well, you may tell me instead' — a great 
 effort of magnanimity on my part, for I did hate 
 talking about ailments, and presentiments, and 
 all kinds of doleful things ; and Kitty's re- 
 marks were so often set in the minor key. To 
 my surprise, she thanked me quite affectionately. 
 
 * May I, indeed, Olga ? That is so kind and 
 sisterly of you ! I dare say it is all fancy, and 
 that talking it over comfortably with you will 
 do me good. You see, when one has a husband, 
 one is obliged to think of his feelings ; and 
 Hubert is very easily depressed. So it will be 
 nice to tell my troublesome feelings to you.' 
 
 Nice for Kitty, perhaps! But I was not the 
 woman to shirk my word ; and, after all, Kitty 
 had lots of worries. I thought of Aunt 
 Catherine's noble example as I went to my
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE i8i 
 
 room, and the burthen she had so patiently 
 borne all these years. Perhaps she had wanted 
 to be married, and had given up someone she 
 loved to stay with her afflicted sister. I 
 thought what a good woman she must be, and 
 I made a resolution to be more to Kitty, and 
 to help her as far as possible over the rough 
 places of life ; and again those touching words 
 of Amiel came into my mind : ' Oh, be swift 
 to love — make haste to be kind.' 
 
 Kitty's plaintive conversation made me 
 secretly uneasy, though I would not allow 
 myself to say so. Most likely the tragical 
 talk of the afternoon had unhinged me — even 
 a healthy young person can be nervous. I was 
 tired and creepy, and did not make allowances 
 for Kitty's unconscious exaggerations. And 
 yet I have always noticed that people who talk 
 much about their feelings — who count their 
 ow^n pulsations and regulate their own heart- 
 beats — are liable to overstep the truth, and to 
 draw too largely upon their imagination. 
 
 I found myself watching Kitty during the 
 evening. She was certainly a little quieter than 
 usual. She brought her work to the table where 
 Hubert was playing backgammon with Harry, 
 and sat beside him quite contentedly. Once 
 he told her that she was trying her eyes and 
 had better go to bed.
 
 i82 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * You work too hard for us all, little woman, 
 he said, looking at her tenderly. 
 
 I saw Kitty slip her hand into his : 
 
 ' Do let me stop a little longer ; it is so nice 
 
 and quiet, and I like being with you.' 
 
 Harry was rattling the dice rather noisily, 
 
 and did not overhear the little conjugal whisper. 
 
 * I dice not above seven times a week,' ob- 
 served Harry sententiously. ' Mr. Leigh, are 
 you aware I am quoting Shakespeare ? Actually 
 those words were written by the immortal 
 William. Mark the line, pregnant with mean- 
 ing : "I dice not more than seven times a 
 week." ' 
 
 * I congratulate you on your memory, Vivian,' 
 returned Hubert dryly. ' Whose throw is it ? — 
 mine.^ Deuce! — ace — come, that's lucky ! Kitty, 
 my dear, I mean to beat this fellow hollow ; he 
 has grown too conceited.' 
 
 So, after eleven years, Kitty still cared to sit 
 by Hubert. Matrimony was not such a dull 
 affair as I thought it, after all. Only, as I took 
 care to add, if I ever should have a husband he 
 must be diametrically opposed to Hubert ; no 
 beard, no spectacles, no fussy humdrum ways ! 
 And he certainly should never call me ' my dear ' 
 — I should settle that beforehand with him. 
 ' My dear !' Could any two words be more in- 
 sufferably patronizing ?
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 183 
 
 Now it was the very next evening that Harry 
 behaved in the most tiresome fashion. In fact, 
 I was so shocked that I cried about it. We 
 were walking home from church together, 
 and were just sauntering along in a lazy way, 
 because the evening was so beautiful, when he 
 made me turn into a little lane on the pretence 
 of listening to a nightingale, when all at once I 
 found, to my dismay, that he was proposing to 
 me ! 
 
 If I had not been so angry I must have 
 laughed, for it was too absurd, and yet the poor 
 boy was quite in earnest, and, in spite of his 
 youth, there was a manly dignity about him that 
 checked any propensity to merriment. 
 
 * You ought not to be so severe. Miss Leigh, 
 he said deprecatingly, as I again repeated that 
 I was excessively annoyed. ' Of course you 
 have never encouraged me ; but when a fellow 
 likes a girl, he has a right to tell her so.' 
 
 ' He has no right — none at all,' I replied 
 hotly, for what would Hubert say to us ? and 
 how unmercifully Jem would have laughed at 
 us both ! For though Harry would be tremend- 
 ously rich one day — he was an only son, and 
 Colonel Vivian was at the tip-top of county 
 society — he was only twenty, and ought to be 
 thinking of his studies, and not making himself 
 miserable about a girl a few months younger
 
 i84 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 than himself. Besides, if I ever married, my 
 husband must be at least ten years older than 
 myself ! 
 
 * I hold a different opinion,' he returned, 
 flushing at my petulance. Poor, dear Harry, 
 how nice and handsome he looked, and how 
 fond I was of him ! ' You are very hard on me, 
 Miss Leigh ; as though I can help loving you ;' 
 and then he said a great many pretty things, 
 and would not let me interrupt him until he had 
 finished, and then he said quite humbly : ' Won't 
 you give me just a little bit of hope ? I am so fond 
 of you, that even a crumb of comfort would be 
 something. If I may speak to you again in a 
 year's time, or two ' 
 
 But I stopped him decidedly. 
 
 'It is no use, I cannot care for you in that 
 way, Harry. I like you ; you have always 
 been so nice and kind, and you have given me 
 Rollo ; but I will not be so wicked as to give 
 you any hope. We will be friends. Oh yes, 
 we will always be friends, and I shall be so 
 interested in all that concerns you.' 
 
 * I see it is all up with me,' he returned 
 gloomily ; ' but of course I am not such a cad 
 as to press a girl. If you ever alter your mind' — 
 here I shook my head — ' you must just let me 
 know, for 1 shall never care for anyone else.' 
 (* Oh, Harry, what a fib !') * I suppose you would
 
 A FAIRY GODMOTHER AND A PRINCE 185 
 
 not let me, just for once ' but as I drew my- 
 self up the poor boy blushed and apologized. I 
 took his hand and held it for a moment ; there 
 were tears in his eyes, and I was so sorry for him. 
 
 ' No, Harry dear,' I said gravely ; ' how do 
 I know that in the years to come I may not 
 like somebody else better, and then I should 
 feel sorry if 1 had let anyone else kiss me. No, 
 we can be friends without that ;' and then, as he 
 still continued dejected, I talked to him in quite 
 an elder- sisterly way. Harry's sisters were 
 only school-girls of fourteen and fifteen. I 
 gave him a great deal of excellent advice, to 
 which he listened in a most docile manner ; but 
 I am not sure that it benefited him, for as we 
 turned our faces homeward he produced a little 
 packet from his waistcoat pocket, and in a 
 shamefaced manner tendered it for my accept- 
 ance. 
 
 It was a pretty little brooch, and must have 
 cost a good deal ; but I put it back in his hand. 
 
 ' You must keep that for Ada or Laura's 
 birthday,' I said quietly, and he did not venture 
 to say another word. When we reached the 
 hall-door I shook hands again with him — this 
 time very solemnly. ' You poor boy, I must 
 forgive you, I suppose, but you must never do 
 so again,' and I ran upstairs. 
 
 I cried a good deal that night, for I was so
 
 i86 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 sorry to have vexed him ; but as I brushed out 
 my hair before the glass, I peeped at myself 
 once or twice rather curiously. 
 
 ' So I have actually refused an offer !' I 
 thought ; * I wonder if I shall ever have another. 
 Kitty said she never cared for anyone until she 
 saw Hubert — that the moment she saw him she 
 had an odd sort of feeling. I rather like that 
 idea ; in fairy tales everything is so deliciously 
 sudden : the prince comes riding up ; he just 
 throws a glance at the fortunate princess. " I 
 am he," that is all he says, and he holds out his 
 hand, and they ride away into fairyland. I 
 shall never have another chance, I know; but, all 
 the same, I should like something out of the 
 common. Jem says I am awfully romantic. 
 " What a goose you are, Olga !" he would say. 
 Well, I am a goose,' and with this humiliating 
 confession I scrambled into bed.
 
 
 
 
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 CHAPTER XL 
 
 LA MAISONNETTE. 
 
 * Oh, the moorland by the sea, where the purple heather groweth, 
 And the bracken rears its crozier 'midst the mosses and the 
 ling : 
 Where the brown bee croons its song as it gaily homeward 
 goeth, 
 And the wheeling sea bird stoopeth the white wonder of 
 its wing. 
 
 ' Oh, the incense-breathing firs ! the great firs that skirt the 
 moorland, 
 Shedding perfume all about it, from soft surging plumes of 
 green, 
 That with strong protecting- arms, leaning inward from the 
 foreland. 
 Let the tender, warm sea-azure here and there slip in 
 between.' 
 
 Helen Marion Burnside. 
 
 * Do you feel better, Olga ?' 
 
 ' No — yes — I don't know, Aunt Catherine,' I 
 replied, speaking in the smallest of voices, and 
 struggling up into a sitting posture. I am 
 afraid I must have looked a miserable object 
 huddled up in my berth, for Rollo sprang up
 
 iS8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 and licked my hand ; and, in spite of her pity, 
 Aunt Catherine could not forbear a smile. 
 
 ' Poor child, I am so sorry you have had such 
 a wretched time. The captain owns it was a 
 little fresh, but I was too good a sailor to mind 
 it. Now, Olga, you must drink this cup of tea 
 and try to join me on deck. We are just near- 
 ing the quay, and it is such a lovely morning.' 
 
 ' I will try,' I replied languidly ; ' but please 
 do not wait for me.' 
 
 For in my present mood it almost aggravated 
 me to see Aunt Catherine so well and brisk ; 
 she looked as trim and comfortable as though 
 she had slept in her bed at home — not a hair 
 awry, and quite a fresh colour in her face. 
 Indeed, as she took care to inform me, she had 
 slept soundly the first part of the night, and 
 then, finding the cabin close and unbearable, 
 had gone up on deck to watch the daybreak. 
 
 A little fresh, that was what they called it! 
 Never had I passed such a night in my life ! 
 It had seemed interminable, lying there in misery 
 and discomfort, listening to the labouring en- 
 gines and the wash of the waves, and seeing 
 nothing but the swinging lamps and the rocking 
 walls of the cabin. Now and then it appeared 
 to me as thoup^h the floor were merged into the 
 ceiling. Dim figures seemed to reel through 
 the distant door. Now we seemed to sink with
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 189 
 
 swing-like motion into some deep trough of the 
 waves, and then to rise with an awful regularity 
 and precision. How I longed for my dear little 
 room at Fircroft, for Kitty, for Jem — even 
 Hubert would have been a comfort — to be any- 
 where out of this suffocating place, which to my 
 giddy, confused senses seemed full of white, 
 cadaverous faces, and whispering voices gro- 
 tesque with misery ! 
 
 It was good of Aunt Catherine to bring me 
 that cup of tea ; but in spite of its restorative 
 effects I still felt so faint that it was with 
 difficulty that I could drag myself from my 
 berth ; and long before I had put the finishing 
 touches to my toilet, the boat stopped, and we 
 could hear the rush of footsteps overhead. 
 
 * Olga, my dear child, what a time you are !' 
 and Aunt Catherine looked at my pale face with 
 concern. * The luggage is being taken to the 
 Custom House, and we must go ashore at once. 
 Don't look so miserable ; the fresh air will do 
 you a world of good, and you will soon feel all 
 right again.' 
 
 And with these cheering words she handed 
 me my hat and gloves, and bade me follow her 
 on deck. The first rush of cool morning air 
 turned me giddy, and I clutched Aunt 
 Catherine's arm for support. I was dazzled, 
 confused by the sunshine and bustle, the crowd-
 
 lyo THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ing passengers, the sharp volley of speeches. 
 A strange blending of English and French 
 voices seemed to fill the air — gendarmes, drivers 
 of fiacres, and sailors. How strange it all 
 looked ! What a medley of foreign life ! What 
 glow and colouring ! Before us were the gray 
 walls and buildings of St. Genette, the broad 
 quay planted with plane-trees, the stream of 
 people and luggage going to the Douane ; 
 behind us the blue sea, with its tossing, crested 
 waves sporting in the sunlight. What a bright 
 scene ! how full of interest to everyone except 
 to me ! 
 
 ' Now, Olga,' observed Aunt Catherine, in the 
 same brisk voice, ' you shall sit down on that 
 nice shady seat while I see after our luggage — 
 you are not fit for the bustle of a Douane, and 
 I am perfectly accustomed to manage for my- 
 self. No one will interfere with you, you will 
 find plenty of amusement, and Rollo will take 
 care of you ;' and I gladly took her advice. 
 
 The giddiness was passing off now, and I 
 began to feel less miserable ; in a little while I 
 was looking about me with the keen delight of 
 an inexperienced traveller. Every minute I 
 saw something to attract my attention ; now it 
 was a group of watermen in their blue blouses, 
 gesticulating and talking with French vivacity ; 
 then a bonne, in her white cap, with some oddly-
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 191 
 
 dressed children ; a priest, in shovel hat and 
 cassock ; a little shrivelled Sister of Mercy, in a 
 white hood and gray habit. A sudden tinkling 
 of bells ; a miller's cart slowly rumbles along the 
 quay ; the driver in his blue blouse cracks his 
 long whip ; the horses are gay with their blue 
 sheepskins and bells — under the bright sunshine 
 everything looks full of colour. Two more 
 priests, one old and gray, the other young and 
 solemn-looking, pass me, reading their breviaries, 
 and an old peasant woman, in a long black cloak, 
 with a basket of onions and carrots, meets them. 
 The old priest lifts his hat with a kindly air. 
 ' Bon jour, Madame Grenier !' he says, with a 
 kindly reverence. The toothless old creature 
 mumbles out something in a shrill voice ; she 
 has a brown weazen face, and looks a hundred, 
 at least ; some soldiers with blue trousers and 
 red shoulder-knots pass, and point her out to 
 each other ; then they laugh and nudge each 
 other, and say something about his reverence 
 and the little mother of the big Pierre. So 
 these are French soldiers, I say to myself; 
 these dapper little figures with odd monkey-like 
 faces, and big pointed moustaches. How they 
 strut along the quay — these fine fellows — as 
 though they could conquer the world ! The 
 younger priest has walked on, still absorbed 
 in his breviary ; but Madame Grenier talks on
 
 192 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 in shrill quavering accents, and the old priest 
 listens good-humouredly ; she is telling a long 
 story, but it is not easy to understand her dialect 
 — the name Pierre comes in frequently. Has 
 she ever been young, this Madame Grenier? It 
 must be terrible to grow like that ! At this point 
 in my reflections, Aunt Catherine interrupted me. 
 
 * I am ready now, Olga,' she said ; ' the lug- 
 gage is on the fiacre ; it is rather a long 
 drive to La Maisonnette, but I see you are 
 better.' I noticed that she gave the old priest 
 a searching look as we passed him. * If it 
 should be Pere Lefevre !' she whispered in my 
 ear. Another crack of the whip, and we were 
 off, down a long road that skirted the quay. It 
 was some time before we lost sight of the sea. 
 The lean little horses did their work famously, 
 but presently their speed slackened, as we 
 entered a long narrow street with shops on 
 each side. 'We have left St. Genette, Olga,' 
 explained Aunt Catherine ; ' this is really St. 
 Croix. You must see St. Genette properly to- 
 morrow; some of the streets are so quaint. It is 
 such an interesting place — especially to artists. 
 This street is comparatively common-place, but 
 the shops are excellent. Look ! there is the 
 market, but the stalls are half empty. Do you 
 see that old woman with the gold earrings ?' 
 
 I was thoroughly interested by this time. 
 
 J
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 193 
 
 After a few minutes we turned into a wide road 
 planted with trees, up and down which some 
 bonnes and children were strolling. By-and-by 
 we came to a larore fiorure of the Christ haneingr 
 on the cross. How lonely and pathetic it looked 
 in that wide place ! We passed some large 
 houses set in gardens after this ; then the road 
 grew more countrified. We drove down lanes 
 with cornfields on one side ; strange to say, the 
 cornfields were also orchards. All at once we 
 stopped before a big brown gate shaded by a 
 large sycamore ; a barn was on one side. The 
 driver pulled a bell that sounded a hoarse loud 
 peal ; the next moment we heard footsteps, and 
 a young woman with an oddly-shaped coif 
 and a droll good-humoured face threw open the 
 gate with voluble welcome. 
 
 ' Madame and the young demoiselle were 
 welcome ; they must be much fatigued, and 
 must refresh themselves at once. She and 
 Jules would see to the luggage. The horses 
 would take care of themselves. Would 
 madame enter the house ?' in a shrill, high- 
 pitched voice. 
 
 We were standing in a wide courtyard. 
 Before us was a good-sized house, plastered 
 with yellowish stucco, with great brown shut- 
 ters — ^jalousies, I suppose they call them — to 
 every window. The sun was blazing now, for 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 It was mid-day, so Aunt Catherine was glad to 
 take refuge in the house. The doors all stood 
 open. Rollo, who had preceded us, stood 
 wagging his tail in some perplexity. 
 
 ' Out of the way, old fellow. This is the 
 salon, Olga !' exclaimed Aunt Catherine ; and I 
 followed her into a pleasant room, very nicely 
 furnished, and dellciously cool, with one big 
 window looking on the lawn and courtyard, and 
 the other on the garden. I opened the blind 
 and peeped out, and my exclamation brought 
 Aunt Catherine to my side in a moment. 
 
 I had never seen such a crarden. It was full 
 
 o 
 
 of big trees, and resembled a miniature wood. 
 At the end was a little grove ; a broad 
 gravel walk led to it. On one side was a tiny 
 lawn, on the other a confused pattern of oddly- 
 shaped beds, with paths round them. The 
 whole garden gave one a delightful Impression 
 of shady coolness and luxuriant foliage. 
 
 * Very pleasant In summer, but decidedly 
 unwholesome In winter,' observed Aunt 
 Catherine. ' No wonder the place did not 
 agree with Mrs. Milner. What a pretty room 
 this is, Olga — is it not? There is Jeanne 
 carrying in our rugs. I suppose the salle-a- 
 manger is opposite. Let us explore. Does It 
 not seem strange, taking possession of the 
 whole house in this fashion. Look at Rollo
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 
 
 195 
 
 poking his nose almost everywhere ; I am sure 
 he enjoys the fun as much as we do.' 
 
 The salle-a-manger was a large bare-looking 
 room, one end lined with cupboards, and with 
 an astonishing number of doors. There was a 
 door into the passage, and a door into a dark, 
 fusty little kitchen, a glass-door opening on the 
 courtyard, and another opposite it leading into 
 the garden. A small window by the fireplace 
 gave additional light. A hen and some chickens 
 were clucking on the door-step in anticipation 
 of a meal, which the white cloth and cups and 
 saucers seemed to warrant. 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, how deliciously cool 
 this room is ! but it is far too big for comfort. 
 What a long table just for us two !' 
 
