LI E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THL 
 U N IV ER5ITY 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 823 
 
 C427b 
 
 V.I
 
 A BRILLIANT Woman
 
 A 
 
 BRILLIANT WOMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 THE HOKORABLE Mrs. HENRY CHETWYND. 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE MARCH VIOLET," " SARA, " "LOVE IN A GERMAN VILLAGE," 
 "A DUTCH COUSIN," ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES— I. 
 
 lonbon 1892 
 
 HUTCHINSON AND CO. 
 
 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE
 
 I'RIMfil) AT NIMKGL•E^ (HOLLAND) 
 
 BT H. C A. THIKMK OK NIMKGUEN (HOLLAND 
 
 AMj 
 
 TALBOT HOUSK, ARL'NDKL STKEKT, 
 
 LONDON, W.C.
 
 
 ^' / 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 :^ VOL. I 
 
 => 
 
 o 
 
 * CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS I 
 
 "^ 11. AUNT AND NEPHEW 12 
 
 CD III. GENERAL SURPRISE 30 
 
 rV. A WRONG START 46 
 
 CO V. HOME 62 
 
 >- VI. THE COUNTY MAP 75 
 
 •=3; 
 
 ^ VII. THE NEIGHBOURS 95 
 
 VIII. DIFFERENT VIEWS ON CONJUGAL FELICITY I08 
 
 IX. THE FESTIVITIES AT BURLINGTON MANOR II 9 
 
 ^ X, REHEARSAL 1 36 
 
 ^ XL WAS IT ALL SUCCESS? I51 
 
 "^ Xn. A PEECE OF NEWS 161 
 
 <>v. Xin. ABOUT POLITICS AND OTHER THINGS 182 
 
 <<^ XIV. CRABBROOK HALL 199 
 
 jV XV. AT THE beryls' 215 
 
 'j; XVI. A GREAT MISTAKE 23G 
 
 .-'^ XVII. FARTHER MISTAKES 243 
 
 N' XVIU. AN ACCIDENT 259 
 
 XIX. AUNT ANNE SPEAKS HER jSHND 275
 
 A BRILLIANT WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS. 
 
 Perplexity, anxiety, and a surprise she could not 
 conceal, chased each other alternately over the face 
 of a maiden lady as she read a letter she had just 
 received. 
 
 She was sitting at breakfast in a delightful, 
 cheerfLil, sunny breakfast-room. The sunrays played 
 upon brilliant silver, exquisitely fine linen, and all 
 those small dainties which, by reason of their 
 minuteness and of the slender nourishment they 
 afford, proclaim the absence of the carnivorous 
 animal — man. 
 
 VOL. T. I
 
 2 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Two bantam's eggs, a little lettuce, some radishes, 
 fruit, and various hot cakes were all arranged 
 within her reach. She had poured out her tea and 
 had then noticed one letter on the top of her other 
 letters, conspicuously challenging her attention, and 
 she read it. The tea-urn steamed iind her tea 
 cooled, but she sat with the utmost disregard of 
 both these things. She was pale, a little faded, 
 and elderly, but her eyes were still fine, and her 
 hands were white and beautifully shaped. 
 
 She let her eyes wander over the well-kept lawn, 
 the sunlight playing through the huge branches of 
 some fine cedars, and with a start turned to her 
 breakfast, barely touched it, and re-read her letter. 
 
 The lady. Miss Burlington, was the aunt of Mr. Cyril 
 Burlington, a large landed proprietor on the borders 
 of Worcestershire. He was a man of thirty-six and 
 she had brought him up entirely, been his most 
 loving guardian, cared for his welfare as a schoolboy, 
 sent him to travel in his youth, and looked after
 
 The Unexpected happe^ts. 3 
 
 his property till he was old enough to look after 
 it himself. 
 
 His father had been killed out hunting when he 
 was a little boy in petticoats, and his mother had 
 not long sur\'ived the loss of the husband she 
 idolized. From the time Cyril came of age Miss 
 Burlington had urged him to marr}^ which was a 
 great mistake, since men have a way of arranging 
 these matters for themselves, and very often become 
 adverse to anything pressed upon them. 
 
 But she was anxious to see him happily married. 
 She felt deeply the immense wickedness of man, 
 especially as set forth in the papers; and she con- 
 sidered that no girl in her proper senses — no very nice 
 girl — would refuse him. He wanted no fortune with 
 his wife, as he was very rich. He was well bom, 
 and did not care for connection. This gave his 
 choice much freedom and a large area. 
 
 The letter which disturbed her was not alarming. 
 It was unexpected, and announced his engagement
 
 4 A Brillia7it Woman. 
 
 to a young lady; but there was something nega- 
 tive, an absence of the overflowing delight Miss 
 Burlington was romantic enough to expect on such 
 an occasion. There was also a postscript. Unlike 
 the usual letter of a man, it contained matter for 
 thought. "She is a very brilliant creature. " What 
 did this mean? That other qualities were wanting ? 
 She had to write, of course, at once to the darling 
 of her heart. She knew that she must feel differ- 
 ently before writing and she went out on the 
 lawn. Cyril was grave, somewhat sedate, as a 
 man is apt to be with the shadow of two graves 
 lying over his childhood. He was full of talent, 
 which was generally a surprise to people who did 
 not know him well, and who considered him dull 
 on slight acquaintance. Even upon subjects he had 
 thoroughly studied he was reticent of speech. Miss 
 Burlington, knowing how well he might have an- 
 swered, argued, and even convinced people, re- 
 proached him at times with his silence. But he laughed
 
 The Unexpected happens, 5 
 
 off her rebukes. "There are so many people who 
 can talk, and who like to talk, " he would answer. 
 "I like silence best." 
 
 Miss Burlington was roused from vexed ques- 
 tions to which she could bring no quite satisfactory 
 answers, by the reproachful gaze of the elderly 
 butler, who met her as she was coming back. " I 
 was afraid something had happened, ma'am. You 
 never rang, and the tea-urn has boiled over." 
 
 Miss Burlington was annoyed. Certainly, Marsham 
 was making unnecessary fuss. Both footmen had 
 been called in; everything lifted off the table; she 
 was made to feel that she had given a great deal 
 of trouble. Marsham spared her nothing. 
 
 Then Mrs. Butt, who was short in her temper, 
 but such an excellent housekeeper, and so first- 
 rate a cook, came bristling to the door for delayed 
 orders ; Miss Burlington saw^ that she must at once 
 put herself in the right with her, or she would 
 have still greater discomfort to put up with.
 
 6 A Drilliant Woman. 
 
 ** Before arrang-ing about the dinner, Mrs. Butt, 
 I wish to tell you some news I have just received. 
 My nephew, Mr. Burlington, wishes it announced. " 
 
 " I was afraid you had received bad news, ma'am, '* 
 said Mrs. Butt, putting on her most melancholy 
 expression and preparing — if necessary — to go to 
 the very verge of tears. 
 
 ** Oh, dear, no ! Not bad news. I was surprised ; 
 it is perhaps a little unexpected; Mr. Burlington is 
 going to be married. " 
 
 "Dear me, ma'am, I'm sure I wish you both joy f 
 Do you know the young lady, j\Iiss Burlington?" 
 
 "I have never seen her. But we can feel sure 
 that she is all Mr. Burhngton can wish for him, 
 since he has chosen her. " 
 
 " Of course, ma'am. Is she a titled lady, ma'am ? ** 
 
 "No; Miss Maria Kingson. " 
 
 " Well, ma'am, though a duke's daughter isn't too 
 good for master, she'll may be make up for it. Am 
 I to tell the household or wait for further orders?"
 
 The Unexpected happens. f 
 
 ** Ygu can tell everyone. Tell Marsham first ; and 
 say I would have told him myself, but as the 
 footmen were there I could not do so. " Miss 
 Burlington knew that this was an excellent return 
 for the undue fuss Marsham had made. 
 
 Mrs. Butt said a great many sensible things, and 
 was inclined to be a little tearful, but at the same 
 time w^as really sympathetic and most deeply inter- 
 ested. 
 
 Difficulties of any kind were that morning arranged 
 with great celerity. She was dying to go and tell 
 Marsham, (who would be provoked at being second 
 and not first to hear so important an event,) and 
 very soon retired. Miss Burlington went again 
 under the cedar trees; the impending change was 
 a very great one for her. To uproot a lady of 
 over sixty from the home she has had for more than 
 forty years was no light thing for her. She loved the 
 beautiful place and the gardens with an appreciation 
 time had increased and not lessened; the peeps.
 
 8 A Brilliant Womaji. 
 
 through the great lime tree avenue of the blue hills 
 of- Malvern in the far distance; the bustling, insigni- 
 ficant charming trout stream, by whose murmurs 
 she went to sleep, emd whose career she could 
 follow through the valley in the shape of a silver 
 thread; the beech- wood, where on hot days it was 
 always cool and pleasant, and on cold days always 
 sheltered; then the flowering shrubs and rose trees. 
 She trusted Cyril's wife would love these things. 
 Perhaps, as a "brilliant creature," she would not 
 care for them. 
 
 Then Miss Burlington, shocked to find herself 
 drifting into a feeling akin to antagonism towards 
 the future Mrs. Burlington, turned rapidly to the 
 house and dashed off a letter of warmest good 
 wishes and congratulations to her nephew. 
 
 She went out driving that afternoon. vShe had 
 long made up her mind that an old manor house, 
 which stood partly inside partly outside the park, 
 and which was considered too much in the grounds
 
 The Unexpected happens. 9 
 
 to be let to strangers, would be a pleasant home 
 for her when, — and if, — Cyril married; and she 
 went there now. To reach it driving you had to 
 go down the west avenue, along a road, and then 
 up a lane; but there was a short cut through the 
 grounds if wanted. A curious doubt arose in her 
 mind now as to whether that shorter way would 
 ever be put into requisition by her new niece. 
 
 The manor house was in excellen repair. It was 
 a quaint pretty place, with a wide-flagged pavement 
 up to the door and some fine trees round it. At 
 the back a sunny flower garden, the abode of bees, 
 whose cheerful humming made an important noise 
 in the dead stillness now. It was all well kept up. 
 For jMiss Burlington's had been a wise rule, and 
 no part of the large property had been neglected. 
 When her nephew succeeded he had found order 
 everywhere, and an organisation so perfect that no 
 one particular hand was required to keep it up. It 
 sometimes happens that things are in excellent order
 
 10 A Brillia7it Woman 
 
 or the reverse by reason of the presence or absence 
 of one man upon whom the whole machinery depends, 
 as a watch does upon its mainspring. But this was 
 not the case here. 
 
 Wandering through the garden thoughtfully, 
 Miss Burlington's mind arranged everything — how 
 and when she would come here. She felt a little 
 sad when she had so settled everything; and then 
 one of those trifles that influence us all swept regret 
 upon one side. Down a broad grass walk she had 
 stepped, and all at once she saw something she had 
 for many years entirely forgotten. Two old-fashioned 
 delicious Celestine rose bushes covered with their 
 exquisite bloom nodded a welcome to her; all at 
 once she remembered how she and her sister had 
 planted them, and how they had talked together of 
 the joy they would be to them when Cyril married, 
 and they two lived together here. He was marry- 
 ing now, and she would come here alone. Miss 
 Burlington's heart swelled as she thought of that
 
 The Unexpected happens. 1 1 
 
 day. She gathered some of the roses tenderly, and 
 returned home with softer and kinder thoughts of 
 Cyril's intended marriage — softened by this remem- 
 brance. His wife might be very brilliant, but no 
 one could deprive her of the memories which she 
 had, and which were so sweet to her. The future 
 she knew nothing about, but the past was hers.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AUNT AJND NEPHEW. 
 
 The first recognition of a difference in feeling 
 between two people who have hitherto been one 
 in thought — or as nearly so as it is given to human 
 beings to be — gives something of a shock and a 
 -constraint, which is always painful, because it is 
 not only new, but also what has hitherto been 
 supposed to be impossible. Miss Burlington had 
 written affectionately to her nephew, but he had 
 missed something. She was too candid a person 
 not to give the impress of her mind in her letters. 
 When she reflected upon the great event — which
 
 Aunt ajid Nepheio. 15 
 
 was generally all day long — she found herself 
 recurring to that expression which had so disturbed her. 
 Would Cyril have laid stress upon the brilliancy of 
 his affianced wife if he could have named other quality 
 more solid — more desirable. It is one of the comforting* 
 circumstances of life that when we pen a letter we 
 do not know how, when, and where it may be read. 
 Cyril Burlington read his aunt's letter in the 
 well-furnished library of Mr. Kingson's house. Maria 
 was an orphan, and had been brought up by this 
 uncle and his wife. ^laria was putting some finish- 
 ing touches to the arrangement of some flowers, 
 and made a very effective picture, flashing here 
 and there. There were picturesque surroundings — 
 old oak, leather, paper heavily touched with gold, 
 very high windows with stained glass, and one 
 wide frame open very high up, which permitted the 
 sunrays to slant down upon Maria's hair, which had 
 a fine tinge of ruddy gold through it, and on her 
 complexion, which was exquisite.
 
 ij^ A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 She had turned back her sleeves, with their pretty- 
 lace ruffles, and her hands were white, and took 
 graceful attitudes, which even pretty hands do not 
 always do. vShe had a large loose apron on, which 
 enhanced the slenderness of her waist, and the 
 glowing colours of roses and orchids were all 
 around her. Her manner of arranging the flowers 
 struck him as original. He had often seen his aunt 
 arrange the flowers at home. She had all the 
 necessary vases full of water in front of her upon 
 a huge tray, where the flowers reposed. She put 
 in the flowers with some taste, and then they went 
 back to their established corners. But that was 
 methodical, even prosaic, and it was not Miss King- 
 son's way. She had the different vases and glasses 
 standing about the room where she intended them 
 to remain, and she moved about with a crimson or 
 a white rose, or stood back to see the eifect with 
 her head at that feminine angle which is a woman's 
 way of trying to see things from an impartial and
 
 Aunt and Nephew. 15 
 
 original point of view. As she took away one, 
 and put in another flower, her movements were 
 quick if a little stately; and the effect she produced 
 justified the trouble she took. Yellow brought a 
 dim corner into prominence, tall grass broke a 
 harsh line, and the finest orchids reigned alone in 
 long Venetian glasses, with the dark oak behind 
 them to show them off. 
 
 But even the prettiest picture exhausts epithets 
 of admiration after a time ; and, having been called 
 upon to express it at least twenty times, Mr. Bur- 
 lington began to find this out, and his answers 
 became less satisfactory to her. Indeed, he was 
 thinking of other things. 
 
 !Maria looked at him for a moment or two, then 
 she said, quite good temperedly, " I see, flowers 
 bore you ; you do not care for them ; it was stupid 
 bringing you in here. " 
 
 He was much surprised, and raised his eyes to 
 hers in protest. " I have tried to show my appreciation
 
 1 6 A Brilliant Womafi. 
 
 of the flowers, and your way of arranging them,'" 
 he said, with his grave smile. •* I am afraid my 
 eflForts have fallen short — I am not a very good 
 hand at expressing myself, I know." 
 
 " Oh, if it was an eifort .... Shall we ride 
 now ? Yes, I will go and get ready. " 
 
 She had gone before he rose. She was very 
 even tempered, and that is an invaluable blessing, 
 but Mr. Burlington had somehow been put in the 
 wrong and forgiven, more by her manner than by 
 her words, and he did not like it. He re-read his 
 aunt's letter. He was, of course, "in love," but 
 his aunt had always been a very real mother to 
 him, and he made up his mind that he ought to go 
 down and see her. Maria made another very pretty 
 picture on horseback. She had a well-trained horse, 
 and its size and make were exactly what they ought 
 to have been, for she was tall and sat high, which 
 tall women often do not do, and she sat well, and 
 attracted much admiration. Mr. Burlington rode
 
 Atmt and Nephew. 17 
 
 like all country gentlemen who have ridden often 
 
 to hounds, and he gave his appearance no thought. 
 
 The two rode alone down the Row, but soon were 
 
 joined first by one and then by another till the 
 
 party developed into a cavalcade. Maria had to 
 
 answer first one and then another ; she was not 
 
 altogether sorry her lover should see that she was 
 
 in great request, though she was too well trained, 
 
 too well bred, to show off. 
 
 But, considering that she w^as engaged to Mr. 
 
 Burlington, and he saw nothing of her, he thought 
 
 that riding with her there was not quite the joy it 
 
 might have been. And the " Row " bored him 
 
 horribly, as it does all good riders who have time 
 
 ^ to go elsewhere — a fact which satisfactorily accounts 
 
 for the very few men to be seen there, who can 
 
 ride at all. They went in to luncheon, Cyril more 
 
 silent than usual, Maria in brilliant spirits, and then 
 
 he told her of his plans. 
 
 She was interested, sent his aunt many kind 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 1 8 A Br illicit Woviaji. 
 
 messages, advised him to make various arrangements, 
 and was full of charming soHcitude about his jour- 
 ney. He left her with the sense of her unchanging 
 sweetness of temper full upon him ; and he regretted 
 having felt so distinctly cross that morning. 
 
 It was nice of her not to have noticed it, and yet 
 — so unreasonable is man — he fancied it would have 
 been a greater proof of affection it she had done so. 
 
 On his way down to his house he naturally 
 thought a good deal about her, especially at first. 
 He was amazed to find that, though he was much 
 in love, his mind was capable of criticising her, 
 which was not what should be. A sense of her 
 dazzling presence, her brilliant smile, the atmosphere 
 that surrounded her, had thrown a glamour over 
 every word and action. Now that he was away from 
 all these things he was struck by her various indio- 
 syncrasies, cind some of these he was not sure that 
 he did admire. She evaded every argument skil- 
 fully, and always with a charming smile ; but she
 
 Aunt and Nephew. 19 
 
 invariably took her own way afterwards, and, what 
 was more, she always got him to take her way also. 
 
 Would this be the rule of their future lives ? Was 
 she one of those women w^ho dominate by sheer 
 silent perseverance and obstinate determination. The 
 thought made him uncomfortable, chiefly because 
 he considered it ungenerous to stand in judgment 
 upon her when she was all unconscious of it; and 
 he recalled her gentleness, her winning ways, and 
 her affection for himself with a pang of something 
 like remorse. He had not been her only admirer 
 or the one most highly placed, judged by any 
 standard that he knew ; and she had chosen him. 
 
 If she did not love him heartily, what reason 
 could be assigned for a preference that had much 
 flattered him ? He was not handsome, nor brilliant, 
 and his intellectual gifts w^ere precisely those that 
 did not come to the surface in society, and would 
 hardly be appreciated by youth and the average 
 feminine mind.
 
 20 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 He had great fluency in foreign tongues and a 
 wide acquaintance with foreign literature, but his 
 special talent was a power of arranging and assem- 
 bling facts, telling on a given point, so clearly in 
 his own mind that he could temperately and cle- 
 verly place them convincingly before others, in 
 terse, well-chosen words. Eloquence carries away 
 for a time, but there is an eloquence in w^hich 
 choice diction and a flow of happily chosen similes 
 convince for the moment, but when the charm of 
 the voice is gone words remain only. Cyril's some- 
 what untrained voice cast no glamour and bewitched 
 no ears, but he had the art of convincing. 
 
 What he said was the result of thought and 
 mature judgment; he spoke earnestly, and from 
 his heart, and reached the hearts of others, as an 
 earnest speaker usually does. Before he had disen- 
 tangled his somewhat bewildered ideas on the sub- 
 ject of his fiancee, he found himself at the station, 
 and met his aunt's pleasant face and smile of wel-
 
 Atmt and Nephew. 21 
 
 come with great satisfaction. She was driving her- 
 self, and had one outrider, and this bespoke confi- 
 dence, as she was rather a timid whip and preferred 
 being driven, but when confidential conversation 
 was in prospect she disliked servants in front 
 or behind. Her pony had been giving trouble, 
 resenting the long waiting with no distractions to 
 speak of, and she was flushed as she welcomed 
 Cyril, with a full recognition of altered cirumstances 
 now he was an engaged man. 
 
 The first warm, hearty greeting over, the expected 
 confidences did not come as soon nor as fast as 
 might have been expected. 
 
 ^liss Burlington glanced once or twice at her 
 nephew. Finally she said, " I am longing to know 
 all about your engagement, my boy." 
 
 He laughed a little, but pleasantly. " I am glad 
 you have broken the ice. I shall like talking to 
 you about it." 
 
 As he spoke came a swift recollection that loyalty
 
 22 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 to his intended, prevented liis touching upon any 
 misgiving. Misgiving ! The thought rather startled 
 him. 
 
 Surely it was not so much that as a slight 
 feeling of discomfort, because she had in some way 
 disturbed his usual quiet complacency that day? 
 
 " You know without my saying it, how intensely 
 anxious I am for your happiness. It is, of course, 
 a great change and a serious matter." 
 
 " It is a very serious matter. She, Maria, is very 
 good and very beautiful." 
 
 "But it was not her beauty that first attracted 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! I do not know how it began. But 
 I think it wonderful she should have said yes. 
 She has so many others, and I am a dull fellow, 
 you know, and plain." 
 
 " You are not plain ; and even if you were, plain 
 men are never at a disadvantage." 
 
 " Ah ! but to judge fairly there must be compari-
 
 Aunt and Nephew, 23 
 
 son; and Maria is one of the most brilliant girls I 
 ever saw. She puts every one somehow into the 
 shade." 
 
 " That is in your eyes natural enough, " said Miss 
 Burlington, who was in a measure consoled, but 
 who still missed that loverlike tone she expected. 
 
 " You lay great stress upon her brilliancy, " she 
 said, after a moment's silence. 
 
 "There is no other word that expresses it so 
 well. She is different from other girls. But I trust 
 you will see her soon. We hope to be married 
 next month: and you, dear auntie, must be there," 
 he added affectionately. 
 
 " Of course, my dear. I had no idea you were 
 to be married so soon." 
 
 "There is nothing to wait for." 
 
 As the house w^as reached by this time, there 
 was no time for more. Cyril went to get ready for 
 dinner; but when he was alone in his room he 
 stood long looking out upon the fresh beauty
 
 24 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 of the undulating park and the deep shadows lying 
 on the grass under the trees. Soon he would stand 
 with her beside him, and all his life and her life 
 they would be together. He pictured her in the 
 house brightening it up, and adding cheerfulness to 
 its somewhat grave routine. Aunt Anne would 
 always, of course, be there, the quiet, reposeful, 
 central figure of his childhood, and this other figure 
 would bring sunshine. . . . 
 
 He started to find how quickly the time had 
 passed, and he dressed fast, leaving his room as 
 the voice of the deep-toned gong was ringing and 
 vibrating through the house. 
 
 He thoroughly enjoyed his dinner. The absence 
 of any exertion was so delightful to him. He was 
 conscious of the comfort given him, by being sur- 
 rounded by those who knew his ways. His pro- 
 longed absence had made him sensible of the differ- 
 ence between the careless service of those who 
 were indifferent to his likes and dislikes, and those
 
 Aunt and Nephew. 25 
 
 whose service was affectionate, and who were not 
 indifferent. 
 
 " It is good to be at home, " he said, when his 
 aunt and he sat once again alone. "And you have 
 a knack of making everything so easy. I am 
 afraid I am selfish and love my home comforts too 
 much. I miss them when I am away." 
 
 " Loving home is not selfishness. I am sure 
 my successor will make your home quite as home- 
 like, and give you increased interest in it. She 
 will brighten it up for you. I think, dear, you and 
 I alone here are too sober." 
 
 "Your successor, auntie! Ah, I see. Yes, I 
 suppose my wife will sit at the head of the table." 
 
 "My boy! You do not judge me so unwise as 
 to remain a third with you and with her." 
 
 Cyril Burlington looked at her in genuine surprise. 
 " What do you mean ? What plot have you been 
 hatching ? " 
 
 " I have been hatching no plot. It was always
 
 26 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 understood. I have always arranged to liv^e at the 
 Manor House when you married." 
 
 "At the Manor House?" 
 
 " It is best. In your absence I have been get- 
 ting it ready. You have no idea how pretty and 
 how cosy it looks. I want you to go and see it 
 with me ; I know you will like it. " 
 
 " I shall not like it at all. Auntie, do you think 
 this necessary ? " His voice was a little uncertain. 
 He was deeply moved, and much distressed. Never 
 for one moment had this crossed his mind. And 
 he reflected that he ought to have known and fore- 
 seen it. Now, he had all at once to reconcile 
 himself to this further change. The place, without 
 his aunt's sweet, familiar face, would be very differ- 
 ent to him. He could not think of it as home 
 without her, and he said so. "It will hardly feel 
 like home without you. " 
 
 "Just at first it may seem strange, dearest, but 
 the Manor House is such a little distance; ten
 
 Aunt and Nephe^v. 27 
 
 minutes only. I shall be at hand to meddle and in- 
 terfere, and give advice, and make myself generally 
 disagreeable, " she said, full of the coming change 
 to herself— the uprooting of all her habits — and 
 anxious to make light of it all, and to give a less 
 doleful tone to the whole thing. 
 
 He rose abruptly, and took up the favourite mas- 
 culine attitude before the fire, from which vantage 
 point it seems easier to say what requires an effort 
 to say. 
 
 " I may think you in the right, " he said, while 
 he still felt acutely the impending separation ; " but 
 I must have time to try to reconcile myself to it, 
 all. It is a new idea to me. When we have talked 
 of this place, Maria and I, we have always talked 
 of you and of your being here. " 
 
 " It is very sweet of her, but it is best. Why, if 
 I were your real mother, I should go all the same. 
 Young lives had better begin alone. It is wisest 
 and safest. "
 
 28 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 "And the servants?" 
 
 "I have said nothing, done nothing. It is for 
 you— for her to decide. " 
 
 " They must remain. " 
 
 "I advise you to decide nothing without her. It 
 would not be fair towards her. Write to her, and 
 ask her frankly what she wishes. " 
 
 " Perhaps you are right. " 
 
 " You can do so better now than at any other 
 time, because when I move there are one or two 
 who might go with me. And then you can pension 
 those who have been here for a great many years, 
 and are too old to seek other places." 
 
 Cyril Burlington began to realise that his mar- 
 riage would bring many changes besides those he 
 had anticipated. 
 
 The evening passed happily and quietly, and 
 nothing more was said as he sauntered under rhe 
 big trees with his aunt, his cigar just kept alight 
 by an occasional attention to it. The wonderful
 
 Aunt and Nephew. 29 
 
 stillness and hush of a place, isolated by its big park 
 from other human habitations, fell upon them both, 
 and when they said " Good night, " there was a 
 lingering tenderness in his manner which the elderly 
 lady felt to imply much. How much, she did 
 not know! For Cyril was asking himself whether 
 the affection he had won would make up for all 
 he was giving up, especially his aunt's companion- 
 ship. Decidedly, he was not altogether as much in 
 love as he had thought.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 GENERAL SURPRISE. 
 
 If Miss Anne Burlington was perturbed in spirit, 
 the acquaintances and soL-disant friends of Miss 
 Maria Kingson were immensely surprised. Such a 
 brilliant girl ! Such a dull man ! All these various 
 people were open-mouthed, and talked a good deal — 
 flatteringly to her face, not quite so flatteringly 
 behind her back. He was credited with a huge 
 fortune at one moment, and at the next believed 
 to have next to nothing. His place swelled to the 
 dimensions of a palace at one time, and dwindled 
 to the smallest villa all in a breath. In the absence
 
 General Surprise. 31 
 
 of an exciting newspaper topic, the engagement 
 was a good deal more discussed than would have 
 otherwise been the case, and it lasted as a subject 
 of conversation quite a week. Maria was congratu- 
 lated, and received the congratulations with a certain 
 sense of triumph. The surprise expressed was, to 
 her, always on the score of her consent, and this 
 gave her importance. It implied that she had the 
 world to choose from, and her experience was that 
 this was not her case. She had been much admired, 
 but had not been equally loved, lacking that indefin- 
 able charm which impels affection, and which is 
 oftenest found in girls neither brilliant nor beautiful. 
 She was amused by all she was told, and, besides 
 being flattered, was excited. 
 
 " He is silent, " she answered, frankly ; " but I 
 am sure I can get him to talk, and I like him!" 
 
 "So I suppose," would an admiring friend rejoin, 
 "but that is what we all think so odd. You are 
 brilUant, you know; you are very brilliant We
 
 32 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 always fancied you would make such a wonderful 
 marriage ! " 
 
 "No one can call this a bad marriage!" 
 
 "Not in any sense: a fine place and — money; 
 but one somehow expected a Member of Pariiament, 
 if not a Cabinet Minister to be your fate. You are 
 one of the few w^omen who could have a salon, 
 and ... ." 
 
 "Is there any reason why Mr. Burlington should 
 not be a Member of Parliament?" 
 
 * None, of course. He w^ould be a very silent 
 member. " 
 
 " Therefore the more appreciated. Votes are 
 wanted more than speeches." 
 
 This answer was generally conclusive. But there 
 was a certain relation of hers who was a woman 
 of the world and not a worldly woman, who was 
 anxious to put the future in a more just manner 
 to her. It jarred not a little upon her to hear the 
 open way in which Maria expressed her intention
 
 General Surprise. 33 
 
 of " managing " Mr. Burlington — of whom she her- 
 self had a very high opinion. " I do not think you 
 quite understand Mr. Burlington, my dear. His is 
 not a character that will brook management." 
 
 ** My dear cousin ! He will know nothing about it. 
 I mean to make him do always and at all times 
 exactly what I wish without his being aware of it. 
 It is one of the attractions. I intend pushing him 
 into action — rousing his ambition — you will see. Of 
 course, to succeed in anything one must know and 
 understand everything. But I am not afraid; I do 
 not think the task quite beyond me." Then the 
 cousin said no more. 
 
 "You will have plenty to do," said a girl friend 
 
 who clung in a picturesque attitude round her. She 
 
 generally had a girl worshipper beside her, and 
 
 liked it. She was attractive to her own sex, and 
 
 was never better pleased than when they showed 
 
 their devotion very openly. 
 
 " I mean to do it, " she answered seriously. " Up 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 ^ Brilliant Woitian, 
 
 till now I do not consider Mr. Burlington has really 
 lived. He has vegetated with a very old aunt in 
 the country. He wants life — he wants light and 
 coloiu" in his life. He will never be a brilliant man, 
 but he will be a different being in a few months." 
 