 ' The coffee is ready, and shall be served,' 
 returned Jeanne, coming in at that moment. 
 ' Perhaps madame would dismiss Jules, and 
 give him his due. She and the demoiselle 
 must be famished after such a journey. Would 
 mademoiselle prefer a cup of English tea ? 
 Madame always took it for her dejeuner. 
 Strong tea with a slice of lemon would be 
 refreshing, or cafe au lait.' 
 
 I pronounced in favour of a cup of English 
 tea ; Aunt Catherine chose cafe au lait. More 
 bustle, and stamping of sabots across the brick 
 floor, then Jeanne marches in triumphantly, 
 
 13—2
 
 196 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 bearing" a large coffee-pot In one hand and a 
 little brown teapot in the other ; a pile of toast 
 follows, then eggs, and some slices of curious- 
 looking meat, a bowl of salad, some plums, a 
 glass-jug of cold water. Rollo watched Jeanne's 
 movements attentively. He was a dog of 
 sagacity, and always knew his friends. Jeanne 
 was not handsome ; she had a turned-up nose ; 
 she wore a singular cap ; she talked gibberish ; 
 still Rollo decided she was a person to whom 
 he might show respect. In proof of this he sat 
 up before her solemnly and tendered her a paw 
 ■ — a signal that he was growing hungry. 
 
 Jeanne uttered a faint shriek, and wrapped 
 her hands in her apron ; she pronounced him 
 U7i bete effroyable — he was ill-conditioned, 
 terrible, a monster to be feared ; regardless of 
 all these compliments, Rollo still sat and 
 proffered his paw in the most friendly fashion. 
 
 Jeanne giggled and fairly fled to her kitchen, 
 and we could hear her high-pitched voice out 
 in the courtyard. 
 
 ' Mrs. Milner says Jeanne is an excellent 
 servant,' observed Aunt Catherine, as she 
 poured out my tea ; ' she is a most faithful 
 creature. I wish you did not look so pale, 
 Olga, but tea and toast will just suit you. I 
 did not make a bad breakfast on board, but I 
 mean to try some of that stuffed veal. You
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 197 
 
 must lie down and get a nap, while I unpack 
 and write to Virginia.' 
 
 1 was glad to take this advice presently. 
 There was only one good-sized bedroom, which 
 I at once decided must be for Aunt Catherine. 
 The other rooms were rather small and barely 
 furnished ; an uncarpeted passage led to them. 
 After a few moments' hesitation, I chose a long, 
 narrow room next to Aunt Catherine's ; it was 
 furnished with the utmost simplicity — a little 
 French bedstead in one corner, a painted wash- 
 stand and chest of drawers, with an oval glass 
 in a black frame hanorinor over it. There was a 
 door of communication with a still smaller 
 room ; a chintz curtain hung over it. The floor 
 was polished, and a little strip of carpet was 
 beside the bed. The window was wide open : 
 down below was the shady garden, with the 
 little grove, looking more like some woodland 
 glade in its depth of delicious coolness ; it was 
 so strangely silent, too — only the humming of 
 bees, as they hovered over the quaint flower- 
 beds, broke the stillness, or the occasional click 
 of Jeanne's sabots across the courtyard. Aunt 
 Catherine came in and closed the great brown 
 shutters for me ; then she shook up the snowy 
 pillow, and left me to my siesta. It was late 
 in the afternoon when I was awakened by 
 Rollo laying his big black paw on my arm ; he
 
 198 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 looked in my face with a whine, as though re- 
 monstrating with me on my unusual laziness. 
 Jeanne was standing by me with a little tray 
 with a cup of coffee and some crisp-looking 
 cracknels on a white-lringed napkin ; she de- 
 posited it on the bed, and then, putting her 
 hands on her hips, regarded me with a bene- 
 volent grin. 
 
 ' La jeune demoiselle had slept well — bien ! 
 The great dog, Monsieur Rollo — was not that 
 his name ? — had been contemplating the door for 
 hours ; he had been triste, inconsolable, without 
 his mistress. Where was madame ? she liad 
 eone to recruit herself with a walk — she was a 
 person of energy. She had left word that the 
 jeune demoiselle — Meess — Meess Olga — oh, 
 the droll little name! — should repose herself: the 
 day was long enough for amusement. Would 
 it be possible to assist mademoiselle ? no — 
 then she, Jeanne, would return to her devoirs ; 
 there was water to draw from the well, and she 
 must fetch eggs and butter from the farm. 
 Would the young English Meess be afraid to be 
 left in the house with the big dog, Monsieur 
 Rollo ?' 
 
 I dismissed Jeanne with the assurance that I 
 should not be afraid, and then jumped up and 
 unpacked with the utmost despatch, while Rollo 
 lay with his nose between his paws and watched
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 199 
 
 me. When I had finished I took my hat and 
 went out in the passage ; the open window 
 tempted me, and I stood for some minutes 
 looking out on the courtyard and barn and the 
 brown gate shaded by the huge sycamore. 
 How still and peaceful it looked in the evening 
 light ! I felt as though 1 were in some enchanted 
 place ; it was all so strange and unhome-like, as 
 though I were dreaming, and must wake up 
 presently and find myself back at Fircroft. 
 Jeanne must have gone to the farm ; I peeped 
 into the empty kitchen, where only a black 
 kitten was warming herself beside the closed 
 stove, and then went out into the garden. 1 
 directed my steps involuntarily to the little 
 grove ; there were some wicker chairs and a 
 table, and a hammock swinging between two 
 trees ; a little gate led into a kitchen-garden 
 full of fruit-trees. A sort of curiosity induced 
 me to unlatch the gate and walk down the 
 narrow, grass- grown path ; there seemed a sort 
 of building at the end, that looked like a stable 
 or a barn, I could not guess which ; a dilapi- 
 dated flight of steps led to the upper story — was 
 it inhabited ? for there was a white curtain 
 fluttering at an open window — the next instant 
 I caught sight of a dark masculine profile, and 
 turned hastily away. Perhaps, after all, it was 
 a barn, and that was the farmer himself. I was
 
 200 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 intruding — most likely the kitchen garden be- 
 longed to the farm and not to La Maisonnette. 
 I was glad to close the gate behind me, and to 
 find myself in our own garden. 
 
 I wondered where Aunt Catherine had gone, 
 and as I heard Jeanne's sabots In the distance, I 
 determined to go a little way down the lane ; 
 but as I opened the gate I found her stand- 
 ing outside ; she had her old brown garden-hat 
 on. 
 
 ' I was just wishing for )Ou, Olga,' she said 
 brightly. * I wanted to show you the extensive 
 domains that belong to our landlord. I have 
 been talking to him — his name is Monsieur 
 Perrot, and he lives at the farm close by. He 
 seems an honest old fellow. That lane leads 
 right down to the bay ; but I want to show you 
 the view from the cliff Urst. We may regard 
 this as our private grounds — so Monsieur 
 Perrot tells me. No one but his lodger ever 
 comes here, so we shall be quite undisturbed.' 
 
 So saying, she opened a little gate, and we 
 found ourselves in a cornfield full of apple- 
 trees. Then we came to a green place with 
 some beautiful fir-trees, overlooking the lane. 
 Across the road were the grounds of a chateau, 
 with a small lake surrounded by trees, and a 
 boat moored to the bank. The water had a 
 strange greenish hue, as though from the
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 201 
 
 filtering of sunshine through leaves ; it had a 
 solitary, deserted look, as though no human 
 footstep ever broke the stillness, or trod on the 
 grassy paths. 
 
 ' That is the Chateau de Clairville,' observed 
 Aunt Catherine. ' It belongs to the Delain- 
 courts, but they are in Paris at present. Mrs. 
 Milner told me a sad story about them once. 
 The eldest son, then a fine boy of eleven or 
 twelve, was drowned in that very lake. A 
 schoolfellow upset the boat, and Gaston could 
 not swim. They say none of the family have 
 ever looked at the lake since. It is probably 
 the truth, for the boat seems falling to pieces 
 through age and disuse. Madame Delain- 
 court has taken a dislike to the chateau, and 
 they live most of the year in Paris.' 
 
 * It looks like the scene of a tragedy,' I 
 returned, with a shudder. ' How weird and 
 uncanny it must look by moonlight. Let us go 
 
 and Why, there is actually heather! 
 
 What a pretty, wild place !' 
 
 'Yes; is it not? This is the cliff; and if 
 we follow this little winding path, we shall 
 come to the steps that lead down to the 
 bathing-house. Is this not curious, Olga — 
 this mingling of cornfields, orchards, fir-trees, 
 and heather-covered cliffs ! Now you can see 
 the bay — what do you think of that i^'
 
 202 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I was silent from sheer admiration of the 
 beautiful scene before me. Below us lay the 
 yellow sands, with piles of amber- coloured 
 seaweed, and beyond, the blue waters of the 
 bay, shimmering in the golden sunlight, and 
 studded with rocky islets ; across the bay 
 wooded promontories, and the white gleam of 
 buildings from the gay little seaport town of 
 Nanterre ; while to our left were the picturesque 
 banks that skirted the river Liere^ — cliffs, sands, 
 and the red and white sails of numberless boats, 
 all steeped in the pure radiant light of early 
 evening. 
 
 ' Aunt Catherine, this is paradise !' 
 ' An earthly paradise ; but you are right — it 
 is very beautiful. The sunsets are wonderful 
 here ; indeed, the glow of colouring is peculiarly 
 foreign. I have seen the bay as intensely 
 blue as the Mediterranean. Look to your 
 right, Olga : that is the fashionable bathing- 
 place of St. Croix, and across those cliffs there 
 is the cemetery and the Hospital de St. Pierre. 
 We shall pass both on our way to the English 
 Church. Further on is St. Genette, and those 
 massive towers belong to St. Dominique — 
 that is where they kept the English prisoners. 
 When we cross to Nanterre, we shall have to 
 start from St. Dominique — it is only twenty 
 minutes across the bay.'
 
 LA MAISONNETTE 203 
 
 I listened to Aunt Catherine with interest 
 and tried to follow her outstretched finger, as 
 she pointed out one object after another ; but I 
 could only give a divided attention. My own 
 senses seemed steeped in beauty. We were on 
 the farthest point of the cliff ; no one was in 
 sight ; the only signs of human life were the 
 little boats rocking in the sunlight. One could 
 dimly discern a red or blue cap belonging to 
 some fisherman. We w^ere seated on the 
 heather, and the long slow wash of the waves 
 was the only sound that reached our ears ; 
 except, once, the distant clanging of a bell on 
 the cliff. 
 
 ' Are you cold ? Why do you shiver, Olga ? 
 There is scarcely a breath of air ; it has been 
 a hot day, so Monsieur Perrot tells me.' 
 
 ' No, I am not cold.' 
 
 But in spite of my words another irrepressible 
 shiver passed through me. I had a strange 
 indescribable sensation as though something 
 were going to happen, as though some subtle 
 spirit of change stood by me to interpret the 
 future. Why had I come there ? Would it 
 not have been better for me to have remained 
 at home ? Something to this effect seemed to 
 pass through my mind with a strange nervous 
 accompaniment of dread. I had never ex- 
 perienced such a feeling before.
 
 204 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Are you sure there is nothing the matter, 
 Olaa ?' 
 
 ' No ; but I beheve I am tired,' and I stood 
 up and stretched myself a httle wearily. 
 
 ' Let us go back to the house, then,' returned 
 Aunt Catherine kindly. ' Jeanne will have 
 prepared our supper by this time, and when 
 you have had it you shall go to bed. Come, 
 child, come !' 
 
 But I followed her unwillingly. Once I 
 looked back ; the sky was tinged with a rosy 
 hue ; the bay was transfigured ; the litde fleet 
 of fishing smacks looked like fairy boats ; the 
 opposite shore was bathed in the glow of the 
 setting sun. 
 
 ' I am glad I have come across the seas to 
 look at this,' I said to myself; and then aloud, 
 * Aunt Catherine, we must always come here 
 in the evening. I shall christen this lovely spot 
 " Sefton Point." '
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE. 
 
 ' Thou goest,' she said, ' and ne'er again 
 Must we two meet in joy or pain.' 
 
 ' Bridal of Triermain.^ 
 
 ' They part, 
 Each with a grieved and anxious heart.' 
 
 Berkeley. 
 
 A NIGHT of sound sleep perfectly restored me. 
 When we met at breakfast, Aunt Catherine 
 declared herself to be quite satisfied with my 
 looks. It was a lovely morning ; the air fek 
 light and buoyant, the spacious salle-a-manger 
 looked cool and bare as I entered it. There 
 was a pleasant flicker of green leaves against 
 the glass-door that led into the courtyard. A 
 faint breeze stirred the huge branches of the 
 sycamore. Rollo lay stretched out on the stone 
 step watching a hen and her chickens scratching 
 in the dust. A fragrant smell of coffee came
 
 2o6 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 from the kitchen. A great pile of brown toast 
 was on the table. Aunt Catherine came in 
 from the orarden with a bunch of roses with the 
 
 o 
 
 dew still on them. 
 
 ' Have you slept well, my dear ? but I need 
 not ask, you look as bright as the morning itself. 
 Now I shall venture to propose a little plan for 
 the morning. We will take a fiacre and drive 
 down to St. Genette ; it is too hot to walk all 
 that distance. After we have looked about us 
 a little, we will go to St. Sulpice. You will 
 not mind my leaving you alone for a little while, 
 Olga, while I call on Monsieur Lefevre ?' 
 
 ' You are going this morning ?' in some 
 surprise. 
 
 Aunt Catherine smiled. 
 
 ' Procrastination was never one of my faults. 
 What is the use of putting off for to-morrow 
 the duty that belongs to to-day ? I am too good 
 a business-woman to cheat my conscience in 
 that way. I have come all this distance to see 
 Pere Lefevre, and I do not mean to lose a 
 moment before I call on him. We must think 
 of poor Virginia.' 
 
 ' Yes ; of course.' 
 
 But I w^as a little sorry that Aunt Catherine 
 w^ould not give up one day to pure enjoyment ; 
 it was such a delicious morning. I should have 
 liked to have spent it on the sands, or on Sefton
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 207 
 
 Point ; but I would not have told her so for 
 worlds. 
 
 An hour afterwards we were driving towards 
 St. Genette, and my brief discontent was soon 
 forgotten at the sight of the beautiful old 
 town, with Its narrow picturesque streets, and 
 its quaint houses with their peaked roofs and 
 overhanging eaves and wide casements, over 
 which towered the steeple of St. Sulpice. I 
 felt as though I were transported back to 
 mediaeval days, as though I had seen those old 
 streets In some dream of the past. What colour- 
 ing, what harmony of tints in the soft grays and 
 yellows, the dull red roofs, the narrow breadth 
 of sky above, so deeply, intensely blue, the clear 
 sunshine ! And then the gay medley of passers- 
 by — white-capped bonnes, soldiers in red and 
 blue, sisters of charity in their hoods and gray 
 and black habits, sombre-looking priests, 
 peasant women with massive silver earrings 
 reposing against their brown, shrivelled cheeks, 
 and little black bead-like eyes roving every- 
 where. From end to end of the quaint old 
 town we drove, and every moment we came 
 upon some picturesque group, some combination 
 of effect and colouring to excite our admiration. 
 Now it was some snow-white pigeons settling on 
 a red-peaked roof, now a heavy cart with gray 
 horses ambling along under their gay adornment
 
 2o8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 of blue sheepskin and bells, then a donkey with 
 pannier, a dark-eyed girl with gold earrings 
 walking beside it, a brown-faced baby in a close 
 cap peeping out of each pannier.. 
 
 All at once we left the narrow streets behind 
 and crossed a place with sycamores and seats 
 under them. Some soldiers were drinking and 
 smoking under the awning of a restaurant. 
 A band was playing in the distance, some 
 children were dancing, while their bonnes 
 chatted and knitted on the benches. A quick 
 turn, and I uttered an exclamation of delight : 
 before us was the open sea. The waves were 
 rolling in upon the shore ; the sun was shining, 
 there was a great stretch of yellow sands : gay 
 little cabanes of blue and white striped canvas 
 seemed dotted about everywhere; oddly dressed 
 figures emerged from them, and ran with little 
 ripples of laughter into the sea. The children 
 were wading knee-deep in the pools ; ladies 
 were workini^-, gossiping, watching the bathers ; 
 the band was playing dancing music ; there were 
 coloured minstrels, conjurers, ah old man with 
 an organ and a melancholy-eyed monkey. The 
 old man played a dreary tune, the monkey 
 jumped and clutched its little red cap. Some 
 soldiers were watching it. Everywhere life, 
 movement, children's voices, lauo^hter, and the 
 yellow sunshine pouring down on the gray old
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 
 
 209 
 
 buildings and rocky island, and on the happy 
 human groups. I could have stayed there for 
 hours; but Jules had his orders, and after a few 
 minutes he had cracked his whip again, and the 
 lean little horses were carrying us back into the 
 narrow streets. We were descending a somewhat 
 steep one. The houses were poorer and more 
 crowded. In another moment we were at the 
 door of St. Sulpice. 
 
 What a change from the busy streets to the 
 dark scented stillness within. j\n old peasant 
 woman was hobbling in before us. She took 
 some holy water and crossed herself, and looked 
 at us rebukingly as we passed her. 
 
 How vast and mysterious it all looked — the 
 lamps swinging before the high altar, the stacks 
 of empty chairs, the side chapels and shrines, 
 with dark figures kneeling here and there, the 
 strange, penetrating perfume of incense. 
 
 ' I will leave you now, Olga/ whispered Aunt 
 Catherine ; ' there is much that will interest you. 
 You can go round and look at everything ; no 
 one will disturb you.' 
 
 I felt as though I were in some dream as I 
 heard the great door close after her. The utter 
 stillness, the gleam from the different shrines, 
 seemed to wrap me round with mystery. 
 Everywhere was repeated the same solemn 
 story— here the Madonna and the calm-eyed 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 2IO THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Babe, there the Mater Dolorosa and the Divine 
 Sufferer on the cross — simple, majestic, uncom- 
 plaining ; in all ages a spectacle to n:en and 
 angels. 
 
 I grew weary of wandering about presently, 
 and seated myself before a little chapel, with an 
 image of a grave, benevolent St. Joseph, and 
 the Holy Child beside him. An old fisherman 
 was kneeling before it ; his gray head was 
 bowed in his hands. A little farther off was 
 the old peasant woman who had preceded us, 
 and a lady with a long black veil. Now and 
 then some noiseless figure glided from behind 
 the high altar and knelt down silently. The 
 hushed fragrant atmosphere seemed full of those 
 noiseless prayers. 
 