 This attitude towards her intented husband never 
 varied. The aunt in whose house Maria had always 
 lived could have explained a good deal that puzzled 
 the world, had she so chosen. In the history of ill- 
 assorted or unhappy marriages, it is always a fact 
 that their origin can be traced to interference on 
 the part of injudicious friends, certainly in nine 
 cases out of ten. 
 
 Mrs. Kingson's greatest wish had been to see Maria 
 married, and well married. It had been a disappoint- 
 ment to her to find that three or four seasons had 
 passed, and the girl so generally admired had never 
 had her opportunity. With a daughter of her own 
 (now sixteen) she wanted so much to see Maria com- 
 fortably disposed of, that she was pushed into active
 
 General Surprise. 35 
 
 measures she considered justifiable. She therefore 
 impressed upon both, in strictest confidence, that 
 the other was much in love. Mr. Burlington, who 
 had admired Miss Kingson very much (especially 
 for those brilliant qualities he was conscious of 
 being deficient in), was much touched and im- 
 mensely flattered to be assured by one who must 
 know (?) that this brilliant being loved him, while with 
 Maria quite a different argument was brought forward. 
 
 "Mr. Burlington is in love with you, Maria; 
 but, my dear child ! do not build any hopes upon 
 this. He is not a marrying man; and my belief is 
 that he is one of the cautious men who never will 
 risk a refusal. I suspect he will never marry! He 
 admires you, and, without knowing it, is in love 
 with you ; but, matrimony . . . No, my child, he is 
 out of your reach, and out of the reach of every 
 other woman." 
 
 " Perhaps, " said Maria, flushing. But the words 
 roused her ambition. To prove her aunt wrong, to
 
 36 A Brillta7it Woman, 
 
 achieve a triumph, became an object with her. In 
 her softened manner, her slightly lowered voice, 
 the way she appealed to him, Mr. Burlington read 
 complete confirmation of Mrs. Kingson's confidences. 
 He proposed, and both were absolutely ignorant of 
 the pressure brought to bear upon an important, 
 an all-important, step involving the happiness or 
 misery of two lives. They were placed in a false 
 position by this injudicious interference, and the 
 few weeks of their engagement were peculiar. 
 Mr. Burlington did not show all the rapture Maria 
 had expected. But she explained it as being 
 characteristic of a very reserved man; and, while 
 she was always very charming, she seemed to Mr. 
 Burlington to be more intent upon exacting admiration 
 from him than showing the violent affection she 
 was supposed to have conceived for him. 
 
 The situations might sometimes have been comical 
 had they not been pathetic. Then when those 
 explanations — inevitable in such cases — had taken
 
 General Surprise. 37 
 
 place between Mr. Burlington and Mr. Kingson, 
 when settlements, etc., came in question, something 
 had been told the lover which had appealed to all 
 his most generous sentiments, and a profound 
 compassion had increased his affection. All the 
 same, when Mr. Kingson openly acknowledged to 
 him that he was chivalric and very generous; he 
 knew very well that he was both; and the fact of 
 knowing a very mortifying secret of which Maria 
 knew nothing at all made him lenient towards 
 her, and, by appealing to the highest part of his 
 nature, increased his affection for his fiancee by 
 bringing that element of pity into play which is 
 akin to love. 
 
 Upon her side, with that profound belief in his 
 devotion and her own powers — a belief in herself 
 engendered by being prettier, brighter, and more 
 free from shyness than any of her immediate 
 surroundings- her vanity, fostered by the admiration 
 and adulation of schoolgirls, who considered her as
 
 38 A Brilliant Wo?fian. 
 
 something peculiarly charming, Maria accepted Mr. 
 Burlington with the serious determination of bringing 
 him out — of making something of him. 
 
 "He wants," she said to herself, reflectively, " the 
 light touch of a woman's spirit. He is devoted to 
 me. It shall be my task to make a man of him ! '* 
 Poor Mr. Burlington! 
 
 She was a little disappointed to find that he did 
 not apparently appreciate her efforts; but then he 
 was evidently unaware of his own deficiencies and 
 ignorant of her accomplishments, which, she con- 
 sidered, surpassed those of other girls, always taking 
 her relations as a standard. 
 
 "Mr. Burlington, not knowing this superiority, is 
 not appreciative," she thought again, weighing" him 
 in the balance, and finding him wanting. 
 
 It will be seen that Mr. Burlington had a good 
 deal to learn about his future wife. Most men have. 
 When their plans were discussed he told her of his 
 aunt and of all her tender care of his youth; of the
 
 General Surprise. 39 
 
 sorrow surrounding his home in those early days, 
 and of the place itself. 
 
 "Perhaps you may like to alter something," he 
 said, with a sigh of regret; "I cannot expect you 
 to like things exactly as I do." 
 
 "We shall see," she said, kindly. "But rococo 
 things have a charm, and I like very old people." 
 
 "My aunt is not very old." 
 
 "No? And yet she brought you up." 
 
 " She is about sixty, young and active for her age." 
 
 "Ah." 
 
 " I wanted to consult you about several things, " 
 he said, seeing his opportunity ; " and I wanted to 
 tell you a good deal about the place." 
 
 " I am listening with both my ears and all my 
 intelligence," she answered, gaily, taking up some 
 very fine embroidery, and applying herself to the 
 congenial task of laying out the lovely coloured 
 silks before her. 
 
 " I had hoped — I knew you would also have
 
 40 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 wished — that my aunt had remained with us," he 
 began, hoping for an expression of opinion to this 
 effect. 
 
 "And she has gone?" 
 
 " She is going. I feel her departure more than I 
 can say, and I am sure if you had met she would 
 have seen at once that her scruples about staying 
 on with us were groundless.** 
 
 "As you dislike her going, I am sorry she is 
 going to take that step," answered Maria, carefully 
 matching two shades of brown. 
 
 "Then you do not enter into my feeling about 
 it?" he said, with gravity. 
 
 " I quite enter into your feeling. But I think she 
 is wise. We agreed always to speak the truth to 
 each other, so I may tell you my own feeling." 
 
 "We did. But you like old people?" 
 
 "Really old people, yes. But this aunt you say 
 is not very old, and she might interfere, and, if I 
 may speak the real truth, I think it would have
 
 General Surprise. 41 
 
 been a bore." said Maria, with much composure. 
 
 Mr. Burlington wished the truth to be rule be- 
 tween them, but he had not expected the truth to 
 be quite so brutal. There was, he thought, a want 
 of kind feeling in this view of the case. "Ah!" 
 said Maria, laughing the spontaneous laugh which 
 he had generally fancied so a,ttractive, but which 
 he did not admire at this moment, "put to the test, 
 the truth does not please you!" 
 
 Cyril struggled against his feeling of annoyance 
 and tried to speak good-temperedly. "I wish for 
 the truth and only the truth. I am vexed that 
 this should be your feeling on the subject. My aunt 
 is very dear to me; I should be an ungrateful 
 animal if it were otherwise ... I love her so much 
 and know her cleverness and pleasantness so well, 
 that the idea of her boring you or anyone else is 
 simply absurd." 
 
 "But as a perpetual third, my dear good Cyril 
 do you not see that she would be distinctly matter
 
 42 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 in a wrong place? However, never mind, if speak- 
 ing the truth offends and irritates you so much, let 
 us leave it alone. " She held her soft white hand 
 out towards him in token of amity. " This is not 
 encouraging," he said, trying to shake off his vexed 
 and hurt impression, " and I have really many 
 things to consult you about." 
 
 Maria laid aside her work, and folded her hands 
 upon her lap. All her better feelings rose. This man 
 might be dull, but he was true and honest and generous, 
 she thought to herself. "I was wrong," she said, 
 with a penitence which he thought very charming. 
 " With you it is a matter of affection, and I have 
 treated it too lightly. You must forgive me ! 
 Frankly, I do think it is better to be alone, but I 
 might have said it differently." 
 
 He this time kissed the extended hand. Her con- 
 session raised her in his opinion and in his esteem. 
 
 "Now, dear Cyril, say on! What other things 
 do you wish to talk over with me?"
 
 General Surprise. 43 
 
 ** About the servants. ** 
 
 " Old family servants ? " 
 
 - Yes. " 
 
 "What about them?" 
 
 " Are they to stay or are they to go ? What do 
 you think; what do you wish?" 
 
 " It depends so much upon the light in which 
 they look upon your marriage. If they think me 
 an interloper and resent my coming into the 
 family. . . . An old servant who knows your ways 
 and the ways of the house would be a help at 
 first. Let things be, Cyril. When I am established 
 there, it will be easy to arrange these things." 
 
 This, at any rate, was pleasant. 
 
 And then Maria said something which amused 
 him, but which was not so pleasant: — 
 
 " I want to go abroad at first. " 
 
 ♦* Abroad? " 
 
 " Yes, dear ; you must take me to Paris and other 
 places. Don't look so alarmed. I will be your
 
 44 ^"i Brilliant Woman. 
 
 interpreter. You need not be frightened; you will 
 never be asked to try to understand or speak a 
 single word of any language but your own. " 
 
 Cyril could hardly keep his countenance, but the 
 tone in which she spoke was a little trying. Hap- 
 pily, amusement preponderated. After all, with so 
 candid a nature, it would be his own fault if they 
 did not pull together. 
 
 ** Certainly, we can go abroad if you wish it, * 
 he said, hiding his disappointment ; he much wanted 
 to be at home again, and at that time of the year 
 Paris would be a desert. 
 
 " I do w^ish it. And going abroad is so good 
 for everyone. You will feel quite a different man 
 when you have been there. " 
 
 " I daresay I shall, '* he answered laughingly. 
 
 It never occurred to her to ask him whether he 
 had ever been abroad, and it amused him not a 
 little to leave her to find out this and other things. 
 
 Then they settled one or two minor points, and
 
 General Surprise 45 
 
 went their several ways. The impression left upon 
 his mind was that there was a charming nature to 
 deal with. How sweet she had been when she 
 saw she had vexed him! Then her amusing way 
 of settling that he could know no language but his 
 own, and the little airs of superiority she gave 
 herself, came before him, and he laughed out loud. 
 Decidedly, he was not much in love.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A WRONG START. 
 
 Through no fault of their own, the engaged couple, 
 placed from the first in a false position in relation 
 to each other, were unlover-like, to say the least 
 of it. Had Mr. Burlington been in love, he might 
 have been hurt by Maria's indifference about details 
 interesting to most girls. But he accounted for 
 everything by the violent affection she was supposed 
 to have conceived for him, and he set everything 
 down to that affection being so sincere and supreme 
 as to dwarf all other things. It was nice of her 
 not to be exacting, and he was so terribly conscious
 
 A Wrong Start 47 
 
 of being himself in an attitude of criticism much 
 oftener than he wished, that he tried hard to make 
 amends. It was provoking to be amused and alive 
 to her vanity, which was not shown as regarded her 
 personal appearance, but which showed itself in 
 many ways when questions of taste, artistic things, 
 music-books, or any intellectual questions were 
 brought forward. 
 
 Maria in well-chosen words gave her opinion, 
 with an air as if her dictum was final. " I don't 
 approve," or " I quite approve of it," was said and 
 was supposed to extinguish discussion. Her character 
 was an amusing study to Cyril, and it did not occur 
 to him that this was hardly the right way to begin 
 married life, and that he was acting wrongly. He 
 admired her very much indeed, and he thought of 
 her in the old home as a brilliant addition. She 
 would look picturesque; and — he had his aunt. It 
 was a great disappointment to find that she had 
 rheumatism and could not come to the wedding.
 
 48 yi Brilliant Woman. 
 
 He even suggested postponing it for a few days, 
 and he regretted having made the suggestion imme- 
 diately. 
 
 But Maria was not put out. She merely passed 
 it over without comment, said very prettily how 
 sorry she was for his vexation, and gave him to 
 understand that the arrangements could in no way 
 be altered. 
 
 He was more disturbed than he liked to own by 
 the absence of the only mother he had ever known. 
 On this important occasion he had naturally longed 
 for her presence, and had hoped to show, by in- 
 creased tenderness and solicitude, that his marriage 
 would make no difference as regarded the affection- 
 ate relations existing between them. 
 
 Alaria saw his annoyance, and, having asserted 
 herself, expressed regrets for his disappointment in 
 a still more charming way. She liked saying kind 
 things to everyone, and was on such excellent 
 terms with herself that she ungrudgingly endeavoured
 
 A Wrong Start 49 
 
 to put others also on good terms with themselves. 
 This, indeed, was one secret of her widespread 
 popularity. Everyone likes to be " appreciated, " 
 and for the moment the appreciation was generally 
 sincere. Afterwards those captious people whom 
 nothing quite satisfies, were provoked by an appre- 
 ciation which was not distinctive. They liked kind 
 Avords which they felt were quite justifiable regarding 
 themselves; but they considered those same words 
 singularly inappropriate applied to some commonplace 
 acquaintance they looked down upon. 
 
 Maria had such a habit of wishing to please, that 
 she was quite sincere. If the atmosphere of adula- 
 tion had given her an exaggerated idea of her 
 own attributes, she was, all the same, quite willing 
 to pass on admiration to others, though, of course, 
 in a minor degree, and where she had a real 
 regard she was doubly anxious to please. She had 
 a very sincere regard for Mr. Burlington. She 
 
 thought it a triumphant proof of her superiority 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 ^o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 that he should be so much in love with her, and 
 that he— avowedly not a marrying man — should 
 have proposed to her. Never were two people more 
 entirely in the dark about the motives of the other ! 
 His opinion varied according to his mood. At one 
 moment her openly expressed indifference as to 
 having one bridesmaid or twelve was a proof of 
 superiority and of being above trifles; at another 
 moment it looked odd, and like — indifference. 
 
 It was not likely that Cyril Burlington should 
 realise that to Maria he was at present interesting to 
 her as means to an end — as an accident in her life, 
 without which she could not achieve the position 
 she aimed at. She acknowledged that she had a task 
 before her, and no light one, and poor Mr. Burlington 
 was in very complete ignorance of all the plans 
 floating in her very active brain regarding himself. 
 
 He looked forward without perhaps much enthusi- 
 asm to a quiet domestic life with a companion 
 who was distinctly amiable, even-tempered, and
 
 A Wrong Start. 51 
 
 affectionate — who in time would share his duties, 
 his pleasures, or his anxieties, and whose brilliant 
 personality would brighten the home. 
 
 She looked forward to a dazzling career, a bril- 
 liant salon, her husband by her exertions an active 
 member of Parliament, occasionally proving in a 
 few well-chosen words how completely he had 
 mastered the burning questions of the day ; and as 
 very privately she had not much confidence in his 
 oratorical powers, she fully resolved to supply him 
 with all his eloquence and most of his facts. 
 
 People little knew what she would make of him ! Her 
 heart thrilled as she looked at the picture which her 
 vivid imagination depicted. She saw herself the central 
 figure of an admiring throng, statesmen consulting her 
 and hanging on her words, a gratefiil husband always 
 at hand, and sceptical firiends compelled to admiration. 
 
 What (compared with this remarkable picture) 
 signified the number of her bridesmaids or the colour 
 and cut of their garments? 

 
 c^2 A Brilliant Wojnan. 
 
 Finally they were married. 
 
 Cyril took the vows solemnly, and with a very 
 full sense of responsibility. Maria looked beautiful^ 
 was extremely composed, and, as she had no father 
 or mother to part from, there was no distressing 
 farewell — always rather embarrassing if in public. 
 
 l^hey were getting near Paris, when she suddenly 
 remarked that it was stupid not to have thought 
 about rooms; they might find it difficult to get 
 what they wanted. 
 
 "Be reassured," said Cyril, laughing. " I have 
 got rooms, but Paris is a desert just now. August 
 sends every one out of the place except travellers 
 like ourselves. " Maria was surprised, but expressed 
 herself pleased by his thoughtfulness. 
 
 " You forget that you have some one to arrange 
 these things for you now, " he said, in a pecuHar tone. 
 
 Maria smiled, and said no more ; but she was a 
 little at a disadvantage, and knew it. She had 
 other things to learn. The hotel was charming,
 
 A Wrong Start 53 
 
 thoroughly French, and they were welcomed with 
 much enthusiasm, conducted to very pretty rooms, 
 and before the young wife had time to collect her 
 ideas or air her French, she heard her husband 
 speaking rapidly, and fluently giving his orders, 
 answering innumerable questions, evidently quite at 
 home; very much more so than she was herself. 
 Maria was terribly mortified, and remembered only 
 too well her various speeches and offers of help in 
 a direction evidently so little required. 
 
 The rooms were delightful, and a very perfect 
 little luncheon was served at once, but Maria could 
 not forget her mortification. It dimmed her usual 
 cheerfulness. A wound to one's vanity is always 
 difiicult to digest, and it is all the more difficult 
 when it happens to be a new experience. 
 
 Cyril noticed the little cloud, and never for a 
 moment attributed it to the right cause. " You are 
 tired?" he said kindly. 
 
 " No ; not tired. Cyril, why did you let me talk ?
 
 54 ^ Brilliant Woman, 
 
 Why did you not frankly say that you knew French 
 well, and had been here often?'* 
 
 " Oh, is it that ? " he said, laughing. ** I am afraid I 
 was amused at the time, since everyone knows French 
 in these days, and most men know their Paris! " 
 
 •* Everyone does not know French, " she an- 
 swered ; " I know many people who do not. " The 
 question to her was too important to be lightly 
 done Avith. 
 
 She sat silent for a moment, and then spoke 
 quietly but reproachfully. " I suppose you were 
 laughing at me all the time. It was not fair. " 
 
 ** I am sorry. Was it shabby of me ? It amused 
 me a little, but I had forgotten it. Forget it now, 
 dear! I knew you would find it out for yourself, 
 sooner or later. " 
 
 ** But you looked so bored when I spoke of 
 coming here. " 
 
 " What a libel ! But Paris with its theatres 
 closed, its best cooks absent, is as dull as London
 
 A Wrong Start 55 
 
 in September. In the season Paris has many 
 attractions, and I have many friends here. I Uke 
 it in its holiday dress, when it has no pinafores on. " 
 
 " Ah ! " said his wife, with a long curious look 
 at him. Was Cyril penitent? Against this con- 
 clusion was a suppressed look of amusement; and 
 she resented this. She was not of a nature able 
 to put personal annoyance upon one side. She felt 
 somehow placed in the wrong, and anxious to 
 argue herself into a more comfortable frame of 
 mind. She pursued the subject with tenacity. 
 
 " How many more languages do you know ? " 
 she asked now with much gravity. 
 
 He was a little annoyed by her persistence. He 
 wished the subject changed, as it evidently ruffled 
 her; and he was sincerely anxious to make her 
 forget that any jar had occurred. After all, this 
 was such a trifle! He could not understand that 
 to her it was no trifle. At the outset of their 
 married life she had found out that she had been
 
 56 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 completely in error, and, to one who had been 
 allowed to consider herself superior in all ways, 
 the first descent from such a pinnacle was painful. 
 " I am not a great linguist, " he answered lightly ; 
 " of course, when you know Latin and French, 
 other languages are more or less easy. " 
 
 " There you are wrong, I know, " said Maria, 
 with a note of triumph in her voice. " Latin and 
 French may help with Italian; but German — they 
 can do you no earthly good in that direction ! " 
 
 " And yet German grammar comes much more 
 easily after Latin grammar, " he answered laughing. 
 
 " Oh, I am not thinking of grammar ; the great 
 thing is to be able to speak and to understand." 
 
 " And grammar is of no use, eh ? " 
 
 She was afraid of not holding her position. So 
 she asked him again. " How many languages can 
 you speak ? " 
 
 "If you put it in that way, I speak German 
 and Italian. "
 
 A Wrong Start 57 
 
 " And you have been to Germany and Italy ? " 
 
 " Often. " 
 
 She was silent. It seemed so extraordinary to 
 her that she had never realised that he had been 
 so much abroad. She had taken into her head 
 from the first that he was a typical Englishman 
 whose public-school days had deprived him of 
 foreign advantages. 
 
 " Where have you been besides ? " she asked at 
 length ; * I am ready to believe you have been to 
 China — every^vhere. " 
 
 He laughed. " I have travelled a good deal, and 
 I regret now that I visited all the places I went 
 to, when I was very young — Japan, China, Russia. 
 My dear aunt sent me abroad every holiday, and 
 I liked going. I had a very clever tutor, and w^e 
 enjoyed it all. Looking back now I see my mistake 
 was giving up the University for this. I took the 
 crude notions of a youth everywhere with me, and 
 lost much. If I had been first to Oxford, and had
 
 58 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 gone on with a more matured mind, it would have 
 left more satisfactory results behind." 
 
 Maria was completely silenced for a few moments. 
 Cyril at length asked her what she was thinking about. 
 
 • I am thinking, " she answered, in a tone of slow 
 resentment, "that you have not behaved fairly or 
 well to me. Why did you never tell me all this? 
 It seems strange." 
 
 " If you will look back," he said, quietly, ** you 
 will see that more than once I wished to tell you 
 about my various exploits, and you invariably snubbed 
 me. I remember an instance regarding Japan. " 
 
 Maria's face grew hot. She remembered that on 
 one occasion she had peremptorily stopped a discussion 
 about a book she had liked, and, having always con- 
 sidered her husband as perfectly unintellectual, she 
 had refused to listen to his reasons for disliking the 
 book, which was on Japan, its manners, customs, 
 and position in art. 
 
 Cyril misinterpreted her silence, and said kindly.
 
 A Wrong Start 59 
 
 "When you like, dear, you shall see my notes, 
 follow my wanderings, and criticise my sketches. 
 I used to enjoy everything at the time. Now I 
 am longing to be at home again, to begin my home- 
 life with you to brighten it all for me." 
 
 She was a little mollified by this speech. That 
 she had not quite forgotten, he soon had occasion 
 to know. 
 
 They went out and dined at an excellent restaurant, 
 where he had ordered the dinner beforehand. 
 
 As they left it she proposed strolling through the 
 Champs Elysees instead of driving, and he acquiesced. 
 They passed a small open-air theatre with the usual 
 little crowd behind it. Maria stopped, rather to his 
 surprise. Then she said, " Though you put me in 
 the wrong to-day about languages and things, you 
 are not always right. You said all the theatres 
 were shut. You see for yourself that at any rate 
 one is open!" 
 
 Cyril was so surprised, that words completely
 
 6o A Brilliaut IVoman. 
 
 failed him. He could not understand the oiFence 
 he had been guilty of, and to explain the distinctions 
 between the theatres he had referred to and this, 
 seemed hardly worth while. 
 
 She laughed triumphantly. On another point she 
 considered she had equally scored. He had spoken 
 of the shops — of things being in pinafores. The 
 shops were tolerably full of those stuffs of brilliant 
 hues supposed to be attractive to foreign tourists 
 and especially made for their delectation. Maria 
 bought largely, and it was evident to her husband 
 that here again their tastes were not in accord. He 
 preferred quiet tints and detested anything that 
 rustled. His wife did not object to quiet tints, but 
 she liked things to look, as she expressed it, like 
 their money's worth, and everything she wore, as a 
 rule, did rustle more or less. 
 
 Very wisely, however, he left this to her, and 
 felt it better not to interfere. The day for their return 
 home was fixed, and nothing occurred again to disturb
 
 A Wrong Start. 6i 
 
 the harmony between them. But in Cyril's mind 
 arose the grave reflection, that to keep his wife in 
 brilliant spirits, not to dim her lustre, he must never 
 for a moment show her that she was making a 
 mistake. She must be allowed to suppose herself 
 infallible, and in his own mind Cyril felt this condi- 
 tion to be impossible of fulfilment. 
 
 Occasions must — probably often would — arise when 
 the impossibility would be manifest. This uncom- 
 fortable conclusion was for the moment overshadowed 
 by that sense of amusement which was at present, 
 the result of the critical attitude of his mind regarding 
 her. With the great affection he had been assured 
 she had conceived for him, a day would probably 
 come when she would follow his leading; and her 
 self-assertion was merely the remains of a girlish 
 wish to be always in the position of one who knows 
 everything and has nothing to learn. This idea 
 brought him some consolation.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Miss Anne Burlington was a little puzzled by 
 her nephew's letters, but gathered from their cheer- 
 fulness that all was going well with him and the 
 wife he had chosen. She was more puzzled as to 
 what her exact line of conduct should be on the 
 occasion of their home-coming ; and no hint was 
 conveyed to her of what she was expected to do, 
 or what part she was to take in their reception. 
 
 Should she be there to welcome them, or had she 
 better not receive them ? It may be remarked that 
 in all matters of principle, " Aunt Anne " or " Auntie "
 
 Home. 63 
 
 was extremely decided, and that in matters of con- 
 duct where no principle was involved she was an 
 extremely undecided person. She changed her mind 
 at least fifty times that day, and drove the servants 
 to despair. Luckily for everyone Marsham had 
 views of his own, and his views carried the day. 
 " You just stand there, ma'am, " he said, firmly, but 
 with all due respect ; " and look pleased at the young 
 lady. If you are not there she'll maybe fancy she 
 is not welcome. " 
 
 " I think your advice is good, Marsham ; not that 
 I want to look as if the place was mine. You do 
 not suppose that she will think I am trying to look 
 like being mistress of the house still ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am ; why should she ? But if the new 
 mistress is shy a bit — as no doubt she is shy — it 
 will look friendly; and master will miss your face 
 — you know that, I am sure. I think he would take 
 it unfriendly if you are not the first person he sees. " 
 
 This was so true that Miss Anne acted on it,
 
 64 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 and made up her mind to be there and to give that 
 smile of welcome. 
 
 All day she was busy with those final touches 
 which arose partly from nervousness (she always 
 dreaded strangers) and partly from a sincere wish 
 to please her nephew's wife. She moved a flower- 
 vase, and put fresh roses wherever she fancied 
 the heat of the day had dimmed their exquisite 
 freshness. It was a trying day for her in many 
 ways. 
 
 When but still a child, barely touching the bor- 
 derland of girlhood, she had been there, waiting for 
 the arrival of her sister and the new brother who 
 had afterwards become so much to her. She recalled 
 now, as she laid a loving and lingering touch 
 upon some of the beautiful china, how she had 
 helped to wash those rare vases, and carry them 
 from the big china-closet, — in which they had been 
 so carefully kept, — to deck the rooms. She sat down 
 to try to recover her cheerfulness, and to bring
 
 Home. 6 c 
 
 back a spirit more in keeping with the day's hopes. 
 Instead of looking back, she must look forward, and 
 she resolutely pushed memory on one side, and 
 braced herself to meet the young w^ife happily. 
 
 Young Mrs. Burlington upon her side was, it may 
 be remarked, not at all shy. She was full of very 
 pleasant excitement , she was going to receive doubt- 
 less an ovation, which might be attributed (she 
 allow^ed in a great degree) to her husband's position 
 in the county; but while aware of this she also 
 intended that the ovation should become a very 
 enthusiastic one when she was seen. She had deter- 
 mined to win everybody's heart, and her dress was 
 carefully studied. Even Mr. Burlington, who noticed 
 xiress in detail very little, and who had often been 
 made conscious of his deficiency in this direction 
 by his wife, was struck by it. 
 
 Her tall figure w^as draped in diaphanous white 
 
 muslin, and a Leghorn hat a la Gainsborough was 
 
 undeniably becoming, and a dust cloak shrouded 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 her till they reached the station, when it was 
 discarded. 
 
 Nothing was wanting to complete her satisfaction : 
 tenants on horseback, tenants on foot, joybells ring- 
 ing, triumphal arches — drooping from the heat and 
 looking a little sorr).^ for themselves, as triumphal 
 arches have a way of doing under a broiling sun — 
 schoolchildren, and all else. Everything was just 
 as it should be. 
 
 Mr. Burlington glanced at his wife — she might 
 be a little overwhelmed and emotional at so public 
 a demonstration. 
 
 He himself felt a huskiness in his throat, and was 
 much impressed by the cordiality and evidence of 
 kindly feeling which went quite beyond his expecta- 
 tions; but Maria was radiant with satisfaction, 
 smiling and bowing right and left, and as far from 
 being emotional as she could well be. 
 
 This was, of course, satisfactory ; but that tiresome 
 capability of criticism which had tormented him
 
 Home. 67 
 
 before, made him think that a little emotion would 
 have been more becoming, and more in keeping 
 with his own sentiments. 
 
 However, they drove up under the arching lime 
 trees to the house, where Aunt Anne, half smiles 
 and half tears, enfolded him in her motherly em- 
 brace, and where the two dozen servants were 
 arranged to greet their ncAv mistress. 
 
 Then Aunt Anne embraced young Mrs. Burlington, 
 and she confessed to herself that the word " brilliant " 
 exactly suited her. Maria performed her part gra- 
 ciously and gracefully, and turned to view the 
 heterogeneous crowd clustering round the front 
 door steps. 
 
 She smiled, bowed, and was immensely cheered; 
 and then she took her husband and everyone else 
 by surprise. wShe stepped forward before her aston- 
 ished " protector, " and made the assembled mul- 
 titude a little speech, in which there was less of 
 the thanks for their trouble in showing' their
 
 68 A Brilliatit Woman. 
 
 goodwill by riding and walking several miles to 
 welcome " the happy pair" than of kindly patronage. 
 Aunt Anne was so surprised that she gave a little 
 gasp. ]\Ir. Burlington finished off his wife's speech 
 by heartfelt thanks, supplemented what she had left 
 unsaid, and invited them all to have refreshments 
 before they returned home. 
 
 Certainly, young Mrs. Burlington w^as not shy! 
 Aunt Anne was pressed to remain and dine, but 
 she declined. She was tired by the long day's 
 many little duties, and was longing for rest, Maria 
 turned to her husband and said, "Pray, see your 
 aunt home, Cyril; you have plenty of time, and I 
 shall be glad to get rid of you for a little." She 
 nodded, flashed one of her most radiant smiles at 
 him, and disappeared. 
 
 When the aunt and nephew were alone, the 
 young wife was the one subject never mentioned. 
 Mr. Burlington was longing to speak of her, but 
 found his words might take the form almost of an
 
 Home. 69 
 
 apology, and thought it best left alone, and Aunt 
 Anne was much too bewildered to mention her; in 
 her quiet, serene life, no one exactly like her had 
 ever crossed her path, but for that reason she could 
 not make up her mind about her. At any rate time 
 will show, she thought; and this stereot3^ped com- 
 fort she held to, as she talked now of one or two 
 changes in the house, next of the gardens, the sad 
 decay of a giant oak in the park, and of those 
 many trifles magnified into interests of importance 
 in the monotony of a very quiet life. 
 