 ' It is good to be here,' I thought ; ' here 
 thousands of worshippers, rich and poor, 
 learned and ignorant, have brought their cares 
 and sorrows, their penitential petitions, their 
 praises, to the throne of Divine Grace. In 
 England the churches are empty, swept and 
 garnished for the Sunday services. No sons 
 and daughters of toil ever creep into those spot- 
 less edifices on week-days to offer up a prayer, 
 a thanksgiving for some blessing received. Are 
 the poor of St. Genette more pious ? Whose 
 fault is it that our churches are not homes for 
 our working people ?'
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMAXCE 
 
 I was so absorbed by these reflections that 
 Aunt Catherine's return quite startled me. I 
 had not expected her so soon. She looked pale 
 and weary, and as soon as we were outside she 
 said with a sigh : 
 
 ' We shall have to be patient, Olga. I 
 encountered an unexpected difficulty. Mon- 
 sieur Lefevre left St. Croix this morning. He 
 has been summoned to a brother's death-bed, 
 and is not expected back for a week or two. I 
 saw his old housekeeper, but she could give 
 me no information. Her master was a holy 
 man, she said, and was always attending the 
 sick and dying. He never spared himself if 
 his people needed him. Some of the other 
 Fathers knew how to save themselves trouble, 
 but not Pere Lefevre.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, what a disappoint- 
 ment !' 
 
 ' Yes, it is very trying. Virginia will be so 
 cast down by the delay. If I thought it would 
 be any good, I would follow him to Paris ; but 
 how can one intrude at such a time ? He 
 will come back, she says, as soon as his 
 brother is buried ; and I fear we must wait for 
 that.' 
 
 But though Aunt Catherine said no more, 
 I could see that she was much troubled. 
 
 We were tired with our busy morning, so, 
 
 14—2
 
 212 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 after dinner, Aunt Catherine proposed that we 
 should take our books and walk to the little 
 grove, as I persisted in calling it. 
 
 'Jeanne says it is always cool there on the 
 hottest days ; and she has promised to bring us 
 some coffee presently. In the evening we can 
 stroll to your favourite point.' 
 
 As I approved of this plan, we were 
 soon comfortably ensconced, Aunt Catherine in 
 an old-fashioned armchair, and I in the ham- 
 mock. We were both indisposed for conversa- 
 tion at first — Aunt Catherine had a book, and I 
 was content to lie in the hammock and listen 
 to the birds twittering among the leaves over 
 my head, and think of Jem — it was so pleasant 
 and peaceful. As I swung to and fro, I could see 
 the little grass-grown path I had explored 
 yesterday, between the apple-trees. Someone 
 w^as walking among the cabbages, for I could 
 catch sight of a blue blouse in the distance. The 
 sun was blazing on the yellow stucco walls of 
 the house ; the brown shutters were closed. 
 Jeanne was going to and fro between the well 
 and the court-yard — I could hear her shrill voice 
 speaking to someone ; the black kitten was 
 chasing a white butterfly across the lawn, 
 springing up into the air and then suddenly 
 wheeling round in pursuit of its own tail ; a 
 great brown bee settled on a rose-bush close
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 213 
 
 to US. ^ What a beautiful world this is,' I 
 thought as I floated off into a day-dream. 
 
 Aunt Catherine read steadily all the after- 
 noon, but I noticed that now and then a sigh 
 escaped her ; but she did not talk freely until 
 we had taken our coffee, and were sauntering 
 towards the cliff. When we had seated ourselves, 
 and had exhausted our rapturous exclamations 
 at the beauty of the evening, and of the bay 
 below us, she said rather suddenly : — 
 
 ' Olga, you do not know how I have set my 
 heart on finding Basil.' 
 
 I had been watching some barefooted boys> 
 with closely-cropped heads and ragged trousers, 
 who were collecting seaweed on the shore, but 
 as she spoke, I looked up in some surprise. 
 
 ' I shall be bitterly disappointed if we fail to 
 discover any traces of him. I hope I am not too 
 sanguine, but I am hoping great results from 
 my interview with Pere Lefevre. Surely Paul 
 Lyndhurst will have spoken of his son on his 
 death-bed.' 
 
 ' If— if he be still alive,' I replied ; but Aunt 
 Catherine looked a little distressed at my re- 
 mark. 
 
 ' Who put that doubt in your head, Olga ? 
 Why should not Basil be alive ? Virginia always 
 says he was a strong, healthy child. It would be 
 a cruel disappointment to me as well as to his
 
 214 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 mother, if your supposition were true. If Basil 
 be dead, we have no heir/ 
 
 I was silent, for just then Hubert's foolish 
 speech came into my head. I felt myself colour 
 with annoyance. That was the worst of hearing 
 such speeches, they could not be forgotten. But 
 Aunt Catherine did not notice my slight em- 
 barassment ; she was following out her own line 
 of thought. 
 
 ' It is so sad that we have no one belonging 
 to us — no one to take interest in the place, and 
 to cherish us in our old age. Virginia's son 
 would have been so dear to me. I should have 
 been as proud of him as though I had been his 
 mother. Sometimes I look at Jem — we are both 
 very fond of him — but he is not a Sefton : our 
 blood does not flow in his veins — he is not one 
 of us.' 
 
 * I see what you mean, Aunt Catherine.' 
 
 ' It is our own that we want, our own flesh 
 and blood. If I could only find Basil, and say to 
 him, " I am your mother's sister, but you shall be 
 like my own son ; come home with me, and I 
 will show you your mother. If you will be 
 patient and not mind the society of two homely 
 women, we will teach you the old traditions, 
 the family histories. You shall know your 
 ancestors by name, you shall be one of us." This 
 is what I am always saying to the imaginary
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 215 
 
 Basil ; and,' with a little smile, ' he always puts 
 his hand in mine, and says frankly, " I will go 
 home with you." ' 
 
 I had never heard Aunt Catherine speak like 
 this before. There was a yearning sound in 
 her voice, and a misty look in her gray eyes 
 that spoke of unfulfilled longing. 
 
 ' If you had only married !' I exclaimed in- 
 voluntaril)'. 
 
 She started, and a faint blush came to her 
 cheek. 
 
 ' You mean, if I had married I might have 
 had a son of my own — perhaps sons and 
 daughters, who knows ? That is what one 
 misses when one grows old. That is why I 
 think so much of Basil, because I have no one 
 else belonging to me.' 
 
 ' But, Aunt Catherine ' — hesitating, for I 
 feared to displease her — ' surely you could have 
 married over and over again if you had liked.' 
 
 ' One only wants to marry once, Olga,' 
 smiling as though my speech amused her. 
 * After all, there is only one man a woman can 
 bring herself to marry.' 
 
 ' Whom do you mean ?'— in some perplexity. 
 
 ' I mean, of course, the man she loves. 
 Doesn't that go without saying ?' 
 
 ' Yes, of course ; but — no, you will think me 
 impertinent. I will not ask such a question.'
 
 2i6 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Your eyes ask it Instead. Yes, there was 
 someone whom I could have married.' 
 
 * And for whose sake you have remained 
 single — oh, Aunt Catherine !' 
 
 ' You question rather closely, little one ; but 
 never mind, it is a very old story ; it does not 
 give me pain now. When I was your age, 
 Olga, I was thrown almost daily into the 
 society of someone who seemed to me better 
 and nobler than anyone else. I never knew 
 anyone so absolutely true. He reminded me 
 of Nathaniel, for he was without guile. Young 
 as I was, I soon understood that he had a 
 higher standard of right and wrong than most 
 men.' 
 
 ' Will you tell me a little more about him ?' 
 — creeping closer to her as I spoke, for there 
 was a shadow on the dear face. 
 
 * Don't you think it is rather foolish of a 
 middle-aged woman to tell her love-story to a 
 
 girl ? Well, if you will hear it But there is 
 
 nothing much to tell. Other women would 
 have forgotten it long ago — would have loved 
 again, and have married ; but it was never 
 possible to me.' 
 
 ' Did you care for him so much ?' 
 ' How could I help It, knowing what he was ? 
 And then he was so good to me. I should have 
 grown up frivolous and pleasure-loving but for
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 217 
 
 him. Everything I have I owe to him. It is 
 strange to think that anyone so young should 
 have had such an influence. He was not so many 
 years older than I was. He was only in deacon's 
 orders when he first came to Brookfield.' 
 
 ' I had no idea he was a clergyman. Do you 
 mind telling me his name, and — and was he 
 very attractive-looking ?' 
 
 Aunt Catherine smiled at the feminine ques- 
 tion. 
 
 ' That is so like a girl, Olga ! His name is 
 Robert Fleming. No, he was not handsome ; 
 on the contrary, he was plain — but it was a 
 face one could trust at once. I used to think it 
 beautiful when he was preaching. My father 
 was always hospitable to the clergy. Mr. 
 Fleming used to dine at the Hall once or twice 
 a week. He was a clever and amusing com- 
 panion, and his conversation was always agree- 
 able to my father. After a time he volunteered 
 to teach me Latin and botany, and then we 
 Avere always together. Was it any wonder, 
 then, that we grew to care too much for each 
 other ? Surely the blame was not ours ? I 
 can only marvel at the blindness of my father 
 and Virginia ; but no one suspected anything 
 until too late. I think that year was the hap- 
 piest of my life. Every day brought new 
 pleasure. I never asked myself the reason
 
 2i8 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 why I took life so joyously. I was young, and 
 the world was very beautiful, and Robert was 
 good to me. 
 
 ' But one day the revelation came. In an 
 unguarded moment, when we were alone, the 
 truth came out. Robert loved me too much 
 for his own peace of mind ; either he must 
 leave Brookfield, or I must give him hope that 
 his feelings were returned. I do not need to 
 tell you, Olga, that my whole heart belonged to 
 him. I owned my affection frankly, and for 
 one day at least we w^ere happy. 
 
 ' I remember that night I could hardly sleep 
 for joy. I lay hour after hour recalling his 
 looks and words. I seemed to ask no more of 
 life than Robert's love, and to feel that we be- 
 longed to each other. But my happiness was 
 short-lived. When 1 saw him again he looked 
 worn and harassed. To my dismay T found 
 that he was blaming himself severely for his 
 imprudent confession. " Your father will have 
 a right to reproach me for my dishonourable 
 conduct, Catherine," he said sorrowfully. '' I 
 ought not to have betrayed my feelings. There 
 is only one course open to me. As a gentle- 
 man, I must at once acquaint him with what has 
 happened." And in spite of my entreaties and 
 tears — for I feared to lose him — he sought at 
 once an interview with my father.
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 219 
 
 ' I need not tell you the result : my father was 
 bitterly angry with us both ; Robert was for- 
 bidden the house, and I was reproved most 
 harshly and cruelly for my undignified be- 
 haviour in encouraging a poor curate. In 
 vain I protested that I loved him dearly, that 
 I w^ould never marry any man but Robert 
 Fleming. My father simply refused to hear a 
 word. We were ordered to pack up at once and 
 leave the Hall — we were to go abroad, and 
 remain there as long as Robert was at Brook- 
 field. Olga, it was only through Virginia's con- 
 nivance that I bade Robert good-bye. It was 
 a bitterly sad parting : neither of us had any 
 hope. 
 
 ' " I am a poor man, Catherine," he said to 
 me ; " my people are comparatively humble 
 folk. I have no interest, I cannot expect 
 success in this life — I shall never be able to 
 win you — the prize is not for me — I am justly 
 punished for having dared to love you." And 
 those were almost his last words to me.' 
 
 * Do you mean you have never seen him 
 since ?' 
 
 * Never, Olga, except at a distance. Robert 
 Fleming and I parted that summer morning for 
 ever in this world. We went to Rome, and 
 before our return he had left Brookfield ; and 
 the only thing I heard was, that he had been
 
 220 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ill, and that an uncle had taken him abroad. If 
 we suffered, my poor father had his punishment 
 too. To save me from marrying the best man 
 in the world, he took us to the place where poor 
 Virginia met her wretched husband. But for 
 this she might have been a happy woman now.' 
 
 ' And you have never heard of him ?' 
 
 ' Not until my father's death, a good many 
 years afterwards, and then a casual acquaintance 
 we met at some watering-place mentioned his 
 name. He had a curacy at Leeds, and was 
 working in a very poor parish. She told me 
 the name of his church, and a year or two after- 
 wards, when I was within a few miles of the 
 place, I went one evening in the hope of hear- 
 ing him preach.' 
 
 ' Did you really ? Oh, Aunt Catherine, but 
 did he not recognise you ?' 
 
 ' He could not, for I had a thick veil, and sat 
 at the end of the church. But I could see him 
 distinctly ; he looked older and thinner, and 
 stooped a good deal, but it was the same good, 
 kind face. And his sermon was beautiful ; it 
 strengthened me for a long time.' 
 
 ' But why — why has he never come to you ? 
 Is he married ?' 
 
 ' No, he has never married, but that is all I 
 know about him. I have never expected him 
 to come. He is still a curate, and I am a rich
 
 A MIDDLE-AGED ROMANCE 
 
 woman, and belong to a county family, besides. 
 How can I tell ? he may have forgotten me — 
 a man is different to a woman.' 
 
 ' But you have many friends — grand, in- 
 fluential ones ; could you not have helped him 
 secretly to a better position ?' 
 
 ' What a little plotter you are, Olga. How do 
 you know that I have not tried ? More than 
 one living has been offered to Mr. Fleming — 
 comfortable country livings; but he cannot be 
 persuaded to leave his curacy. They say he is 
 doing a great work there, a very great work,' 
 
 * Why do you look like that, Aunt Catherine ? 
 you are keeping something back.' 
 
 ^ Oh, it is nothing,' she said, with her pretty 
 middle-aged blush ; ' only I like to think I help 
 him in that work. From time to time the 
 curate of St. Mark's receives a sum of money 
 from one who signs herself, "The Friend of the 
 Poor." He has never seen the handwritino^ — 
 the world is full of these shy philanthropists. 
 Of course, he takes the money and is thankful, 
 and asks no questions.' 
 
 ' Dear — dear Aunt Catherine, that is so like 
 you.' 
 
 * But it is not like me to romance after this 
 fashion ; you are a little witch, Olga, to coax 
 this story from me. Shall we call it the Old 
 Maid's Secret ?'
 
 222 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * Don't call yourself names ; you are as nice 
 now as you ever have been. Jem and I have 
 always admired you so ; you are not a bit old 
 — there is not a gray hair on your head.' 
 
 ' I will show you hundreds to-morrow. Come, 
 do not let us talk so foolishly. I am old-fashioned 
 enough to believe in Providence — what is, Is 
 best. One day, when our work Is done, Robert 
 Flemlncf and I shall meet asfaln. I can wait 
 happily till then.' 
 
 ' And this Is why you have never married ?' 
 
 * Well, you would not have me content with 
 the second best ? — there was only one Robert 
 Fleming. Now, never let us speak of this 
 again. Let me give you one piece of advice — 
 you are young enough to need it : make greater 
 allowances for the so-called old maids ; poor 
 things, they are often dull and uninteresting, 
 and have odd, fussy ways, but you do not know 
 what trouble and pain may be In their past. 
 Many of them have young and faithful hearts 
 in spite of their wrinkles. There, I have 
 preached my little sermon,' and as Aunt 
 Catherine said this she rose from her seat, and 
 we went back under the firs and across the 
 cornfield to La Maisonnette.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE PAVILIOX IN THE GARDEN. 
 
 ' Then saunter down the terrace, where the sea, 
 All fair with wing-like sails, you may discern ; 
 Be glad, and say, " This beauty is for me — 
 A thing to love and learn." ' 
 
 Jean Ingelow. 
 
 The next few days passed pleasantly. Aunt 
 Catherine was a delightful companion. With her 
 usual unselfishness she put her own cares and 
 anxieties aside, and only thought how she could 
 add to my enjoyment. The weather was lovely ; 
 every morning the bright sunshine woke me ; 
 and as I begrudged every moment spent 
 indoors, we were out from morning to evening. 
 As soon as our early breakfast was over, and 
 Aunt Catherine had settled down to write 
 business letters, or talk over housekeeping 
 matters with Jeanne, I used to put on my 
 broad-brimmed hat and go down to the shore, 
 accompanied by my faithful Rollo. A steep
 
 224 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 little lane, with arching trees overhead, and a 
 high, fern-covered bank on one side, led down to 
 the bay. The wall of the Chateau de Clairville 
 was on the other side ; in the distance one 
 could see the blue waters of the bay. A little 
 farther on was a pool, where the women washed 
 their clothes. Often I came upon a little group 
 chattering and laughing as they beat out the 
 linen on the stones. A rugged path led up the 
 cliff to St. Croix. On Sunday we walked to 
 the little English church, and passed the tiny 
 cemetery and the hospital. As we returned 
 that evening a glorious sunset was tiushing the 
 bay, and we stood for a long time looking at 
 the lovely scene. Below us was the quiet 
 cemetery, with its black wooden crosses and 
 wreaths of immortelles, and beyond lay the 
 gleaming golden waters. The sun was just 
 sinking in a mass of crimson clouds ; the western 
 sky seemed lit with strange radiance ; the mar- 
 vellous tints melted and glided into each other 
 with prismatic brilliancy ; the deep red sail of a 
 fishincT-boat seemed to float between earth and 
 sky ; then came a snowy-white one ; an inde- 
 scribable hush and stillness seemed to brood 
 over the scene, as though some holy watcher 
 stood above the quiet dead. A little beyond 
 was the hospital ; before it lay a green enclosure 
 with grass and trees, overlooking the bay. As
 
 THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 225 
 
 we walked slowly past, we could see a group of 
 sisters in their gray habits and white hoods 
 sitting under the trees. One of the sisters was 
 reading aloud ; as we paused a moment, a tall, 
 dark-eyed sister, with a beautiful face and the 
 step of a queen, crossed the road and looked 
 at us. The clear, kindly eyes lingered long in 
 my memory. 
 
 * Aunt Catherine,' I said sofdy, as we went 
 down the cHff, ' did you see that sister's face ? 
 She looked like a St. Cecilia.' 
 
 ' I saw a very handsome nun,' replied Aunt 
 Catherine dryly ; * depend upon it, she is quite 
 human. Well, they are all good women, though 
 not perhaps as grown-up as we are — but that is 
 the fault of the system ; still, theirs are noble 
 lives, Olga, spent in ministering to the sick 
 bodies and souls of their brothers and sisters. 
 One might well envy them their usefulness.' 
 
 But for once I found Aunt Catherine's middle- 
 aged philosophy damping — the inspired face 
 and queenly gait of the grand-looking sister 
 haunted me. I could fancy that face bending 
 over the sick and dying, the pure saindy lips 
 murmuring consoling prayers. How worldly 
 and unsatisfactory one's life looked beside hers ! 
 how petty one's aims and pleasures ! I looked 
 back more than once at that quiet scene, the 
 little band of hard-working women resting in 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 the sunset, the one soHtary voice breaking the 
 stillness. 
 
 ' I can read your thoughts, Olga,' observed 
 Aunt Catherine quietly ; ' you are envying those 
 good sisters yonder ; your young enthusiasm is 
 casting a glamour over them, as usual. My 
 dear, under those gray habits there beat very 
 faulty human hearts ; they do not find it easier 
 to be good than you and I ; they are just brave, 
 unselfish women, who have given up their lives 
 to Christ and His poor, but they have their 
 daily sinkings of heart, their discouragements, 
 as much as you or I ; their little world, bounded 
 by those walls, is not more free from tempta- 
 tion than our wider one.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know ; but, still, it seems so peaceful 
 and beautiful ; and then that face !' 
 
 * St. Cecilia's, you mean. I wonder if Jeanne 
 can tell us anything about her ; perhaps, after 
 all, she is not more of a saint than that little 
 shrivelled-up sister we saw on the cliff just now; 
 in this world, alas ! beauty and holiness are not 
 synonymous terms.' 
 
 But I was not to be convinced, and from that 
 day I never passed the Hospital de St. Pierre 
 without watching for the dark-eyed sister. 
 
 Our mornings were always spent on the 
 shore — Aunt Catherine would join me when 
 her business was finished ; and we would choose
 
 THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 227 
 
 a seat under the shelter of the rocks and watch 
 the bathers and the children building their sand- 
 castles. If the afternoons were hot we always 
 sat in the little grove, but now and then we 
 drove into the country. Once Jules drove us 
 to the little village of Lorette. We seemed to 
 go on for miles, down long endless roads, past 
 cornfields, orchards ; then through one or two 
 scattered hamlets. Now and then there were 
 wider views, glimpses of the river, an expanse 
 of country opening out before us ; then the 
 road seemed to close in again, and we would 
 pass a solitary chateau. 
 
 All at once we stopped, and Jules assisted 
 us to alight. We were in a tiny village ; in 
 the middle of the street was a life-sized figure 
 of the Christ ; an old woman was spinning in a 
 doorway ; a group of handsome peasant girls, 
 with snowy caps and long earrings, were chat- 
 ting and laughing outside the little brown 
 auberge ; a woman was carrying a green cruche 
 to the well, in which, as we looked down, we 
 could see ferns growing out of the side. Just 
 opposite was a gray church ; another figure of 
 the Christ was in the churchyard. As we 
 entered the humble edifice we could see one or 
 two women kneeling ; a young priest was just 
 leaving the altar ; there was the usual smell of 
 incense. 
 
 15-2
 
 228 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 ' Is not this an ideal village, Olga ?' observed 
 Aunt Catherine. ' I remember visiting it years 
 aero — the women were threshins^ corn in the 
 streets, the place seemed piled up with yellow 
 straw ; they were chanting some hymn to the 
 Virgin ; that old woman was spinning in her 
 door then. Xow we have a long drive back, 
 and must not loiter, especially as Jules has 
 taken enough cider.' 
 
 And she was right ; it was dark before we 
 stopped at the big brown gate — Jeanne could 
 not see our faces as she threw open the door. 
 
 * Madame was late,' she said in her shrill tones ; 
 ' it was Monsieur Rollo's voice that she heard 
 first : ** Open to your friends, my good Jeanne," 
 that was what he said ; ma foi ! he was a dog of 
 sagacity — of intelligence. La demoiselle must 
 be tired above ever\-thing. Ah well, she, 
 Jeanne, had lighted the lamp, and the little 
 supper was all ready.' 
 
 Jeanne's little suppers were always very tempt- 
 ing after one of these expeditions ; the big 
 coffee-pot always graced the board, and the bowl 
 of salad. The white china lamp made an oasis of 
 light in the great bare room ; the glass door 
 stood open ; gray moths dashed in from the 
 darkness, bent on speedy destruction ; in the 
 stillness we could hear the faint soughing of 
 the trees.
 
 THE PAVILION IX THE GARDE X 229 
 
 When supper was over, we betook ourselves 
 to the snug salon ; there were always letters to 
 write — to Jem, to Kitty, even a note to Hubert. 
 We could hear Jeanne moving about, washing 
 up dishes and talking to Rollo ; by-and-by 
 there would be the quick slamming of doors 
 and shooting of bolts. 
 
 ' How^ strange it is,' I said once, looking up 
 from my book, ' Fircroft and the Hall seem so 
 far away ! I don't feel as though I shall ever 
 want to 2:0 back. I should like to eo on living 
 as we are for years — just you and I, and Rollo.' 
 
 ' i\nd without Jem ? Is the dearly-loved 
 brother so soon forofotten ?' 
 
 * Jem would come and see us sometimes. He 
 is not always at Fircroft, you know. When he 
 has left Oxford he will have to live in London. 
 We talk of that sometimes, and wonder if 
 Hubert will let me join him there. Jem and I 
 have always planned to live together.' 
 
 ' You would leave us all, Olga ?' 
 
 'Not willingly; but if Jem wanted me I 
 would go. I do not like to think of him alone 
 in London. Jem ought to be my first con- 
 sideration ; we are everything to each other. 
 Hubert has Kitty and the children. I am not 
 needed at Fircroft ; that is what I have always 
 felt.' 
 
 ' I should miss vou verv much !'
 
 230 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * Not more than I should miss you ; but Jem 
 will have two more years at Oxford ; besides, by 
 that time, you may have Basil. When Basil 
 comes, Jem and I may not be needed.' 
 
 * Is that how you judge of my friendship, 
 Olcra ?' 
 
 ' No, indeed !' 
 
 But I kissed her with a feeling of remorse ; 
 for I was afraid that deep down in my heart 
 there was latent jealousy of this Basil. If he 
 should ever take possession of the Hall, Jem 
 and I would be outsiders. ' It is our own that 
 we want, our own flesh and blood,' that was 
 what Aunt Catherine had said. It was Basil, 
 not Jem, not this foolish child Olga, who must 
 be taught the family traditions, who must be 
 instructed in the old historic lore. Lady 
 Gwendoline and a score of dead and buried 
 Seftons were to be introduced to Basil as his 
 rightful ancestors. I was only a poor little girl 
 wliom the ladies had adopted out of sheer 
 kindliness. Well, it was just, but it was a little 
 hard ; for would this Basil, this stranger with 
 his foreign education, his un-English habits, 
 ever love Aunt Catherine as Jem and I loved 
 her! 
 
 * And so you would like this odd life of ours 
 to go on for years ?' asked Aunt Catherine 
 with a smile of amusement ; ' and what would
 
 THE PAVILIOX IX THE GARDEN 231 
 
 become of the Hall, and the estate, and Virginia, 
 and my poor people, you unpracticable young 
 person ?' 
 
 ' I am not thinking of details,' I returned 
 loftily ; ' at present I want things to go on in 
 the same way — to spend endless mornings on 
 the shore, to wander along the cliffs in the 
 ev^ening, to drive down to St. Genette, to make 
 excursions, to drink coffee under the trees. 
 The air is like champagne ; it seems to get into 
 my head. I long to run about with the children 
 on the sands. When I bathe I feel like a 
 water-nymph splashing with her companions. 
 1 feel so young, and so strong, and so happy, 
 happier than I have ever felt in my life. Aunt 
 Catherine.' 
 
 Aunt Catherine looked at me attentively. 
 
 ' I never saw you look so well, certainly. 
 You look like a wild-rose, Olga — sweet and fresh, 
 but full of little thorns, too ; it does me good 
 only to look at you. Come, shall I plan another 
 expedition ? Shall we go down the river in the 
 steamer and spend a few hours at Chabert, 
 dine at a restaurant, and look over the town ? 
 We shall be back by ten.' 
 
 ' Delightful ! let us go to-morrow.' 
 
 ' What an impetuous child ! You remind me 
 of the old French proverb, *' Un ' tiens ' vaut 
 mieux que deux ' tu I'aurais';" in plain English,
 
 232 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 "• One ' holdfast' is better than two ' thou shalt 
 liave it,' " or, as we generally say, " A bird in the 
 hand is worth two in a bush." Well, well, we 
 will go to-morrow.' 
 
 And that was how Aunt Catherine spoilt 
 me. 
 
 The clergyman and his wife had called on us 
 a few days after we arrived, but with this ex- 
 ception we had no visitors. Some of the 
 English people looked at us curiously when we 
 went down to the bathing-place, but we kept 
 entirely to ourselves. 
 
 One evening I was lying in the hammock ; 
 we had been at St. Genette all the afternoon, 
 and we were both tired. Aunt Catherine was 
 resting on the couch in the salon ; but the air of 
 the house stifled me, and I preferred swinging 
 under the dark trees, and watching the eerie 
 dusk creep over the garden-paths. A litde 
 crescent of a moon hung in the dark summer 
 sky, and one or two stars peeped out over the 
 house. 
 
 A cool, delicious air stirred the leaves above 
 me, and fanned my temples refreshingly. 
 I was thinking of Jem ; wondering what he 
 thought of my long letters, full of descriptions, 
 and half afraid they would be put into his 
 pocket half read, when a low growl from Rollo 
 disturbed me, and a moment after a tall, dark
 
 THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 233 
 
 figure emerged from a clump of gooseberry- 
 bushes In the kitchen-garden and walked 
 rapidly down the little path. It had been Im- 
 possible In the darkness to distinguish any 
 features ; but as I raised myself In the ham- 
 mock 1 judged by the free, swinging gait that 
 the Intruder must be young. The light, 
 springy step certainly did not belong to 
 Monsieur Perrot, who was old and fat, and had 
 a stubbly gray beard. The Incident was a 
 little disturbing, and, in spite of the cheerful 
 light from Jeanne's unshuttered window, I felt 
 unwilling to remain under the dark trees. 
 
 I had a disagreeable Impression that the little 
 gate close to me might be suddenly unlatched ; 
 that even now a face might be peering at me 
 through the bushes. Rollo was still sniffing 
 about uneasily. I called him quickly, and sprang 
 from the hammock, but as soon as I was in the 
 house I began to laugh at my own cowardice. 
 
 ' You were startled, Olga,' observed Aunt 
 Catherine soothingly, ' and it is so dark under 
 those trees. I should have felt the same 
 myself. Most likely it was Monsieur Perrot's 
 lodger. You know, he told me he had a 
 lodger ; It may be a young man, for all we 
 know, though I was foolish enough to make up 
 my mind the lodger was a lady.' 
 
 ' But what was he doing so late in the
 
 234 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 kitchen-garden ? Monsieur Perrot's house is 
 some way from here.' 
 
 This seemed to pose Aunt Catherine. 
 
 ' I am sure I don't know,' she said, much 
 amused at my earnestness ; * but we don't want 
 any mysterious young men suddenly emerging 
 from gooseberry-bushes. Monsieur Perrot is 
 away just now ; on his return 1 will question 
 him about his lodger. Wait a moment, though, 
 I have an idea; Monsieur Perrot mentioned 
 the pavilion once — that is the little barn-like 
 building at the end of the garden. Most likely 
 he is an artist, and uses the pavilion as a 
 studio. Yes, this is no doubt the truth. So, 
 after all, it was only a harmless artist smoking 
 his pipe among the cabbages.' 
 
 * Perhaps Jeanne would know.' 
 
 ' I advise you not to question her. Jeanne 
 is an inveterate gossip. She would retail all 
 your remarks to Madame Perrot. After all, 
 Monsieur Perrot's lodger has nothing to do with 
 us. When it is dark you had better keep to this 
 end of the garden, and then you will not be 
 starded.' 
 
 This was sensible advice, and I acted on it ; 
 but one evening, just as we were going to 
 supper, I remembered I had left a book be- 
 lono^ine to Aunt Catherine on a seat under the 
 trees.
 
 THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 235 
 
 It was a lovely moonlight night, and the long 
 path leading to the little grove was as bright as 
 day. The lawn was bathed in silvery radiance ; 
 only a dark shadow lurked under the trees. 
 
 ' I wish I had brought RoUo with me,' I 
 thought, as I went quickly down the path ; but 
 I was ashamed to turn back and call him. I 
 could hear Jeanne singing over her work. 
 Aunt Catherine was arranging some flowers in 
 the salon. They were both within call ; but 
 I confess I wished myself back in the house, 
 w^hen I heard footsteps on the other side of 
 the hedge. With a sudden impulse I caught 
 up the book and drew back into the shade, 
 where no one could see me. The footsteps came 
 nearer, then paused. I felt as though I were 
 suffering nightmare. I was rooted to the spot, 
 and could not move. If only I had Rollo ! 
 then I glanced fearfully behind me. After all, 
 the sight was not so terrible. 
 
 A young man was leaning on our little gate 
 and looking at the house. His face was turned 
 from me, but I could just see a little gray 
 peaked-cap drawn over his eyes, with a glimpse 
 of dark, closely-cropped hair. 
 
 Just then Aunt Catherine's figure blocked up 
 the lighted doorway. 
 
 ' Olga, my child, where are you ?' she ex- 
 claimed anxiously.
 
 236 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I dared not answer, for fear of betraying 
 myself. But Aunt Catherine's clear voice had 
 broken the spell. The dark head and gray 
 cap disappeared. A moment afterwards the 
 quick footsteps receded into the distance, and I 
 ran down a side-path towards the house. Aunt 
 Catherine was looking for me. 
 
 ' Where have you been hiding, Olga ? Why 
 did you not answer when I called ? I am 
 almost sure I saw someone standing by the 
 gate, only the trees obscured my view. Why, 
 you look quite pale and scared ; was there really 
 someone ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes !' I exclaimed excitedly ; ' it was a 
 tall man — but I could not see his face — he had 
 a gray tweed coat ; I could see that distinctly, 
 for he was leanincr on the orate, Aunt Catherine !' 
 
 o o 
 
 with a little gasp : ' he was watching the house.' 
 ' And why should he not watch the house ?' 
 she said cheerfully ; for she saw I was shaking 
 with nervousness. ^ You are as bad as Jeanne, 
 Olga. Do you know, nothing would induce 
 her to pass the cemetery at night — no, not if her 
 dearest friend were dying. Is there any law 
 why Monsieur Perrot's lodger should not use 
 his eyes ? Have you any idea how bright and 
 pleasant our house looks when the lamps are 
 lighted and there is a warm stream of radiance 
 through the open door ? Why should not the
 
 THE PAVILION IN THE GARDEN 237 
 
 poor man stand and admire the cheerful pros- 
 pect ? I dare say he felt like that poor young 
 man in " Excelsior" — don't you remember how 
 it goes ?' 
 
 ' " In happy homes he saw the light 
 
 Of household fires burn warm and bright ; 
 Above the spectral glaciers shone, 
 And from his lips escaped a groan : 
 Excelsior !'"' ' 
 
 ' Jem has quite spoiled '* Excelsior " for me, 
 by parodying it. He destroys all the beauty 
 of my favourite pieces.' 
 
 ' I call that a blot on Jem's character ; the 
 cleverest parody is objectionable to me ; it is a 
 worse sin in my eyes than punning ; it is as bad 
 as caricaturing one's friends, or mocking them 
 behind their back. You must break Jem of that 
 odious habit.' 
 
 ' He does it all the more because he knows 
 how it teases me. He has even parodied 
 Longfellow's beautiful poem, *' Tell me not in 
 mournful numbers." You know how much I 
 love it ; but he turned it all into an ode against 
 eating roast pork ; it was so funny and yet so 
 clever.' 
 
 ' I shall never remember Jem in my will, 
 unless he turn over a new leaf. I think I will 
 tell him that. Well, Olga, have you got over 
 your fright yet ? Can you bear to think a
 
 238 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 human being Is solaced by the sight of our 
 
 lamp ?' 
 
 ' I was a pfoose to be so frii^htened ; after all, 
 he looked like a gentleman.' 
 
 * He ! I suppose you mean your artist friend 
 who has managed to drive away your colour ? 
 What a silly child you are ! but all the same, 
 you must promise me never to go near those 
 trees again after dark unless I am with you.' 
 
 I promised this very readily, but Aunt 
 Catherine was in a teasing mood all supper- 
 time, and did not spare me ; she even threat- 
 ened to write to Jem, and tell him what a little 
 coward I was — as though Jem did not know 
 that long ago ; and finally she proposed that we 
 should take a turn in the garden, and so exor- 
 cise the fearful spirit. 
 
 ' Oh ! I don't mind it a bit with you and Rollo,' 
 I returned, quite pleased at the idea. 
 
 ' Well, this is a ghostly place, I confess !' she 
 said, as we stood together under the trees. 
 ' Olga, you have infected me with your curiosity. 
 I am actually going a few steps up that path — 
 keep where you are — and I will be back in a 
 moment. Rollo, stop with your mistress.' 
 
 * Don't go far,' I pleaded, for the night- 
 mare feeling was returning ; but Rollo's glossy 
 head was against me ; and in another minute 
 Aunt Catherine returned.
 
 THE PAVILION IX THE GARDEN 239 
 
 She closed the gate carefully behind her. 
 
 * There is a light in the pavilion. Our artist 
 friend works late. I could hear him whistling. 
 The window was wide open, so I did not 
 venture near. What a crazy old building it 
 looks in the moonlight ! But it must be a quiet 
 sort of place to work in. What is that Rollo 
 is carrying in his mouth ?' 
 
 I stooped to look, and Rollo wagged his 
 tail, and dropped something at my feet. He 
 evidendy thought he was presenting me with 
 a treasure. It was a little white cotton glove, 
 such as children wear, with a ragged thumb, as 
 though tiny teeth had been nibbling it. 
 
 I looked at it in some bewilderment. 
 
 ' The Perrots have no little children belonor- 
 
 o 
 
 ing to them, have they, Aunt Catherine ?' 
 
 ' No ; their eldest son is unmarried, and their 
 daughter, a widow, has only one boy of four- 
 teen. I have heard all their family history from 
 Jeanne. I wonder where Rollo found his- 
 treasure. Perhaps some children have been 
 weeding the garden.' 
 
 * Poor people's children do not wear gloves,' 
 I returned. ' Rollo picked It up by the gate. 
 I saw him sniffing at something in the grass ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps the artist is a married man and has 
 children, and that is why he works so late. 
 Come, I am beginning to take a kindly interest
 
 240 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 in him. We shall weave quite a romance about 
 him presently. Now, it is getting late ; I can 
 hear Jeanne shutting up. Will you light our 
 candles, Olga ? and then we will retire to 
 bed.'
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT. 
 
 ' Dear boy, thy momentary laughter rings 
 Sincerely out, and that spontaneous glee, 
 Seeming to need no hint from outward things, 
 Breaks forth in sudden shouting, loud and free. 
 
 ' From what hid fountains doth thy joyance flow. 
 That borrows nothing from the world around ? 
 Its spring must deeper lie than we can know — 
 A well whose springs lie safely underground.' 
 
 Archbishop Trench. 
 
 The next morning, as I was standing in the 
 sunny courtyard feeding the chickens, Aunt 
 Catherine stepped out of the glass-door, that 
 opened out of the salle-a-manger, in her big 
 flapping hat, with her favourite gossamer veil 
 twisted round it. 
 