 And if Mr. Burlington was disappointed at any 
 rate he did not show that he was so. He sat some 
 time with his aunt, much approved of her arrange- 
 ^ ments, and hurried home a little late, glad that so 
 short a distance separated him from the comfort 
 and counsel she might give him. 
 
 His wife was in great good humour. "I am 
 sure you will like to know how thoroughly pleased 
 I am with my new home," she said, passing her
 
 70 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 arm through his as they went to dinner. " Every- 
 thing is so pretty, so quaint, and on such a big 
 scale. I never reaUsed what an important place it 
 was. I am charmed with it." 
 
 "It is a nice old place. But it has never been 
 very cheerful. I look to you, dear, to brighten it 
 up a bit." 
 
 " Indeed I will. People will soon call, and we 
 shall gather many of the best people round us. 
 This place has great capabilities!" 
 
 They took their places as she said this, and the 
 presence of Marsham and the footmen prevented 
 any rejoinder; but Cyril reflected that the brightness 
 he had alluded to had not, in his own mind, re- 
 ferred to other people, even of the best sort. 
 
 The dinner was good, and, though the small 
 table looked very small in the big dining-room, 
 there was still so bright a light from the westering 
 sun that it did not lack cheerfulness. 
 
 Cyril called his wife's attention to one or two
 
 Hofne. 7 1 
 
 pictures — heirlooms, and of great value. Maria 
 looked at them very attentively. Then she gave 
 a little smile, and said, in French, " Very good 
 copies — but only copies." 
 
 Cyril laughed, though he was not particularly 
 pleased. " It is as well Aunt Anne did not hear 
 you. I assure you they are original; they have a 
 history. " 
 
 " ]\Iy dear Cyril, ever}^ house of any pretensions 
 in England has one or more pictures with histories. 
 I am sure I have seen the originals of these 
 somewhere; and as to Aunt Anne, I do trust she 
 won't mind my being a truthful person. It is one 
 of my few merits. " She finished with one of her 
 most brilliant smiles, as if challenging his answer. 
 
 " There is a difference in speaking the truth and 
 asserting what you merely believe to be the truth." 
 
 **Ah, I see it does not answer with you. I can 
 easily avoid giving an opinion, but it I give one, 
 I must say exactly what I think. "
 
 72 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " In that case it would be well to inform yourself 
 accurately beforehand on any subject you intend to 
 dogmatise upon." 
 
 " Well, nev^cr mind now ; we can talk of some- 
 thing- else, " said young Mrs. Burlington, much as 
 if she was giving in to a dreadfully spoiled child. 
 
 Cyril was annoyed to find how much her tone 
 ruffled him. Afraid of betraying annoyance, he 
 remained silent. 
 
 Maria after a little while rose, and sauntered over 
 to the window; then opened it, and went out into 
 the shrubbery. Her husband watched her graceful 
 figure for a moment. It shocked and distressed 
 him that at the very outset of their home life they 
 had drifted into something verging on a quarrel! 
 He hurried into the grounds after her. She turned 
 to greet him with her usual pretty smile. He drew 
 her hand under his arm, and they paced the walks 
 and explored the more distant terraces, from where 
 a beautiful view of the rich and lovely land lying
 
 Home. 7 3 
 
 below the park, swept on till merged in the golden 
 haze of the sunset. 
 
 Cyril would have given much for a few words 
 to show perfect harmony with each other's thoughts ; 
 but he was deterred, because if he expressed regret 
 that there had been a little jar between them she 
 might accept it as an apolog}^ and he was much 
 too honest to offer one where none was justly 
 demanded from him. vSo an occasional remark re- 
 quiring very feA\' words by way of answer made 
 the sum total of their conversation that evening. 
 
 All the same, he felt the influence of the hour, 
 
 the hush and stillness which succeed the busy day, 
 
 the sleepy notes of the birds, the mysterious shadows 
 
 ^ which make even jarring discords of colour blend 
 
 into harmony. He trusted she felt it too. 
 
 All at once Maria gave a little ladylike yawn. 
 " I think, " she said, in her softest tone, " as I am 
 very tired, and we are boring each other dread- 
 fully, I shall go in and go to bed. "
 
 74 ^ Brilh'ant Wo7?ia7i. 
 
 She slipped her hand away from his arm, and 
 walked across the lawn. It was still early, and 
 her husband watched her as he had done before, 
 and saw her go into the house, and again found 
 himself making excuses for her. Of course she was 
 tired; people who show their emotions least, are 
 precisely those who feel them most, he said to 
 himself. 
 
 When he was tired of walking up and down he 
 also went in, and, taking one of his favourite books, 
 read for some time. But, altogether, this was not 
 quite what he had imagined his married life would 
 be, or the way in which his first evening at home 
 would be spent, when his young wife was in the 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE COUNTY MAP. 
 
 It was unfortunate (in the eyes of ^Ir. Burlington 
 at least) that the day which followed that of their 
 home-coming was one of the wettest days on re- 
 cord ; at least so every one said. Had the sun been 
 shining, the place would have looked very lovely 
 with the wealth of foliage, the gay flower-beds, and 
 the sparkle on the fountain. But the rain came 
 down in that hopeless, persistent way which is at 
 all times very aggravating. Cyril woke to the 
 melancholy sound of patter and drip on the con- 
 servatory, and dressed to the same tune, which was
 
 76 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 depressing-. Everything has its drawback, and the 
 drawback of a big conservatory tacked on to a 
 house is the aggressive noise of pattering rain, which 
 is never anything but a trial. 
 
 It was with reluctance that he went to the break- 
 fast-room. Anxious to do the honours of his place 
 well, he felt, as others have felt before him, as if 
 in some way he was responsible for the lack of 
 sunshine — as if he ought to apologise for that and 
 all other deficiencies. But j\Iaria was engrossed in 
 a pile of letters, looked up for a moment to bid 
 him a cheerful welcome, and did not seem to notice 
 that anything was wrong. She put away her let- 
 ters and prepared to make his tea, and was in a 
 very cheerful, pleasant mood. What a charm there 
 is in such an even temper, thought her husband, 
 in profound admiration. A great number of people 
 would be annoyed by such a damp and depressing 
 atmosphere by way of welcome. 
 
 "I am very sorry you ha\-e such a wet day for
 
 The County Map. 77 
 
 your first day at home," he said, with real regret. 
 * I was longing to show you the place. " 
 
 "Is it raining?" she asked, looking out of the 
 window. " I declare it is raining, and very hard ; 
 not that it matters ; I want to look over things, see 
 the capabilities of the house, and have really a 
 great deal to see, to do, and to arrange." 
 
 " I am very glad you are so independent of the 
 weather, " he said, cordially. " And I shall like 
 showing you the house myself When will you 
 come — at once?" 
 
 "As soon as I have seen the housekeeper," she 
 answered, laughing. " I suppose I may finish my 
 breakfast first?" 
 
 He joined in her laugh, which was rather infec- 
 tious. Though the weather was bad outside, certainly 
 everything was very cheerful within this morning. 
 " Before seeing the house or anything else, I 
 want to see a map of this part of the country. 
 Have you got a good one?"
 
 7 8 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 •* Yes, in the library ; and a map of the property. 
 What do you particularly want to know ?" 
 
 " I want to know who are our neighbours, how 
 many wc have, and the various distances." 
 
 " Oh, about neighbours. . . I suppose they will 
 soon find you out. I am afraid I was never so- 
 ciable enough to please them. " He spoke with a 
 certain hesitation, and finished by remarking. " I 
 am sure they will all be kind." His wife was 
 struck by his tone. " I suppose they will all call. 
 As to being kind — is there any reason why they 
 should be unkind ? It is an odd \vay of putting it. " 
 
 " Is it, dear ? You see I have a great deal to 
 learn," he said, in a curious voice. "You must 
 show me how to put things. Now, pray, see Mrs. 
 Butt, and join me in the library afterwards." 
 
 Maria went off full of her interview. She had 
 a pleasant manner, and everything went smoothly. 
 Mrs. Butt much respected a lady who understood 
 offhand so much about made dishes, and Maria was
 
 The County Map. 79 
 
 always willing to accept homage from anyone. 
 Then she went to the library, and studied the map 
 in very real earnest. She was longing to make 
 acquaintance with everyone, and most anxious to 
 begin her "career" at once. It must be frankly 
 stated that, if mischief arose out of the innocent 
 study of the county map, Mr. Burlington himself 
 was to blame. The masculine mind often fails to 
 understand that a prohibition, a slur over anything, 
 or a Httle mystery on any given point, serves to 
 concentrate the feminine mind upon that point. In 
 dilating upon the large possessions of the Beryls, 
 the Adleyboumes and others who possessed smaller 
 properties, he carefully abstained from pointing 
 out one of the nearest places, passing it over 
 quickly, though it actually dovetailed into the home 
 farm and faced an entrance to his own park. 
 
 Maria promptly noticed this, and, laying her fin- 
 ger on the spot, asked him whose it was, and why 
 he had omitted it.
 
 8o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 "The people who live there are not friends of 
 mine," he said, shortly. "I hardly think they will 
 call. ... If they do, you need only just return 
 the visit and have done with them. " 
 
 " Is there anything wrong with them ? '' 
 
 Cyril hesitated. He was honest, and was obliged 
 to say, " Not in anyway. . . . Not, as I suppose, 
 you mean it ; but they are not people you will care 
 to cultivate. " 
 
 " Oh, middle-class people ?" 
 
 " Not at all ; but — in short, people I should dis- 
 like your making friends with." 
 
 Maria said no more, but she made a mental 
 memorandum to find out everything about them as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 She did not ask their name, which her husband 
 thought nice of her, but she saw the property marked 
 "Hundred," and she intended to remember it, 
 dropping the subject now altogether. The maps 
 were rolled up, and, not without natural satisfaction,
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 The County Map. 8i 
 
 Cyril showed his wife over the rooms. They were 
 large and lofty, and the style of everything was 
 of the best old fashion before the Georgian era. 
 Decorations were carefully suited to different rooms, 
 and nothing could have been more charming to 
 anyone with good taste; panelled walls in cedar 
 wood in one room, beautifully embossed leather in 
 another, and the music-room (which w^as octagon) 
 had a splendid vaulted roof; the daintiest Italian 
 paintings adorned both walls and ceiling. Maria 
 was enchanted with everything, and frankly said so. 
 
 The large staircase had old oak bannisters, with 
 curious carvings, and there were a great many 
 bedrooms. 
 
 " Let me see, " said Maria. " Ten, twelve, fourteen 
 big rooms! My dear Cyril! Your home — our house 
 — is perfect. How soon can we ask people here ? " 
 
 Cyril looked a little blank, a little surprised. 
 
 "You do not want to fill the house at once?" 
 
 he said, at length. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " Why not ? What is the use of having this lovely 
 house empty?" 
 
 " We might have a little quiet together first, 
 you and I. We have had no real quiet yet, 
 have we?" 
 
 ** We were quite alone part of every day in Paris ; 
 and I do think it such a mistake to grow bored 
 and tired of each other, and then have people in 
 to distract one." 
 
 "Why should we grow bored or tired of each 
 other?" he asked, with a certain misgiving. " I am 
 not likely to be bored, and I trust you will find 
 your happiness at home, and not want strangers to 
 distract you." 
 
 " Oh, I never bore myself, " she answered, laugh- 
 ing; "it does not matter in the least. Only " 
 
 "Only what?" 
 
 "I am simply dying to show the place to every 
 one. My people would not' allow me to call mine 
 a brilliant marriage. They were all so surprised.
 
 The County Map. 83 
 
 Some of them would change their opinion if they 
 saw the place." 
 
 " You did not marry the place, as you never saw 
 it," said her husband gravely. Her speech jarred 
 dreadfully upon him. 
 
 " Of course not, dear. But you know how stupid 
 friends are. I dare say your people wondered at 
 your marrying me, simply because I was an unknown 
 quantity to them." 
 
 Poor Cyril reflected on drawbacks of a far more 
 serious nature. 
 
 " You see, " said Maria, " I suppose friends never see 
 more than the surface of things ; and as I was sup- 
 posed to be — well, not dull, they did not understand." 
 
 " And what was the attraction ? " Cyril asked, with 
 repressed eagerness. 
 
 His wife stopped short, and faced him. Never 
 had she pleased him] more, than now by her an- 
 swer. "- 1 had a conviction, I knew, that you were 
 generous in your ideas about me, that you were
 
 84 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 loyal, that you were kind. I know others were not.* 
 
 He pressed her hand. Anxious to find out how 
 much she knew, he said, ** What were they unkind 
 about?" 
 
 *Oh," said Maria, shaking off her seriousness, 
 *I think they were jealous, perhaps." 
 
 She moved on, and a confidence between them was 
 lost, which might have saved many future troubles. 
 
 The rain stopped after luncheon, and, though still 
 very wet underfoot, it was fine enough for a drive, 
 and some delightful, quick-stepping cobs came round 
 — a new purchase. 
 
 Cyril, who was an unfortunately acute observer, 
 had been disturbed ever since the conclusion of his 
 wife's speech that forenoon, the beginning of which 
 had so charmed him. But the sweetness of the air 
 after heavy rain, the freshness and beauty of every- 
 thing, chased away every disagreeable idea, and it 
 was pleasant to drive about with so appreciative a 
 companion.
 
 The County Map, 85 
 
 She was delighted with everything, with the 
 undulating richly-wooded grounds, the masses of 
 woods, the hurtling river, and the wide and fertile 
 valley. 
 
 The beauty of everything was soon enhanced by 
 the sun. Tired of sulky conduct he shone out 
 splendidly. Maria was radiant. She enjoyed the 
 drive immensely, was amusingly important, and 
 finally delighted her husband by proposing to call 
 at his aunt's and persuade her to go home 
 with them. He had been longing to suggest 
 this, but had felt that the proposal should come 
 from her. 
 
 She made it with such a natural grace that he was 
 charmed with her ; and he drove to the Manor 
 House with more conviction about his happiness 
 than ever. Aunt Anne was engaged, and they 
 waited in her prettily arranged drawing-room for 
 some time. 
 
 When she appeared she looked pale, and was
 
 86 A Brilliaiit Woman. 
 
 to her nephew's observant eyes, not her usual self. 
 But his wife saw nothing. She was bent on win- 
 ning everyone, Aunt Anne included, and made 
 herself very pleasant, so pleasant that her husband 
 blamed himself for thinking her manner a little too 
 assured — too patronizing. People on delightfully 
 good terms with themselves are a little apt to be 
 patronizing, and the position of one who fills the 
 place of another, while that other is in sight, is 
 proverbially a difficult one. 
 
 All Aunt Anne's efforts at being natural, all her 
 best endeavours to respond to proffered affection 
 appeared cold and formal, contrasted with the over- 
 flowing good humour of the beautifully dressed 
 young woman beside her, who was so conscious of 
 having the best of it, that it appeared in all her 
 gestures and all her speeches. 
 
 " I know you will be glad to hear how charmed 
 I am with my new home," she said, radiantly, 
 " I really have not a fault to find, Cyril is so
 
 The County Map. 87 
 
 modest ; he spoke so little about the place, that I 
 never realised that it was such a beautiful, such an 
 ideal home. He does himself injustice in so many 
 ways ; you and I must join together and draw him 
 out of his shell." 
 
 Aunt Anne had no answer ready, and gave a 
 vague smile, forgiving the insinuation because of 
 an affectionate glance very openly bestowed on 
 Cyril by the young wife. 
 
 "It is a great thing to have received a pleasant 
 first imprsssion," she said kindly. 
 
 " Ah ! and my first impressions always last, " said 
 Maria, cheerfully. " You see, I do not go through 
 the world with my eyes shut. You will soon 
 see Cyril quite a different man. I have already 
 startled him by assuring him I do not mean to 
 be shut up. I intend to draw everyone round me, 
 making ourselves a centre — a brilliant centre. With 
 such a home it becomes a duty." 
 
 She stood up, flushed by her excitement and rapid
 
 88 A Brilliant Wo?na7i. 
 
 enunciation; handsome, and yet sending a swift 
 misgiving into Aunt Anne's mind. Brilliant! yes; 
 she was brilliant. But was she the wife for Cyril? 
 With her quiet saddened life, her ideas which were 
 old-fashioned and out of date, thinking the wife 
 should follow where the husband led, should find 
 happiness in the narrow circle of home, and fulfil 
 her highest aspirations in adding to her husband's 
 happiness. Aunt Anne heard with a pang doctrines 
 she believed to be fatal to home happiness. 
 
 Cyril was anxious that Aunt Anne should approve. 
 He was too anxious, and his anxiety led him into 
 ^ making a mistake. " You will frighten Aunt Anne, 
 my dear Maria, if you talk of being a centre; and 
 you are doing yourself an injustice. How often have 
 you not longed to be out of the London whirl, and 
 more able to lead your own life!" 
 
 " Quite true. It is a great tax to have to be 
 pleasant to other people's friends, and I always 
 wanted to choose my own. But I must first see
 
 The County Map. 89 
 
 my material — test the qualities, virtues, and short- 
 comings of my surrounding neighbours, and form 
 my society out of them." 
 
 Aunt Anne was dumb. Mr. Burlington tried to 
 turn the conversation, but in vain. Maria felt it due 
 to herself to be frank, and she was frank. " About 
 politics, dear Aunt Anne, I suppose your politics 
 are coloured by Cyril's ? Mine are distinctly different. " 
 
 "Indeed!" said Cyril, believing this to be a jest. 
 
 " 'Indeed' is not a nice way of answering me," 
 said young Mrs. Burlington ; " but, though my political 
 principles are very elastic, I am quite a Radical, 
 and, if Cyril has fixed Conservative principles, we 
 shall disagree." She gave a charming smile as she 
 uttered this warning. 
 
 ** You alarm me, " said Mr. Burlington, playfully. 
 
 " I think it such a great blessing we women are 
 not called upon to put our ideas before the world, " 
 said Anne, quietly. " Women are apt to infuse bit- 
 terness and narrowness into these things, and I
 
 QO A Brtllia7it Woman. 
 
 confess I am glad T have no vote to trouble my 
 conscience. ^ 
 
 ** Ah, my dear Aunt Anne, you are, I am afraid, 
 one of those people who keep womankind back," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Burlington. " We must discuss this 
 subject at another time, when Cyril is not present. 
 I have many convincing arguments. I shall convert 
 you." 
 
 "I doubt it," said Aunt Anne. 
 
 " We shall see. Now, will you not come and 
 dine with us to-night? do." 
 
 " I hope you will not think me unkind, but I 
 have a really bad headache. It is nice of you to 
 wish me to join you," she added, laying her hand 
 kindly on her new niece's arm. "Ah, well, another 
 time," and Maria bid good-bye, and rustled out of 
 the room with a feeling of having made a conquest. 
 
 •*! think the dear old thing rather likes me/ she 
 said to Cyrils as they drove oiF. 
 
 He was so astonished that he had no answer
 
 The County Alap. 91 
 
 ready. Then, afraid of appearing captious, he said, 
 laughing lightly, ** I suppose she appears old 
 ■to you." 
 
 " She is old, " said his wife. * Women are old 
 after fifty; men are only in their prime ten years 
 later; and your dear aunt looks older than she 
 need look because she wears such old-fashioned 
 caps and things. That is the worst of burying 
 oneself in the country, and not seeing what goes 
 on in the world." 
 
 " I cannot imagine my dear aunt in any fashionable 
 garments," Cyril said, struggling with a feeling of 
 annoyance at hearing her so openly discussed. 
 " She is herself— that pretty soft cap, and her white 
 hair — the whole thing suits her. She has such a 
 lovely, calm, sweet countenance." 
 
 " But she looks old, " insisted his wife. ** Now, 
 in the world she would have her hair so arranged 
 that caps would not be necessary for years to 
 come."
 
 92 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " I have the bad taste to prefer caps to the 
 alternative, wigs." 
 
 "My dear Cyril, we never talk of wigs." 
 
 " I have a country habit of calling things by 
 their right names." 
 
 " Yes, you are a little provincial," said his wife, 
 after a moment's reflection. "It is one of the 
 things I intend curing you of." 
 
 Her tone amused more than irritated him, and 
 they arrived at home with a consciousness of 
 different views on many other subjects besides the 
 first one — the pictures. Far, far more different was 
 the effect this consciousness had upon them 
 individually. Maria's spirits rose at the prospect of 
 so many directions in which improvement was 
 desirable. 
 
 She so completely believed in herself, and was 
 so confident of her powers of mastery over every 
 difficulty, that it roused and excited her. She had 
 a little dreaded the monotony of married life and
 
 The County Map. 93 
 
 the perpetual acquiescence from her husband that 
 she anticipated. It was delightful to her to find 
 that so much occupation and employment for her 
 powers was provided for her. 
 
 Mr. Burlington went to the library, took a book — 
 which he did not read — and felt unaccountably 
 depressed. In all the small differences of opinion 
 between his wife and himself, he recognised that 
 he gained nothing, and, without being able to 
 account for it, he was somehow invariably put in 
 the wrong. He had a great disadvantage in not 
 knowing anything about women, and he was not 
 in love. Had there been that glamour, it would 
 have helped him, but, through no fault of his own 
 or hers, he was starting in a false position. 
 
 He was always drifting into an attitude of criticism, 
 which disturbed him and he questioned himself in 
 vain. How could he give the answer, having no 
 clue? All he knew was that he was uncomfortable 
 and unhappy; all that even in these early days
 
 94 ^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 seemed to be left for him to do, was to excuse 
 everything he did not approve of, so long as 
 principle was not involved, in consideration of the 
 deep and devoted affection he had been distinctly 
 told was felt by his wife for his unworthy self.
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 THE NEIGHBOURS. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington had plenty of time to study the 
 county map before the more important and distant 
 country neighbours came over to call; and she 
 realised from this leisurely manner of their coming 
 to welcome her and to make acquaintance that 
 there was not altogether that ardent enthusiasm 
 which she had privately expected. 
 
 In all the varied positions in life, counterbalancing 
 influences are often forgotten or not properly taken 
 into account. The most disinterested mothers might 
 be forgiven for having thought Mr. Burlington a
 
 96 A Brilliajit Woman. 
 
 desirable son-in-law. He was known to be well 
 off, amiable, to be of good family, and to be free 
 from hereditary ailments. There was not a page 
 in his history that might not be seen without fear 
 of the smallest blot, through many generations, and 
 in some of the greater families, people knew this 
 was not always the case. 
 
 With so many fair and amiable girls to select 
 from, the county a little resented the choice of 
 an outsider whose history was a little vague. How- 
 ever, everyone had to go, and all had to smother 
 their private feelings, and make the best of things. 
 
 Now, there are many ways of making new acquaint- 
 ances. Maria's way was by being so terribly civil 
 as to appear patronizing. She was honestly anxious 
 to make a good impression, and to please ; but her 
 idea of pleasing was to force the admiration of 
 those she was confronted with, and to dazzle them 
 by her brilliancy, and by those polished tricks of 
 manner she had always found so successful. She
 
 The Neighbours. 97 
 
 wanted first to shine, and then amiably to con- 
 descend. 
 
 Old Lady Bridstone and her younger husband, 
 Sir Harvey, to whom she was very much married, 
 was extremely displeased to find so young a woman 
 on such excellent terms with herself. Everyone, 
 more or less, dislikes this in a young woman, but 
 Lady Bridstone was accustomed herself to patronize 
 people, and to find that what she said or did influ- 
 enced other people. She was an elderly, spare, 
 and rather distinguished-looking person, and had a 
 curious habit of pausing before giving any reply 
 to the simplest question — a habit which gave her 
 words when they did come, an air of reflection 
 ^ which they did not merit. 
 
 " We have a very good neighbourhood, Mrs. 
 Burlington, " she said, expansively, after the first 
 preliminaries were over, and she was seated on the 
 sofa. " You will like this neighbourhood. We are 
 
 very fortunate ; so many beautiful places within 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 q8 a Brilliant Woman. 
 
 reach; so much friendliness, so many resident pro- 
 prietors. It is quite the best neighbourhood I know; 
 no fear of your being dull. " 
 
 * I am not afraid of being dull, I never am dull, " 
 answered Maria, laughing a little. **Is the society 
 literary or musical ? What are the amusements ? 
 Country life is a novelty to me; but I mean to 
 enjoy everything. " 
 
 Lady Bridstone paused a little while; then she 
 answered, "Tennis parties, garden parties draw 
 people together. I suppose you like tennis?" 
 " Frankly, I detest it, " said the young wife. " I 
 
 hate getting hot, and ruffling my clothes, and " 
 
 "Maria, Sir Harvey has just told me that they 
 propose having a garden party, and he hopes we 
 will go, " interrupted Mr. Burlington, quickly. 
 
 " I will go with pleasure, if you promise not to 
 expect me to play tennis ; I am just shocking Lady 
 Bridstone by announcing that I hate exertion. " 
 " I am afraid that our country gatherings will
 
 The Neighbours. 99 
 
 appear very flat to you after your London gaieties, * 
 said Sir Harvey, who generally had the misfortune 
 to say something exactly opposite to his wife's 
 speeches, and who heard of it afterwards. " I am 
 afraid you will find it dull. " 
 
 " I mean to be very indulgent, and not expect 
 too much, " said Mrs. Burlington. " Of course, in 
 London one has wider experiences, and can choose 
 one's own society; but I am never dull, never! I 
 have too much to think about to be ever dull." 
 
 Lady Bridstone paused as usual, and then said, 
 " Perhaps you write, yourself? " 
 
 " Oh, dear no ! I can never fill half a sheet of 
 notepaper; even to Mr. Burlington I found my ex- 
 pected daily letter quite a difficulty. " 
 
 She smiled at her husband, who, however, did 
 not see it, and went on : "I think, in these days, 
 when everyone scribbles, it is quite a distinction 
 not to be in print. " 
 
 There was a dead silence. Then Mr Burlington
 
 lOO A Brilliatit Woman. 
 
 asked Lady Bridstone a trifling question, and turned 
 the conservation. 
 
 But it was quite evident, even to Maria who was 
 a little slow in noting the effect of any of her 
 speeches, that she had in some way made a mistake. 
 
 When a stiff and formal farewell was being 
 spoken, she said, with rather a heightened colour, 
 * I am afraid I have offended you, Lady Bridstone ; 
 what is it?" 
 
 •*Oh, nothing, nothing — only as I write a good 
 many things myself " 
 
 "I see," said Maria; "it was very stupid of me 
 to say it ! " Her husband was delighted with her ; 
 she was showing pluck, and would surely disarm 
 Lady Bridstone. Unfortunately,- before a reply 
 could be given, she spoiled everything by adding, 
 very innocently, " I had not the slightest idea you 
 wrote anything; I never heard of it." 
 
 This, for a woman who in her part of the world 
 was counted rather a celebrity, was too much.
 
 The Neighbours. loi 
 
 Her good-bye was uttered with freezing coldness, 
 and Maria was annoyed and mortified. It made 
 matters worse when her husband laughed as he had 
 never laughed before. "You really have a talent 
 for saying wrong things, " he said. " Poor Lady 
 Bridstone! Why on earth did you not leave well 
 alone? The first part of your speech was enough 
 to disarm anyone — then to spoil it all ! " 
 
 * I cannot help speaking the truth. " 
 
 " No one asked you to say anything. However, 
 it can't be helped. I am afraid we shall both be 
 in that poor woman's bad books for the rest of our 
 natural lives." 
 
 " I may be, but you — you have done nothing, 
 said nothing." 
 
 " Exactly. My not having told you will offend 
 her far more than your speech. She will lay all 
 the blame on my shoulders." 
 
 " Luckily your shoulders are broad. I do not 
 believe you care a bit."
 
 I02 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " Why should I care ? " He was surprised at her 
 tone, which was reproachful. 
 
 ** Only that I think you should care when your 
 wife, by a mere accident, makes herself obnoxious 
 to any one/ 
 
 "It is too trifling a matter to worry about,** he 
 answered lightly, and he turned away. 
 
 To herself, not to him, Maria said that she had 
 made herself ridiculous in the eyes of a stranger, 
 and Cyril only laughed. 
 
 This was not her idea of devotion. It was not 
 what she had been led to expect. A man passion- 
 ately in love, as he had been represented to be, 
 should be up in arms at the idea of her being 
 lowered in anyone's eyes. The feeling of mortifica- 
 tion was new and painful to her, and, greatly to 
 Mr. Burlington's surprise, she showed by an increased 
 silence and an assumption of outraged dignity that 
 her resentment was lasting. 
 
 To a woman, full of self-confidence, the position
 
 The Neighbours. 103 
 
 was embarrassing; and her husband ought to have 
 flattered and soothed her. Instead of that, he 
 had only laughed at her. She could not forgive 
 him! 
 
 Just when this episode was being forgotten, Mrs. 
 Adleyboume and two daughters came to call. 
 Husband and wife had been riding, and Maria was 
 taking off her habit when they arrived. Cyril was 
 ready, and as he looked into her room to tell her 
 he was going down, she asked him whether this 
 lady had any particular gifts, so that she might avoid 
 offending her. 
 
 " Gifts ! poor dear soul. She has none that I 
 know of. She is a handsome and very stupid 
 woman; good-natured, I believe, but I know her 
 very little. As her husband died many years ago 
 there was nothing in connection with county business 
 to bring us together. Come down as soon as you 
 can." 
 
 Maria hurried, and made an impressive picture
 
 I04 A Brillia7it Woman. 
 
 when she appeared upon the scene. She had some 
 soft white clinging stuff which was very becoming 
 to her face and figure, and much enhanced her 
 beautiful complexion. Mrs. Adleybourne was a tall 
 rather gaunt woman with a good many angles, but 
 undeniably handsome. Many years previously she 
 had been painted by the greatest artist of the day, 
 as a Madonna, with her eldest child clasped in her 
 arms. She still wore her hair braided in the same 
 way, and had never changed the cut of her garments. 
 Her face was placid, and she was fair, and might 
 have served as a model to any of the painters of 
 the most insipid Madonnas in the room devoted to 
 them in Berlin. 
 