 ' I find I have no important letters to 
 answer this morning,' she said briskly; 'and 
 Jeanne can manage without me, so I shall come 
 down with you to the shore. Do you mind 
 
 VOL. L 1 6
 
 242 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 choosing a quieter spot this morning ? for those 
 noisy English girls quite disturbed me yester- 
 day/ 
 
 * Let us go beyond the little bathing-house. 
 There are some deliciously-shady nooks among 
 the rocks,' I returned eagerly, for I rather en- 
 dorsed her opinion. I had grown tired of the 
 bustle of the bathing-place, with its row of little 
 gaudily-striped cabanes, the splashing and 
 joyous cries of the bathers, and the groups of 
 nurses and children. Some fast-looking men 
 had made acquaintance with a family of English 
 girls, and a great deal of flirtation and giggling 
 had been the result. They made fun of every- 
 one ; even Aunt Catherine did not escape their 
 witticisms. 
 
 * There comes the old maid in the gray hat,' 
 I heard them say once when I was sitting alone 
 among the rocks. ' Does she not look like a 
 flapping seagull ? I suppose she is afraid of her 
 complexion. I wonder what has become of the 
 little girl who is always with her ; she's not a 
 bad little thing, after all.' 
 
 ' Do you mean the girl in brown, who swims 
 so well. Eraser T — but I would not hear any 
 more. Why did those odious creatures take 
 possession of the place } How could any lady- 
 like girls tolerate them } To call my dear Aunt 
 Catherine an old maid, and to sneer because
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 243 
 
 she took care of her smooth, girlish complexion ! 
 Oh, I had no patience with them ! 
 
 So we crossed the common and went down 
 the steep Httle path by our bathing-house, and 
 after a short scramble over the rocks we found 
 a nice shady corner, where we spent the morn- 
 ing. I had my sketch-book and colour-box 
 with me, as I wanted to send Jem a little paint- 
 ing of the bay, with its rocky Islands, and the 
 low-hanging woods on the opposite shore ; and 
 Aunt Catherine had her knitting and book. 
 Sometimes when she came to a passage that 
 she liked she read it aloud to me, and that made 
 the time pass very pleasantly. 
 
 I think we were both sorry when the time 
 came for going back to La Maisonnette. I 
 was just putting up my painting materials 
 when Aunt Catherine nudged my arm and 
 whispered : 
 
 * What a pretty child, Olga !' 
 
 I looked up quickly. A young man in a gray 
 tweed coat was springing over the rocks with a 
 little boy In a white sailor suit seated on his 
 shoulder. The child had a litde red cap, 
 under which his long hair was streaming in the 
 breeze. 
 
 ' Gee-gee, Mr. Horse !' he ci-Ied gaily. 
 ' Reggie wants to go faster— faster.' 
 
 ' Hold tight, old man !' was the reply. 
 
 16—2
 
 244 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 As they both passed us the loveliest little 
 face looked down upon us, a small hand waved 
 to Rollo. I started, and uttered a smothered 
 exclamation : the peaked gray cap and dark, 
 closely-cropped hair recalled the intruder of' 
 last night. But before I could give vent to 
 this suspicion Aunt Catherine interrupted me. 
 
 * Look — look ! the child has dropped his cap, 
 and his brother does not know it/ she said 
 anxiously. ' The little creature will have a sun- 
 stroke. Oh dear ! oh dear !' 
 
 My only answer was to jump up. The cap 
 was soon in Rollo's mouth, but he gave it up to 
 me at once. How hot the sun was ! Rollo 
 rushed at my side with joyous barks as I flew 
 over the sand. Jem had once told me that I 
 could beat any girl in a fair race ; but we were 
 in the shady road beside the washing-pool before 
 I could overtake those long swift strides. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' I panted ; ' but the 
 little boy has dropped his cap.' 
 
 The young man started and turned round. 
 
 * Oh, Reggie !' he said reproachfully ; but the 
 boy only burst into a merry laugh. 
 
 * Reggie's head is hot,' he said in a tone of 
 perfect satisfaction. 
 
 * Thank you so much/ continued the young 
 man. ' Have you run after us all that way — 
 you were sitting under the rocks, were you not ?
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 245 
 
 Reggie, thank this lady prettily for the trouble 
 she has taken.' 
 
 ' Reggie fanks '00/ repeated the child 
 glibly. 
 
 He had a soft little cooing voice ; the young 
 man lifted his gray cap with another ' Thank 
 you,' and went on his way. 
 
 ' He is quite young,' I said to myself as I 
 walked slowly back. ' There is something 
 almost boyish in his manner ; and yet it is a 
 sinpfular face — dark and smooth, and with such 
 pronounced features ; but he is a gentleman. 
 I liked his voice.' 
 
 * You ran as lighdy as a gazelle, Olga,' were 
 Aunt Catherine's first words ; 'but, my dear, I 
 fear you must have overheated yourself. Did 
 you ever see a prettier child, Olga ? It was 
 such a bewitching little face.' 
 
 ' I wonder who they can be/ I returned in a 
 puzzled voice. ' I am sure — very nearly sure, 
 at least — that it is the same young man who 
 was leaning on the gate watching our house 
 last night. Of course, I could not see his face, 
 but his figure looked the same.' 
 
 ^What nonsense, Olga! What could have 
 put such an absurd notion into your head? 
 Monsieur Perrot's lodgers must belong to 
 quite a different class ; this young man did 
 not look at all like a poor artist. You know
 
 246 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Monsieur Perrot's house is quite a humble 
 cottage ; it cannot afford much accommodation.' 
 
 ' Still, I am convinced it is the same person,' I 
 replied obstinately ; and nothing Aunt Catherine 
 could say could alter this opinion in the least. 
 ' I am rather glad I have seen him by daylight,' 
 I finished ; ' for now I shall not feel in the least 
 nervous if I hear footsteps behind the hedge 
 again. One does not dread an ordinary ycung 
 man in a well-cut tweed coat.' 
 
 And though Aunt Catherine laughed at this 
 definition, she did not argue the matter any 
 more. 
 
 I think the beautiful child must have made 
 an impression on Aunt Catherine's soft heart. 
 She was a child-lover by nature, for she alluded 
 to him again that day, so I knew she had not 
 forgotten him. As for me, I own I had a feel- 
 ing of curiosity ; when one is idle, the smallest 
 trifle will interest one. 
 
 Perhaps by this time I was beginning to feel 
 that the life at La Maisonnette was a little 
 solitary. Aunt Catherine might be content with 
 it, but I was young enough to think that even 
 a mere passing acquaintance would be pleasant. 
 How nice if I had that dear little Reggie to 
 play with ! I could fancy him darting over the 
 lawn in pursuit of butterflies : a child would be 
 such an amusement !
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 
 
 !47 
 
 The next morning we went to the same 
 place, and I found myself several times looking 
 up from my sketch-book in the hope of seeing 
 a little figure in a white sailor suit playing on 
 the sand ; but only a bonne and a few chatter- 
 ing children passed us. 
 
 As we went home, toiling a little wearily up 
 the steep shady road, Aunt Catherine told me 
 that she had ordered Jules to bring the fiacre 
 at half-past two. 
 
 ' I am going to drive down to the Rue 
 d'Eglise,' she explained, ' in the hope that 
 Monsieur Lefevre has returned. We have 
 been here a fortnight and nothing has been done. 
 Poor Virginia's last letter was so sad ; Marsden 
 says she is already wearying for our return.' 
 
 * Do you wish to go alone. Aunt Catherine ?' 
 
 ' Yes, dear, I think it will be best ; and the 
 drive will be so hot. I have some shopping to 
 do, too ; but I shall be back by tea-time. You 
 will not be dull, Olga ?' 
 
 I scouted this idea with some energy. 
 
 ' I mean to spend the afternoon under the 
 fir-trees below the common,' I said presently. 
 ' I shall get a breeze from the bay there, and 
 it will be cool looking at that green pool be- 
 longing to the Chateau de Clairville.' 
 
 'And thinking of the poor drowned boy, 
 Henri Delaincourt. I think our own little grove
 
 248 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 would be more cheerful ; but I believe you are 
 still afraid of the owner of the pavilion.' 
 
 I contradicted this stoutly. I was afraid of 
 no young men In tweed suits, either in daylight 
 or by moonlight. I only v^anted variety and 
 a breeze from the bay. So I carried my point, 
 and presently stood on the steep bank looking 
 down at the passers-by in the road beneath, 
 and then, seating myself at the foot of one of 
 the firs with my open book in my lap and 
 Rollo's glossy black head beside me, I soon 
 fell into a blissful day-dream. 
 
 It was an enchanting spot; the sombre green 
 pool closed In with trees looked cool and re- 
 freshing. To my left were the blue flashing 
 waters of the bay. Some soldiers were going 
 down to the shore. I could see their red 
 shoulder-knots through the trees. I could hear 
 the women's voices from the washing-pool. 
 Below there was life, amusement, human 
 activity ; but above was the quiet sunshiny 
 common with Its broom and gorse and purpling 
 heather. 
 
 We had spent more than an hour in this 
 delicious ' far niente,' when Rollo suddenly 
 pricked up his ears and sat on his haunches as 
 though suspicious of some crackling sound 
 behind us. I peeped cautiously round the tree- 
 bole. To my astonishment I saw a little white
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 249 
 
 groping figure in the dry ditch ; the gleam of 
 a red cap was plainly visible, with long, straight 
 hair under it. The next moment it emerged 
 
 o 
 
 bodily from the ditch and commenced running 
 down the steep slope leading to the road. 
 
 It was rather a dangerous declivity for little 
 feet, and I rose hastily with a warning cry. 
 
 * Where could his brother be ? surely the child 
 was not alone on the common ?' I thouo^ht of 
 the cliff with a shudder ; even if he ran too fast 
 now, he might tumble into the road below. 
 
 * Reggie !' I exclaimed, ' come away !' for the 
 little creature was flashing between the trees 
 like a will-o'-the-wisp ; he was evidently in 
 pursuit of a large moth. ' Rollo, lie still!' I said 
 authoritatively, for I was afraid the dog might 
 frighten him if he joined in the chase. Rollo 
 obeyed reluctantly, and sat up panting, and 
 with watery, eager eyes, watching me as I ran 
 down the slope. Reggie saw me and stopped 
 still. 
 
 ' Reg wants that butterpie,' he said plain- 
 tively, pointing with his finger to the tree 
 above us. 
 
 ' The butterfly has flown away,' I replied, 
 taking his hand. 
 
 His dear little face looked hot and eager; 
 his beautiful eyes were large and wistful ; he 
 had his cap hugged closely to him ; his dark hair
 
 2;o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 was cut across his temples in the fashion children 
 were wearing it just then ; he was so pretty I 
 could not help kissing him ; but he seemed to 
 take my attention as a matter of course. 
 
 ' Reg wants to ride on the big doggie,' was 
 his next remark, and he walked up to Rollo in 
 the most confiding way, and patted him. ' Gee 
 up, doggie !' 
 
 And actually one little leg was across him 
 before I caught him away. 
 
 ' Rollo does not like little boys to ride on 
 him. Shake hands with him instead.' 
 
 And as Rollo proffered his clumsy big paw, 
 Reggie broke into a fit of musical laughter and 
 clapped his hands before his mouth. 
 
 ' k\mny big doggie ! Reggie must not laugh, 
 or the doggie will be angry. Dood-bye, 
 doggie. Reggie wants more butterpies !' 
 
 And he was darting away again ; but I had 
 my arms round him in a minute. 
 
 * Where is Reor<Tie's brother ?' I asked. 
 ' Reggie must be a good boy and find him. 
 Good little boys do not run about alone.' 
 
 The child seemed perplexed at my question. 
 He looked at me, then at Rollo ; then a merry 
 light came into his eyes. 
 
 ' Reggie wanted butterpies! Reggie runned 
 away ! What larks !' 
 
 Yes, actually that innocent babe, for he could
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 251 
 
 not have been more than four years old, said 
 ' What larks !' and burst out laughing again. 
 
 I was at my wits' end ; was he really speaking 
 the truth, or was it only nonsense ? but before 
 I could make up my mind to believe him he 
 had escaped from my hand. 
 
 ' Dood-bye ; Reg is going home,' and he 
 was darting round the corner as fast as his 
 little legs would carry himx He laughed more 
 than ever when he saw I was in pursuit of 
 him — it was evidently a rare game to Reggie ; 
 in fact, he laughed so much that he had to 
 stop and take breath, so I caught him up 
 easily. He gave me a droll litde look then, 
 and put his hand in mine of his own accord. 
 
 * Reg is tired,' he observed confidentially ; 
 but when I offered to carry him he shook his 
 head with much dignity. 
 
 ' Where Is Reggie's big gQC-gee ?' I asked, 
 with sudden inspiration. He understood me 
 at once. 
 
 ' Over there,' he said, pointing in the direc- 
 tion of La Maisonnette. He had led me down 
 one of the paths leading off the common, and 
 we were in a litde copse now — beyond us lay 
 some fields. Reggie, who was dragging at my 
 hand rather wearily, pointed to a litde path. 
 
 * Reggie runned all down there, and the 
 butterpie runned too.'
 
 232 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 * Did you come down that path, really ?' 
 
 He nodded vigorously. I had never been 
 there before, and I had no idea where it led. 
 Reggie seemed acquainted with it ; he went 
 along contentedly, now and then stopping to 
 gather a bright-coloured weed, and crooning a 
 little tunc to himself. Only once, as the path 
 turned off, and I was still going up the field, he 
 pulled me back. 
 
 * Reg lives there/ he said, pointing to a 
 brown, barn-like building in the distance. 
 
 With a sort of shock I discovered we were at 
 the back of the pavilion. A litde door in the 
 wall stood open ; I could see the grass-grown 
 steps, and the apple-trees in the kitchen-garden. 
 I was so surprised that I stood quite still, until 
 Reggie gave me a little push and we went in. 
 
 Reggie slammed the door behind us ; then, 
 quite ignoring my presence, he stumped up the 
 worn steps. I followed him slowly. 
 
 ' Reggie's tomed back,' he said, pushing open 
 another door ; but there was no answer. I 
 guessed at once the room was empty. I made 
 up my mind that I was entering an artist's 
 studio, but as I followed Reggie I looked round 
 in some surprise — it was fitted up as a living 
 room. It was a large, bare-looking apartment, 
 with three windows, each commanding a dif- 
 ferent aspect. One of them looked out on our
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 253 
 
 little grove ; I could see the empty hammock 
 swaying in the slight breeze. 
 
 A ladder communicated evidently with a loft ; 
 a gray kitten sat on the lowest step washing its 
 face. The furniture was of the plainest de- 
 scription — a bed, covered with a blue quilt; a 
 washstand, with a large green cruche ; a round 
 table in one window, an armchair, covered with 
 seedy-looking red velvet, beside it ; a portable 
 cupboard, with a coffee-pot and some yellow 
 cups and saucers ; another table, with writing 
 materials and books ; a wooden chair or two ; 
 and a leathern portmanteau, with a rug tossed 
 upon it. There was a small closed stove, but 
 it had not been lighted ; on the top was a small 
 tin kettle with a spirit-lamp under it, ready for 
 kindling. Reggie looked round rather piteously. 
 
 * Reg wants his tea,' he said, pursing up his 
 dear little mouth as though he were going 
 to cry. 
 
 I sat down by the writing-table and took him 
 up in my lap to comfort him. There was a pile 
 of neatly-bound books lying near me. I could 
 just see the titles — an edition of Sophocles, 
 ' The Epic of Hades,' ' The Light of Asia,' by 
 Edwin Arnold, and Carlyle's ' French Revolu- 
 tion.' 1 had no time to see more ; for just then 
 there w^as a rapid footstep outside — the door 
 was pushed open, and the young man in the
 
 254 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 gray tweed suit was looking at us from the 
 threshold. 
 
 He seemed transfixed with astonishment, and 
 a flush crossed his face as though he were 
 embarrassed. I rose at once, feeling very 
 nervous. 
 
 * 1 beg your pardon,' I stammered, ' for this 
 intrusion ; but I found your little brother stray- 
 ing on the common in search of butterfhes, and 
 brought him home : the place is not safe for so 
 young a child.' 
 
 He was about to answer, but Reggie inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 ' The butterpie runned away, and Reggie 
 runncd too,' he said calmly, as though he were 
 stating an important fact. 
 
 ' Oh, Reg, Reg — how am I ever to trust you 
 again,' replied the young man, taking him in 
 his arms and looking at him with reproachful 
 tenderness — ' when you promised me not to 
 stir?' Then, turning to me, as I witnessed this 
 little scene with unfeigned interest, he said 
 earnesdy : ' 1 have to thank you a second time 
 on Reggie's behalf. You arc quite right — the 
 common is not safe ; it was truly good of you 
 to bring him back ! Did Reggie show you the 
 way ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; he led me straight to the pavilion. I 
 was so surprised ! I had no idea that we were
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 255 
 
 such near neighbours — that anyone really lived 
 here,' looking round the room as I spoke. 
 
 I am afraid my speech was a little blunt, for 
 an odd expression crossed his face — a proud sort 
 of look. 
 
 ' I knew we were neighbours,' he replied 
 rather coolly ; ' for I have often seen you in the 
 garden of La Maisonnette. We are Monsieur 
 Perrot's lodgers, Reggie and I. He has kindly 
 fitted up this old pavilion for our use. It is 
 rather a rough sort of place, but I like it for a 
 change. We lead a picnic life ; it is rather fun, 
 isn't it, Reg ?' 
 
 ' You and your little brother ?' 
 
 Now, as Aunt Catherine said afterwards, I 
 had no right to stand there questioning a perfect 
 stranger ; but I cannot account for the strong 
 feeling of interest that prompted me to linger. 
 
 He gave a short laugh at my question. 
 
 ' You make a mistake ; I am Reggie's father, 
 not his brother,' he said quickly ; and I blushed 
 with annoyance at my error. He continued, as 
 though to set me at my ease, ' Other people 
 have thought the same as you.' 
 
 I was too confused to reply, and was turning 
 away with a murmured ' Good-morning/ though 
 it was very nearly evening now, when Reggie 
 stooped from his high perch, for he was seated 
 on his father's shoulder.
 
 :56 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Reg wants the lady to kiss him/ 
 
 The little darling, how was one to refuse ? 
 but as I imprinted a kiss on the smooth baby- 
 face, the young man said hurriedly : 
 
 ' I have not thanked you as I ought, and yet 
 you have saved me from a painful shock. If I 
 had found the room empty on my return, I 
 should have feared something had happened to 
 Reggie. I must never leave him again.' He 
 followed me to the steps, but did not offer his 
 hand. ' Believe me, I am truly grateful,' he 
 said with a pleasant smile that seemed to light 
 up his face. 
 
 ' Good-bye — good-morning, I mean !' was my 
 incoherent reply. ' I am so glad I found him !' 
 As I stepped into the little grass-grown path I 
 glanced back. They were still there watching me. 
 Reggie waved his hand ; his father lifted his cap. 
 I felt myself grow hotter every moment. ' I am 
 Reggie's father !' What an astonishing, what 
 an incredible avowal ! That boyish-looking 
 fellow Reggie's father ! and when I came to 
 reflect on it more coolly, why should I be so 
 surprised ? The smooth, dark face might be 
 older than it looked. He certainly expressed 
 himself with manly dignity ; but still he was 
 far, far too young to be a widower, and when I 
 told Aunt Catherine, on her return, she agreed 
 with me that it was very sad.
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 257 
 
 * I suppose he is a widower, Olga,' she said 
 a litde doubtfully. 
 
 ' Yes, of course,' I returned eagrerly ; ' he is 
 living" there alone with his little boy. Now I 
 come to think of it, he wore a plain gold ring 
 on his finger. You always know a widower by 
 that, and he is in mourning, too ; for though he 
 wears a gray tweed coat, he has a black tie. 
 Oh dear, how sad it seems, Aunt Catherine ! 
 He is a gentleman, and yet he must be very 
 poor — the room looked so bare. It cannot be 
 pleasant to have a ladder in one's bedroom, and 
 there was no carpet, only a mat or two, on the 
 floor.' 
 
 ' You do not know his name ?' 
 
 ' No, indeed ; as it was, I am afraid he 
 thought me curious. When he came in he did 
 not seem quite pleased to see me there. I 
 am sure he is proud, and does not want people 
 to know he is poor.' 
 
 * Very possibly. Monsieur Perrot could afford 
 to let him have the pavilion for a trifle. I think 
 it has been used as a store-house before. It 
 is a litde awkward for us, having such close 
 neighbours. You cannot help bowing to him, 
 of course, but it will never do to pick up an 
 acquaintance in this way.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, I must speak to that 
 dear little Reggie if I see him.' 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 Aunt Catherine looked rather dubious at this. 
 The ladies were very particular on all questions 
 of etiquette, and of course she felt the charge of 
 a young girl rather an onerous responsibility. 
 
 * Well, well, you can just nod to him,' she 
 said, dismissing the subject, and she told me 
 rather sadly the result of her expedition. 
 
 * Monsieur Lefevre's brother is not yet 
 dead, Olga. They think he may linger some 
 time yet. A young priest is taking Monsieur 
 Lefevre's place. I spoke to him for a moment. 
 He was very civil. He told me that it was 
 Monsieur Lefevre's only brother ; that he was 
 much younger and like a son to him, and that 
 he would not leave him until all was over. 
 
 ' '^ He may linger some time )'et," he said ; 
 " there is great weakness, but little suffering. 
 He clings to life rather tenaciously, madame. 
 He has not weaned his affections from earth. 
 It is not always easy to wish for death when 
 one is not old, and as to that, the old are not 
 more willing than the young — it takes a saint 
 to die well. Some do not commence their 
 education until the class is called. Many of us 
 are not too ready with our lesson." Oh, we 
 had quite a conversation in the little dark 
 passage! He was a good young man ; he spoke 
 feelingly.' 
 
 I was not surprised that Aunt Catherine
 
 A BUTTERFLY-HUNT 259 
 
 owned herself a little tired — the delay was 
 peculiarly trying to her energetic nature. She 
 wanted to be doing something. But she tried 
 to throw off her lassitude, and made me go on 
 with a book we were reading together, and in 
 which I was much interested. 
 
 That night as I went to bed I stood for a 
 few minutes by my open window. The garden 
 was bathed in moonlight, and the leaves of the 
 trees below me had a strange silvery light on 
 them ; the summer wind was laden with the 
 perfume of the sleeping flowers. 
 
 ' I wonder if Reggie be sleeping too,' I 
 thought, as I at last turned away reluctantly ; 
 and my last thought that night was a vivid re- 
 membrance of a little figure flashing between 
 the tree-trunks, and of a radiant upturned face, 
 and eager, groping hands, as the gay- coloured 
 moth fluttered beyond his reach. 
 
 17—2
 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 ' He acted witli the steadiness, promptitude, and determina- 
 tion which belonged to riper years.' 
 
 ' T/ic Monastery' 
 
 'Thou art obliging, friend, and, I doubt not, sincere.' 
 
 * Castle Dangerous.' 
 
 The next day was Sunday, and as we walked 
 to the little English church at St. Croix I 
 secretly wondered if the occupant of the 
 pavilion were an orthodox churchgoer, or if 
 he were, like other Bohemians, somewhat irre- 
 ligious in his habits. I was secretly afraid that 
 this latter surmise might be correct ; most likely 
 he was bathing, or boating, or perhaps wander- 
 ing over the sands with Reggie. Well, it was 
 no business of mine ; but all the same a feeling 
 of anxiety would intrude itself on my mind 
 when I thought of that sweet, engaging little 
 creature. ' And he has no one but his father
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 261 
 
 to set him an example/ I finished with youthful 
 severity. 
 
 I felt rather ashamed of my rash judgment 
 when, on entering the church, I saw a dark, 
 closely-cropped head before me, and, lower 
 down on the seat, a little figure in a white 
 sailor suit. They were sitting just before us, 
 and as I was kneeling down Reggie looked 
 round and orave me a radiant smile. I could 
 see him afterwards making signs to his father 
 to look too, but he shook his head and took no 
 notice. 
 
 What strange creatures we are ! I am sure 
 I enjoyed my service all the more for finding 
 I had been wrong in my uncharitable surmise. 
 Reggie was evidently quite accustomed to 
 go to church. After the first minute he 
 behaved beautifully — holding his Prayer-book 
 upside down, and sitting perfectly still during 
 the sermon, with such a dear; prim expression 
 on his little face, as though he knew how good 
 he was. His father, too, seemed very atten- 
 tive ; he repeated all the responses, and sung 
 in a deep, rich voice. Once I saw him look at 
 Reggie, and a grave, sorrowful sort of ex- 
 pression crossed his face ; and then he took, 
 the child's hand and held it all the rest of 
 the service. 
 
 As we went out they were very near us, and
 
 262 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I saw Reggie looking at me wistfully, as 
 though he wanted to speak to me ; but as I 
 nodded to him his father drew him quickly on. 
 I know he saw us, for he gave a quick glance 
 round ; but as we went out of the gate I saw 
 them walking down the town, as though they 
 were going to St. Genette. 
 
 * Your little friend behaved very nicely, 
 Olga,' Aunt Catherine said, as we turned in 
 the opposite direction ; ' he was as quiet as a 
 little mouse all the service. And yet when I 
 saw him give you that merry look when we 
 first came in I was half afraid how things 
 might be.' 
 
 ' I never saw a child behave better.' 
 
 * Nor I ; he has evidently been well brought 
 up. What an interesting little creature he is ! 
 But his father looks very sad.' 
 
 * Do you think so ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I could see his face plainly once or 
 twice. It was a beautiful sermon, but I do not 
 believe he was listening. He seemed buried 
 in gloomy thoughts, and yet Mr. Baraud was 
 preaching about cheerfulness. He was dressed 
 very well — he is not at all shabby-looking — 
 and yet they are living in that odd way.' 
 
 'It is rather difficult to understand, cer- 
 tainly.' 
 
 ' He is a gentleman — I am sure of It. He
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 263 
 
 was quite aware that you were behind him in 
 the porch, but he thought it better not to take 
 any notice of you. The child was hanging 
 back, but he drew him on. We are such close 
 neighbours that most likely he considers any 
 recognition would be awkward. I call that 
 good taste on his part.' 
 
 I would not contradict Aunt Catherine, but 
 I had just felt a little bit offended. It would 
 not have hurt him to have bowed, or to have 
 let Reggie speak to me. I thought it was his 
 stiff English way to keep aloof, just because 
 we had not been formally introduced. Of 
 course he was a gentleman — I did not need 
 Aunt Catherine to tell me that; one's instinct 
 on such a point is never wrong. As I felt 
 slightly touchy, I thought it better to drop the 
 subject ; so I began talking about Jem — dear 
 old fellow ! — and that always put me in a good 
 humour. 
 
 I was not surprised that they were missing 
 at evening service. Reggie was too young a 
 child for that ; but as we were walking down 
 the steep cliff-path leading to the washing-pool, 
 on our return, I saw the young man standing 
 under a clump of trees looking at the bay. 
 
 As we were passing he turned quickly round, 
 and we came face to face. He looked starded, 
 and muttered a ' eood-evening ' as he took off
 
 264 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 his cap. Aunt Catherine made no remark, 
 neither did I. We both knew he was follow- 
 ing us up the lane. As we turned in at the 
 great brown gate, he walked quickly past, look- 
 ing straight before him. 
 
 The next morning we spent some hours on 
 the shore, as usual, and in the afternoon we sat 
 under the trees in the garden. As I knew we 
 were overlooked from the pavilion, I would not 
 use the hammock, and sat up as sedately as 
 Aunt Catherine. I was buried in my book, 
 and was not a little startled when the violent 
 shaking of the little gate behind me roused me 
 from my novel, and there stood Reggie, peeping 
 at us between the bars. 
 
 * Open gate for Reggie,' he shouted. 
 Aunt Catherine rose at once. 
 
 * What do you want, my dear ?' she asked 
 very kindly. ' You must run away, or father 
 will be looking for you.' 
 
 But Reggie stood his ground. 
 
 * Who are you ? Reggie does not know you ; 
 Reggie wants the little lady. Open, please ' — 
 shaking the gate again. 
 
 ' Reggie ! what are you doing there ?' ex- 
 claimed a stern voice. ' Come away this 
 moment !' 
 
 The child looked perplexed ; his father's 
 sternness was evidently new to him.
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 26^ 
 
 * Father, come and open the gate,' he said, 
 with wistful confidence. ' Reggie wants to play 
 with the lady.' 
 
 * No — nonsense !' and a hasty stride followed 
 the word. 
 
 The young man was just snatching him up, 
 when I said piteously, for the beautiful, eager 
 little face was too much for my stoicism : 
 
 * Oh, please — please do let me have him for 
 a little, Aunt Catherine ! Do let me have him ! 
 I should so like to play with him !' 
 
 I do not know what Aunt Catherine thought 
 of my impulsiveness, but she certainly made 
 the best of it. 
 
 ' Will you spare him to us for a little while ?' 
 she said, with her kind smile. ' This young 
 lady is so fond of children. We will take 
 great care of him.' 
 
 The young man bowed gravely ; he seemed 
 more embarrassed than pleased. 
 
 ' Certainly, If you are so kind as to wish for my 
 little boy's company. Reggie, old fellow, mind 
 you behave yourself like a gentleman.' He set 
 him down, and opened the gate. ' Please send 
 him back directly you are tired of him. Reggie 
 knows his way home ;' and with another 
 bow that included me he went back to the 
 pavilion. 
 
 Reggie jumped into my arms with a de-
 
 266 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 lighted shout, and seemed to like my hugging 
 him. Then he pointed to the hammock, which 
 he called a swing, and very soon he was lying 
 in it with his eyes shut, ' going to sleep.' We 
 had a fine romp after that — Reggie and Rollo 
 and I. Aunt Catherine sat and watched us as 
 we dodged each other among the tiny flower- 
 beds, or played at hide-and-seek in the bushes. 
 Sometimes we hid from Rollo, and he was as 
 clever as possible finding us out. 
 
 When Jeanne brought us our coffee, we sent 
 her back for milk and biscuits for Reggie. He 
 seemed almost too excited to eat. Once, when 
 a butterfly skimmed past us, he jumped up in 
 pursuit. The graceful little body darted hither 
 and thither over the lawn. 
 
 ' Isn't he lovely 1' I exclaimed, as he ran back 
 to us, his eyes sparkling with glee. 
 
 ' Butterpie gone home,' he said. ' Reggie 
 catched one yesterday ;' and he sat down^con- 
 tentedly to his biscuits again. 
 
 A little later, as he was swinging again in 
 the hammock, I thought I would have some 
 conversation with him, so I began by saying : 
 
 * Reggie dear, do you remember poor 
 mammie ?' 
 
 ' Mammie's an angel !' he returned promptly, 
 with a sentimental air. ' They put her in the 
 ground to grow. Father said so.'
 
 .4 FRIEND IN NEED 267 
 
 ' Dear me ! What an extraordinary idea to 
 put into a child's head, Olga !' 
 
 Reggie looked up at the sky in a contempla- 
 tive manner — his expression was heavenly — 
 then he looked at me anxiously. 
 
 ' Will mammie grow ? Reggie digged for 
 her once. Reggie digged, and digged ; but 
 mammie was not there — only nasty black 
 worms ; so Reggie runned away. Reggie hates 
 black worms !' 
 
 ' Don't question him any more, Olga !' inter- 
 rupted Aunt Catherine ; ' he is such a baby, 
 and of course his ideas of death are confused. 
 I have been thinking that, after all, it is not a 
 bad idea, on the part of Reggie's father. The 
 seed planted grows into the lovely flower; 
 so the child's imagination pictures a growing 
 angel. Think of the infantine faith — the baby 
 hands diorcrinor for the lost mother. What 
 marvels children are ! no miracle would as- 
 tonish their innocent eyes, and why ? because 
 life to them is one miracle. Don't you think 
 we might learn a lesson from them ? Why are 
 we human children to think ourselves grown up 
 with our heavenly Father.^ How the angels 
 must wonder at us !' 
 
 Aunt Catherine was in one of her gende, 
 moralizing moods, but Reggie interrupted her 
 by suddenly scrambling out of the hammock.
 
 268 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 ' Dood-bye ; Reggie must go home now/ 
 
 ' Of course, the child has been with us for 
 two hours — he is quite right, dear httle fellow !' 
 and Aunt Catherine opened the gate with sus- 
 picious alacrity. Reggie started through it. 
 
 ' Reggie is here, father !' we heard him say. 
 The answer also reached us : 
 
 * That's right : what a time you have been, 
 old man !' 
 
 Aunt Catherine was unusually thoughtful that 
 evening. But I was rather amused when at 
 supper she suddenly broke out into a little in- 
 coherent speech, in which my injudicious im- 
 pulsiveness and her own blamable softness of 
 heart were rather severely rebuked. 
 
 ' I quite allow for the temptation,' she went on ; 
 * but it is always best to think before one speaks. 
 I am afraid it was rather a liberty on our part. 
 I am not sure the young man was pleased ; 
 I know It was hard to refuse the darling — 
 such a sweet little pleading face as it was ! — but 
 we cannot be too careful in a place like this. 
 What do we know about this young man, 
 except that he looks like a gendeman, and 
 lives in rather a Bohemian fashion ? and he 
 is not even an artist ;' as though, in Aunt 
 Catherine's opinion, this somehow complicated 
 matters. 
 
 I am afraid my argument in return for this
 
 A FRIEXD IX XEED 269 
 
 piece of excellent good sense was strictly 
 feminine, therefore no argument at all : 
 
 ' I can't help all that, Aunt Catherine ; Reggie 
 has fascinated me — I have fallen in love with 
 him, he is such a dear !' and though Aunt 
 Catherine shook her head at this girlish remark, 
 she evidently thought it useless to pursue the 
 subject. 
 
 As her warning was in vain, she had recourse 
 to diplomacy. So the next afternoon, as I was 
 preparing to go in the garden, she observed 
 that it would be pleasanter on the common. I 
 was about to remonstrate, but I saw from her 
 expression that she had made up her mind 
 on the subject, so I thought it best to say 
 nothing. 
 
 It was the first afternoon that I did not 
 thoroughly enjoy, but when we went back to 
 take our coffee in the salle-a-manger, Jeanne 
 met us with uplifted hands. 
 
 * Le pauvre enfant ! ah, it was heart-breaking !' 
 
 ' What do you mean ?' I exclaimed brusquely, 
 pushing past Aunt Catherine. * Surely nothing 
 has happened to Reggie ?' 
 
 Mllle pardonnes ! no, there was nothing to 
 make la demoiselle look so scared. But all the 
 same, it made her (Jeanne) triste to see the 
 little angel shaking the gate, and calling for la 
 demoiselle. * The lady who smiles,' that is
 
 270 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 what he called the demoiselle, whom he Im- 
 plored to open the gate. 'C'est mol, Reggie/ 
 he affirmed constantly, and she (Jeanne) could 
 not pacify him ; poor little one ! he had cried 
 so bitterly, and monsieur had lifted him In his 
 arms and kissed him a dozen times as he carried 
 him away. 
 
 * Ah ! Aunt Catherine,' I said reproachfully^ 
 and the dear thing looked quite sorry, and 
 ashamed of herself. Her simple little ruse had 
 Inflicted pain, and Aunt Catherine hated to give 
 pain, even to a fly. I think we both had a 
 pathetic picture In our minds at that moment, 
 of a little wistful face peering Into a forbidden 
 paradise. 'The lady who smiles ' — what a pretty 
 description ! and what a stupid thing conven- 
 tionality was, if it would not allow one to play 
 with a child ! 
 
 Aunt Catherine's primness was not proof 
 against all this pathos and disappointment, and 
 the next afternoon she had no objection to 
 allege against our favourite resort ; but this time 
 there was no interruption. Of course Reggie 
 was a prisoner In the pavilion ; his father's pride 
 could not brook interference from strangers ; 
 Reggie must be kept out of harm's way. ' The 
 lady who smiled' was an embarrassing and un- 
 necessary personage in the estimation of this 
 perverse young man.
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 271 
 
 Later in the evening I took a solitary 
 stroll. Aunt Catherine was tired; but, as I was 
 restless, she would not keep me in. ' Do not 
 go too far, Olga, and come back before the dusk 
 sets in,' were her parting words. 
 
 I had every intention of fulfilling these two 
 injunctions faithfully ; but it was a delicious 
 evening, and the lanes were enticing. I wan- 
 dered on, and the soft creeping twilight found 
 me still some distance from La Maisonnette. 
 
 I had met few people — an old woman with 
 two tethered cows grazing by the roadside, a 
 boy in a blue blouse, a little girl with a string of 
 red beads round her neck ; but by-and-by I 
 heard footsteps the other side of the hedge, then 
 voices. Two people were walking down the 
 field path, within a few feet of me, evidently 
 bound for the same direction. An undefinable 
 feeling of pleasure crossed me as I recognised 
 Reggie's voice. 
 
 ' Father.' 
 
 ' Well, what is it, old fellow ? Tired, eh ?' 
 
 ' Reggie's legs ache dedful.' 
 
 ' Poor little legs ! No wonder, when they 
 have been running about all day! Here; climb 
 up, old man.' 
 
 * No, fank '00. Reggie too tired to ride gee- 
 gee.' 
 
 * What, quite used up ? Never mind ; father
 
 -72 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 will carry Reggie in his arms all the way home. 
 Is. that comfortable ?' 
 
 ' Wery comforble, fank 'oo,' evidently cud- 
 dling up in sleepy fashion. ' Father sing to 
 Reggie now.' 
 
 ' Sing you to sleep ? No, that will never do; 
 wait till we get home. Look at those stars ; are 
 ithey not bright ? Don't go to sleep yet, my 
 boy. Try and talk to father ; poor f^ither is so 
 .dull.' 
 