 Her two daughters were, unfortunately, plain 
 likenesses of herself — unfortunately as their plain- 
 ness was not of the intelligent-taking kind, that 
 redeems roughly completed features, and so often 
 wins the day against regularity of feature and much 
 beauty.
 
 The Neighbours. 105 
 
 Never had Mrs. Burlington found conversation 
 more difficult! There seemed a hopeless absence 
 of any common ground upon which to establish or 
 begin acquaintance. Mrs. Adleyboume had only 
 been in London once for a fortnight during the 
 last five years, and she remarked plaintively that 
 she had been struck by the increase of frivolity. 
 Dissipation was not in her line. She did not care 
 for music, except that of oratorios. In short, what- 
 ever Maria tried to talk about fell hopelessly to the 
 ground. The two girls said very little, and were 
 so miserable at finding the contrast so great between 
 their old-fashioned dress and Maria's fresh and ori- 
 ginal toilette, that they eyed her in silence. 
 
 Driven to despair, at length she proposed, as Mrs. 
 Adleybourne professed a great love for flowers, to 
 go to the conservatory, the garden, and the hot- 
 houses, to show some new and very beautiful lilies 
 straight from Japan, All w^ent apparently well. 
 Maria did not know^ any botanical names, and Mrs.
 
 io6 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Adleybourne discoursed rather learnedly about ferns 
 and grapes and parasites, orchids, etc., when her 
 hostess said, laughingly, " I cannot answer you, 
 because I am quite ignorant of these things. I 
 admire them. That is all. If I tried to call any- 
 thing by a learned botanical name, I should most 
 likely be in the position of some person my husband 
 told me of, who thought she knew ail about these 
 things, and called a passion flower — unknown to 
 her — an orchid." 
 
 There was once more an ominous silence, and 
 Mr. Burlington's face grew terribly red. Conver- 
 sation languished more than ever, and, without 
 returning to the drawing-room, the whole party left, 
 the farewells being as frigid as that of Lady Brid- 
 stone. 
 
 •My dear Cyril, what is it!" exclaimed Maria 
 breathlessly. "How have I offended this time?" 
 
 "My dear Maria," he answered, his laughing eyes 
 contradicting the gravity of his tone, " you are sin-
 
 The Neighbours. 107 
 
 gularly unfortunate. And on this occasion I can 
 only blame myself. We cannot help it, but — the 
 lady who so persistently maintained that the new 
 flower was an orchid was — Airs. Adleyboume her- 
 self! "
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DIFFERENT VIEWS ON CONJUGAL FELICITY. 
 
 Aunt Anne, who was unselfish, devoted, and affec- 
 tionate, was, perhaps because of these last two qua- 
 lities, especially clear-sighted where Cyril's happiness 
 was concerned. She gave due credit to his wife for 
 her even temper, her cheerfulness, her good looks, 
 and her wish to please. But the more she saw the 
 two together the less she could understand what 
 had attracted her nephew. She tried to believe in 
 an ardent affection, and she saw indulgent kindness. 
 Miss Burlington was romantic enough to believe in 
 a love which was blind. Mr. Burlington was only
 
 Different Views on Conjugal Felicity. 109 
 
 too evidently not blind, as he constantly made kind 
 speeches about his wife which took the form of an 
 apology to his aunt's quick understanding. 
 
 Was Cyril hiding anything from her? Was he 
 happy? What had led to his marriage? How vain 
 these questions were need hardly be said, as no 
 satisfactory answer could possibly be given. 
 
 Weighing everything dispassionately, Miss Bur- 
 lington was almost equally puzzled in regard to his 
 wife. At first she had done her the injustice to fancy 
 that a good income, a certain fixed, well-defined 
 position, and a fine place, had been the several 
 attractions. But she soon saw that she was wrong. 
 Maria had never known any want of income, there- 
 ' fore she did not prize it. She did not in the least 
 realise Cyril's position in the county, and, though 
 she openly admired the place as a place, she often 
 regretted their being a fixture, and would evidently 
 have preferred a nomadic life, and — London. 
 
 However, as the days passed by and she found
 
 no A Brilliant lVo7nan. 
 
 no capricious temper, no unreasonable requirements, 
 nothing she most dreaded in a London young lady, 
 Aunt Anne began to see more to approve of in 
 Cyril's wife, and they insensibly drew more together. 
 Indeed, to understand completely a character like 
 that of Maria it required a person of far greater 
 discernment than Miss Burlington possessed, and 
 one accustomed to study character. Maria clung to 
 her own ideas with a tenacity of purpose which 
 would have served a great purpose well. For the 
 present she was content. She had made two fiascos, 
 she would learn to know her surroundings thorough- 
 ly, she must have everything clear to her ; then she 
 intended to fill the house and show that she had it 
 in her to play the part of leader. She would draw 
 round her conflicting parties, and handle every one 
 so skilfully that she would reconcile people, and be 
 the centre, the motive power, the wire-puller, without 
 a single soul being aware whose hands were guid- 
 ing, checking, or pushing everything into action.
 
 Different Views on Conjugal Felicity. 1 1 1 
 
 She sat quite happily, picturing everything to 
 herself. She rehearsed mentally all the conversa- 
 tions; and, though she certainly never carried these 
 arguments very far, and they were vague and 
 suggestive, she alwa3^s gave herself the best of 
 them. 
 
 Her husband was much satisfied to find that her 
 first idea of filling the house had so completely 
 subsided. Like all men who had not the habit of 
 society, he w^as happier alone, and his books were 
 his real friends. He thought it nice of his wife to 
 give up so cheerfully and so quickly to his washes. 
 This was what should be always the case ; a hus- 
 band, especially a husband some years older than 
 the wife, should be able to influence and check 
 wishes, probably the mere outcome of a passing 
 fancy. Maria was looking very well one evenmg, 
 when Aunt Anne had joined them at dinner. She 
 had a most becoming tea-gown on, an artful 
 combination of pale rose and white lace, and Cyril
 
 112 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 had said something quite complimentary, which had 
 pleased her. Toying with a tiny apostle spoon 
 and the last morsel of sugar in the bottom of her 
 coffee cup, Maria looked up at him, and said, 
 archly, " Do you remember what to-day is ? " 
 
 " Is it an anniversary ? " he asked, in some surprise. 
 They had not known each other a year. Therefore, 
 what anniversary could they venerate in common? 
 
 " We have been at home a whole month — a 
 whole calendar month to-day. We arrived here 
 on the 7 th, and here we are. To-day is the 7 th. " 
 
 " What does this solemn statement portend ? " 
 he asked quietly. 
 
 " It portends nothing ; but I remind you of the 
 fact because I promised to ask no one here for a 
 whole month's quiet. We were to run the risk of 
 boring each other for that time. * 
 
 " And you have been bored ? " 
 
 "Well, it has not been wildly amusing, has it?" 
 she said, with unnecessary frankness.
 
 Different Views on Conjugal Felicity, 1 1 3 
 
 He was excessively vexed. Had they been 
 alone he would have felt hurt by her tone. Before 
 Aunt Anne he was extremely annoyed. 
 
 " You cannot contradict me, " she said, fixing 
 eyes all unconscious of offence on him. " You are 
 so excellent and so good! and, like myself, you 
 are truthful. I always am! It is one of my 
 merits ! " 
 
 "I am old-fashioned, " said Aunt Anne, in a 
 gentle, deprecating voice, "but I am certain that 
 these jests are a little wrong I know it is a jest, 
 but still " 
 
 "It is no jest, my dear good Aunt Anne. Any 
 
 two people thrown solely and entirely upon each 
 
 other's society must be a little dull. In time, I 
 
 know in time, I shall rouse Cyril, and give him 
 
 animation and appreciation and a taste for society; 
 
 but all things must have a beginning, and by 
 
 gathering people round us we get ideas. This 
 
 house is such a nice old house, and has endless 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 H4 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 capabilities ; we must have society around us, and 
 not live only for ourselves. " 
 
 There was one of the short pauses which, in very 
 intimate society, generally means disapproval. 
 
 Cyril spoke in rather a constrained tone. " Then 
 your idea of happiness is never to be alone; to be 
 always in a crowd?" 
 
 "It would be difficult to crowd these rooms, and 
 country society is so limited, " answered young Mrs. 
 Burlington ; " but to have people staying here — yes !" 
 
 " Already ! " said Aunt Anne ; like an unwise 
 woman echoing Cyril's words. 
 
 "Already! My dear Cyril, if you prefer your 
 library, your musty books, reports of prisons, road- 
 scrapers, and all these dreary matters, please do not 
 think my tastes are the. same. After all, what is the 
 objection ? If you had wanted a humdrum wife who 
 thought parish work interesting, and tennis parties 
 dissipation, why did you fall in love with me?" 
 
 Poor Cyril coloured. He sometimes lately had
 
 Different Views on Conjugal Felicity. 1 1 5 
 
 reproached himself for having so Uttle of that pas- 
 sion; but he was very far from guessing that he 
 had been a puppet in the hands of Maria's aunt, 
 and had been talked into the marriage by a good 
 deal of judicious flattery, — the flattery of being told 
 that he was an object of deep interest and affection 
 to a very brilliant girl. He had often wondered 
 lately whether the passion on her side was quite 
 as deep as was supposed. 
 
 This seemed another proof of mistake somewhere. 
 Was this craving for society quite in keeping with 
 an ardent affection such as he had dreamed of long 
 ago ? He had had visions of companionship, of recip- 
 rocal feelings, of tastes in common, of a wife intel- 
 ligent enough to appreciate without being anxious 
 to shine. Somehow he had never quite fitted his 
 wife into this picture frame. She seemed to have 
 tastes apart from his, hopes and aspirations beyond 
 his, to be restlessly longing for other society, for a 
 wider range; and his spirit sank because each day
 
 ii6 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 lie felt that he did not seem to know her any better. 
 Surely, so speaking a countenance must belong to 
 a woman with a mind of real depth. How was it 
 that each day found him still apart from her serious 
 and better nature — still polite, with a feeling that in 
 many things they were still strangers? But as these 
 thoughts rushed through his mind he caught Aunt 
 Anne's gaze fixed upon him. She was looking sad, 
 and certainly compassionate. 
 
 Compassionate! All his loyalty came to his help. 
 It was a trifling matter, but it cost him an effort. 
 "There is no objection," he said, pleasantly. "Fill 
 the house, if you like. I, think that at your age, 
 and with all your varied accomplishments, you should 
 like to have society. We can always have a quiet 
 time, you and I, when you are tired of playing 
 hostess. " 
 
 He held out his hand, and his wife took it, and 
 pressed it warmly between both of her white hands. 
 She had no conception that it was an effort, but
 
 Different Views 07i Conjugal Felicity, 1 1 7 
 
 she had dreaded a rebuff before Aunt Anne, and 
 her glance was full of grateful affection. Never had 
 he done a wiser thing. The next thing was to 
 make a list; and Maria had so many amusing sug- 
 gestions to make, and so much to say, that it took 
 up a good deal of time. She was so gay that the 
 two others were infected by it, and Aunt Anne 
 went home more charmed by her brightness and 
 her pretty ways than she had ever been. Maria 
 had got her own way, and was enchanted with her 
 victory; but she was careful to keep all look of 
 triumph out of her eyes, and to ask advice and 
 assistance as if the whole idea was as much her 
 husband's as her own. 
 
 After all, except that they had for so many years 
 dropped all sorts of hospitality, there was no reason 
 why the house should not be thrown open, and 
 Aunt Anne was not altogether sorry now, that Cyril 
 had accepted the idea. 
 
 In the quiet of his own study Mr. Burlington
 
 n8 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 saw that his own ideas had been routed, and he 
 could not make up his mind whether he was sorry 
 or — relieved. At the same time, the warm, cordial 
 pressure of his wife's hands gave him satisfaction. 
 Appreciation, even imperfect appreciation, is often 
 comforting. There was to be an amateur play and 
 a ball.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE FESTIVITIES AT BURLINGTON MANOR. 
 
 It must not be supposed that young Mrs. Burlington 
 had forgotten the place which her husband had ignored, 
 and which, consequently, had excited her curiosity. 
 The house of the Wyncotes, of Wyncote Hundred, 
 was to her the Blue Beard's closet, to which sooner 
 or later she fully intended to have a key. But just 
 now her mind was pleasantly occupied by the 
 arrangements for the coming festivities. She was 
 charmed to find her husband acquiescing in all her 
 proposals, and approving generally as far as he 
 understood them.
 
 I20 ^ A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 In a neighbourhood which counted one hunt ball 
 and one subscription ball as the two events of the 
 year, talked of prospectively for many months 
 beforehand, the fact that Burlington Manor was to 
 be thrown open in such a charming way was 
 delightful to the whole of that neighbourhood. It 
 made a great sensation. Mrs. Burlington was looked 
 upon with very different eyes; and every young 
 lady in the place worshipped her immediately. "It 
 is so nice of you, dear Mrs. Burlington, " was 
 uttered at least a hundred times a day by different 
 people. 
 
 Mothers who had judged her a little severely, and 
 had taken exception to those matters in which she 
 differed from their own nestlings, began to see 
 merits — hitherto unperceived — in her frocks, her 
 laugh, her manner, and her smile. The husbands, 
 brothers, and sons, who had avoided giving offence 
 by wisely keeping their private opinions to them- 
 selves, w^ere now accused of being dullards. How
 
 The Festivities at Btirlingtoii Alanor. 1 2 1 
 
 extraordinary that they could not notice her merits 
 for themselves. But men were so strangely blind, 
 so hopelessly insensible ! The tide had turned with 
 a vengeance. 
 
 All this popularity and homage were pleasant to 
 Mrs. Burlington. She submitted very graciously to 
 all this demonstrative enthusiasm, and as, next to 
 being in love, being admired is a great beautifier, 
 never had she looked better or been seen to greater 
 advantage. 
 
 At that time everything went well, and Mrs. 
 Burlington was delighted with the position in 
 which her ideas had placed her. A few tiresome 
 things happened. Mrs. Hutchinson, who was en- 
 chanted when her girl was kept to dinner and sent 
 home in the brougham afterwards, and who had 
 mentioned the circumstance carelessly to every one, 
 was mortified to find that the same compliment had 
 been paid to a girl she considered much below her 
 daughter's level. Every little thing she had sug-
 
 122 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 gested to enhance the compliment shown to her 
 girl applied equally to the second invitation; and 
 Mrs. Hutchinson, who had the courage of her 
 opinions, did not conceal her chagrin^ and was as 
 nearly rude as she dared to be when she next saw 
 Mrs. Burlington. 
 
 " I had no idea you knew the Harrisons. I have 
 never called. They are not quite in my line." 
 
 "Daisy Harrison is a nice girl. I advise you to 
 cultivate her. In a very dull neighbourhood a girl 
 who sings is an acquisition; and one good thing 
 is, that in a small country town everyone is more 
 or less on the same level, it saves so much trouble. 
 When my people come, after disposing of the big 
 wigs I shall have to send all the others in by turn." 
 
 "I advise you not to do that, Mrs. Burlington." 
 
 "No? How would you have it done? Alpha- 
 betically ? " 
 
 " Some people are well born, well connected, and 
 might be very much offended."
 
 The Festivities at Burlington Manor. 123 
 
 " I am afraid, " answered Mrs. Burlington with 
 her usual amused laugh, " that I cannot help it. 
 After all, what can it matter? " These small differ- 
 ences can affect people little. It is only in a small 
 provincial town that people are tenacious. Besides, 
 when there is no apparent social distinction, what 
 is one to do? One cannot know these things by 
 instinct." 
 
 " People learn these things and the other duties 
 of their position — in time. " Mrs. Hutchinson spoke 
 frigidly ; but Mrs. Burlington had not the slightest 
 idea that she was offending her, and it was only 
 later on, when she made other discoveries, that she 
 made this one also. 
 
 Cyril Burlington was himself pleased that he had 
 given way. His wife had, probably, spoken the 
 truth. They had shut themselves up too much, 
 and there was no reason they should not, for once 
 in a way, fill the house and give his neighbours an 
 opportunity of making the acquaintance of his wife.
 
 124 ^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 After this excitement his wife would settle down, 
 and he would realise that happiness he longed for. 
 Visions rose before him of cosy evenings in the 
 library, when, with cheery fires and drawn curtains 
 he would share with her those books he read and 
 re-read with so much pleasure. She would by that 
 time share his enthusiasm ; and this delightful vision 
 of deferred hope gave him patience meanwhile. 
 
 She was passionately attached to him ; she had 
 chosen him, and, if he could not give her quite as 
 passionate an affection, he could honestly so order 
 his life that she should never discover that he was 
 himself not quite as devoted, or as much in love. 
 Cyril required all his patience during the next few 
 weeks. Not only was his house taken by storm by 
 carpenters and workmen, but the whole household 
 " also appeared demoralised. Housemaids were en- 
 countered where he had never seen them before. 
 Marsham and Mrs. Butt were evidently disapprov- 
 ing. His wife changed her plans ever so often.
 
 The Festtviftes at Burlington Manor. 125 
 
 Young men he knew nothing about, were rehears- 
 ing love scenes all over the place. At one moment 
 the plays were to be pastoral and to take place in 
 the park. Then heavy showers changed all the tac- 
 tics. The billiard-room was turned topsy-turvy, and 
 a stage was erected there. If he remonstrated 
 about the noise, or the mess, or the presence of 
 the strangers, his wife quite good-temperedly offered 
 to give everything up, and by her extreme good 
 temper made him feel a brute — and no man likes 
 that. 
 
 Things went on in the same way for some time. 
 Cyril did not like to see much of his aunt, because 
 he was thoroughly loyal to his wife, and he was 
 afraid that with Aunt Anne, without quite intending 
 it, he might betray discontent. He knew well that 
 words once uttered can never be recalled! 
 
 He was feeling particularly aggrieved the day 
 before everyone was to assemble. He had gone to 
 the stables to see a horse reported amiss, and the
 
 126 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 important factotum at the head of the stables had 
 made a distinct complaint, and of his wife. 
 
 " Too well-bred a servant, to say it in so many 
 words, Tomkins regretted in a very pointed manner 
 the fact of the horse being amiss at such an incon- 
 venient moment. " Three times this morning, Mr. 
 Burlington, has the brown mare been to town — 
 had to go." 
 
 "Three times? " 
 
 " Three times : and the road new metalled in many 
 places, sir, as you're aware." 
 
 "There must have been some mistake." 
 
 " There was not any mistake about his going, sir. 
 Mrs. Burlington sent herself" 
 
 "Ah." 
 
 " Once was an order, and the other times was 
 forgets. It's hard on the brown mare's legs, sir." 
 
 Cyril could only agree with him, but, of course, 
 he could not discuss his wife's " forgets, " or challenge 
 her orders with the serv^ants. He went straight home,
 
 The Festivities at Burlington Manor. 127 
 
 however, determined to say a word, kindly but firmly, 
 about the unreasonable want of thought, and to 
 point out that sending a horse six miles three times 
 over was unjustifiable. He took a short cut to the 
 house by the shrubbery, and as he walked along 
 considerably rufiled, he heard something which ruffled 
 him a good deal more. 
 
 " Of course, if you are so particular, it cannot be 
 done," and the voice was the voice of the most 
 objectionable young man. 
 
 "It is not only that," said Miss Hutchinson, "but 
 my father and mother are so particular. The petti- 
 coats will be so short." 
 
 " They will be very short; " and the young man 
 laughed merrily. " Luckily, our hostess does not mind. " 
 " She is a dear ! We were so afraid that Mr. Bur- 
 lington would put his foot down." 
 
 "Would that make any difference? It seems to 
 me that she is one of the happy few who does 
 exactlv as she likes."
 
 128 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 " I don't know, but I believe if Mr. Burlington 
 saw and disapproved (and I have an idea he would 
 disapprove), Mrs. Burlington's dance and her dress 
 and other things would be either given up or — 
 modified." 
 
 "Possibly; I may say probably." 
 "And yet you wished me to take part? You are 
 really horrid." 
 
 "If you choose to misunderstand me" — then the 
 two voices died away. 
 
 Mr. Burlington had received a great shock. He 
 had stated from the first that he had no talent for 
 acting, and it had never occurred to him that he 
 should have taken some interest in the play, and 
 made himself acquainted with what was proposed 
 to be acted. 
 
 What had that detestable young man said ? " The 
 petticoats would be very short." The way all had 
 been said sent him hurrying in, vexed, anxious, 
 worried beyond description, and in a mood absolutely
 
 The Festivities at Burlington Manor. 129 
 
 new to his wife, who had never seen him so roused, 
 so excited, so angry, before. 
 
 He tried to speak quietly to control his voice, 
 but failed. ]\Iaria, who was trying to tie a particular 
 knot, looked up in surprise. ^ " What is the matter ? 
 You look as if you had heard some bad news. 
 Anything wrong?" 
 
 The contrast betw^een her light way of questioning 
 him and the deep annoyance he was smarting under 
 made him more angry still. 
 
 "I have heard something about this tomfoolery 
 that I do not like," he began, and his wife was 
 startled by his tone. 
 
 "Meaning our play? What have you heard?" 
 
 "I have heard that your dress is — that it will be 
 objectionable. " 
 
 " Really ! And may I ask who calls it objectionable? " 
 
 "I have heard it is to be short." 
 
 "I think it will be short; certainly." 
 
 "And you do not mind! You see nothing inde- 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 130 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 corous in you (a married woman) wearing very short 
 petticoats before all the world?" 
 
 " The dress is in character ; I am to be a peasant, 
 and wear a peasant's costume." 
 
 "And dance?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; and dance. What harm is there ? 
 You do not suppose that a Tyrolese peasant wears 
 a gown down to her heels? It is very absurd of 
 you to make all this fuss. Someone put it in your 
 head, probably Aunt Anne." 
 
 "Aunt Anne has nothing to do with it. But I 
 warn you that I will not allow you to make your- 
 self talked about, or wear a dress all respectable 
 people object to their daughters' wearing." 
 
 " All respectable people ! Name, my dear Cyril — 
 name one!" 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Hutchinson. " 
 
 "Ah! they object. Did they say so?" 
 
 "No; I haven't seen them; but their daughter 
 said so for them."
 
 The Festivities at Burlingto7i Majior. 131 
 
 Maria stretched her arm out and drew her blotting- 
 book towards her. She handed a note to her husband. 
 He took it and read it. 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Burlington, — My dear child is too shy to tell you 
 herself, so I write to say that perhaps you are not aware how 
 beautifully and gracefully she dances. As you may be at a loss for 
 someone to perform a la Letty Lind, I mention this, and once you 
 have seen her dance, you will allow that motherly prejudice has 
 not led me to say one word more than is just." 
 
 "Mary Hutchinson. 
 
 " My girl would much like to act Zick's part ; if not filled up , 
 do give it to her." 
 
 Mr. Burlington stood feeling extremely helpless 
 and a little ashamed of himself. But he tried to 
 stick to his colours, and he reiterated "the dress 
 is short, however." 
 
 His wife did not answer him. She felt so com- 
 pletely in the right that she did not wish to weaken 
 her position by a single word. 
 
 He was much annoyed by her silence, which he
 
 132 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 felt to be a rebuke. Then he shifted his ground 
 and the brown mare's legs happily, or unhappily^ 
 came into his mind. 
 
 " Then there is that unfortunate horse," he said, 
 and feeling quite sure of his ground now, he took 
 a firmer tone. " I must really beg, Maria, that you 
 will be more considerate. The horse was three 
 times sent into the town to fetch things. Why not 
 make a list and send for everything at once ? " 
 
 " Exactly what was done, and done by me, " 
 said Maria, her eyes sparkling with sudden indig- 
 nation. " 
 
 "The coachman said that there was one order^ 
 and then things were forgotten.'* 
 
 "By whom?" Her voice was peculiar; surely 
 she was not suppressing a laugh. 
 
 But Mrs. Burlington was trying hard not to 
 laugh. For the first time Cyril was making himself 
 ridiculous; and she could not help herself. 
 
 "My dear Cyril, the next time you bring a list
 
 The Festivities at Burlington Manor. 133 
 
 of grievances against me, you had better find out 
 how much truth there is in them. I wrote a Ust;\ 
 if the groom forgot things — if he went back for 
 them it was done Avithout my orders. All the 
 same, " she added, drawing herself up, " if I chose 
 to send your whole staff to fetch things for me in 
 my present emergency I should do it." 
 
 She looked at him with brilliant laughing eyes 
 as she spoke. What could her husband say ? 
 What could he do? He stood gravely looking at 
 her ; he knew so little of women that he did not 
 recognise that her laugh was nerv^ous. She knew 
 that this difference between them would end in de- 
 feating her or establishing her authority on a firmer 
 basis, and she snatched her advantage before he 
 had time to rally and take up his position. 
 
 "I forgive you, my dear Cyril," she said, patting 
 his shoulder; "but for my sake Xxy and not treat 
 me to this sort of scene again. I really do not 
 like you to *
 
 134 ^ Brillia7it Woman. 
 
 " You do not like me to feel annoyed with you, ** 
 he said eagerly, trying to fill up the little pause 
 she made, in a manner satisfactory to himself. 
 
 She arched her eyebrows in surprise. " That 
 never occurred to me," she said, laughing out this 
 time. " I was only going to say I did not like 
 you to look ridiculous." She turned away, took up 
 her ribbons, and went into her bedroom, still 
 laughing, though in a more suppressed way. 
 
 Cyril had been put in the wrong, but this time 
 it was particularly hard to bear, because he was 
 conscious of having made a mistake. One mistake ! 
 It seemed to him that he did nothing but make 
 mistakes. How was he ever to influence his wife, 
 and why was it that there seemed to be such a 
 wide difference in principles and all else between 
 them ? Then, with a sudden reaction he accounted 
 for everything by the absence of that love which 
 was, he was afraid, so much more on her side 
 than his.
 
 The Festivities at Burlington Manor. 135 
 
 " If I loved her passionately, everything that 
 irritates me now would perhaps charm me," he 
 thought, sadly enough; and, as he remembered 
 this, he resolved to be patient — only so could he 
 make amends for a wrong he was conscious of 
 having done her in marrying her.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 REHEARSAL. 
 
 The days went on with all the usual amount of 
 heartburnings, private mortifications, and petty 
 jealousies which are the natural outcome of an ill- 
 assorted company of amateur actors. But Mrs. Bur- 
 lington's brilliant good humour never failed her. 
 She seemed impervious to any remarks save those 
 of a flattering nature, ignored any attempt at im- 
 pertinence, and was evidently quite in her element. 
 Every difficulty arose apparently only for her to 
 overcome, and she certainly shone out under the 
 existing chaos, always serene, gay, and in very brilliant
 
 Rehearsal. 137 
 
 spirits. Cyril felt that they had drifted farther apart, but, 
 a.11 the same, privately gave her ungrudging admiration. 
 
 She had ready answers, and was never put to a 
 disadvantage. She was so ignorant of the various 
 political relations that her. husband feared catas- 
 trophes, and then found that in her ignorance lay her 
 safety. Those people who tried to say something 
 unpleasant, and who talked of waste of time and 
 dissipation, always got the worst of it — especially 
 Lady Bridstone, w^ho cherished a pet grievance 
 dating from her very first visit. 
 
 "It is so good, so kind, so forbearing of your 
 dear kind husband, Mrs. Burlington, to allow all 
 this kind of thing! He must hate it. He looks 
 very unhappy ; not at all himself^ poor dear ! " 
 
 "No; he is not looking well," answered his wife 
 calmly; "he has had toothache for three days." 
 
 " Oh ! I thought all this hurly-burly was a worry 
 to him. To some people a perpetual racket is so 
 trying, so depressing ! "
 
 138 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " I think dullness so much more depressing, and 
 English country life is terribly dull. It is particu- 
 larly dull to us — to women generally." 
 
 "I never feel dull." 
 
 " Do you not ? What amusements do you have, 
 then?" 
 
 " I do not consider amusements necessary. I 
 have interests." And Lady Bridstone looked very 
 imposing when she made this speech. 
 
 "Ah?" said Mrs. Burlington, negligently. "If 
 you have interests . . . May I know what especi- 
 ally interests you ? " 
 
 " Everything, more or less ; but you think country 
 life dull ? 1 cannot understand it. " 
 
 " I do not find it amusing. What is country 
 life, as a rule, here? After breakfast people order 
 dinner, and have five minutes interview with the 
 housekeeper ; read the slate ; write one or two notes ; 
 saunter in the flower garden, and snip the withered 
 heads off the rosebushes ; work a little ; look at the
 
 Rehearsal. 139 
 
 paper, and wonder why one honest set of gentlemen 
 pick holes in each other's speeches in such a re- 
 markably rude w^ay, and think it necessary to show 
 the strength of their convictions by being extremely 
 irate with everyone who disagrees with them; then 
 lunch; perhaps a drive of several miles, to find 
 everyone out, and be very glad of it ; return home; 
 visit some poor people, have tea, perhaps ride; 
 dress and dine, and doze over picture-papers till 
 bedtime ... I call that a very dull life ! " 
 
 "You have no interest in politics; I have." 
 
 "Mercifully I have no political convictions." 
 
 "Mercifully?" 
 
 " Yes. If I had I should differ entirely from my 
 husband, and it is quite possible that we might 
 quarrel. " 
 
 " Ah ! " breathed Lady Bridstone, who thought this 
 a home thrust and given from malice prepense. 
 
 "Yes; we might quarrel. Now I do not mean 
 to deny that a quarrel might be very amusing,
 
 140 A Brilliant: Wo?/mn. 
 
 much more amusing than monotonous agreement, 
 but it is not very nice. You see I am afraid I 
 was born without enthusiasm." 
 
 " I should be grieved to think you mean what 
 you say," and Lady Bridstone shook her elderly 
 head till her front, which had seen better days, got 
 slightly to one side. "Do you mean to say that 
 if your husband stood for the county you would 
 not be interested — that you would not endeavour 
 to help him? Women can do so much in these 
 days." 
 
 "They can also do mfschief," answered Maria, 
 with sudden gravity, looking full in the old lady's 
 face. 
 
 Poor Lady Bridstone reddened. " I was talking 
 about political influence. I wished to put before 
 you in plain English, that you ought to feel an interest 
 in your husband's election — in his success." 
 