 ' So dull,' echoed Reggie in a drowsy voice. 
 
 * Father has no one but Reggie now. What 
 -would he do without his little boy, I wonder ?' 
 
 * He would kye,' very promptly. 
 
 ' Oh, if crying would mend matters, father 
 would cry an ocean full ; but we can't wash out 
 -our mistakes in that fashion; there is no blessed 
 Lethe for us poor human beings. Some of us 
 have a taste of purgatorial fires in this world. 
 You love father, don't you, Reg ?' 
 
 ' Reggie loves father dedfully.' 
 
 'That's my own boy! Well. I have you — my 
 •one blessing out of all the cursed wreck ; so 
 there is no need for the enemy to blaspheme.' 
 
 I was so afraid of hearing more that I put 
 my fingers in my ears and hurried on. Had I 
 done wrong to listen ? and yet how could I have 
 .avoided it? — only the hedge divided us. Every 
 .tone of the deep, intense voice seemed to vibrate
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 27 
 
 almost painfully in my ears ; the chord of hope- 
 less sadness underlying the fatherly tenderness 
 was distinctly audible to me. At the words 
 ' Father has only Reggie now ' there was a sigh, 
 long-drawn and pitiful, as though an open grave 
 were yawning before his eyes. 
 
 The tears sprang to my own as I heard it ; 
 he was so young to be so sorely tried. As I 
 hurried down the narrow winding lane, I re- 
 membered a gate opened into the field: probably 
 they would come through it. In my eagerness 
 to avoid an embarrassing rencontre so far from 
 home, I walked on quickly and heedlessly. 
 The dusk was confusing ; the high over-hanging 
 hedges made it still darker. 
 
 I was vexed at my own carelessness in having 
 wandered so far from home, and afraid that 
 Aunt Catherine would soon become anxious at 
 my delay ; and this mixture of emotions ab- 
 sorbed my thoughts, and I stumbled on blindly. 
 The next minute I struck against a stone, and 
 my foot doubled up under me. The sudden 
 pain told me what had happened — it was a 
 slight sprain. 
 
 I sat down on the fallen log of a tree not far 
 from the gate to recover myself, until the pain 
 subsided. It was not a pleasant state of 
 things. Granted that the sprain was not a 
 severe one, it was still sufficient to retard my 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 progress. I got up and tried to stand. Yes, it 
 was possible ; I could limp along pretty fairly. 
 But if the pain got worse ? The ankle was 
 swelling, too. I sat down again, and unfastened 
 my boot with difficulty ; this gave me a little 
 ease, and I determined to make a fresh start— 
 ' Nil desperandum,' as Jem used to say. 
 
 At this moment footsteps approached the 
 gate — it was unlatched. I could just see a tall 
 dark figure turn into the lane. It would have 
 to pass me, but I determined to take no notice. 
 I had some flowers in my lap, and I busied 
 myself with them, hoping that in the dusk he 
 would not be able to recognise me. I thought 
 he was about to stop, but he evidently thought 
 better of it, and walked on rather slowly. 
 
 I was unwilling to be left alone in the gather- 
 ing darkness, so I thought I would follow them. 
 Even the sense of their nearness would be 
 company ; but I got up too quickly, and was 
 obliged to sit down again with a suppressed 
 groan. In a moment the footsteps came back. 
 
 ' Have you hurt yourself.^ Can I help you 
 in any way ?' asked a voice anxiously. 
 
 I thought it was impossible that he could 
 recognise me. He evidently thought he was 
 addressing a stranger. 
 
 * I struck against a stone just now, and I fear 
 I have sprained my ankle ; it is not very bad^
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 275 
 
 and I shall be able to walk directly ; but I got 
 up too quickly.' 
 
 ' Why, it is the lady from La Maisonnette !' 
 he returned with some surprise. ' It was too 
 dark to recognise you. Reggie, wake up ; this 
 is your friend.' 
 
 ' Is it the smiling lady, father ?' asked Reggie 
 in a very sleepy voice. 
 
 ' That is what the rogue always calls you ; 
 but I am truly sorry for your misfortune.' How 
 very friendly and kind his voice sounded ! 
 though it was impossible to read his expression. 
 I could barely see the outline of his features. 
 ' I am afraid you are in pain,' and then he added 
 rather impatiently, * I want to be of use ; but it 
 is so confoundedly dark under these trees that 
 I cannot see how to help you. It is much 
 lighter further on.' 
 
 ' Please do not trouble about me,' I returned 
 hastily ; ' my foot is better now, and I think I 
 can manage to walk. Reggie is so tired, and 
 I know it is time for him to be in bed. You 
 must not let me detain you.' 
 
 A short laugh answered me. 
 
 ' Do you think that is the way that Reggie 
 and I mean to prove our neighbourliness — to 
 pass by on the other side ? and especially as we 
 have to thank you for two or three kindly 
 services — by bringing my naughty runaway back, 
 
 18—2
 
 276 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 for example, on that terribly hot afternoon. 
 Now please tell me how I am to help you. I 
 can easily carry Reggie on one arm and give 
 you the other ;' and as though he read my 
 hesitation aright, he continued more earnestly : 
 ' Indeed, I am very strong, and the boy Is no 
 weight at all. Put your arm round father's 
 neck, Reggie, and hold tight. That's right, boy. 
 Now, then, let me see how you can stand ;' and 
 the next moment a strong hand assisted me to 
 rise. ' Come, that Is capital ! Can you put 
 your foot to the ground ?' 
 
 ' Yes — I think so,' making the attempt care- 
 fully. ' Of course It hurts, and I shall have to 
 walk very, very slowly; but I do not think It Is 
 a severe sprain.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear It — now — Miss — Miss — 
 oh, I forgot !' with a slightly nervous laugh ; ' but 
 will you take my arm, please, and just use me 
 as a crutch.' 
 
 ' My name Is Leigh,' I returned, as I 
 obeyed. 
 
 Oh, Aunt Catherine, what would you say to 
 see me now? but necessity knows no laws. We 
 moved along slowly, and there was silence for 
 a minute or two, and then my companion said 
 very kindly : 
 
 * How are you getting on, Miss Leigh ? Does 
 it hurt much ? Excuse me, but you are not
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 277 
 
 making sufficient use of me. I am afraid I am 
 not much assistance, after all.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, you are, thank you, and the pain is 
 not very bad. How your arm must ache, carry- 
 ing Reggie ! He is asleep, is he not ?' 
 
 ' Fast asleep, poor little beggar ! We have 
 been too far this evening, and I have tired him 
 out ; he is such a plucky little chap that one 
 forgets what a baby he is.' 
 
 ' He is a darling,' I returned, half under my 
 breath, but my remark was overheard. 
 
 * I don't think there are many children of his 
 age like him. You would not believe how 
 sensible he is, and such a companion ! Perhaps 
 I am not impartial,' and I could feel he was 
 smiling ; ' but he is just perfect in my eyes.' 
 
 I was about to answer ; but my foot came in 
 contact with another loose stone, and I gave a 
 little cry of pain. He stopped at once. 
 
 ' Oh dear ! I am afraid that was my fault. 
 Will you wait just a moment, and I will shift 
 the boy to the other arm, and then I can help 
 you much better ? Now then, lean all your 
 weight on me. Don't be scrupulous. Miss 
 Leigh. I am a tower of strength. We are 
 getting on famously, and every footstep is 
 bringing us nearer home. Does talking worry 
 you ? Would you rather have me hold my 
 tongue ?'
 
 278 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 « No — talk, please/ I replied faintly, for my 
 foot was pretty bad now ; ' it will make me 
 forget the pain a litde. Talk about Reggie — 
 anything.' 
 
 ' You are very brave,' in a grave, pitying 
 voice ; ' I did not think a girl — I beg your 
 pardon, a young lady — could be so brave. Do 
 you see that twinkling light ? that is where my 
 landlord, Monsieur Perrot, lives. What a droll 
 old fellow he is ! Madame, his wife, matches 
 him in drollery — they are a curious couple/ 
 
 ' Are they ?' 
 
 ' They are interesting from a psychological 
 point of view. Monsieur Perrot is a consum- 
 mate egoist ; his ego is the central point in 
 creation; everything revolves round it — *' C'est 
 moi : apres nous la deluge " is stamped inefface- 
 ably on every word and action.' 
 
 ' He seems to me a stupid, fat old man, and 
 oh ! so ugly.' 
 
 ' His stupidity and egoism are synonymous 
 terms ; to me it is a grand denseness. Few 
 people have a genius for creating their own fog. 
 Imagine the serenity of a human being who 
 dwells in a moral atmosphere so thick that no 
 hostile criticism, no unkind opinion, can pene- 
 trate it. Fog ! — I have used a wrong metaphor : 
 it is more like the rhinoceros' hide, invulner- 
 able to the sharpest dart. When I think of all
 
 A FRIEND IX NEED 
 
 79 
 
 this I could bring myself to envy Monsieur 
 Perrot, in spite of his stupidity, his stoutness, 
 and, as I think you added, his ugliness.' 
 
 ' You are a philosopher.' 
 
 ' Pardon me, I am nothing of the kind ; a 
 philosopher is not an impatient, irritable sort of 
 mortal, is he ? Perhaps I love to rail on all 
 mankind, like our friend the melancholy Jaques. 
 Are you a student of Shakespeare, Miss 
 Leigh ?' 
 
 * My brother Jem reads it to me sometimes. 
 Would you mind waiting a moment, Mr. ?' 
 
 ' I see, we have not been properly introduced 
 — not according to the golden rules of Mrs. 
 Grundy — so I may as well tell you my name is 
 Fleming. There is a wall behind you, if you 
 like to lean upon it ; but I can tell you for your 
 comfort that we have not much farther to 
 
 go.' 
 
 ' Are you sure of that ? oh, I am so thankful !' 
 but my voice was very faint. 
 
 His only answer was to kneel down in the 
 dusty road and gently lift the suffering foot, and 
 place his hand under it as a support. 
 
 ' This will give you a moment's ease from 
 the strain — I can tell from your voice what you 
 are feeling ; without some relief you will turn 
 faint, and we have still this long road to La 
 Maisonnette. If you were not afraid to be left
 
 28o THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 alone in this dark road, I would run on and get 
 you some help — may I ? I should not be ten 
 minutes away. Are you afraid ?' 
 
 ' No — o ; if — if you will be back soon,' but it 
 was the biggest fib I ever told in my life.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF. 
 
 ' This is not a man to be driven from his temperament with- 
 out some sufficient cause.' 
 
 ' The Monastery' 
 
 ' I do not take offence easily.' 
 
 ' Rob Roy: 
 
 My unpleasant sensations told me that Mr. 
 Fleming was right (how strange he should 
 have that name !). A horrible feeling of sick- 
 ness was creeping over me, and but for the 
 relief his strong hand was giving, I could 
 hardly have borne the pain. To my surprise, 
 however, he did not move. 
 
 ' Are you not going .^' I asked, a minute 
 later. 
 
 * No, certainly not ; I must stay now.' 
 
 ' But why ?' 
 
 ' As though you do not know ; do you always 
 tell fibs, Miss Leigh .^ your shaky '' No" was 
 decidedly one just now. You are horribly
 
 282 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 afraid at the idea of being left alone for ten 
 minutes ; I am sorry for it, because I should 
 like to spare you any more suffering, but what 
 can I do? If I dared, I would put Reggie 
 down and carry you to La Maisonnette, but 1 
 dare not run the risk — he might wake up and 
 be frightened, or a vehicle might pass with a 
 driver the worse for cider.' 
 
 'Mr. Fleming! as though I would permit 
 such a thing !' 
 
 ' I am afraid I should not wait for your per- 
 mission, if it were the thing to do ; but the fact 
 is, I do not dare. Now, will you make one 
 more attempt, for Reggie's sake ? — he is so 
 uncomfortable on my shoulder.' 
 
 I am sure now that he said it to rouse me, for 
 Reggie was sleeping most sweetly ; but if this 
 were his intention he succeeded, and in another 
 minute I was limping along to the best of my 
 ability, in spite of shooting pain and growing 
 faintness. Mr. Fleming kept up a ceaseless 
 flow of talk, but I was no longer capable of in- 
 telliorent interest. I seemed to hear discon- 
 nected sentences in a sort of dream, then 
 detached words : ' the farm ;' ' take care ;' ' a 
 ditch there ;' ' a lanthorn at the gate ;' ' looking 
 out ;' ' sensible people ;' then I was dimly 
 conscious that I was more tightly held ; 
 a light flashed in my face, and, ' Oh, OJga,
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 283 
 
 my poor child !' in Aunt Catherine's pitying 
 tones ; and then for a moment I knew no 
 more. 
 
 When I regained complete consciousness I 
 was lying on the couch in our pretty little salon, 
 and Aunt Catherine was beside me. Reesfie 
 was curled up, still fast asleep, on an opposite 
 couch, and Mr. Fleming was walking across 
 the room with a glass of water. 
 
 * Oh, I am all right now,' I said feebly ; ' it 
 was only the pain. Aunt Catherine, please 
 thank Mr. Fleming ; he has been so good to 
 me ; he must have had a miserable time of it.' 
 
 * Not quite so miserable as you had ;' but I 
 noticed he looked rather pale and tired as he 
 spoke. ' Miss Leigh has behaved like a 
 heroine : I never saw greater pluck. Now 
 your foot must be attended to at once, so I will 
 wish you good-night.' 
 
 He bowed, and was about to withdraw ; but 
 I put out my hand impulsively, and Aunt 
 Catherine followed my example. 
 
 ' I do indeed thank you,' she said very warmly ; 
 and then I asked if 1 might kiss Reggie, and 
 Mr. Fleming brought him to me at once. 
 
 Aunt Catherine did not harass me with ques- 
 tions when we were left alone ; she rang for 
 Jeanne to assist me to my room, and after 
 fomenting the inflamed and swollen ankle most
 
 284 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 tenderly, she bandaged it as skilfully as a 
 trained nurse would have done. 
 
 It was only when I was comfortably in bed, 
 and enjoying some Sandwiches and a glass of 
 delicious lemonade, that she drew from me an 
 account of my accident, and listened with the 
 deepest interest. 
 
 ' It was quite an adventure, Olga,' she said 
 when I had finished. ' But, my dear, you have 
 given me an hour of terrible anxiety ; I have 
 been walking up and down the lane, and Jeanne 
 has been standing at the gate I do not know 
 how long. If you had been ten minutes later I 
 should have gone round to Monsieur Perrot for 
 assistance.' 
 
 * Oh, Aunt Catherine, I am so sorry ! But 
 indeed I never meant to go so far, and creeping 
 home after this fashion has taken me such a 
 time.' 
 
 * Well — well, I will not scold you ; yOu have 
 been punished enough. If it had not been for 
 our neighbour you would have fared badly. I 
 think I shall write a proper little note of thanks 
 in the morning, and tell him how you are, or he 
 will be calling to inquire. What did you say 
 his name was — not Fleming, surely ?' and her 
 voice changed a little. 
 
 * Yes, it is Fleming ; do you think it is any 
 relation ?'
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 285 
 
 ^ . _ — 
 
 ' Certainly not/ she returned promptly. ' He 
 Is no relation of Robert Fleming — if that is 
 what you mean. I recollect his telling me that 
 he had no one belonging to him in the world, 
 except an old uncle, and his name was Faber.' 
 
 ' It is very strange !' I persisted. 
 
 ' I do not know why you should say so ; 
 Fleming is not such an uncommon name, is it ? 
 I knew some people who called themselves the 
 Gough-Flemings. Oh yes ; and there was a 
 Mrs. Samuel Fleming, too ; it is a name I like 
 very much ;' and Aunt Catherine played thought- 
 fully with the fringe of the quilt as she spoke. 
 
 After a moment she began again : 
 
 ' I think on the whole our neighbour behaved 
 very well, Olga. He is a gentleman; I liked 
 his voice and manner exceedingly.' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; and he was so kind. He was 
 not a bit stiff really, when he saw I was in 
 trouble.' 
 
 * I wonder if I have ever seen him before — I 
 mean in England ; his face did not seem quite 
 strange to me.' 
 
 ' Nor to me either ; how funny !' 
 
 ' No, not funny. The world is not so large, 
 after all, and one stumbles upon people in all 
 sorts of unexpected places. He is not hand- 
 some ; I am not quite sure I like his face : his 
 eyes are a little cold, and I should judge from
 
 286 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 his mouth that he has a temper. When you 
 see him close he Is not so very young, after all.' 
 
 ' How do you mean ?' for I was not quite 
 pleased with all this criticism. Mr. Fleming 
 had been so kind, so considerate, that It did not 
 seem quite fair to him. 
 
 ' Well, he might be seven or eight and 
 twenty — even more. There is a worn look 
 about him that hardly belongs to youth. 
 Depend upon It, he has known trouble.' 
 
 As thouorh I were not as sure of that as 
 Aunt Catherine ; but I was not going to repeat 
 what I had heard. Could I ever forget those 
 bitter, half-mocking words : * There is no blessed 
 Lethe for us poor human beings ; some of us 
 have a taste of purgatorial fires in this world,' 
 followed by that broken, ' I have you, my one 
 blessinor out of all this cursed wreck '? That 
 tone of utter hopelessness — what could it mean? 
 
 Aunt Catherine bade me good-night after 
 this, and I was glad to be left to my own 
 thoughts. The remedies had Q^iven me relief, 
 and I was now in tolerable comfort ; but all 
 the same, sleep seemed to have forsaken me. 
 I tossed restlessly and feverishly on my pillow, 
 now recalling the incidents of the past evening, 
 and now perplexing myself with curious con- 
 jectures on the subject of our mysterious neigh- 
 bour. He was a perfect stranger. I had only
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 287 
 
 just learned his name, and yet I felt a profound 
 interest in him — his loneliness, his melancholy, 
 his strange, reckless words, and the wonderful 
 affection that seemed to subsist between him and 
 his boy, had somehow stirred the quick sensi- 
 bilities of my nature. How kind and helpful 
 he had proved himself on an emergency ! Most 
 men of his age would have been either awk- 
 ward and embarrassed, or else they would have 
 presumed and grown familiar ; but I could not 
 but own that his behaviour had been perfect. 
 In a moment he had put me at my ease, by 
 the way he seemed to forget himself in his 
 anxiety to be of service. Only the truest 
 good-breeding and an innately kind heart could 
 have taught him such unselfish courtesy. 
 
 ' If I could only do something for him in 
 return !' I thought, as I lay looking out into the 
 starry darkness, while the night breeze, per- 
 fumed with the odour of flowers, stole in at the 
 open window. ' If only Aunt Catherine, dear 
 thing that she is, were not such a stickler for 
 propriety ! if she would only make friends with 
 him and find out why he is so unhappy ! Why 
 is it wrong, I wonder, to be kind and com- 
 panionable with our neighbours, even if they 
 be strangers. I think the world is a stupid 
 place, after all. I suppose we shall be obliged 
 to know all sorts of people in heaven.'
 