 "But I should feel interested,'' answered Maria, 
 with great animation. " It would be my one chance
 
 Rehearsal. 1 4 1 
 
 of being again in London, and I adore London." 
 " Ah ! " again said Lady Bridstone. " I am not 
 sure that I think that a very exalted motive. No 
 interest in politics, no interest in the history of our 
 times. A mere frivolous existence, a life of plea- 
 sure ..." 
 
 " How can any rational woman be really interested 
 in the petty squabbles of the House of Commons ? " 
 " But eloquence, my dear Mrs. Burlington ! " 
 "Eloquence? Yes; but when a good speech is 
 made I am always on that side of the question; I 
 am so easily persuaded. But, as a rule, it is not 
 eloquence. How can I feel interested in the usual 
 sort of thing? The country is always said to be 
 going to the dogs, and, somehow, never gets there ; 
 one set of men are praised for going to war, and 
 the next year are blamed for the same thing. No; 
 the House of Commons is an excellent institution ; 
 it is a safety-valve for all the bores, and there are 
 so many! As in a hive drones exist, so in society
 
 142 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 bores are an established fact. If they had no place 
 to prose in, how terrible it would be for the wives ! " 
 
 Lady Bridstone began to have a dim conviction 
 that trying to argue with a young woman who 
 was so utterly unlike any other young woman she 
 had encountered, was not a success. 
 
 She turned the conversation to the play, and, 
 Mr. Burlington coming in just then, she tried to 
 show her annoyance with Mrs. Burlington by 
 attempting to ignore her — a proceeding he saw 
 through at once, and instantly defeated. Maria 
 instinctively recognised his loyalty, and a sincere, if 
 ephemeral, feeling of gratitude made her cordial to him. 
 
 Most unfortunately, her anxiety to rouse and 
 startle Lady Bridstone made her say, " You are 
 coming to see the play, I hope. Mr. Burlington 
 is trembling a little about the verdict respecting 
 my dress, or rather my petticoats. He is afraid 
 they will be too short. Do you object to very 
 short petticoats, dear Lady Bridstone ? "
 
 Rehearsal. 143 
 
 " I am not young enough to understand quizzing, " 
 said the old lady, immensely offended, and rising 
 from her chair, and shaking her dress out as if 
 unseen earwigs or other obnoxious insects were 
 hanging to it. 
 
 " I am not quizzing. " Maria looked at her hus- 
 band, and saw that he was with difficulty suppres- 
 sing annoyance. Still true to his wife, he said 
 lightly, "There is some doubt as to the length of 
 petticoats in a Tyrolese costume. My wife is afraid 
 we may all be taken by surprise, and she is 
 anxious to do nothing to cause any sort of disap- 
 proval. " 
 
 Lady Bridstone looked from one to the other. 
 She would like to have said something stinging to 
 Mrs. Burlington, who had managed to ruffle her a 
 great deal; but, as Mr. Burlington upheld her and 
 stood by her, she was checked. By sympathetic 
 sighs and an ardent pressure of her withered hand, 
 she endeavoured silently to convey her sorrow for
 
 144 ^^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 his being so ill-matched, and her strong disapproval 
 of his wife to her husband. When she was driving 
 away she was conscious of having failed to 
 disturb the serenity of either, and in her heart of 
 hearts she admired that husband's loyalty. 
 
 But she went about everywhere, shaking her 
 head, and pitying him so much and looking so 
 sagacious that Lord Burleigh's momentous shake 
 of the head in " The Critic " was nothing to it. 
 Mrs. Burlington had made one dangerous enemy. 
 
 Cyril was so vexed that he was afraid of speaking 
 just then to his wife. She was in a horribly false 
 position. She did not know . . . and he felt that 
 this would always be the case. 
 
 How foolish he had been in thinking that he 
 could always influence her without explanations! 
 And if he gave those explanations would it not 
 destroy her spontaneous brightness, which was so 
 distinctive a trait ; and if her brightness went what 
 would remain to her ? He was moodily wandering
 
 Rehearsal. 1 45 
 
 near the house when he was suddenly confronted by 
 his aunt, and while he would not have sought her 
 just then, he acknowledged that her presence was 
 more grateful and delightful to him than almost 
 ever before. In her long life Aunt Anne had 
 never been known to take an unkind or unchari- 
 table view of any one. Cyril was not afraid of 
 himself. But, as he had not sought her, he was 
 more at ease, and felt that his unacknowledged 
 and almost vague discontent about his wife's pro- 
 ceedings need not be entered into. 
 
 During the last few weeks, busy and taken up 
 as she had been with the excitement of all the 
 coming play, Maria had never been too busy or 
 too engrossed to go and see Aunt Anne, and in- 
 deed the liking between the two was increasing. 
 Maria felt the charm of one whose ease of manner 
 and cordial kindness made effort unnecessary; and, 
 though she had occasional fits of pique and momen- 
 tary spasms of jealousy if she fancied Aunt Anne's 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 influence outweighed hers, she was beginning to 
 lean upon the elder woman's opinion, and to like 
 nothing better than a talk with her. On her side 
 Aunt Anne, who had private and secret reasons of 
 her own for dreading the marriage, was soon won 
 by the frankness and absolute straightforwardness 
 of her new niece. She was so perfectly outspoken 
 that, though the fearlessness might be the outcome 
 of undue confidence in herself, it was a quality to 
 be prized, and the brightness she brought with her 
 was something new and refreshing to one who had 
 suffered so long from the depressing effect of be- 
 reavement and solitude, and the absence of any 
 close womanly friend to whom she might speak of 
 those minor matters too small to be worthy of a 
 man's attention. When Aunt Anne and Cyril met, 
 therefore, just at this juncture, the Fates could 
 hardly have done Maria a better turn. 
 
 " I was just coming up to see the dresses. Maria 
 wished it "
 
 Rehearsal. 1 47 
 
 This recalled a trouble, " I am sure I don't know 
 what room you can see them in. The whole house 
 is in confusion. There is not a place one can sit 
 down in quietly. " 
 
 " Ah, well, in three days now all will be over. 
 I daresay being behind the scenes so much, you 
 have grown tired of it all. Everything will be fresh 
 and startling and new to me. I daresay you know 
 all by heart." 
 
 " I hope there will be nothing startling, " said Cy- 
 ril. His tone was not very cheerful, and she was 
 quick to see it. 
 
 "I see you are a little bored. Maria was afraid 
 you were bored. My dear Cyril, how nice she is! 
 It seems that some remarks about the dresses made 
 her anxious for my opinion. I had a note from her 
 begging me to come and see, and judge. " 
 
 Cyril felt much ashamed. So while he had been 
 disturbing himself his wife had been prudence itself. 
 His answer was much more cheerful.
 
 148 A Brilliajit Woman. 
 
 * I acknowledge that I am cross. " he said. " I 
 will say ' bored ' if you like it. It certainly sounds 
 better. There seems to me such an absurd amount 
 of rehearsing. I can go nowhere without being 
 made to feel I am in the way, and the people who 
 spend their days here are not to my taste. There 
 is Mr. Eccles. Have you ever met him or heard 
 of him?" 
 
 " Never. Is he objectionable ? " 
 
 " He is worse, if there is anything worse. "... 
 
 " I am sorry, dear. I suppose, to do justice to 
 the play, outsiders had to be allowed to take part. 
 I am sure Maria is sorry also. What does she say 
 about him? I suppose you told her you objected 
 to him ? It was probably too late. " 
 
 Cyril was silent. This was exactly what he had 
 not done. Indeed, his grievance was that his wife 
 had not found out for herself that he objected so 
 very much to this man — and other things. 
 
 He had not spoken, because he was hurt, and
 
 Rehearsal, 1 49 
 
 also he dreaded that way Maria had of laughing oiF 
 any serious cause of complaint. It irritated him, 
 and somehow put him in the wrong; it made him 
 look as though he was making a fuss about no- 
 thing. 
 
 Looking up, however, he saw that his silence 
 was giving Aunt Anne a false impression, and his 
 sense of right impelled him to speak. 
 
 " I have said nothing , . . . I thought she would 
 see for herself. " 
 
 " I would tell her, " said Aunt Anne, gently. 
 **I think, my dear Cyril, that in many ways your 
 wife has been unfairly used. I have no right to 
 interfere; no right, perhaps, to express an opinion; 
 but I feel that a mistake has been made, especially 
 with an open character like hers. Not by you, but 
 by those who brought her up. " 
 
 " I think so, too, " answered Cyril, heartily ; " but 
 I cannot see my way to altering things now; and 
 I hope that there will be no occasion."
 
 150 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 They reached the steps leading into the library 
 as he finished speaking, but his moodiness was 
 gone. Nothing could have laid his fears at rest so 
 much as that simple act told him by his aunt. His 
 wife had asked her to judge about the propriety of 
 her costume; and if she approved, what mattered 
 it to him who disapproved? He would set her 
 judgment against that of all the world.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WAS IT ALL SUCCESS? 
 
 The eventful evening arrived. Dinner was advanced 
 half an hour, in order that visitors and servants 
 might have time to digest and prepare; the actors 
 and actresses dined together apart at an earlier hour. 
 It must be confessed that Mrs. Burlington's ab- 
 sence made ever)^hing much less lively than usual. 
 Her brightness and charm of manner were missed 
 by her husband most, and by the others without 
 their accounting for it. There are few events in life 
 allowed to interfere with so important a daily occur- 
 rence as a man's dinner, and that on this occasion
 
 152 A Brilliaiit Wo?nan. 
 
 this sacred meal was over some ten minutes earlier 
 than usual was due more to the fact of Mrs. Bur- 
 lington's absence than to any neglect of Mrs. Butt's 
 good things. 
 
 There was much less conversation, because there 
 was no one to originate things. Aunt Anne was at 
 the head of the table once more, but her gentle 
 manner was really a check upon the conversation 
 of others. She had a pleading, low pitched voice, 
 which was subduing in its influence. Other voices 
 sounded almost aggressively loud contrasted with 
 her extreme quietness, and, though a low, sweet 
 voice is a " very excellent thing in woman, " if all 
 remarks reach a near neighbour only, general con- 
 versation is apt to languish. Cyril noticed this, and 
 found the dinner longer and duller, and made a 
 mental appreciative remark about his wife's way of 
 drawing people out. 
 
 No one was more eager than he was for the play 
 to begin and — end; and when all was ready, and
 
 Was it all Success? 153 
 
 the overture was in progress, he was surprised by 
 his own agitation. The play was, after all, pastoral. 
 The evening was superb — still, calm, and warm. 
 The play had been written for Mrs. Burlington by 
 a great man ; and nothing prettier could be conceived 
 than the opening scenes — the many richly draped 
 figures gliding through the trees; the flash of co- 
 lour; the whole mise en scene was excellent. 
 
 The acting was very poor, with one exception — 
 Mrs. Burlington. Her acting was more that of an 
 accomplished professional than the performance of 
 an amateur. Accustomed to see the best acting, 
 and having taken part in private theatricals as a girl, 
 she was quite at home, and won rounds of applause 
 from all the disinterested spectators. She was sup- 
 posed to be a Tyrolese peasant in the days when 
 Austria was fighting that gallant little nation, and 
 to be loved at the same moment by an Austrian 
 soldier and a Tyrolese musician. To save her family 
 from endless persecution and annoyance, she tries
 
 154 -^ Brilliant Woman, 
 
 to keep the soldier in good humour, and thus makes 
 her lover jealous, and the famous dance was to 
 please the Austrian and keep him out of the way 
 while her father and lover were carrying out a secret 
 march. 
 
 A well-made boarding covered with tightly 
 stretched cloth had been placed on the grass for the 
 actors to be secure against evening dews and damp 
 arising. Mrs. Burlington's beautiful figure, her pos- 
 tures, and her dancing were all in turn admired 
 with ungrudging enthusiasm. Even Cyril, prepared 
 not wholly to approve, was carried away by the 
 influence of her grace and the refined charm of all 
 her gestures. Coloured lights were suddenly thrown 
 over everything, and the success was complete. 
 
 Then Cyril suddenly had a shock. Old General 
 Labbridare said to him, with enthusiasm, " You are, 
 possibly, too young to have seen her ; but, by Jove, 
 sir, your wife, in figure, face, and action, is the 
 exact image of that poor girl, Donella, who was
 
 Was it all Success? 155 
 
 burned, you know. I never in all my life saw 
 such a likeness." 
 
 * I suppose you mean that for a great compliment," 
 said poor Cyril, with an attempt at a smile. * I 
 suppose that was her professional name." 
 
 *I mean it as the greatest compliment. As to 
 the name, poor Donella was an Irish girl ; a nobody, 
 a girl called Rourke, I think. But she had harder 
 lines than most girls, poor little soul! * 
 
 Cyril wished and did not dare to ask more. 
 
 All was over. There was a confused rush of 
 compliments and thanks — supper, where everyone 
 appeared in their costumes, and where Mrs. Bur- 
 lington, in brilliant spirits, was the life of the whole 
 party. Lady Bridstone, who had been meditating 
 how she could say something sarcastic all the even- 
 ing, said clumsily : " Your acting is too good for 
 an amateur, Mrs. Burlington. It is quite a pity 
 you are not on the stage. You act almost as if 
 you had been trained."
 
 156 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Cyril was near her, and was delighted when his 
 wife took the remark in excellent part, and said 
 quietly: "I hardly expected such generous, such 
 ungrudging praise from you, Lady Bridstone. You 
 are very kind." 
 
 The malicious old lady looked keenly at her, 
 but could see only an open, candid face, and a 
 pleased smile. 
 
 "She must be a born actress," she muttered to 
 herself as she went off to the carriage. " I don't 
 believe in a woman like that ! " 
 
 Cyril went upstairs at length, expecting to find 
 his wife tired out, and either undressing or un- 
 dressed. But she was neither. She was standing, 
 leaning against the open window. All the candles 
 were lit in her room, and her figure looked radiant 
 with all the gold embroidery, and the jewels about 
 her throat. Her eyes were sparkling with indigna- 
 tion. "Cyril," she began in a direct tone, "I 
 have been insulted to-night. Is it my fault ? Did
 
 Was it all Success? 157 
 
 you notice a very odious man called Eccles here, 
 a man some one suggested could act, and who has 
 been rehearsing here these last few weeks." 
 
 "Yes/ 
 
 " He seized my Hand, and began to make love 
 to me. He — kissed my hand." 
 
 " He shall never enter these doors again, " said 
 Cyril, passionately. 
 
 "Just what I told him," she answered. "I said 
 that the worst part of getting up a play in the 
 country was that one never could secure gentlemen 
 for all the parts. " Tears were standing in her eyes. 
 "Why did you not tell me the man was what he 
 is, Cyril? Did you not know it?" 
 
 "I thought that you knew it also." 
 
 " Oh, Cyril ! " She was keenly, desperately, hurt 
 "Did you give me credit for so little sense of 
 right, so little anxiety for my own, for your, approval 
 as to suppose that if I had guessed, if I had known — 
 I should have allowed him to stay to act with us,
 
 158 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 to be day after day thrown into our intimate society?" 
 Words failed her. She was cruelly mortified. This, 
 then, was what he thought of her. And all his 
 love for her had not taught him to read her 
 better. 
 
 At such a moment she had wanted him to soothe 
 and comfort her. She was cruelly distressed. She 
 had gone to him, and he received her so. Did he 
 blame her? Did he suppose this insult was owing 
 to some indiscretion on her part? This thought was 
 so maddening to her that she rushed past him, 
 intending to go out of the room till he had left it. 
 But he stopped her. "Forgive me," he said, "if I 
 have vexed you. But you have not noticed how 
 the presence of that little cad annoyed me. I hated 
 seeing him with you, and you failed to see it. How 
 was I to know that you were not excusing him 
 and putting up with him because of some latent 
 talent which my dulness could not perceive? I 
 own I thought you put the success of the play before
 
 Was it all Success? 159 
 
 everything else — that you set it above every con- 
 sideration. " 
 
 "And you do not see that this is what hurts 
 me," she said in a low voice. "To be so judged; 
 
 to be thought capable " They were nearer to 
 
 each other at that moment than they had yet been. 
 Then Maria asked him suddenly one question: " Why 
 did you look so ill-pleased when old Lady Bridstone 
 said flattering things?" 
 
 " Because she was trying to be impertinent. She 
 meant to imply — She wished to insinuate that your 
 dancing was too good — more like that of a profes- 
 sional than like that of a lady." 
 
 Maria coloured hotly. " Had I only knowTi ! " 
 she murmured. 
 
 " Had you known you would not have made the 
 graceful little speech you did. You would not have 
 made so effective an answer. Nothing is more 
 mortifying than to take pains to say a spiteful thing 
 and to see it fall w4de of the mark ! "
 
 i6o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Maria was a little thoughtful. Then, facing him, 
 she said, looking straight into his eyes, " Why were 
 you in such a fever about my dress and my danc- 
 ing? You disliked it, I saw. Why was it? Why 
 should I not do what so many people do? What 
 is the difference between me and others?" 
 
 Cyril grew hot and red. He was a bad hand at 
 concealing his feelings, and yet a direct answer 
 was impoSvSible to him. His wife watched him 
 anxiously. Then her countenance changed. Pride 
 and determination gained a victory. Before he could 
 again stop her she was gone, and this opportunity 
 was lost, like many other opportunities. It had 
 passed for ever!
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PIECE OF NEWS. 
 
 When Mrs. Burlington left her room and her 
 husband standing there, she was more nearly dis- 
 liking him than she had ever been of -hating 
 any one in all her life! Instinctively she felt that 
 at that moment she was offering him an oppor- 
 tunity, and that if he availed himself of it they 
 would for ever after be more to eaeh other than 
 they had yet been. Wounded by an undeserved 
 insult, she had gone to him in so softened a mood 
 that she was prepared to lay down her arms, and 
 
 be in love with what she considered the dulness of 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 1 62 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 the country and all else, had he answered her 
 confidence and given her his own. 
 
 For the first time it came home to her that her 
 power over him was not all she had imagined it 
 to be. vShe had accepted cheerfully the idea that 
 he adored her, and that he was content with what 
 she could give him in return. Her ambitious 
 thoughts, her aspirations, satisfied her; as long as 
 he was there to countenance and support her in 
 the background, his figure never came very pro- 
 minently before her. But something now made 
 her ask herself whether the position was exactly 
 what she supposed it to be. 
 
 He never showed her any signs of the great 
 affection she credited him with. He was always 
 kind enough, but not enthusiastic; and if he had 
 not been in love, why had he married her? Had 
 she worn out his patience and killed his passion by 
 showing so little regard for him? 
 
 He supported her at all times before the world,
 
 A Piece of News, 163 
 
 and he was loyal; but he did not do justice to her 
 powers; that was where he defeated her. She 
 knew by instinct that he judged her dispassionately 
 if not critically, and was this consistent with an 
 overmastering passion? She resolved that in some 
 way she would prove her ability and her capabilities, 
 and Ke would be obliged to confess that he had 
 underrated her. 
 
 Poor Mr. Burlington! He knew very little 
 indeed of his wife's projects, and, had he known, 
 what could he have done ? For if a woman believes 
 herself so capable, if she thinks she can dominate 
 everyone, how is a man, tongue-tied by generosity, 
 to undeceive her? 
 
 As regarded himself, he was so circumstanced 
 that he could not be perfectly frank with her. 
 There was one confidence that for her own sake 
 he could never give her, and another that for his 
 own he thought it wiser to withhold. 
 
 Mrs. Kingson had much to answer for!
 
 164 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 As far as quiet and domestic happiness went, 
 Mr. Burlington found that the recent excitement 
 had apparently merely whetted his wife's appetite 
 for gaiety. Each day some fresh neighbour was 
 openly pressed to stay or dine. Indeed, Mrs. 
 Burlington's object seemed to be never to have to 
 encounter a solitary evening with her husband. 
 
 Even the curate, a long-suffering person of very 
 gaunt appearance and decidedly lugubrious man- 
 ner — even he was pronounced in Mr. Burlington's 
 hearing "better than nothing."* 
 
 " Are we never to be alone again ?" he asked, 
 with some natural irritation, when, for the fifth time 
 in one fortnight, the long face of the Rev. Aubrey 
 Tucker and his long figure were seen arriving. 
 
 " It is much better than boring each other. You 
 know you do not appreciate my small talk, and 
 lately, in the middle of quite an amusing story, 
 you proposed teaching me chess." 
 
 ** I did not think the story very amusing. Your
 
 A Piece of News. 165 
 
 way of telling it was — I thought it — ill-natured." 
 "Ill-natured! My dear Cyril, if every amusing 
 story was sifted, how little would be left. Very 
 often the only merit lies in the little embroideries 
 custom sanctions . . . Mr. Tucker, you arrive at 
 such an opportune moment ! My husband and I are 
 theorising about telling amusing stories. Often their 
 only merit lies in the way they are told." 
 
 " I am not precisely sure what you mean by 
 stories. I take for granted you do not refer to facts ; 
 facts should . . . hem . . . remain facts," said Mr. 
 Tucker, heavily. 
 
 Mr. Burlington smiled sarcastically, and his wife 
 understood the meaning of that smile. It was meant, 
 she conceived, to be a sort of two-edged weapon, 
 to say pointedly to her, first that this ponderous, 
 dull, unappreciative man was the man whose society 
 was to prevent a tete-a-tete with him, and also 
 to remind her that, even judging by this standard, 
 facts altered and embroidered ceased to be facts.
 
 i66 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 She was sensible by this time that a wide diiFer- 
 ence existed between her husband's standard of 
 truth and her own. 
 
 But this knowledge did not disturb her or make 
 her in the least unhappy. She allowed it, indeed, 
 more as an apology for him than as an excuse for 
 herself It stood to reason that a man totally want- 
 ing in imagination must look upon everything 
 with different eyes, and be blind to all except what 
 was straight in front of him ; and she piqued her- 
 self upon her power of seeing everything with all 
 ' the side-lights, possibilities, and probabilities they 
 were capable of having. 
 
 If things as she put them had not exactly 
 occurred, there was no reason why they should not 
 occur; and because she had not seen them, was 
 that any reason why they should not exist, and 
 have been seen by other people? 
 
 " I am not ill-natured, and I am not mischievous, " 
 she would say to her husband ; " but if I see life
 
 A Piece of News. 167 
 
 amusingly I am obliged to depict it amusingly. It 
 is not in me to be prosaic." 
 
 His grave disapproval served no purpose. She 
 had all along made up her mind that he was in- 
 ferior in intellect, 'and she had one word which 
 always served her — " unappreciative. " 
 
 Mr. Tucker was a good, honest, worthy soul, 
 whose greatest weakness was an anxiety to be 
 known by his baptismal name of Aubrey, as 
 a sort of set-ofF against that of Tucker, which 
 he considered plebeian. He had been christened 
 Aubrey after a distant connection, and he made 
 the most of the fortunate circumstance. He put 
 " The Rev. J. Aubrey-Tucker" upon his cards, and 
 trusted people might give him the benefit of the 
 first name, and that in time the ** Tucker" might 
 be altogether dropped. 
 
 All men have their weaknesses, even good men, 
 and this shade of vulgarity brought its own punish- 
 ment, and caused him to be well laughed at. Un-
 
 1 68 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 fortunately, also, it set a good many people against 
 him, and neutralised good he might have done. 
 His presence on this particular evening annoyed 
 Mr. Burlington even more than usual, and he grew 
 more silent and more reserved each moment. 
 
 All at once, however, Mr. Tucker brightened up. 
 He had some news to tell — something to impart 
 which would give him consequence, however 
 momentary. 
 
 " I heard some rather important news this evening 
 before leaving home," he began in his slow, rather 
 thick voice. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington looked up with interest. • Pray 
 tell us, Mr. Tucker. News is always very welcome. " 
 
 " You have heard of the Wyncotes of Wyncote 
 Hundred ? * He looked at her for a moment, and 
 added, turning to his host, " You know them, of 
 course; charming, delightful man; aristocratic son; 
 of course, not being of our faith, I do not know 
 them ; that is, only by hearsay. Then that sad story
 
 A Piece of News. 1 6g 
 
 of the brother who murdered a man and died before 
 he could be tried makes them interesting. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington listened with immense interest to 
 this confused account of neighbours she longed to 
 know about. She wished above everything to hear 
 something which would explain Cyril's antagonism. 
 
 " What about them ? " asked her husband curtly, 
 almost rudely, she thought. 
 
 " They arrived — that is, the son arrived yesterday. * 
 
 "Well, what of that?" asked Mr. Burlington, the 
 subject so palpably displeasing to him that the curate 
 looked up in surprise. 
 
 Before he had time to make any rejoinder, Mrs. 
 Burlington said, " Of course, you will call, Cyril ? 
 Our nearest neighbours, you know ? " 
 
 " I cannot see why the accident of having adjoining 
 properties necessitates making acquaintance with 
 people I disapprove of. " 
 
 Mrs. Burlington was very much surprised. 
 
 Then it occurred to her that perhaps something
 
 170 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 about his family, that he did not wish to have known, 
 made him determine she should not make the 
 acquaintance. More to startle him than to annoy him, 
 she said laughing, ** You see Mr. Tucker, in all 
 families there is a skeleton hidden somewhere; it 
 seems to me that Wyncote Hundred holds a secret 
 of some kind and a skeleton. " 
 
 Mr, Tucker was quite certain that she had said 
 something witty, and answered, "That settles the 
 point.** 
 
 ** Which point do you consider settled ? " asked 
 Mrs. Burlington, laughing. " You have spoken like 
 an oracle, and have carefully avoided answering to 
 the point. " 
 
 * I am afraid I am not a judge. If I marry, 
 which is not likely, I suppose I shall know all 
 these little social things and about skeletons. At 
 
 present" He looked so sincerely unhappy that 
 
 Mr. Burlington, not without a shade of triumph in 
 his tone, turned the conversation, and the iniquitous
 
 A Piece of News. 1 7 1 
 
 opposition of a refractory churchwarden kept the 
 guest in full talk till Mrs. Burlington slipped away. 
 Her husband had expected that the advent of the 
 Wyncotes, and a discussion about them would have 
 begun as soon as they were alone together; but, 
 much to his relief, nothing was said. Apparently, 
 her interest in them had expired, and he was in 
 expressibly relieved and thankful. 
 
 He knew little of womankind and less of his 
 wife. From the moment Maria knew they were 
 there, she was resolved upon making their acquaint- 
 ance, and her silence was caused by a conviction 
 that a discussion would bring on an absolute pro- 
 hibition against going to see these people, or making 
 their acquaintance; and though she was prepared 
 to do a great many independent things, she was 
 not quite prepared to do anything in the very face 
 of a direct prohibition. 
 
 Within a few days came exciting political news. 
 There was to be a dissolution. The news took
 
 172 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 everyone by surprise, and Mrs. Burlington heard so 
 many different opinions, and noticed that such a 
 keen interest was taken in the coming elections, 
 that she began to see that political life was more 
 interesting than she had imagined. Then, in the 
 very thick of it all, came a requisition to her hus- 
 band to contest their division of the county. 
 
 Mr. Burlington, who had his own convictions, 
 thought seriously enough over his answer. A year 
 ago the answer would have been easy. Then it 
 would have been a negative. To exchange the 
 freedom of his life for the House of Commons, and 
 his quiet home life for the turmoil of London, would 
 have been especially hateful to him. But things 
 were changed. His home life now was a great 
 disappointment to him. His wife could enter into 
 none of his tastes, and neither share his plea- 
 sures, nor live his life. Every day showed him 
 this more clearly. 
 
 Alone, she was silent, openly bored, and short-
 
 A Piece of News. 173 
 
 ened her day as much as possible by breakfasting- 
 in bed, and retiring very early, and leaving 
 him to read and smoke by himself every evening. 
 It was exactly as it used to be — only without Aunt 
 Anne's sympathising presence. 
 
 The arrival of the dullest neighbour, however, 
 would turn Mrs. Burlington from silence to speech, 
 and from dulness to brilliancy. It did not seem to 
 matter much w^ho it was so long (Mr. Burlington 
 thought bitterly) as it was not her husband! As 
 he was disappointed in his domestic life, it was 
 natural that political life should look like a provi- 
 dential opening. No man with any brains, any 
 energy, resigns himself to disappointment. A reac- 
 tion, a hope of something to interest and to make 
 up for it, drives many men into action. It made 
 Mr. Burlington a politician. 
 
 Another thing weighed with him. If he was 
 returned, as everyone assured him would be the 
 case, it would place them in London during the
 
 iy4 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 time the Wyncotes spent in the country ; and he 
 wished to avoid these people. 
 
 To talk everything over with Aunt Anne was 
 natural enough. But a difference of opinion had 
 arisen between them, and this spoiled the pleasure 
 a good deal, because, while allowing her wishes — 
 her entreaties were impossible— he could not deny 
 their justice. 
 
 For the first time in his life Cyril Burlington saw 
 the right mode of action. His duty lay straight 
 before him, and yet he could not bring himself to 
 do it. Of course, Mrs. Burlington took advantage 
 of the situation, and filled the house. She was 
 always at her best when she had an audience, 
 especially if it was what she called an appreciative 
 audience. But she was quite unconscious of one 
 fact. It made her happy to shine and to be the 
 central figure of all the various arrangements. She 
 did not take into consideration that there were other 
 women who also liked to shine, and who made no
 
 A Piece of News. 175 
 
 secret among themselves of their discontent and 
 disapproval at being put in the shade. 
 
 Among those invited to stay with them now was 
 a certain widow, Lady Rhodes, who described 
 herself as a " free lance" and was dreaded a little, 
 a good deal made of, and was one of the people 
 who could never be passed over — at any rate with 
 impunity. She had such a caressing manner that 
 it was some time before people found out that she 
 was capable of doing the most ill-natured things. 
 She was not good-looking, but she put on her things 
 well, and took the line of being * nobody in par- 
 ticular." 
 
 She put herself, as it were, humbly at the feet 
 of any one she wished to conciliate, and was always 
 offering to do small services for them. " Let me get 
 it for you; I like running about," were words often 
 uttered, and she had a way of saying " Dearest 
 Mrs. So-and-so " which was very " fetching, " to use 
 a word often applied to her. By degrees people
 
 176 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 found out that she was capable of thwarting the 
 very plans she had encouraged, and when she found 
 out that any real service was required from her, or 
 that the people she had flattered were not likely to 
 do her any good turn, it was wonderful how quickly 
 she became too much occupied to see them, and 
 how suddenly they were dropped. 
 
 But Mrs. Burlington had this and many other 
 things to learn, and she was charmed with Lady 
 Rhodes. In her she thought she had found that 
 desirable thing — a friend who would openly assert 
 her superiority, and one to whom she could speak 
 frankly and openly. All her life she had wished 
 for some one older than herself to whom she might 
 turn for that full comprehension she imagined her 
 husband incapable of 
 
 "Dearest Mrs. Burlington," said Lady Rhodes as 
 she nestled down upon the sofa and patted the 
 luxurious cushions into comfortable shapes, " do tell 
 me all about everything — the play, the election, and
 
 A Piece of News. 177 
 
 all else. I was dreadfully sorry I could not come 
 to the play. I was away, and could not be spared. 
 The dear Duchess made such a point of my being 
 at Overcove. You know them all ? — such a delightful 
 family ; so intellectual, so clever, so bright. " 
 
 ''No, I do not know them." 
 
 "■ Ah ! it will all come. I myself . . . How they 
 would appreciate you ! A place — when you are quite 
 at home in it — you feel you would not exchange 
 for any other. Even I am, somehow, different 
 there. The dear Duchess has a knack of putting 
 you on such good terms with yourself I should 
 love seeing you there!" 
 
 ** You are very kind, " said Maria, cordially. ** I 
 wish you had been here, and seen the play. It was 
 very pretty, and supposed to have been a great 
 success. " 
 
 •* I was sure it was a success, the moment I heard 
 people trying to invent ill-natured stories about it. 
 I knew it had been a success, and said so." 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 A Brilliant Womatf. 
 
 "Did people invent ill-natured stories?" asked 
 Maria, who rose to this, as a woman of the worid 
 would never have done. 
 
 "Dearest Mrs. Burlington! of course they 
 did; did you ever know of a very popular 
 person without detraction, or a great success 
 that was not followed by ill-natured comments?" 
 And Lady Rhodes laughed a merry, enjoyable 
 laugh. 
 
 " I suppose that it would not be fair to ask what 
 was said?" 
 
 " It can do you no harm. It was only about 
 your petticoats. They were said to be short. " She 
 fixed her eyes upon a china vase full of brown 
 chrysanthemums, and rose to look at them. 
 
 " Such a lovely colour, and so artistically arranged," 
 she said. "Needless to ask who adjusted them!" 
 
 She sank back again upon the cushions, and 
 again pulled and patted them into shape. 
 
 " How I envy you the conservatories and houses
 
 A Piece of News. 179 
 
 here, dear Mrs. Burlington," she said, in an affec- 
 tionate tone. 
 
 IMaria hardly heard her. " The petticoats were 
 not short," she said. 
 
 " Oh, you are actually dwelling upon that silly 
 gossip. Of course I know that; that was contra- 
 dicted at once. I wish I had not told you. You 
 see, I am so terribly impulsive. It is very stupid 
 to repeat these things; pray think no more about 
 it, dearest Mrs. Burlington. Everyone who knew 
 your husband knew " 
 
 Maria laughed as usual. Whenever she was a 
 little nervous or annoyed she could not help herself. 
 But, though this habit was annoying at times, nothing 
 could have happened more distinctly discomfiting to 
 Lady Rhodes at the present moment. 
 
 " I am glad that you take it that way, dear Mrs. 
 Burlington. " 
 
 "I cannot help it," said Maria, laughing still. 
 **The petticoats — those petticoats — my petticoats
 
 i8o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 seem to have got upon everybody's brain ! Provincial 
 brains are apparently incapable of understanding 
 that if you attempt to represent a class you must 
 dress as they dress." 
 
 " Yes, " said Lady Rhodes, ambiguously ; " the 
 question really is whether that particular character 
 is suited to the — shall I say? — dignity of the person 
 who assumes it. After all, as I said before, when 
 envious detractors arise it only shows how great 
 the success must have been. Yours, my dearest 
 Mrs. Burlington, was such a success!" 
 
 Maria was too much flattered by this reiterated 
 assurance to perceive the innuendo. As a rule,, 
 she saw with remarkable slowness any doubtful 
 speech, and passed through life happily unconscious 
 of many little stings her aplomb and visible self- 
 satisfaction with herself were apt to provoke. If, even- 
 tually, she did perceive what was meant, her resent- 
 ment was great but momentary. The balm of her 
 own convictions healed any wound given. But
 
 A Piece of News. 1 8 1 
 
 until now she had not provoked much adverse 
 criticism. People forgive in an inexperienced girl 
 what they resent in a married woman who has had 
 her day. But a young married woman in the country 
 who likes to monopolize the first place, and to 
 betray her vanity, meets with little mercy at the 
 hands of other women who are driven out in the 
 cold, and who fancy she is taking an ungenerous 
 advantage of her position. 
 
 Lady Rhodes began to study her " dear Mrs. 
 Burlington, " and found the study extremely amusing. 
 Never was any one more easy to read; never did 
 any one lay her thoughts and wishes more openly 
 to her gaze. At the end of one week Lady Rhodes 
 knew her thoroughly.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ABOUT POLITICS AND OTHER THINGS. 
 
 Besides Lady Rhodes, there were a few men, a 
 sprinkling of country neighbours, and a few people 
 Maria considered uninteresting, who gathered round 
 the future member at this juncture, and were staying 
 in the house. 
 
 Mr. Burlington was, in his own quiet way, a 
 man who, once he had undertaken a thing, became 
 really interested in its success. While nothing can 
 be more painful than the stumbling attempts of a 
 speaker who has not the gift of speaking in public, 
 so nothing is pleasanter than to hear a good speaker
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 183 
 
 who possesses not only words, but also that power 
 of placing his ideas clearly and convincingly before 
 the world. 
 
 Mr. Burlington, who was a reserved man (and 
 was often miscalled a shy one), was never carried 
 away by his convictions. He spoke quietly, but 
 was evidently in earnest. And real earnestness — 
 the belief in what he said, the confidence in the 
 justness of his cause — communicated itself to his 
 hearers. 
 
 His wife, who had never had a very high opinion 
 of his abilities, testified her great surprise in his 
 success as a speaker, in a way which w^as hardly 
 flattering. But Cyril had learned never to expect 
 her to show enthusiasm in his direction, and tried 
 to see every merit in her openness, even when that 
 openness was distasteful to him. Maria had insisted 
 upon going to hear him address the electors at a 
 preliminary meeting; and, finding the room hot, 
 she left it and made her w^ay by herself to the
 
 184 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 outer door, where she waited till the function was 
 over. A crowd of the usual description was standing- 
 about; and one near her, seeing she had come out 
 of the building, asked her in a familiar tone who 
 was speaking. " Mr. Burlington, " she said in a 
 dignified manner, meant to check his forwardness. 
 
 " Mr. Burlington ? He may save his breath, then. 
 He'll not get in. He's none for us ! " 
 
 " Why not ? " she asked, much surprised. 
 
 •* For many good reasons. For one thing, we 
 want a man who's married a born lady, and not 
 a dancing miss." 
 
 At that moment the meeting broke up. Mr. 
 Burlington saw his wife's pale face, and hurried her 
 into the carriage, much disturbed by her paleness. 
 He was so satisfied that it was the heat that he 
 asked her no questions. But he was much surprised 
 when she clung to his arm on reaching home, 
 and hurried him upstairs with her. He was still 
 more surprised when she faced him with an
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 185 
 
 agitation quite foreign to her, and said, solemnly: 
 
 " Cyril, that unlucky, that detestable play has 
 lost you your election ! " 
 
 " My dear child, are you out of your senses ? " 
 he cried ; " what in the world do you mean ? " 
 
 " What I say. The people — the crowd have 
 heard some exaggerated account of my dancing, 
 and said they wanted a man who had married a 
 bom lady, and not a dancing miss ! " 
 
 Cyril turned pale and red by turns. " I knew it 
 would vex you, " said his wife. " I am so sorry ; I am 
 so distressed! I wonder, knowing, as you must have 
 known, the strong feeling about it that evidently 
 exists here, you did not urge me to give it all up. ** 
 
 Her husband looked at her in blank surprise. 
 Had she really forgotten ? Had he not made it clear 
 to her how strongly he was against this acting, and 
 how steadily she had borne down his opposition 
 and triumphantly carried her point? 
 
 "You were so anxious to carry it out?" he said
 
 1 86 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 at length; "my objections seemed to you old- 
 fashioned and even unkind." 
 
 He spoke with suppressed excitement in his tone. 
 He knew well that the reference she had heard 
 carried a different meaning. 
 
 "I advise you to rest, and come down to dinner 
 fresh this evening." 
 
 She was by this time in tears. " I cannot go down 
 and face everyone to-night." 
 
 ** I wish you would, and avoid any ill-natured 
 comments." He spoke very anxiously. 
 
 " Why is one obliged to think of these sorts of 
 things ? " she said, pettishly. " It seems to me that 
 here in the country every movement I make is of 
 consequence. People talk of the freedom of a country 
 life; I cannot see it." 
 
 H o w could he explain things to her ? At that moment 
 there was a gentle knock at the door, and Lady 
 Rhodes's voice, full of purring amiability, was heard: 
 " Dearest Mrs. Burlington, can I be of use? Are you ill? "
 
 About Politics and Other Things, 187 
 
 "My wife is upset by the heat," said Mr. Burling- 
 ton ; " she is resting, and will be all right presently. " 
 He went to the door, and opened it a little as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " I am so relieved. Quite a horrid, wicked story 
 of her having been insulted was told to me by 
 someone. One of the Wyncotes, I think. I am glad 
 it is nothing." 
 
 As her retreating footsteps died away, Mr. Burling- 
 ton said to his wife : " Say nothing to anyone of 
 what you heard. It is best." 
 
 " Very well, " said Maria, Vv^ho was much subdued ; 
 " and I will get up, Cyril, " she exclaimed, holding him 
 as he was leaving her sofa, " if . . . if you lose the 
 election, will you ever forgive me ? Why did I insist 
 on dancing that thing ? " 
 
 Cyril put a strong constraint on himself "If it 
 was only that! " he thought. "And the Wyncotes. . ." 
 
 " I will forgive you, poor child, " he said ; but the 
 constraint he put upon himself made his voice sound
 
 1 88 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 cold, and Maria heard the coldness, and spoke no more. 
 
 " I suppose it is too much to expect a man to 
 forgive?" she said to herself when he had gone. 
 And once more an opportunity was lost and another 
 misunderstanding had arisen. 
 
 Maria's face betrayed little of either illness or 
 annoyance when she appeared just before dinner. 
 Her eyelids were a little heavy, but this merely 
 softened the brilliancy of her eyes. Lady Rhodes, 
 who looked at her curiously, was completely baffled. 
 She attempted to make somewhat of an invalid of 
 her after dinner, but was laughed at in a good- 
 humoured way, and had not a single opportunity 
 for confidence given to her. As she sipped her coffee, 
 and carefully imbibed the sugar left at the bottom 
 of her cup, she was revolving in her own mind how 
 she could discover the weak spot which she knew 
 existed in all feminine armour. 
 
 If Mrs. Burlington had been wounded in any way 
 the eifect had been to drive her closer to her hus-
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 189 
 
 band's side, and make her turn to him for comfort. 
 It was evident that a good understanding existed 
 between them, and that "the rift within the lute" 
 (which can never be mended) was far from both at 
 present. 
 
 Not that Lady Rhodes wished actual dispeace, 
 she only wanted to find some way of shaking Mrs. 
 Burlington's calm self-complacency. It seemed so 
 tiresome to her that a woman she considered so 
 superficial, should glide over the surface of things, 
 and apparently enjoy every minute of her life, when 
 there existed a thousand reasons why she should be 
 ruffled and have her serenity disturbed. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington was so overflowing with prosperity 
 that she was an irritating spectacle to anyone who, 
 like Lady Rhodes, was not all prosperous. There 
 was something a little aggressive in it to many 
 people; and Lady Rhodes, who let nothing escape 
 her, was bent upon planting some thorn, however 
 small, in her flesh. It is wonderful how quickly
 
 I go A Brilliant: Wornan. 
 
 one woman bent on mischief pieces things together 
 to the disadvantage of another woman. Lady Rhodes 
 knew nothing positively, but surmised much. She 
 longed to rouse Mrs. Burlington's placid feelings, 
 and to put her more on a level with other women. 
 In one of the short lulls which even in a very cheerful 
 society obtain occasionally, Mrs. Burlington caught 
 a name new to her, " Marcia Dorington." The name 
 struck her, and she remarked it. " An original, pretty 
 name," she said, standing up and presenting a very 
 pretty well-shod foot to the fire by leaning it on the 
 low fender. 
 
 "A very original and extremely pretty girl, at 
 any rate, " said Lady Rhodes, meaningly — so mean- 
 ingly that Maria looked up, and, following her mocking 
 gaze, saw a visible flush on her husband's face. As 
 she was not in love with him, of course, it could 
 not be jealousy, and yet she was conscious of a distinct 
 feeling of annoyance. 
 
 " Is she a friend and neighbour? " she asked, speaking
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 191 
 
 to everyone generally, but looking at her husband. 
 
 There was a little buzz, and she could not catch 
 her answer. Everyone appeared to speak at once 
 but there seemed to be a wonderful unanimity, at 
 any rate. 
 
 "Such a popular girl!" 
 
 "Wonderfully clever!" 
 
 "Very brilliant!" 
 
 These w^ords of commendation echoed all over 
 the room. 
 
 " How strange ! " said Mrs. Burlington, " that a 
 girl whom everyone here seems to know" and to admire 
 so much, is one I have never till now heard men- 
 tioned." 
 
 "She has been abroad/ said Mrs. Leigh, who 
 was the w4fe of an influential supporter of her 
 husband's. 
 
 " But it is curious, " said Lady Rhodes, with a 
 malicious little laugh. " Perhaps it is a tender 
 subject. "
 
 192 A Brilliant Wommi. 
 
 "Was she, is she a particular friend?" said Maria, 
 turning more directly to her husband in her usual 
 perfectly straight-forward way. 
 
 " She is a friend — she is my friend, and I hope 
 will be yours, " he answered quietly, and the matter 
 ended there as far as those present could see. But 
 Lady Rhodes had not laughed in that pointed way 
 in vain. Do what she would, a vexatious image of 
 Marcia Dorington came frequently to disturb the 
 young wife's mind. 
 
 With all her self-possession, she was conscious 
 of deficiencies, and the idea of " a perfect woman, 
 nobly planned," was not a joy to her. This girl 
 had known Cyril much longer than she had. If 
 she was so fascinating, so full of perfection, why 
 had he not proposed to her? And what did that 
 flush upon her husband's face signify. This per- 
 plexing idea made her more silent than usual. 
 
 She was roused by a question put by Lady 
 Rhodes— a question she seemed herself to answer
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 193 
 
 in a breath: "Are you very tired, dear Mrs. Bur- 
 lington? I am sure you are — I know you are!" 
 
 "Yes; I am tired," acceded ^Maria, rousing her- 
 self still more. 
 
 "No wonder; such a long day; so much to do! 
 I often think what a tax it must be upon you to 
 have so many to think of, so many to arrange for. 
 And you do it all so well!" 
 
 "There is, of course, a great deal to do," said 
 Maria, unsuspiciously. " My husband helps me all 
 he can." 
 
 "Ah! but he is more accustomed to it," Lady 
 Rhodes remarked, lightly. 
 
 "Of course; he has some years more of expe- 
 rience. " 
 
 Maria was still unsuspicious, and attached no 
 importance to Lady Rhodes's words. But some- 
 thing in her tone brought Mr. Burlington to her 
 side. He came, however, so quietly that only his 
 
 wife noticed him. 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " I heard such a good anecdote of a certain 
 Court lately," suddenly said Lady Rhodes, with 
 marked impertinence in her manner and waving 
 her fan about in a peculiar way, thereby fixing 
 everyone's attention on her words. " The reigning 
 prince married much beneath him ; a pretty parvenu. 
 The fact was sad, but had to be acknowledged, 
 and the princess held receptions, and gave balls, 
 and so on. Of course everybody went. Nobody 
 can afford to offend a reigning prince. After a 
 long reception one day, the princess threw herself 
 into an ann-chair, and complained of fatigue. Just 
 like you, dear Mrs. Burlington, she said how 
 tiring it was, etc., etc., to her sister-in-law, the 
 Prince's sister. 'How you can stand it I do not 
 know,' she said. 'I am dead beat!' 'Ah?' said 
 the sister-in-law. 'I was bom to it.' Clever, was 
 it not, and so true?" 
 
 "And where is the point of the story?" asked Mr. Bur- 
 lington, quietly. "Who is the parvenu in this case ? "
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 195 
 
 Lady Rhodes bit her lip. " I never saw you, 
 dear Mr. Burlington. You gave me quite a start." 
 
 " Did I ? Pray finish your ^\.or\. I want to hear 
 how it all ended." 
 
 But Lady Rhodes was baffled, and it was most pro- 
 voking to see Mrs. Burlington's unruffled composure. 
 
 " Is she a wonderfully good actress, or does she 
 really know nothing?" Lady Rhodes asked herself, 
 as she watched her hostess turn with a smile to 
 some one, and agree to sing. 
 
 And she did sing with an unwavering voice, which 
 was clear and well-trained, though perhaps not 
 sympathetic. 
 
 The guests were going next day, and it was 
 Lady Rhodes's very last chance. She was resolved 
 to say something in some way to upset the equa- 
 nimity of the woman she was beginning to hate, 
 because she could not put her down. Watching 
 her opportunity when billiards were in progress, she 
 once more began her attack.
 
 196 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 "What curious things names are," she said. 
 " Your maiden name, Mrs. BurHngton — Kingson, 
 was it not? What an odd derivation that must 
 have had. By the way, Kingson was the name, 
 was it not?" 
 
 " Yes; of course," answered Maria, quietly. " My 
 name was Kingson. I asked my uncle once whether 
 he had any theory about it, and he laughed and 
 said that son of a king spoke for itself You see 
 1 am evidently royally descended." She laughed 
 herself at her speech, and added, " I must live up 
 to my name." 
 
 "How strange," said Lady Rhodes; "I always 
 understood you were an adopted daughter." 
 
 •That is equally true," answered Maria, "My 
 dear uncle did adopt me. But I am his brother's 
 child. I may say that few orphans ever had a 
 happier home; I was never allowed to miss my 
 father or mother." 
 
 "That is quite touching," said Lady Rhodes in
 
 About Politics and Other Things. 197 
 
 so altered a tone that Maria looked round to see 
 the cause. 
 
 Her husband was coming to invite them to play 
 pool. 
 
 " I think mine is a quaint name — Rhodes. I am 
 sure no one ever heard of a single thing in con- 
 nection with it," said Lady Rhodes, carelessly. 
 
 " I have ! " said one of the girls present, who was 
 considered frivolous, and who was delighted to have 
 a chance of asserting herself, however mildly. " The 
 Colossus of Rhodes. " 
 
 Lady Rhodes reddened angrily, and affected not 
 to hear, as she sauntered back to the billiard-room. 
 
 "Why did that trifling speech annoy her?" asked 
 Mrs. Burlington in a Ioav voice of the young lady. 
 
 "Because, my dearest Mrs. Burlington," said the 
 delinquent, exactly in the voice of Lady Rhodes, 
 "" her feet are colossal, and a society paper insinuated 
 as much. Please do not look vexed. " 
 
 " I am vexed, " answered Maria, candidly. " I
 
 198 A Brilliant Wo?nan. 
 
 confess I dislike personalities. I do not think this 
 sort of thing in good taste. " 
 
 " And what, in the world, has she been doing all 
 this time; what has she been saying to you? Have 
 you really not seen how hard she has tried to be 
 impertinent to you ? We all saw it. " 
 
 " I saw nothing, " answered Mrs. Burlington. But 
 a flash of consciousness came to her, and the height- 
 ened colour on her cheek and her erect bearing 
 spoke for itself. 
 
 But to Lady Rhodes she showed nothing. An 
 increased courtesy kept her more at a distance, and 
 when she said " good-bye " next day that lady had 
 the mortifying conviction that not one single arrow 
 she had shot had taken effect. Apparently, not one 
 had hit its mark.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 CRABBROOK HALL. 
 
 Among those country neighbours of whom Cyril 
 Burlington — now that politics were in question — was 
 apt to see a good deal more than of old, was Sir 
 Henry Beryl. Sir Henry was a type of one of 
 the old-fashioned country squires, whose lives were 
 passed among their tenantry, and whose visits to 
 London were visits only, and not prolonged beyond 
 the two or three weeks necessary to see what was 
 going on, renew acquaintance with old friends, and 
 pay his respects to his sovereign. These deeds per- 
 formed, he turned his back upon the metropolis
 
 200 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 with increasing satisfaction every time he went there. 
 His property was so large that he was some miles 
 from most of his neighbours, but his place, Crab- 
 brook Hall, was so situated that he was in the very 
 centre of the county. He was as hospitable a man 
 as ever lived, and he considered that, being 
 placed where he was, his duty was (it was certainly 
 his pleasure) to bring those neighbours on either 
 side together who had few opportunities of meeting 
 in any other way. 
 
 He was well off and liberal; he had many chil- 
 dren of all ages. His elder daughters married, and 
 left him. His eldest son married, and that marriage 
 was the one drawback to Sir Henry's happiness. 
 For young Mrs. Beryl had no children, and there 
 was great unhappiness in the home of his son and 
 heir not only on that account, but also from another 
 cause. This cause was one Sir Henry himself could 
 not condone. And, in a measure, he took blame 
 to himself.
 
 Crahbrook Hall. 201 
 
 But he was too hopeful a man, and much too 
 even tempered, to be depressed at all times by 
 anything under the sun. It was only now and 
 again, when circumstances pressed the position of 
 affairs upon his notice, that his face grew grave, 
 and his buoyant spirits were subdued. 
 
 Young Mrs. Beryl — pretty, fair, gentle, an heiress, 
 and well-bom — had attacks of insanity, and the 
 reproaches that Sir Henry showered on himself were 
 that he had been so anxious for the marriage, that 
 he had promoted and urged it, and, though it was 
 iniquitous of her people to make no sign and to 
 allow the marriage, still he ought to have made 
 fuller inquiry, and not to have been led by his own 
 great anxiety to urge no delay. 
 
 For several years now young IMrs. Beryl had 
 grown worse. For many months the young people's 
 home had been virtually broken up, and, though 
 the actual facts of the case were not paraded before 
 the world, they were generally known. All this
 
 202 A Brilliant Woma^i. 
 
 was sad enough, but a greater trial came to poor 
 Sir Henry. In the prime of life, full of all the 
 pleasant ways he inherited from his father, and with 
 much of his dead mother's beauty, Charlie Beryl 
 had so grieved at first that he was sent abroad to travel, 
 much, it may be said, against Sir Henry's wishes. 
 Like most Englishmen going abroad for the first 
 time when over thirty, and with a most imperfect 
 knowledge of languages, Charlie was only too much 
 pleased to make one of a party from his own 
 country and who had the same tastes and predi- 
 lections as himself. It was a terrible misfortune 
 that one of the party was Marcia Dorington, and 
 that she had heard nothing of the Beryls, and knew 
 nothing about young Beryl's wife. wShe had not 
 the slightest idea he was married— no one ever 
 alluded to his wife — and the friends she was travel- 
 ling with lived so far from Crabbrook, and the sad 
 story had been kept so quiet, that no one had more 
 than a vague idea of the circumstances.
 
 Crabhrook Hall. 203 
 
 There was that tinge of sadness and melancholy 
 in Mr. Beryl's handsome face that, with the subdued 
 manner of one who had known something of sor- 
 row, made Mr. Beryl very attractive to a girl of 
 Marcia's temperament, who, like most w^arm-hearted, 
 good-natured girls, had the instinct, the genuine 
 instinct, of wishing to console. 
 
 Air. Beryl imagined that everyone in his neigh- 
 bourhood knew his story. On his side, therefore, 
 no particular blame could be attached. And poor 
 Marcia! . . . For the first time in all her life 
 she fell in love, and, it may be added, she did not 
 take the disease mildly. 
 
 When she found that her days were dull if 
 Charlie Beryl had not been there, and that he was 
 each day becoming the centre of all her hopes and 
 wishes, she gave him credit for the same hopes, 
 the same aspirations as she had. 
 
 It was at that time that Mr. Burlington became 
 mixed up with the story. For so much of truth
 
 204 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 lay in Lady Rhodes's insinuation that he had been 
 thrown a good deal with her, and at a very 
 important moment — at a great crisis of her life— he 
 had been there. 
 
 Marcia was a desirable wife for very many 
 reasons, and was one of the girls that the friends 
 of a young man were most likely to point out to 
 him as such — of course, as a rule, thereby defeating 
 their own wishes. Even Aunt Anne had, in her 
 own very quiet, gentle way, said something to 
 her nephew, and he had heartily agreed to all 
 her commendations, and allowed the matter to rest 
 there, somewhat to her sorrow. When he found 
 his friends at Vevay some instinct told him exactly 
 how things were, and, putting his own disappoint- 
 ment out of the question — and he was disappointed 
 — he was very much troubled and perturbed. 
 
 With all the keen insight of a man who was 
 himself in love, he saw the two drifting into a 
 hopeless passion, and he was convinced that one
 
 Crabbrook Hall. 205 
 
 was in ignorance of any impediment, and that the 
 other was blind to what was patent to others — his 
 own increasing passion. 
 
 Like other men, Mr. Beryl thought that, because 
 he knew that any tie was an absolute impossibility, 
 other people must know it also, and that because 
 he knew it he could not fall in love, and gave his 
 passion every other name. 
 
 Mr. Burlington was a reserved man, and most 
 essentially a man who hated interfering in other 
 people s affairs. Enough of his own admiration had 
 been patent to IMarcia to make him sensitive in the 
 matter of telling her the truth. Was it not likely 
 that she might fancy that he spoke from a motive 
 which he honestly considered one that could not be 
 attributed to him? And in this way would he not 
 fall lower in her eyes ? And, though she gave him 
 no encouragement, she was one in whose eye he 
 desired to stand well. 
 
 For a long time — indeed, for many days — Cyril
 
 2o6 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Burlington debated the subject in his own mind; 
 and during long nights he resolutely put himself 
 upon one side and thought of her and of her good 
 only. Too much credit need not be given him, 
 because his was a nature that could not continue 
 offering up incense at a shrine that never would 
 use it; and after a day where he had seen much 
 that disturbed him his resolution was taken. To 
 Charlie Beryl he felt that he could say nothing. 
 If he spoke he might betray Marcia's secret, and 
 he was convinced that up till now Charlie was 
 blind. He could not be the one to do what was 
 so undesirable; he could not open his eyes. But 
 as to Marcia. . . He thought the opportunity 
 good one evening. They had all been boating, 
 and he was going away next day. This would 
 be pleasanter for her, for once he had spoken 
 she might resent it, and might withdraw even the 
 calm measure of approbation which she bestowed, 
 and which he valued.
 
 Crabbrook Hall. 207 
 
 " Miss Dorington, " he began, in a voice he tried 
 hard to make indifferent, " I have for some time 
 wondered whether you knew poor Chariie Beryl's 
 story. You are — interested in him ? " 
 
 There was a Httle start of surprise, and then Marcia 
 said, almost but not quite in her natural voice, " Of 
 course, I am interested in him. Has he a story? " 
 
 " A very, very sad story. " 
 
 " You do not take me quite by surprise. He has 
 a very melancholy face." 
 
 " You know his marriage is such a terrible thing, 
 poor fellow, " said Cyril, bravely, speaking in a 
 matter-of-fact voice, and even in the gathering 
 twilight keeping his eyes away from her face. 
 There was a silence for a few seconds, during which 
 Marcia's breathing became audible; then she said, 
 in a neutral voice, " Yes, " and again there was 
 another pause. 
 
 " His wife showed symptoms of insanity very 
 soon after the marriage, and lately, indeed for many
 
 2o8 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 months, she has been much worse. You probably 
 knoAv the story. So I hardly know why I should 
 dwell upon it." 
 
 "But I know!" said Marcia, in a low voice; 
 " and it is kind, it is brave of you to tell all this 
 to me! Why, oh why, did no one " 
 
 " Everyone thought you knew ; he thinks so. I 
 was not sure. Forgive me! but I was not sure 
 whether you knew." 
 
 " Forgive you ! I thank you ! " 
 
 Marcia stood still. She laid her hand on her 
 throat, as if her lace handkerchief oppressed her. 
 
 Cyril stood beside her. He knew she was as far 
 from him as ever, but she had not misunderstood 
 him. He did not realise that unworthy motives 
 do not originate in pure and noble minds. It was 
 with a fine gesture that the girl turned at last to 
 say " Good-bye. " She laid her hand upon his, and 
 said, in a low voice : " All my life I will thank 
 you for having shown yourself my friend! No one
 
 Crabhrook Hall. 209 
 
 need know that you told me this. " In another mo- 
 ment the darkness hid her from his sight. Was it 
 fancy, or did the soft wind bring the sound of a 
 sob to his ears? 
 
 He followed her in his thoughts, and he tried to fancy 
 what it would have been had she known all this at first. 
 
 It happens sometimes that two people meet, and 
 find out that they met too late. Cyril did not de- 
 ceive himself, however. He knew that hencefor- 
 ward she would see little of Charlie Beryl, but that 
 she would probably never care in that way for any 
 other man. What was left him now was to keep 
 her secret, which he did loyally. That night how 
 he admired her! There was no perceptible differ- 
 ence in her manner to Charlie. She was appa- 
 rently her usual self — gay, bright, and taking her 
 full share in the conversation going on. And then 
 next day Cyril went away, and for some months 
 they never met. 
 
 When, however, they did meet, the secret be- 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 tween them drew them very naturally together. 
 When I^ady Rhodes tried to insinuate that there 
 had been something — a flirtation — a love affair — 
 between them she was wrong. But Cyril was half 
 afraid that in some way she had heard the truth. 
 He was so full of this fear that he never imagined 
 that any explanation was expected by his wife ; 
 he had still less an idea that she was capable of being 
 jealous. He had been assured by her people (who 
 ought to know) that her attachment to him was making 
 her unhappy ; he knew now that it could hardly have 
 been as vehement as was supposed, for it certainly 
 was not distressingly so at the present time, and 
 jealousy to his very masculine understanding could 
 not possibly exist without passion, vehement or 
 otherwise. 
 