 288 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 I suppose my midnight philosophy was not 
 particularly wholesome, for Aunt Catherine 
 shook her head when she saw me the next 
 morning. 
 
 ' You will just have to stay where you are 
 for the rest of the day,' was the only consola- 
 tion she gave me ; ' your bad night has made 
 you look like a ghost. As I am going down to 
 St. Croix this morning, I shall ask Dr. Addison 
 to look at your foot.' 
 
 ' Oh, Aunt Catherine, do you think that is 
 necessary ? it is not a severe sprain ; you said 
 so yourself last night.' 
 
 ' No ; but you have aggravated it by that 
 long walk, and it is as well to be on the safe 
 side. Why, Olga, you look ready to cry ! 
 Surely one day in your room is not such a 
 terrible punishment.' 
 
 ' I am so vexed at my own stupid careless- 
 ness, and it is such a lovely day,' I grumbled ; 
 ' think how delicious the shore would be this 
 morning !' 
 
 'You may just leave the shore alone, and go 
 tosleep instead,' was her unsympathizing answer. 
 ' I don't see why Rollo need be a prisoner, too, 
 so I shall take him as my escort. Good-bye, 
 you tiresome child ;' but I detained her. 
 
 ' Shall you write that note, Aunt Catherine ?' 
 
 * Well, I don't know,' dubiously ; ' our neigh-
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 289 
 
 bour has been already to inquire. He came 
 before I was down, and as Jeanne knew 
 nothing about your bad night, she had not 
 much to tell him, so he left his compliments and 
 went away.' 
 
 ' I think a note would only be civil. We 
 hardly said anything to him last night !' 
 
 ' Well, I will see about it when I come back, 
 for I have not a moment to spare now. I must 
 be at the market early to get you some fruit ; 
 and there is Dr. Addison and a hundred other 
 things ;' and then she called Rollo and left me. 
 
 I spent the morning in sleep. When Dr. 
 Addison examined my foot he prescribed a 
 simple remedy and a few days' rest. 
 
 * You will not be able to run about for a week 
 or two,' he said — he was a nice old man, and 
 spoke in a sort of fatherly way — ' but there is no 
 need to keep you a prisoner. Get someone to 
 carry you out in the garden, or in a day or two 
 you might have a drive. Fresh air will do you 
 good, and we must not make an invalid of you !' 
 
 I felt quite cheered by this sensible prescrip- 
 tion, and when Aunt Catherine returned to my 
 room she told me that she and Jeanne had dis- 
 covered an old wheeled chair in an outhouse. 
 
 ' So there will be no difficulty at all,' she went 
 on, ' in carrying out Dr. Addison's advice. 
 Jeanne can wheel you into the shade, and we 
 
 VOL. I. ^9
 
 290 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 can make up a sort of impromptu couch with 
 two or three chairs. And in a day or two you 
 shall have a drive/ 
 
 ' May I go into the garden to-day ?' 
 ' No, not to-day. Dr. Addison thinks you 
 will be better where you are ;' for I was lying 
 comfortably outside my bed. Then she said, in 
 rather a hesitating manner : * There was no 
 need for that note, after all, Olga. I en- 
 countered Mr. Fleming in the market, and he 
 walked back with me. He saw I was some- 
 what laden with the fruit, so he at once offered 
 to assist me. I found him very good company ; 
 he seems well read and full of information. 
 We talked a good deal about Oxford ; he is an 
 Exeter man.' 
 
 ' Did he say whether he had any profession ?' 
 I asked eagerly. 
 
 * Xo ; he is singularly reticent. It was quite 
 by accident he mentioned Exeter. '* When I 
 was there," he said, " in my undergraduate 
 
 days " and then he stopped, and spoke of 
 
 something else directly ; but he talks exceed- 
 ingly well.' 
 
 ' Did you like the look of him better this 
 morning ? was my next question. 
 
 * I have never disliked the look of him,' she 
 returned ; ' but his face somehow baffles me. 
 He has such a cold expression until he smiles,
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE OS THE CLIFF 291 
 
 and then his features seem to Hght up. It is 
 not a happy face, Olga ; there are such bitter 
 lines round the mouth. But I confess he 
 interests me.' 
 
 ' And me also.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know ; but we must be careful. 
 There is one thing about him that I like — he 
 certainly does not presume ; indeed, I have 
 a suspicion that he does not wish for our 
 acquaintance. But that may be my fancy.' 
 
 ' Purely fancy, I should say.' 
 
 Something in my tone seemed to strike Aunt 
 Catherine, for she closed the subject abruptly, 
 by showing me the basket of fruit and flowers 
 she had brought ; and I was too much touched 
 by her thoughtful kindness to say anything 
 more about Mr. Fleming. 
 
 An hour later I was lying with my eyes 
 closed, thinking of Kitty and the children, 
 when the door softly opened; and Rollo's tail 
 beo^an to waq^ in a friendly fashion. The next 
 moment something warm and soft darted at me, 
 and Reggie scrambled up upon my bed. 
 
 ' Take care of my poor foot ! Oh, you 
 darling ! Who brought you ?' and I nearly 
 smothered him with kisses. 
 
 Reggie took them as a matter of course ; 
 he was used to being loved. He had two or 
 three clover-stalks in his hot hand. 
 
 19 — 2
 
 292 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * Reggie has picked you f owers,' he said 
 proudly. 
 
 ' But who brought you, my sweet ?' 
 
 * Lady brought Reggie/ he replied promptly : 
 and then I knew Aunt Catherine had contrived 
 this little surprise for me. 
 
 Reggie seemed mystified by my apparent 
 laziness. He wanted me to get up and play 
 with him, and when I explained matters he 
 insisted Rollo should come up too ; so we were 
 all of a heap together. I told him stories at 
 last to keep him quiet. I recollect one was 
 about a little white, downy owl with round 
 yellow eyes, who lived with her children in an 
 ivy-bush. I regret to say that Reggie re- 
 peated this tale under the title of ' the howl 
 what lives in the ivy-bush,' and he was so 
 much pleased with it that when I had finished 
 he wanted me to begin it all over again. 
 Reggie stayed with me some time, and was 
 as good as possible. He went away reluctantly 
 when Jeanne came to fetch him. 
 
 Monsieur son pere was standing at the little 
 gate, and had requested that le petit should be 
 brought to him. 
 
 I raised myself up when Jeanne had left the 
 room. Yes, I could see the gray cap between 
 the branches ; he was standing by the hammock 
 waiting for his boy.
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 293 
 
 ' Reggie has forgotten father,' I could hear 
 him say, as the Httle figure bounded along the 
 gravel walk, and then Reggie sprang into his 
 father's arms with a merry laugh. 
 
 The next morning I was carefully wheeled 
 by Jeanne into my favourite grove, and there 
 I spent the rest of the day, and many succeed- 
 ing days, very happily with my work and books. 
 Reggie was my constant companion; every 
 afternoon, exactly at the same time, he would 
 come running down the little path and call to 
 me to open the gate. If Aunt Catherine were 
 absent, I had to summon Jeanne. Mr. Fleming 
 never made his appearance ; once I caught 
 sight of him in the distance, but he never 
 obtruded himself. 
 
 Reggie would play happily for hours. At 
 first he could not understand why I would not 
 play hide-and-seek with him and Rollo. He 
 would run away and hide, and presently I 
 would hear his dear little voice calling me ; but 
 I had to send Rollo instead. Once he called 
 so long and so imploringly that Aunt Catherine 
 accompanied Rollo. 
 
 ' Look at Reggie !' he cried triumphandy. 
 ' Reggie is Mrs. Howl in the ivy-bush.' 
 
 Sometimes he lay contentedly in the ham- 
 mock while I told him fresh stories. He did 
 not care for tales about good litde boys or
 
 m 
 
 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 girls, but a story about a squirrel, a mouse, or 
 a rabbit instantly commanded his attention. 
 
 * Ah, ah! Mr. Bunny,' he would say, 'Mr. 
 Fox found you out. Go on, my dear ;' for this 
 was the patronizing phrase he had adopted for 
 me. I suppose he found ' the smiling lady ' 
 too long for ordinary occasions. How Aunt 
 Catherine laughed when she first heard 
 him ! 
 
 * What a droll litde creature he is !' she 
 would say ; but she soon grew excessively 
 fond of him. 
 
 One afternoon, or rather evening, I had my 
 promised drive, and I enjoyed it so much that 
 Aunt Catherine told Jules to come daily. I 
 was sitting in the fiacre one evening, waiting 
 for Aunt Catherine to come out, when I saw 
 Mr. Fleming coming up the lane. He was 
 walking rather wearily, and Reggie was running 
 on before him. 
 
 Of course Reggie recognised me with a 
 shout ; but as I leant over the side of the 
 fiacre to warn him from coming too close, Mr. 
 Fleming came up hurriedly and lifted him out 
 of harm's way ; and then he could not do less 
 than speak to me. 
 
 ' I am glad to see you out again. Miss 
 Leigh,' he said rather gravely, and I under- 
 stood why Aunt Catherine thought his face
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 295 
 
 cold, for there was not the gleam of a smile on 
 it. ' 1 am afraid you have had a trying time 
 lately.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' I replied rather timidly, for his 
 manner did not put me at my ease, and he did 
 not seem in the least pleased to see me. ' I 
 have been out in the garden all day, and you 
 have been kind enough to spare Reggie to me 
 a good deal, so I have not been dull.' 
 
 Then his face did relax a little. 
 
 ' There is no keeping Reggie away ; you and 
 Miss Sefton have spoiled him. He is always 
 wanting to come to you.' 
 
 * I have not kissed my Dear,' observed 
 Reggie, in such a sentimental tone that we 
 both burst out laughing, and after that he 
 could not quite stiffen up again. But this 
 friendly mood was brief. 
 
 The next minute Aunt Catherine came out 
 of the house. She seemed pleased to see Mr. 
 Fleming, and shook hands with him as he 
 helped her into the carriage. But he responded 
 in the briefest manner to her pleasant speech, 
 and, taking Reggie's hand, walked on. 
 
 Aunt Catherine looked after him thought- 
 fully. 
 
 ' Had you been talking long to Mr. Fleming, 
 Olga ?' 
 
 ' No ; only three or four minutes. He did
 
 296 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 not seem quite like himself ; he was rather cool 
 in his manner/ 
 
 * I was thinking the same myself. One can- 
 not help being civil, of course ; but if you take 
 my advice you will say as little as possible to 
 Mr. Fleming. Any attention on our part 
 seems to embarrass him. For some reason or 
 other, he certainly does not mean to know us. 
 I never saw any other young man so reserved, 
 and with whom it was so difficult to get 
 on.' 
 
 I was too much chagrined at Mr. Fleming's 
 coolness to contradict her. And yet how dif- 
 ferent he had been that evening ! But it was 
 no use thinking of that. 
 
 In a week's time I was able to hobble about 
 a little ; but it was some days after that I 
 went down to the shore for the first time since 
 my accident. Aunt Catherine had letters to 
 write as usual — to her lawyer, her bailiff, and 
 to one of her tenants — indeed, she had business 
 to occupy her until luncheon. The morning 
 was sultry and sunless, and Aunt Catherine 
 begged me not to go . farther than the llltle 
 bathing-house, as she thought a storm was 
 threatening, and as my opinion coincided with 
 hers, I readily promised to follow her Injunc- 
 tion. 
 
 The hour that followed was not entirely en-
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE OX THE CLIFF 297 
 
 joyable. I was oppressed by the stillness and 
 airlessness of the atmosphere. The bay had 
 a leaden, oily aspect. I was peculiarly sus- 
 ceptible to any sombre influences, and I was 
 conscious of a sense of heaviness as I looked 
 out on my favourite scene, as though I were re- 
 eardino- a dear friend under sinister circum- 
 stances. 
 
 By-and-by a few heavy drops warned me. 
 As I put up my sketching materials hastily, 
 they fell faster and faster. As I could only 
 walk slowly, I was slightly damp before I had 
 unlocked the door of the bathing-house and 
 had taken refuge In the tiny room. 
 
 A moment later I heard hasty footsteps ; 
 someone was dashing up the steep little path 
 leading to our common. To my surprise It was 
 Mr. Fleming, with Reggie, as usual, on his 
 shoulder. Out of sheer humanity, for the 
 thunder-shower was very heavy, I begged him 
 to enter ; and without a moment's hesitation he 
 accepted my invitation, and, depositing Reggie 
 on the wooden table, began rubbing him down 
 with his handkerchief, while Reggie comported 
 himself like a frisky litde pony. 
 
 ' Thank you so much for this shelter, Miss 
 Leigh,' he said quite cordially. ' I actually 
 dashed past the open door without seeing it 
 until you called me. I am thankful for
 
 298 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYXDHURST 
 
 Reggie's sake, for I don't mind a wetting myself; 
 but he is such a deHcate little fellow.' 
 
 ' Oh, I hope he has taken no harm,' for his 
 sailor suit felt a little damp. 
 
 ' Oh no, the rain will soon be over ; it is too 
 violent to last. Will you not sit down, Miss 
 Leigh ? I see you still walk rather lamely ;' 
 and he brought me one of the wooden chairs, 
 and took the other himself. 
 
 Mr. Fleming's manner had decidedly thawed 
 since our last meeting. Perhaps he considered 
 it was his duty lo entertain me in return for my 
 hospitality ; for he began talking about the 
 book he had under his arm, and asked if I had 
 read it. I forget its title, but he gave me a 
 rdsumd of the contents, and criticised it in a 
 masterly fashion. I wished Aunt Catherine 
 could have heard him. After that, he sat look- 
 ing down at the bay, while Reggie played at 
 his feet with Rollo. 
 
 ' Isn't that grand, Miss Leigh ?' he said pre- 
 sently. ' I do like looking at a large expanse 
 of water ; it gives me such a sense of freedom.' 
 
 There was a strange intensity in his ex- 
 pression as he watched the dark water and the 
 driving rain, and some impulse made me say : 
 
 ' You speak as though freedom were the chief 
 blessing to be desired in life.' 
 
 ' So it is,' he answered shordy, and his eyes
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE OX THE CLIFF 299 
 
 were still fixed on the bay ; * there is nothing to 
 compare with it in my opinion ; and yet how few- 
 men are really free !' 
 
 ' How do you mean, Mr. Fleming ?' 
 
 He turned round and gave me a quick search- 
 ing glance, as though my question disturbed him. 
 
 'Oh, it is not easy to explain my meaning;' 
 and there was a tinge of impatience in his voice. 
 ' There is very little freedom in this world, after 
 all. It is a little hard, is it not ? that some have 
 to pay a life-long penalty for some youthful 
 error ; but so it is.' He sighed, and drew 
 Reo^eie between his knees : and as the child 
 looked up in his face, his expression softened. 
 ' Never mind, Reg, old fellow. Freedom is a 
 sweet sort of mistress ; but I would not take 
 her in exchange for you.' 
 
 I thought it better to change the subject 
 by saying I hoped the rain would soon be over, 
 as Aunt Catherine would be getting anxious 
 at my delay. 
 
 ' Oh, I hope not,' he returned, going to the 
 door ; ' you gave her anxiety enough the other 
 evening. Miss Sefton is your aunt, is she not, 
 Miss Leigh ?' 
 
 He certainly looked mystified when I ex- 
 plained that she was no relation. 
 
 ' But you call her Aunt Catherine,' he 
 persisted.
 
 300 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 * Oh, that is only our pet name for her. Jem 
 calls her that, too. Jem is my brother, Mr. 
 Flemino^, and we both live with a married 
 brother, who is a clergyman. Aunt Catherine — 
 Miss Sefton I mean — is only a neighbour, and 
 she lives with her sister, Mrs. Lyndhurst, at a 
 beautiful place close by — Brookfield Hall. They 
 are such dear creatures, the Ladies, as we call 
 them, and we are so fond of them.' 
 
 ' Yes, I see,' and his manner betrayed some 
 interest ; ' these adopted relationships are often 
 very close — sometimes as close as real flesh and 
 
 blood ones. I knew of a case once ' then 
 
 he stopped abruptly. 
 
 'You knew of a case once, Mr. Fleming.'^' 1 
 repeated, as a sort of encouragement to him to 
 proceed, but he returned quickly : 
 
 ' Oh, it is nothing ; it would not interest you 
 in the least !' 
 
 ' I believe you think nothing interests us,' I 
 replied, rather piqued at this sudden reticence. 
 ' I mean' — for he looked perplexed at this — 
 ' at least, Aunt Catherine says that she is sure 
 you do not want to have anything to do with 
 us ; that you would rather not, in fact.' 
 
 I blushed with annoyance the moment I 
 made this impulsive speech. I could not think 
 what made me say such a thing ; but somehow 
 his manner provoked me so, it was so cool and
 
 THE LITTLE HOUSE ON THE CLIFF 301 
 
 guarded, just as though he were on his defence 
 against us — as though we were his natural 
 enemies. I am sure at that moment that I 
 disHked him heartily. 
 
 To my surprise he answered me with the 
 utmost gentleness. 
 
 ' Why do you say that ?' he replied, almost 
 as though he were speaking to Reggie. ' Why 
 should you think me so ungrateful ? It is not 
 right to misjudge anyone. What if I do not 
 consider myself worthy of your acquaintance ? 
 What you think an unbecoming reserve may be 
 only my way of showing my respect.' 
 
 * Mr. F^leming,' I stammered, ' is it because 
 you are poor that you do not consider yourself 
 our equal ?' 
 
 Then he smiled. 
 
 ' No, Miss Leigh ; I am too much of a philo- 
 sopher to fear comparison of that sort. My 
 poverty is an extraneous circumstance that has 
 nothing to do with me ; but you are wrong. 
 Though I do not seek acquaintance, I take a 
 great deal of interest in the kind ladies who are 
 so good to my boy. There, the rain is over. 
 Do you think we may venture now ?' 
 
 ' Oh yes ; I think so.' 
 
 My cheeks were burning. How gently, yet 
 with what dignity, he had rebuked my rudeness! 
 He was not even vexed with me for my pre-
 
 ;o2 THE SEARCH FOR BASIL LYNDHURST 
 
 sumption. As we went out together, and he 
 followed me up the little path between the drip- 
 ping gorse-bushes, he talked in the pleasant 
 way he had talked that evening ; and when we 
 parted at the door of La Maisonnette, he held 
 out his hand for the first time. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Miss Leigh,' he said, with a clear, 
 open glance of amity. * Please give my compli- 
 ments to MissSefton;' and he looked so friendly 
 that I ventured to say : 
 
 ' I am afraid I have been very rude, Mr. 
 Fleming. Please forgive me.' 
 
 ' Why, what nonsense !' he said heartily. 
 , I have nothing in the least to forgive ;' and 
 then he shook hands with me again. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 HILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD. 
 
 C, C. &>» Ca.
 
 MONTHLY, ONE SHILLING. 
 
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 m^ ] IV