 He was, therefore, very far from imagining that 
 Lady Rhodes had raised an uncomfortable sensation 
 in his wife's mind, and that his flush had deepened 
 the impression.
 
 Crabhrook Hall. 
 
 211 
 
 He thought of Marcia sometimes with that re- 
 spectful feehng with which a man sees a woman act 
 well in difficult circumstances. It was impossible 
 for him to hold back from doing a thing, however 
 disagreeable, if he felt it his duty to do it. But, 
 conscious of the admiration he had for her, he 
 wanted the assurance — he wanted her assurance that 
 he had done right, and her thanks had been very 
 comforting to him. It would, indeed, have been 
 galling to him to have been made to feel that his 
 interference was uncalled for, though he knew he 
 would have been allow^ed to know this with all kindness. 
 
 It was breakfast time, and the husband and wife 
 were seated tete-a-tcte, reading their letters. Maria 
 looked up suddenly with much animation. 
 
 " Here is a kind invitation from Sir Henry Beryl. 
 A small party. That does not matter. Cyril, of 
 course we ca.n go?" 
 
 " What time does he ask us to go ? " Cyril looked 
 up from his own letter and gave her his attention.
 
 212 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 ** On the 25th. Of course we can go." 
 
 " I am afraid, " Cyril began, but his wife inter- 
 rupted him, " Now, Cyril, do not be disagreeable ! 
 What a break in the country stagnation ; and I am 
 dying to meet the more distant neighbours. " 
 
 " I am afraid you will find it a little dull there. 
 It is most kind of Sir Henry. He asks few people 
 to his house, poor old man ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Cyril hesitated a little. Maria was up in arms at 
 once. " Oh, if it is another vState secret, " she said, 
 gathering her letters together and preparing to 
 leave the room. 
 
 " What State secret are you alluding to, " asked 
 Cyril, in genuine surprise. 
 
 " Oh, you know. I find these thing's out for 
 myself, " she said, drawing her head up. " I will 
 only say one word — Marcia. Is that enough ? " 
 
 Cyril was so completely taken by surprise that 
 Tie let her go.
 
 Crabbrook Hall. 213 
 
 In a moment she looked into the room again, 
 and said, "I am going to accept this invitation all 
 the same. " 
 
 " Do SQ, " he said, coldly. 
 
 What had she found out, and how much of the 
 real story did she know? 
 
 Had Lady Rhodes put things together and told 
 her surmises as facts? 
 
 He was afraid of hearing what he held as a 
 sacred confidence discussed by his wife. He knew 
 that, as regarded himself, he had not breathed the 
 stor}' to a living soul. 
 
 Had Marcia taken some one into her confidence, 
 and had her confidence been betrayed? 
 
 This was unlikely. Maria, having thrown con- 
 fusion into her husband's stronghold, was aggres- 
 sively triumphant. No cross purpose was ever more 
 complete. 
 
 Unfortunately, Mrs. Burlington imagined that she 
 had at length discovered a flaw in her husband's
 
 2 14 ^"^ Brilliant Woman 
 
 armour. She was longing to meet Marcia and to 
 let her see for herself how well she could hold her 
 own. She was longing to see her for many reasons, 
 and tried to find out where and when they were 
 likely to meet. In a tone of studied indifference 
 she said to Cyril, "I suppose your friend, Miss 
 Marcia Dorington, will be at Crabbrook. She knows 
 them intimately, does she not ? " 
 
 " Yes, they are friends of long standing. But 
 your meeting her there is most unlikely. Nothing 
 is more unlikely. " 
 
 He spoke with some heat, annoyed by her per- 
 sistent allusion to Marcia. 
 
 And Mrs. Burlington said to herself, " That is it. 
 They will, of course, not invite his old love to 
 meet me. "
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AT THE BERYLS'. 
 
 There is nothing fairer than a beautiful English 
 landscape on a lovely day. Crabbrook was an ideal 
 place. It looked what it was — the ancestral home 
 of a family in whose hands it had been for many 
 generations. It was impossible not to notice the way 
 in which the magnificent timber had been allowed 
 fair play, or the variety of trees; the splendid old 
 silver firs, with bent and twisted branches, standing 
 here as a back ground for graceful quivering aspens ; 
 and there, standing out alone upon some knoll, and 
 serving as a landmark for so many miles.
 
 2 1 6 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 There was a long lake in the hollow of the park, 
 and the deer park ended on one side of it. On 
 the still evenings their hoarse call, and the occasional 
 collision of two having a free fight with their horns 
 apparently locked together, then disentangling them- 
 selves and again clashing together, were familiar 
 sounds. 
 
 The upper end of the lake was very carefully 
 preserved as a breeding-place for wild-fowl and herds 
 of every description. Even the woods that fringed 
 the high banks on either side of the water were 
 left untouched. Honeysuckle threw strong suckers 
 across from bough to bough, and hung in long 
 festoons, filling the air with fragrance. Brambles 
 clambered and climbed in tangled masses; and 
 everywhere in these open spaces — caused by a fallen 
 tree — wild flowers in spring and tall flowering grasses 
 in summer, gave an additional charm to the spot. 
 It was a paradise for singing birds and for all wild 
 things. The avenue wound along a height, and
 
 Af the Beryls'. 217 
 
 there were vistas of all this natural beauty, and of 
 the lake, and, looking down upon it, one took in 
 something of the charm of a primeval forest if in 
 miniature. 
 
 By degrees the road descended and wound along 
 the lake, and a very old-fashioned bridge which led 
 directly up to the house, at times apparently being 
 close to it, and then turning to avoid some splendid 
 specimen of oak— in its whole length of three miles 
 taking advantage of e\^ery beautiful bit of distant 
 landscape, skilfully planned to this end. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington, whose life had not shown her 
 many of the beautiful English houses, was ver}' 
 much impressed by the large and wide parks and 
 by the well-kept look of everything. For upwards 
 of a mile the turf on both sides of the drive was 
 kept like a lawn. Behind an invisible fence masses 
 of rhododendron and flowering shrubs broke the 
 monotonous lines of the tall trees and open spaces, 
 and allowed the eye to wander over a great extent
 
 2i8 A Brillia7it Wo7nan. 
 
 of ground, stretching from the well-timbered park 
 and its lake across a wide valley dotted with houses 
 and trees, and ending in a long blue line which 
 indicated the beginning of the great Welsh hills. 
 
 The kind host was on the terrace in front of the 
 house to welcome the Burlingtons, and Maria acknow- 
 ledged to herself that in his chivalric greeting a 
 very real welcome was given. 
 
 She was at her best as she smiled her apprecia- 
 tion, and all would have been well had she not 
 heard with her acute sense of hearing her husband 
 say, in a very low tone, " Thank you ! " 
 
 A further mystery! 
 
 What in the world was her husband so very 
 grateful about? It gave her an uncomfortable sense 
 of not understanding all that was going on around 
 her, and it was perhaps natural that in her present 
 mood she attributed those grateful words to some 
 action taken with regard to Marcia Dorington. ITie 
 front door was a very old arched doorway, and
 
 A^ the Beryls'. 219 
 
 had studded double doors and a wide space on 
 either side where rugs and wraps were piled upon 
 massive oak tables. The inner door opened into an 
 old hall, which was used as a billiard-room at one 
 end, and a living room at the other. There were 
 tv^o fireplaces, and the large tables had some beau- 
 tiful flowers in tall vases on them, books, papers, 
 and all those pleasant signs of a place habitually 
 used. 
 
 The wide sofas and deep arm-chairs had a look 
 of very real comfort, and Maria had only time to 
 give a glance of appreciation when the sound of 
 music stopped, and several people came in and 
 shook hands with her. 
 
 She was taken possession of by the elder daugh- 
 ters at home, and they were taking her to her room 
 when Sir Henry called out " Hullo ! where is tea 
 to be found this afternoon ?" 
 
 " Here, father. We said a few minutes past five 
 because it gives the Duchess time to get here and
 
 2 20 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 have it comfortably. You do not mind, I hope," 
 said Annie, turning to Mrs. Burling-ton as they 
 pursued their way, " if you would like it earlier we 
 can have some sent to your room." 
 
 " Oh, pray do not think of such a thing, " said 
 Maria earnestly. " I am not at all a slave to hours, 
 and, indeed, am a little indifferent to all meals." 
 
 " Yet you look perfectly strong, " answered Annie. 
 "Do you mean you are never very hungry?" 
 
 " If I am immensely interested in a book I for- 
 get all about meals," said Mrs. Burlington gravely, 
 a little anxious to impress her young hostess with 
 the fact of her having a claim to intellectual su- 
 periority. 
 
 " Ah ! I understand that, " said Annie very cordi- 
 ally all the same. " I am afraid I always feel it 
 virtuous putting off five o'clock tea ; yet it is in many 
 ways the pleasantest meal of the day. I like in- 
 formal things so much. " She left her guest to take 
 off her things, and went down to join the others.
 
 At the Beryls . 221 
 
 Maria's room opened on to a wide landing, and 
 when she was ready she paused for a moment to 
 look down from one of the arches of the gallery 
 running round the hall, and she acknowledged the 
 sight to be very pleasant. There were several w^omen, 
 itiost of them young, and a few men, who sauntered 
 in evidently from active occupation out of doors. 
 Two girls in riding-habits and Sir Henry and her 
 own husband, who were deep in conversation, stood 
 apart from the others. " Politics, of course, " thought 
 Mrs. Burlington. She reflected for a moment whether 
 she would also take up a political line, and she 
 decided that it was the right thing to do. It was 
 evident that here it was a subject of great interest, 
 and she regretted, though only for a moment, that 
 she had not followed it at all ; and she was conscious 
 of knowing very little about it. But, with her happy 
 method of arranging everything to her liking, she 
 considered that probably none of the other women 
 knew any more than she did herself, and she felt
 
 222 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 confident that at any rate she could talk quite as 
 well upon the subject as any one else. 
 
 She joined them all, conscious of being at all events 
 beautifully dressed, and with a very elaborate bit of 
 work in a still more elaborate work-bag in her hands. 
 
 She was introduced in a kind and pleasant way 
 to those people nearest her, and in that quiet and 
 indescribable manner achieved only by those accus- 
 tomed to good society, she was made to feel at home 
 and that she was considered as one of themselves. 
 
 She found that the two girls in riding-habits were 
 distant neighbours, and she discovered at once that 
 they were not prepared to be friendly towards her, 
 and that they were only held in check by Miss 
 Beryl's presence. 
 
 And yet Maria was in a way more attracted than 
 repelled by them. There was something amusing, 
 if flippant, in their speech, and, while she was quite 
 conscious (in that subtle manner in which one woman 
 knows at once the attitude of another towards her)
 
 Ai the Beryls'. 221 
 
 that for some reason they wished to be impertinent 
 to her, she imagined that she could easily win them, 
 and that only their imperfect acquaintance with her 
 made them antagonistic. 
 
 Miss Beryl was called by Sir Henry, who was 
 'still talking earnestly to Cyril Burlington, to settle 
 some date for him, and one of the Miss Renshaws 
 immediately placed herself close to Maria, who made 
 a little room for her by way of welcome. 
 
 " Is that your work, Mrs. Burlington ? " asked 
 Cynthia Renshaw, with affected astonishment. 
 
 " Yes. It is my company work, " she answered, 
 pleasantly. 
 
 " I am so surprised. Julia ! " calling to her sister ; 
 " Mrs. Burlington has got some very elaborate work, 
 and seems able to do it ! " 
 
 " Dear me, Mrs. Burlington, may I see it ? " asked 
 Julia Renshaw, and then, taking an incroyable from 
 her breast-coat pocket, she examined it critically 
 and in silence.
 
 2 24 ^^ Brilliant Woman, 
 
 Maria laughed good-temperedly. "Did you think 
 I was so absorbed in politics just now as not to be 
 able to do anything else?" she asked. 
 
 • In politics ! Oh, dear, no ! " 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "We were led to believe — we were told that the 
 only thing you could do was to dance. " 
 
 " Always that wretched dance, " thought Mrs. Bur- 
 lington. Her face flushed, but she answered with 
 perfect self-command, " I certainly danced once when 
 the character I took in our play required it. It was 
 my first appearance and, probably, will be my last. 
 I rather regret having danced at all down here now. 
 
 " Do you, really ? Well, it is all very surprising 
 to us, is it not, Julia?" 
 
 " Yes ; we heard such a different story. But why 
 regret it, Mrs. Burlington?" 
 
 " Because, " said Maria very distinctly, " things 
 that are done in London society every day, and 
 are not thought at all wonderful, are made of absurd
 
 A I the Beryls'. 225 
 
 importance in a limited country neighbourhood. The 
 provincial mind appears to be ill-naturedly inclined, 
 and, being ignorant of the world, takes exception 
 to these things. They know no better." 
 
 She had raised her voice, and her words were 
 distinctly heard all over the hall. Mr. Burlington 
 drew near, and was vexed to see his wife's excited 
 countenance and sparkling eyes. 
 
 The Renshaws observed him approach, and began 
 quickly to talk of the Duchess and other matters. 
 Maria, who was trying to master her annoyance, 
 was a little impressed by their manner of talking 
 of the Duchess. 
 
 "She is not pretty, is she?" said Julia Renshaw; 
 "rather a dowdy little woman, I think." 
 
 "And has not very much to say for herself," 
 added Cynthia. " She is one of the women who do 
 not know how to make the best of their position." 
 
 "We are all very fond of her here," said Miss 
 
 Beryl. " Father quite sw^ears by her." 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 26 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 "Does he? Well, I never can see her merits. 
 I always think that she and her very great friend, 
 Marcia Dorington, are so well suited to each other. 
 They are quite right to run in couples." 
 
 Maria heard and noted; if she was never to 
 meet Marcia Dorington and her curiosity was not 
 to be set at rest, at any rate her great friend was 
 coming, and through her she might learn much. 
 
 And Maria was resolved to know everything she 
 considered due to herself. Not for one moment 
 did it occur to her that, if a secret existed, it might 
 belong to another person, and not to her husband; 
 and that he might be in honour bound not to betray 
 it. She had very little time for further reflections, 
 however, as the Duchess arrived, and the welcoming 
 and introductions and the arrival of tea made a 
 pleasant commotion. 
 
 Maria's first conscious feeling reflected upon herself. 
 It was a horrible sensation to feel terribly over- 
 dressed, and yet the advent of the young Duchess, 
 
 i
 
 A I the Beryls'. zi'j 
 
 in the perfection of simplicity and a tweed gown 
 made her hate her own clothes. 
 
 Dowdy! plain! a tall, slight figure with irregular 
 features, lovely, soft, brilliant eyes, and a com- 
 plexion which was clear and bright, and changed 
 with every passing emotion. Something frank, per- 
 fectly natural, and perfectly unconscious made the 
 Duchess very charming; there was that element 
 of purity and goodness about her which insensibly 
 raised the tone of those around her. After reco- 
 vering a little from her shock of feeling, almost for 
 the first time, dissatisfied with herself, Maria had 
 time to be amused at the efforts made by the Ren- 
 shaws to affect intimacy and friendship with the lady 
 they had been disparaging a few minutes before. 
 
 They were met with well-bred politeness, which 
 kept them further off than they liked; and the}' 
 became quite officious and pressing in their attentions, 
 without succeeding in any way, and after tea they asked 
 for their horses, and rode off evidently discomfited.
 
 2 28 A Brilliant Woma7i. 
 
 A thousand subjects seemed to be of interest to 
 those young women left now to talk together — 
 working guilds, new books, the illness and recovery 
 of mutual friends. All these topics were touched 
 upon, and, though Maria knew very little of these 
 things, she was not allowed to feel herself left out 
 in the cold, but her opinion was asked, and she 
 was referred to as if she was one in thought with 
 them and willing to work with them. The Duke 
 arrived very late from a country meeting, and he 
 was evidently particularly pleased to see Mr. Bur- 
 lington. 
 
 He did not look quite as pleased to find Mrs. 
 Burlington sitting next to his wife, and she rose to 
 greet him, and introduced Cyril's wife with a slight 
 air of emprcssement as if to turn aside any possible 
 awkwardness. Maria, with that acute sense of any 
 adverse feeling towards herself, saw that he looked 
 at her critically and not admiringly. But his manner 
 was courteous enough, and he stood for a moment
 
 A^ the Beryls\ 2 2g 
 
 or two talking as he had his tea, and he was then 
 taken possession of by his young wife in a way 
 which Mrs. Burhngton thought showed an amount 
 of conjugal affection she was unaccustomed to. 
 
 She looked on the table for newspapers, and laid 
 hands on two or three she had seen the Duke lay 
 down as he came in, and she went off to her room, 
 resolved that she should study them carefully and 
 replace them when she knew their contents. As 
 a politician and understanding the questions of the 
 day, the Duke would be forced to admire her, and 
 obliged to show his approbation and admiration at 
 the same time. Taking off her dress, and getting 
 her maid to undo her hair, Maria lay down on the 
 sofa in her own room, and began to study the 
 lesson she had set her heart upon learning. She 
 had an excellent memory, and she learned that 
 lesson very thoroughly.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A GREAT MISTAKE. 
 
 Mrs. Burlington's maid was much exercised in her 
 mind as to what was the reason of a new whim of 
 her lady's. She had gone to Crabbrook Hall with 
 the usual supply of dresses, and had herself selected 
 and named them with due thoughtfulness. That 
 evening she had decided to wear a white satin, and 
 with it a collar of diamonds and sapphires, beautiful 
 family jewels, which her husband had had reset for 
 her. The gown was a very becoming one, and 
 made quite in the latest fashion, and until now 
 Mrs. Burlington had openly admired it, and had
 
 A Great Mistake. 231 
 
 been specially pleased with her own appearance 
 when she had worn it. 
 
 It was lying on the bed now; her jewel-case was 
 ready to be unlocked; and all the little essentials 
 for her toilette were ready also. 
 , But Mrs. Burlington surveyed everything with 
 great discontent, and, with some irritation, begged 
 that that gown and all its accessories might at once 
 be put away. 
 
 " What will you wear, ma'am ? " asked the sur- 
 prised Horton. 
 
 " Something simpler, plainer. " 
 
 "There is a large dinner to meet their Graces." 
 
 " That does not matter. Have you that half-high 
 white muslin?" 
 
 " Your everyday dress, ma'am ? " 
 
 "Since I wear a teagown most days, you can 
 hardly call it my everyday dress." 
 
 Horton was mute. She put the satin gown 
 away, and, with great mortification, took out the
 
 232 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 white muslin — a pretty simple affair such as a 
 young lady not yet out might have worn with 
 approbation. Her hair was simply done, and this 
 dress was without one single jewel. Maria and 
 her husband went downstairs. 
 
 The unobservant man never noticed his wife's 
 dress, and they joined the party in the room next 
 the dining-room, where few lights obtained, and in 
 the comparatively dim light no one's dress could 
 be much seen. 
 
 The Duke and Duchess were not down yet ; but 
 just as the music of the bells announced dinner, 
 and the folding-doors leading into the dining-room 
 were thrown back, displaying a brilliantly-lit room 
 and a beautifully decorated table, the Duchess 
 entered, followed by her husband. The Duchess 
 had paid her hosts the compliment of being most 
 beautifully dressed. She had on some soft glittering 
 stuif that clung in graceful folds round her slim 
 figure, and she had diamond stars and large single
 
 A Great Mistake. 233 
 
 diamonds among her hair. One splendid heart was 
 suspended round her throat by a ver^^ small diamond 
 riviere. Her dress was half high, and an Elizabethan 
 collar stood up behind her head, and, framed it in 
 a very becoming fashion. 
 
 Maria was most excessively annoyed. How was 
 she to follow^ such caprices as these ? That afternoon 
 a tailor-made tweed without even a button in sight. 
 In the evening a figure so brilliant that she was 
 hopelessly beyond everyone else. Maria mentally 
 anathematised her own stupidity, and wished with 
 all her heart that she had kept to her first intention 
 regarding her dress. 
 
 She was so discomfited that she was a very distinct 
 disappointment to the man who had been told off 
 to take her in, and who heard a good deal about 
 her brilliancy and her somewhat caustic tongue. She 
 w^as subdued, very quiet, and not at all herself, 
 answered at random, and spoiled his two best stories 
 by laughing in the wrong place.
 
 234 ^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Brilliant ! He came to the conclusion after his fish, 
 that she was awkward and shy ; by the end of the 
 third course he thought her disagreeable, and by 
 the time dinner was over made a mental note against 
 her. Never again would he willingly waste an evening 
 by her side! 
 
 After dinner she sat down a little apart ft-om the 
 others, and Miss Beryl, afi-aid that she was unwell, 
 went and sat down beside her. Maria was so much 
 put out by having done the wrong thing that she 
 could not even try to speak as usual. 
 
 Conversation languished in these circumstances, 
 but Miss Beryl gallantly persevered, and her manner 
 was so kind and so encouraging that at length she 
 provoked a confidence. " Is the Duchess capricious ? " 
 asked Maria, in a low voice. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no! "What makes you think so?" 
 " Her gown when she arrived and her gown now. " 
 "I am afi-aid I do not quite understand you." 
 And Miss Beryl made a movement as if to go.
 
 A Great Mistake, 235 
 
 Confidences in a low voice about a friend in that 
 firiend's presence were the very last thing she liked. 
 
 " Why did she wear such a very plain dress when 
 she arrived that I felt overdressed? And now she 
 has gone to the other extreme/ 
 
 Poor Miss Beryl was nonplussed. She very nearly 
 laughed outright. 
 
 ** The Duchess dresses suitably, I suppose. In a 
 railway carriage, with a long drive at each end, of 
 course a travelling dress is right. We are always 
 fond of seeing her pretty jewels — father especially 
 — and she always dresses (most kindly!) to please 
 him when she is with us." 
 
 Her voice had a certain quiver in it, and Maria 
 got hot and uncomfortable. This very simple state- 
 ment made her feel such a fool ! 
 
 Miss Beryl left her, and went to attend to 
 something her father was saying as he and the 
 other gentlemen all came into the room. 
 
 Seeing her seated alone, her husband went up to
 
 236 A Brilliant IVopian. 
 
 her, and was distressed to find her in a depressed 
 and irritable mood. He had no clue to her 
 discomfiture, and was afraid that someone had 
 annoyed her. But, as his eiForts seemed to make 
 things worse, he left her after a time, and returned 
 to talk to young Beryl, with whom he had been 
 discussing matter of county business. Suddenly 
 Maria threw ofF her depression. She had come 
 to the conclusion that she would not allow a 
 stupid mistake to put her at a disadvantage. She 
 joined the others, and somewhat surprised everyone 
 by her ease of manner and her somewhat daring 
 sallies. 
 
 The Duke, who always liked bandying words 
 with a pretty woman, was very soon having what 
 he considered a good game, and a war of words 
 went on which amused the bystanders a good deal. 
 Through it all, however, Maria's aim and object 
 were, if possible, to make the Duchess a little un- 
 comfortable. She had been the innocent cause of
 
 A Great Mistake. 237 
 
 putting her in the wrong, and of destroying her 
 self-complacency; if possible, she must make her 
 feel it. None of the bystanders saw anything but 
 pure fun in the whole thing, except Cyril; and, 
 whether it was a presentiment or some feeling he 
 could not explain, he listened with very real 
 annoyance and a vague dread of he knew not what. 
 
 ** Ah ! " at last exclaimed his Grace laughing, " I 
 shall have to giv^e in. I shall have to cry ' Peccavi,' 
 and I shall wait to conclude the battle till Marcia 
 Dorington is beside me. If she were here, you 
 would have to look to your weapons." 
 
 " If she were here ! Your Grace well knows that 
 'here' is the very last place she would come to — the 
 last place where she would be asked just now." 
 The words were heard clear and sharp all over 
 the room, and the most terrible silence reigned. 
 As if still more unfortunately to point them, Maria, 
 somewhat startled by the silence, raised her eyes, 
 and met young Mr. Beryl's fixed upon her with a
 
 238 A Brilliant WomajT. 
 
 look so full of passionate reproach that she gazed 
 spellbound at his face. 
 
 The Duchess, who was near the pianoforte, began 
 to play something with fingers that trembled a little, 
 and under the cover of her music conversation in 
 a very limp fashion began again. But the evening 
 w^s spoiled for everyone, and full of uneasiness, 
 more thoroughly unhappy than she had yet been, 
 Maria looked round for her husband — he had 
 disappeared. 
 
 Maria was still more conscious of having said 
 the wrong thing when every one went to bed. 
 Only Miss Beryl touched her hand coldly and said 
 ** Good-night." Almost every other woman bowed 
 very stiffly, and did not speak. 
 
 Dismissing her maid, Maria sat down in a sort 
 of stupor of surprise. What had she done ? What 
 was there in her speech that had caused such a 
 movement of direct antagonism towards her? 
 
 She fell asleep at last, and when she woke she
 
 A Great Mistake. 239 
 
 was still in her armchair and the fire was out. 
 She looked at her watch; it was nearly three, 
 and Cyril had not come up. 
 
 She crept into bed and fell asleep, and slept late 
 into the next morning. When her maid brought her 
 early cup of tea there was a note from her husband. 
 
 They must go home at once. Indeed, he had 
 gone, and she had better leave before anyone was 
 up. He offered no explanations, and Maria was 
 quite bewildered. Go! just as she was making 
 friends with everyone. It was so provoking. Go! 
 without saying good-bye to anyone. What in the 
 world was the meaning of it all? 
 
 Maria did not want courage. She resolved that 
 she should see Sir Henry at any rate, and she 
 wTote him a little note, begging him to see her. 
 But she was much discomfited by having her note 
 brought back. Sir Henry was out riding. He always 
 rode early, and he would not be in for some time. 
 He never returned till breakfast was ready. The
 
 240 A Brilliant Woma?i. 
 
 carriage was ordered at nine for her. There was no- 
 thing for it, therefore, but to leave ; and as Maria got 
 into the carriage and drove past the deep and 
 beautiful lake and all else she had conviction, per- 
 haps for the first time in all her life, that she had, 
 from the beginning of her visit to the end of it, 
 made herself in some way ridiculous. 
 
 She arrived to find herself expected at home. She 
 was afraid of going out, and in so doing missing 
 Cyril, and she was burning with anxiety to have an 
 explanation. 
 
 She could settle to nothing. She wandered from 
 one room to another restlessly and aimlessly, and 
 never had a day seemed so long. It was late when 
 he returned. Maria had never realised what his 
 anger would be like, and she hardly knew him now — 
 the stem, severe expression, the ringing contempt in 
 his voice. Her attempt at justification died upon her lips. 
 ** Where did you get hold of that story ? " he 
 asked at length.
 
 A Great Mistake. 241 
 
 " About Marcia Dorington ? " 
 
 He bowed his head. 
 
 " Lady Rhodes said something ... I guessed the 
 rest. Cyril, why should you be so very angry? It 
 was only fun ! " 
 
 Cyril's face was a perfect study. There were 
 anger and bitter contempt through it all, and the 
 profoundest astonishment. 
 
 Was it possible that his wife — his wife — could 
 risk wounding anyone's feelings, and see no wrong 
 in handling a private matter, and showing- it up 
 before everyone as a jest ? 
 
 What he might have said or done, no one can 
 say, because even his angry eyes perceived that his 
 wife looked ill, and the bewilderment in her face 
 and her sudden pallor softened him a little. 
 
 After all, if she was absolutely destitute of deli- 
 cacy of feeling, if, in order to create a moment's 
 laughter, she did not hesitate to put honour and 
 every consideration upon one side, was it not because 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 of some want in her nature for which she could not 
 be severely blamed? 
 
 "You are ill," he said; "shall I call some one?" 
 " I am ill, " she said ; " I feel very odd. I am not 
 accustomed to illness." 
 
 Her words came slowly from her lips, and he rang 
 for her maid, and summoned Mrs. Butt, whose 
 experience might be of use. Before next morning 
 dawned Cyril had been told at the same moment 
 that there had been certain hopes, and that they 
 were extinguished. His wife was very ill.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FARTHER MISTAKES. 
 
 No position could well be more trying than the one 
 in which Cyril Burlington found himself at this time. 
 All his kinder and gentler thoughts were enlisted 
 on his wife's behalf on account of her real illness 
 and sufferings, such as he had never realised before. 
 But between him and the friend who was the dearest 
 and best friend he had on earth lay a shadow now, 
 and it was impossible to see how it could ever be lifted. 
 All that had passed regarding Marcia Dorington 
 had been to him absolutely sacred. Few words had 
 passed between the two men about her.
 
 244 ^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 Even when his interference had been made known 
 to Charlie Beryl, their friendship had stood the test. 
 There had been a hard grasp of the hand as Cyril 
 had acknowledged his act. " She did not know — 
 and I told her," he had said, and after a conflict 
 with himself poor Charlie had said in a hoarse voice, 
 ** You have done right. " From that hour their 
 friendship had been greater even than before, each 
 man respecting the other for the way in w^hich all 
 had been done. Now in some way the story had 
 come to his wife's ears, and she had used her 
 knowledge very cruelly. How was Mr. Burlington 
 to know that the story insinuated by Lady Rhodes 
 referred to his supposed admiration, and that his 
 wife had merely wished to annoy the Duchess by 
 putting her great friend in the position of a slighted 
 being ? How could he justify himself to his friend ; 
 what assurance was possible ? Even to touch upon 
 the subject seemed to him impossible, and after all 
 qui s' excuse s' accuse.
 
 FartJicr Mistakes. 245 
 
 He thought very bitterly of it all, and running- 
 through all was the natural grief about his wife's 
 illness and their mutual loss. He was conscious 
 that there was very much that he failed to com- 
 prehend in his wife's character. There was to him 
 such a curious mixture of daring and ignorance 
 that he never knew what she was likely to say or 
 do next, or how she would take anything. The last 
 act of hers set them farther apart than they had 
 yet been. It was cruel and it was unwomanly. 
 A young wife capable of such an act must have, 
 he feared, a bad heart. . There was, indeed, a sense 
 of outrage just now that made justice impossible 
 for him in her direction. 
 
 Had he been able to talk it over with Aunt 
 Anne ! But that was not possible. He must bear 
 his burden, and make no sign. He must bear the 
 stigma of having put his friend's secret at the 
 merc}^ of an indiscreet woman, and take no means 
 to clear his honour. He was, however, thankful
 
 246 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 that the sudden and unexpected return from a visit 
 they were expected to prolong was so naturally 
 accounted for. Maria's illness accounted for every- 
 thing, and saved all sorts of explanations. Aunt 
 Anne lost no time in arriving to inquire and to 
 sympathise. 
 
 It was not for some days that she was allowed 
 to see Maria, and she was grieved to notice how 
 completely she seemed to have lost her spirits. Her 
 loss was sad, but to an affectionate and shrewd 
 observer like Aunt Anne there seemed something 
 else. And in the short sentences she uttered there 
 was a tone of hopelessness which she could not 
 account for. As time went on, and the marked 
 improvement brought permission to go to the bou- 
 doir, and then to resume all the habits of complete 
 health, there was a strange disinclination to avail 
 herself of the permission. 
 
 She also seemed curiously anxious never to be 
 alone with Cyril, and poor Aunt Anne came to the
 
 Farther Mistakes, 247 
 
 conclusion that the various phases of temper so 
 characteristic of the present day were utterly beyond 
 her. One good thing, however, resulted. Maria 
 was more drawn towards her and was kinder and 
 more thoughtful about her and her comforts than 
 she had yet shown herself. She was frequently 
 tempted to dine with them, and it was on one of 
 these occasions that the elder woman received far- 
 ther enlightenment. 
 
 ** Now that you are strong and well again, you 
 will, I am sure, begin to help Cyril about his elec- 
 tion. I feel that no more time must be lost." 
 
 "I have given up all idea of standing for this 
 division of the country," said Cyril, shortly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " Aunt Anne was so in- 
 tensely surprised that she gazed at him in quite a 
 comical fashion. 
 
 Cyril laughed uneasily. " I do not intend trying 
 to get elected for anything. I have made up my 
 mind to give it up."
 
 248 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " Is this news to you, or did you know it ? " 
 asked Aunt Anne, turning to Maria. 
 
 But Maria's expression of supreme astonishment 
 answered for her. 
 
 " It will be a very great disappointment to Sir 
 Henry Beryl, to Charlie, and to all your friends." 
 
 "Will it?" 
 
 His cynical and bitter tone surprised her. His 
 wife's face still showed nothing save intense surprise. 
 What did this all mean? 
 
 " Cyril, " she said, gravely, " it is a new thing 
 for you to speak of your friends bitterly, and it is 
 a new thing for you to have some annoyance you 
 cannot speak out. But never mind me, dear! Now 
 you have a wife who is, I am glad to know, an- 
 xious to be one with you in everything, I no longer 
 expect all your confidence. One thing, dear," the 
 old lady said bravely, " I am quite sure all you 
 do is from a good motive, and that if you withhold 
 your confidence it is because you feel it right to do so. "
 
 Farther Mistakes. 249 
 
 Cyril reddened. How could he do what he longed 
 to do — tell her everything? How explain the cruel 
 position in which his wife had placed him ? Silence 
 was his safest course. There is no doubt that all 
 these troubles — which weighed so terribly upon 
 him — did not tend to make him an agreeable com- 
 panion. 
 
 Maria bore with him in silence. And it in- 
 creased his strong disapprobation that she apparently 
 cared so little for all the trouble she had brought 
 upon him. For, though she had fretted over her 
 loss a good deal at first, and had been annoyed 
 and bewildered by the position of being, as it were, 
 in disgrace, her buoyant nature helped her to re- 
 assert herself, and her sense of being unjustly treated 
 roused all her spirit, and made her once more 
 assert herself, once more let her laugh be heard, 
 and, above all, hide from the husband who was so 
 unjust how deeply his conduct affected her. 
 
 One sentence might have saved all this misunder-
 
 250 A Brilliant Woman, 
 
 standing. Who was to pronounce it ? And, in the 
 history of many misunderstandings, is it not too 
 often the case? A few words make a rift, and 
 silence widens it. Had love been there, it might 
 all have been so different. But whatever Cyril 
 thought, whatever he intended, the matter was in 
 a great measure taken out of his hands. He was 
 essentially a man in whom other men believed. 
 He was recognised as an able man, a good speaker, 
 and he was essentially a politician and not a parti- 
 san, and he was soon obliged to yield to the 
 various requisitions sent to him. He ?/i7ist stand, 
 and he was forced to withdraw his resignation and 
 his excuses. 
 
 Maria was thankful simply because it would 
 occupy him, and that in some very bewildering 
 way he allowed her to feel that the compHcation 
 was her doing. 
 
 And it gave her an opportunity for exerting 
 herself which her natural energy longed for. At
 
 Farther Mistakes, 251 
 
 any rate, now she had an opening, and she would 
 be able to prove her ability. At Crabbrook Hall 
 she had carefully studied those papers, and she 
 knew their arguments by heart. She had been a 
 good deal surprised to find how^ completely she 
 must have misunderstood the political principles and 
 ideas of her husband and his party, since here those 
 very principles were ridiculed, and any possible 
 merit attaching to actions taken by that party w^as 
 carefully explained away. Virulent abuse of the 
 Government, sarcastic remarks, and all the license 
 of party warfare were given. 
 
 Maria was surprised at first, and then the clever 
 way in which shallow arguments were handled 
 pleased her; and, without asking her husband what 
 all this meant, knowing indeed so little of the sub- 
 ject as to be ignorant of the real principles sup- 
 ported by her husband, she never took in that those 
 papers had been purposely taken to Crabbrook in 
 order to show the line of argument the party had
 
 252 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 to defend themselves against, so as to have their 
 answers ready. 
 
 She read various leading articles, felt she knew 
 everything now, and that she had mastered the 
 whole subject. She was only longing for her op- 
 portunity, and at last that opportunity came. Mr. 
 Bathurst, a prominent man, particularly noted for 
 his satire, pungent wit, and a vein of suspicion 
 which prevented his having many intimate friends, 
 was staying in the neighbourhood with his wife. 
 
 It was suggested to Cyril that it would be a 
 golden opportunity. Tw^o undecided neighbours, who 
 were "halting betw^een two opinions," might be 
 completely won over to their side if, in an infor- 
 mal way, they had an opportunity given them of 
 hearing Mr. Bathurst in private life, and of being 
 brought under his influence. It may be said that 
 Cyril would far rather have had a man's party. 
 He had grown to dread the line his wife might 
 take on any occasion. The misunderstanding be-
 
 Farther Alts takes. 255 
 
 tween them had not yet been cleared up, and every 
 time he reflected upon that scene at Crabbrook 
 Hall the less he felt that he understood her. 
 There were some bitter moments when he thoug-ht 
 she had purposely been malicious, though he tried 
 very honestly to forget it, and to take the most 
 charitable view of her conduct. 
 
 Now, however, he had plunged once more into 
 the political sea, and he was a good deal aw^ay 
 from home, glad to be forced to think of other 
 things, and especially to forget his mortification. 
 He was too tired to discuss politics with his w^ife 
 when he got home, and, besides, he knew that 
 her interest in the whole matter meant simply — a 
 house in London, or not. 
 
 No man is always alive to or quite understands 
 the forces which drive a woman into action. Cyril 
 knew less than many men. 
 
 He did a supremely unwise thing. Looking vague- 
 ly before him, and not at all at her, he said,
 
 254 ^ Bj'illiant Woman. 
 
 '' You had better not talk much. Your acquain- 
 tance with poUtics is rather superficial. The men 
 coming will have a good deal to say. It will be 
 much better if you will listen." 
 
 " I understand Mrs. Bathurst to be a great talker. 
 I wonder whether her husband has been so polite 
 as to order her to hold her tongue ?" 
 
 Cyril did not answer at once. Her air was one 
 of deep offence, and he was vexed with himself for 
 having annoyed her. 
 
 " I am afraid I put it rather strongly. " 
 
 "You put it very strongly." 
 
 " Forgive me, Maria ; I wish you to be at your best. ** 
 
 "And to be dumb." 
 
 "You know that is not my meaning." Already 
 his penitence was fading. " Your acquaintance with 
 politics zs superficial; if you were drawn out on 
 the subject you might make a mistake." 
 
 " I might, certainly. " 
 
 This was all that passed. Was it in nature (a
 
 Farther Mistakes, 255 
 
 woman's nature) not to try to prove him wrong ? 
 
 Aunt Anne could not join them. She suffered 
 from rheumatism, and seldom went out in the even- 
 ing at that time. There was no doubt that when 
 Maria appeared, being a little late, the guests were 
 much impressed. She was in a becoming gown, 
 and made her apologies with much grace. Mr. 
 Bathurst took her into dinner, and the party sat 
 comfortably round a table, which being circular, 
 prevented anything like a tete-a-tete and is always 
 more sociable. 
 
 The lights and flowers and all else were a suc- 
 cess. Mrs. Butt outdid herself Political men are 
 not more insensible than their fellows to the charm 
 of an undeniable repast which they have well earned. 
 All went well at first, and Mr. Burhngton was 
 lulled into security. The waverers were evidently 
 much impressed by Mr. Bathurst's sallies. With a 
 gesture peculiar to himself, he dismissed objections, 
 and covered arguments with ridicule. Laughter
 
 256 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 became general, and the waverers laughed with him. 
 Most unfortunately Mrs. Bathurst spoke, and, though 
 she strengthened his hands and said what she had to say 
 wisely enough, it gave Maria the opening she wanted. 
 
 Turning to Mr. Bathurst, she began to repeat 
 the arguments she had cherished, and, with a 
 heightened colour and very brilliant and sparkling 
 eyes, she alluded to the one or two mistakes he 
 himself had committed; she forgot nothing, and 
 she covered her unfortunate husband with confusion 
 and the party with dismay. 
 
 " Where in the world did you pick up all this 
 nonsense ? " asked Cyril, vexed beyond expression. 
 
 " At Crabbrook Hall. " 
 
 Mr. Bathurst looked significantly at his wife. 
 The other men looked at each other. Cyril hardly 
 knew what to say — how explain it all. 
 
 " I can tell you a great many more things that 
 were done, " continued Maria in a tone of triumph, 
 quite delighted at have made a sensation.
 
 Farther Mistakes. 257 
 
 "Perhaps you will kindly quote chapter and 
 verse at a more opportune moment, " said her 
 husband, and she was forced to take the hint, and 
 retire to the drawing-room with Mrs. Bathurst. 
 
 " I understood, Mrs. Burlington, that your husband 
 belonged to our party, " said Mrs. Bathurst, who 
 was simply furious at her husband's shortcomings 
 having been quoted to his face. " Of course, as 
 we are mistaken in his views, he cannot expect 
 any support from us, or any other others of our 
 side. " 
 
 Maria was quite surprised at this indignant voice. 
 She said, naively: 
 
 "Do you think these questions matter really? 
 They do to argue about. I can argue as well as 
 anyone, but I don't really care; do you mean to 
 say you do ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bathurst looked at her with unfeigned 
 
 amazement. " I suppose, if you have no political 
 
 principles, your husband at an}^ rate has some?" 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 " I really do not think he has, " said Maria, with 
 a brilliant smile. " I think he tries to interest 
 himself in it all, and I do not know why. He 
 speaks well, but I do not think he is really inter- 
 ested in politics ; and at home, to me he never says 
 one single word about them. He very much 
 dislikes political women ; he thinks them odious. " 
 
 "Indeed!'' said Mrs. Bathurst. 
 
 She took up a book and examined it closely. 
 Maria had made an enemy of her at one stroke. 
 
 A political woman! Of course, he had referred 
 to her. Mrs. Bathurst could joyfully at that moment 
 have smothered him and his wife at the same time.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 Mr. Burlington by nature was not a patient man. 
 His wife's extraordinary outburst had filled him 
 with righteous anger. At every turn he felt con- 
 fronted by a force absolutely new to him ; and was 
 he to have his friends alienated, his life spoiled, by 
 her? What lay before him? How could he make 
 her see the havoc she was making; how, in short, 
 show her her mistakes ? 
 
 At the end of these bitter reflections came an- 
 other: what proof had she ever given him of that 
 affection for himself he had been assured was
 
 2 6o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 making her unhappy and robbing her of rest and 
 sleep? For Mrs. Kingson had laid on the colours 
 very thickly, knowing well that if she spoke at 
 all it must be strongly. Mr. Burlington was not 
 a man ready to suppose in the exaggeration or 
 untruth of anyone; and, with all the modesty of 
 a man who had lived apart from other men, he did 
 not see that there w^as any reason why any pres- 
 sure should have been used. When he had been 
 told in perfectly plain English that the girl loved 
 him he had felt grateful to her, and had regarded 
 her with much interest. He wanted to marry, and 
 he admired Maria for the possession of those quali- 
 ties he was himself deficient in. He was so con- 
 scious of deficiencies that he had counted her caring 
 for him as a great merit. So brilliant and hand- 
 some a girl ! His sense of his own deficiencies 
 had prevented his taking exception to the way in 
 which a painful story had been told him. It w^as 
 told so late that he could not draw back with
 
 An Accident. 261 
 
 honour, and a natural indignation had been his 
 first impression. " I should have been told this ; 
 I ought to have known it before." 
 
 " We thought, of course, you knew it, being in the 
 neighbourhood. " Mrs. Kingson had said this with pained 
 surprise visible on her handsome face. Then she had 
 added, with emotion, "Will it make a difference?*' 
 
 He felt that, if it did, no one could blame him ; 
 but he had got accustomed to Maria and to her 
 ways; he admired her, and he said to himself that 
 he had perhaps outHved the age of romance. He 
 was also not destitute of that chivalrous feeling 
 that lies, happily, in the nature of most good men. 
 If she loved him now, one day when she came to 
 know how he had acted, would she not love him 
 still more? And he did not in the least believe 
 that secrets of any description could remain secrets 
 for all time. At any rate, he would shield her from all 
 disagreeables ; as his wife he would honestly care for 
 her happiness.
 
 262 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 It seemed strange now to look back and see 
 how mistaken he had been in his ideas. If the 
 affection existed, it was never shown ; his presence 
 or his absence seemed ahke a matter of indifference 
 to her. She had her own pursuits, and never 
 expected him to interest himself in what she was 
 doing, and she certainly never betrayed any inter- 
 est in his going or coming, or in any of his occu- 
 pations. They Avere drifting farther apart instead 
 of becoming more intimate. 
 
 He would have felt quite hopeless had it not 
 been for one circumstance which came to his me- 
 mory, and which caused him to think that he did 
 not altogether comprehend her. Riding together, 
 they had been delayed for a moment at one of the 
 lodges — one seldom used, as it led to the woods 
 only and to no public road. It was opposite one 
 of the lodge gates of Wyncote Hundred. Coming 
 hurriedly to open it, the young woman had a very 
 young baby held close to her bosom, and, imagin-
 
 An Accident 263 
 
 ing as they passed that his wife said something, 
 he looked at her. She was very pale, and her 
 large dark eyes had tears in them ; he was sur- 
 prised, but in a moment she had given her horse its 
 head, and was going so swiftly up the avenue that 
 he could not see her face again ; and as she laughed 
 merrily at some antics going on between the dogs, 
 as he joined her at the front door, he fancied that 
 he must have been mistaken. And yet the impres- 
 sion returned to him, and gave him a vague hope. 
 If children were given to them, w^ould it not alter 
 her and soften her ? 
 
 It was, therefore, not so much as a stem judge 
 that he went to find his wife next day; it was more 
 as one anxious to argue kindly and convincingly 
 with her. But it was unfortunate for him and for 
 his present wishes that when he was grave he 
 looked decidedly stem, and his wife had grown to 
 dread this expression, and to resent it. 
 
 "May I ask you why you talked so much non-
 
 264 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 sense to Mr. Bathurst last night?" He sat down 
 by her work-table, and took up an ivory paper- 
 cutter as he spoke. 
 
 " You may ask anything you like, " she said, in 
 a tone which sounded indiiferent. 
 
 "Which means that you will not answer?* 
 
 " You are such a very clever man, no interpretation 
 is necessary. You read my thoughts so clearly." 
 
 "Maria," he said, trying to suppress his annoy- 
 ance, * you are my wife, and we should act to- 
 gether in all great questions. Why should you pain 
 and mortify me by quoting all that absurd non- 
 sense to the very people who would dislike and be 
 offended by those sentiments?" 
 
 "Cyril," she said slowly, *if you choose to mis- 
 understand me, you can do so. I am not a pup- 
 pet. I have a right to form my own opinions, and 
 to proclaim them. Why should I see everything 
 just as you see it? Why should I be silent, or 
 speak according to your orders?"
 
 An Accident 265 
 
 " My wish for your silence is simply that, when 
 a woman talks on a subject she knows nothing 
 about, she puts herself in a very ridiculous posi- 
 tion. " 
 
 " Mr. Bathurst thought me very amusing ; he did 
 not think me ridiculous." 
 
 " He covered his annoyance because he is a well- 
 bred man. I believe that in one way it will be a 
 greater disappointment to you than to me. But I 
 have had a note from him advising me to withdraw 
 from the election. He is quite satisfied that my 
 chances are nil." 
 
 Maria bit her lip. It was a disappointment to 
 her; but she would not say so. 
 
 "I suppose your chances were never very great, 
 and now Mr. Bathurst makes an excuse, and it gives 
 you another handle against me. I do not believe 
 I have anything to do with it." 
 
 It must be owned that this was trying. 
 
 "Of course," said her husband, "if you are quite
 
 266 A Brilliani Woman. 
 
 determined not to see that you are in the wrong, 
 there is no use in continuing the argument." 
 
 Maria said nothing. She was very unhappy that 
 morning, and, without analysing her unhappiness, 
 she blamed her husband's wants of appreciation for it. 
 
 * There is one thing I want to say, Maria, and I 
 want you to take it to heart. You pride yourself 
 on your absolute truthfulness. Until now I have 
 given you credit for being perfectly truthful. Does 
 it not occur to you that in conveying a false impression 
 you are not being truthful ? " 
 
 Maria crimsoned. 
 
 ** You conveyed a very false and, I may add, a 
 \^ery unfair impression about me — about my views — 
 last night." 
 
 *I gave my own, not yours." 
 
 ** Do you suppose that those men believe that ? 
 Do you fancy they do not think that you adopt my 
 private convictions on political questions? You are 
 young, and wives, as a rule, do not parade differences
 
 An Accident. ity 
 
 of opinion in public, and to their husbands' hurt. 
 And if it was the truth . . . but you know that 
 these questions never interest you ; you know nothing 
 about them; you care less. For the sake of making 
 a sensation, you quoted papers you had got hold of, 
 and, I repeat, you untruthfully and purposely gave 
 a false impression, and have stopped my political 
 career. " 
 
 " Do you care ? " asked his wife, looking up at him. 
 ** You never give me the impression of really caring ; 
 that is what I never understand; it is all talk, and 
 to say brilliant things that sound well. It is quite 
 impossible that men should be in real earnest about 
 the trifles they spend hours in talking about?" 
 
 That feeling of complete hopelessness once more 
 came to Cyril Burlington. How was he to put things 
 before his wife to make her sensible of her folly? 
 Did she believe in no earnestness about anything? 
 Was she so superficial that she could not realise 
 any depth of conviction on any subject? He went
 
 268 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 slowly out of the room. Maria matched her silks, 
 and her fingers still handled them, but rather absently. 
 
 She had, according to him, done harm; but she 
 did not credit it. She always resented the way in 
 which he criticised and never approved her actions, 
 and she asked herself was this what she had mar- 
 ried for. She was very far from realising her dream 
 of occupying a sort of pedestal and being a central 
 power. All she did was put before her as something 
 she ought not to have done. It may be said that 
 from first to last her happiness, her influence, her 
 theories, alone occupied her. Her husband's happi- 
 ness, his wishes, his welfare, never for one single 
 second came into her mind. 
 
 She had married to carry out a plan of life towards 
 which end a husband was necessary, and she felt 
 aggrieved and injured because his influence was all 
 against her success. Was she to see all her hopes 
 extinguished because her husband failed to appre- 
 ciate her?
 
 A/2 Accidoit. 269 
 
 He did not come in to luncheon, and, anxious 
 to do anything to dispel the uncomfortable feelings 
 she was possessed by, she ordered her horse, 
 requested to go alone, and, once mounted, went 
 swiftly across the gra.ss, delighting in the freshness of 
 her horse and the sense of absolute freedom once more. 
 
 The park surrounding Burlington House was well 
 laid out, and was spacious for the size of the pro- 
 perty. But Maria's mood was against every restric- 
 tion that day, and even the few miles which enclosed 
 it she felt a restriction. She rode up to the lodge 
 before mentioned, and passed into the woods beyond. 
 For some reason, only once or twice had she and 
 her husband ridden there, and now she determined 
 to explore them thoroughly. It would be breaking 
 new ground, as when she had been there before 
 they had used a short cut homewards, and never 
 gone far into the interior. 
 
 It was delightful riding on the soft ground, 
 treading upon a layer of last year's pine needles,
 
 270 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 and meeting no one. To her perturbed spirit the 
 solitude brought calm and peace. What a happy 
 thought it had been coming here to-day. The hasty 
 passing of the birds from bough to bough, the 
 sweet fragrant scents around her, the vistas here 
 and there of blue distances, and the murmur of the 
 faint west wind whispering its secrets to the topmost 
 branches, that rose more ambitiously than the others, 
 soothed her! 
 
 Almost for the first time a curious regret came 
 to her. Almost for the first time she asked herself 
 why she had missed love. It seemed so strange 
 to her that she should never have been in love 
 with anyone ; it was a want in her life, and at that 
 moment she regretted it deeply. " If I was the 
 least in love with Cyril, how much easier my life 
 would be ! " she said to herself; and then she laughed. 
 It seemed so odd that the thought should come to 
 her now for the very first time. She rode on over 
 some crackling twigs, reining in her horse — partly
 
 An Accident. 271 
 
 because she wanted to think, partly because, as 
 usual in all those paths, there were many slippery 
 places— and she sent him along at a foot pace now. 
 She was lulled into security by the monotony of 
 her way, and was sitting rather carelessly holding 
 her reins, without any thought of possible catastrophe, 
 when a shot, fired apparently quite close to her, 
 startled her horse tremendously. 
 
 He plunged so violently that it was all she could 
 do to sit him, and, while trying to pat him and 
 quiet him, his hind legs slipped away under him, 
 and he fell throwing her clear, and at some little 
 distance, but, unfortunately, against a tree. She 
 felt as if many more shots had been fired close to 
 her eyes, and then she knew nothing more. 
 
 At a little distance, close to a turning-point in the 
 pathway, a man came running up at full speed in 
 great alarm. He put down his gun, and ran up to 
 her; looked round for water, which was not far off, 
 and bathed her forehead and eyes till she recovered.
 
 272 ul Brillia7it Woman. 
 
 Maria was much stunned, and quite confused. She 
 hardly knew what had happened, or how she came there, 
 and her first conscious thought was about her horse. 
 
 * Your horse is close by, quite as much frightened 
 as you were. I am so sorry ! Only I did not, of 
 course, know that any one was there." 
 
 The voice was pleasant and refined, and as Maria 
 began to recover her faculties she saw that the 
 speaker was a gentleman, and one of the handsomest 
 men she had ever seen. 
 
 " What will you do ? " asked the stranger, anxiously. 
 " The house is perhaps a little far." He spoke 
 with great hesitation. 
 
 " May I ask who you are ? " 
 
 " O, one of the Wyncotes. I know you ; you 
 are young Mrs. Burlington. I was standing near 
 you after that meeting — a man was impertinent — I 
 felt inclined to knock him down." 
 
 "Did you?" Maria's faculties were still numb; 
 
 but she thought it very nice of this man to wish
 
 An Accident. 273 
 
 to knock down another because of impertinence 
 directed towards herself. 
 
 " I must go home now, " she said, after a bit. 
 
 " I suppose you must, " he said, with regret in 
 his voice. " You are sure you are able to ride home ? " 
 
 " Quite sure, thank you very much ; you have 
 been very kind." 
 
 He mounted her well, and accompanied her a 
 little way. Then he turned round, held out his 
 hand and said good-bye, detaining her a moment 
 or two under pretence of arranging her habit, but 
 evidently anxious to say something he found 
 difficult. 
 
 Then it came. Speaking with affected careless- 
 ness, he said. " We are on such distant terms with 
 Mr. Burlington — perhaps — I think it would be better 
 not to say you had met me Mrs. Burlington." 
 
 " Why ? " she asked, in great surprise. 
 
 " O, nothing an old awkwardness. Of course, 
 
 it is as you please." 
 
 VOL. I. 1 8
 
 274 ^ Brilliant Woman. 
 
 He lifted his shooting cap, and turned away at 
 once. Maria, feeling much shaken, bruised, and 
 stiff all over, went home slowly. She had a very 
 real headache when she got home, and went to bed 
 at once. When Cyril came to see her, hearing that 
 she had had -an accident, she told him at once what 
 had happened without naming the man who had 
 helped her to recover. 
 
 "Have you any idea who he was?" asked Cyril, 
 a vague idea of reward passing through his mind. 
 
 "Yes; I asked his name. He was one of the 
 Wyncotes." 
 
 She saw her husband start, and in a moment or 
 two he left her to the repose she needed.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AUNT ANNE SPEAKS HER MIND. 
 
 Aunt Anne came up that evening and went to 
 see Maria, who was suffering a good deal, but who 
 made light of her sufferings. She was evidently 
 glad to see her visitor, who was always kind, and 
 who, being one of the few women in the world 
 able to overcome a prejudice, had come to see that, 
 with a great deal of absurdity and much that was 
 irritating, there lay a fund of goodness at heart, 
 and that Maria had some fine, even noble, qualities 
 if she only allowed them fair play. 
 
 Maria was too unwell to talk, but there was no 
 mistaking her appreciation of those acts of thought-
 
 276 A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 fulness which added to her comfort, and which affec - 
 tion knows so exactly how to give. 
 
 The moving of the lights, the arrangements about 
 the small fire, which the chilly evenings made pleas- 
 ant; the bunch of fragrant roses brought from 
 her own garden, the kind and gentle hand on her 
 forehead, filled Mrs. Burlington with that sense of 
 being really cared for which is so indescribably 
 soothing in suffering. 
 
 Cyril looked so grave when Aunt Anne joined 
 him in the library that she was afraid his wife was 
 more severely hurt than she had believed; but he 
 soon undeceived her. It seemed hard while his 
 wife was lying ill to tell of the fiasco she had 
 caused, and he oifered no explanation, and did not 
 say a word to connect his wife with his disappoint- 
 ment. He was a little startled when Aunt Anne 
 used the very words his wife had done. 
 
 " Do you care ? " she asked, a little surprised at 
 a certain bitterness in his tone.
 
 Au7it Anne speaks her Mind 2'j'j 
 
 He gave a short laugh. 
 " I suppose success is pleasant to us all. " 
 " I always imagined that being tied for a certain 
 number of months, and having to give up so much 
 time, would be quite contrary to your inclinations." 
 " And why, then, did I take it up ? " 
 * From a sense of duty, patriotism. I thought you 
 had been talked into it. " 
 
 " I have nothing else. I am not cut out for the 
 role of a married man. I married too late." 
 
 His voice was vibrating with some feeling he was 
 trying to master. 
 
 Aunt Anne was quite devoted to him, and his 
 words pained and surprised her. She did not hear 
 them unmoved, and she began to see that he was 
 unhappy beyond any anxiety about his wife. 
 
 But it has been well said that a sorrow^ even a 
 bitter grief, has more chance of dying if it has not 
 taken the form of words, even when uttered only 
 to one faithful friend. Her wish was to receive his
 
 278 A Brillmnt Woman. 
 
 confidence and to try to put things right — and she 
 saw that he was longing to give her that confi- 
 dence — but her sense of right made her prevent it. 
 She turned quickly to the matter of the fall, and 
 asked where and how it had happened. Cyril -was 
 wounded at first. Was it possible 'hat he had lost 
 that close sympathy which had helped him all his 
 life? Then his integrity made him glad that, on 
 the subject of his wife, this should be the case. 
 Would not any confidence on that subject take the 
 form of a complaint? Regarding his wife's fall, it 
 was, of course, different, and here her sympathy 
 was ready, and her annoyance equal to his. 
 
 " It is fate ! Is it fate? " Cyril said, slowly, asserting 
 and questioning in one breath. 
 
 " It has come, but it had to come. After all, my 
 dearest Cyril, it may have no consequences." 
 
 Cyril looked incredulous. Aunt Anne did not 
 know his wife as well as he did. If she wished to 
 pursue the acquaintance, if her curiosity were aroused,
 
 Aunt Anne speaks her Alind. 279 
 
 no words of his would prevent her from doing so. 
 Ah-eady he had seen an eagerness, an anxiety to 
 know why this nearest of all the neighbours was 
 the one who had never called, and why there was 
 no sort of intercourse with them. 
 
 All around them there seemed to be friendliness, 
 and yet she and Cyril never met these neighbours. 
 They were never present at any of the various entertain- 
 ments to which she was asked, and she heard of them 
 everywhere, generally by accident. One very remark- 
 able fact was the way in which, by common consent, 
 the subject was dropped whenever she was there. 
 Aunt Anne was looking very thoughtfully at the 
 fire, and then the result of her cogitation came out. 
 
 " I would tell her everything, Cyril. " 
 
 Cyril started. "You do not know her; it is quite 
 impossible. " 
 
 " I have studied your wife. I have grown to like 
 her; and I think she is being very unfairly used." 
 
 Cyril was so surprised by this sudden attack that
 
 28o A Brilliant Woman. 
 
 he simply gazed at her in supreme astonishment. ' 
 
 "You expect her to shut her eyes to what goes 
 on. You know you have done a very generous 
 thing. But she does not know it." 
 
 " And if she did know, she would hate me for 
 
 it, Aunt Anne. We may have been wrong, but I 
 
 was in the hands of others. Now it is too late ! " 
 
 Aunt Anne could say no more. She did, however, 
 
 reiterate her words, and she added a warning. 
 
 " She is in a false position, and it is unfair. If 
 one day she takes some step we may all regret — I 
 do not say she will, but if she does, can those who 
 kept her in ignorance be held blameless? Only her 
 affection for you may save her at such a time." 
 
 Cyril heard her quietly; but her words sounded 
 to him as mockery. 
 
 "Her affection for you." Each day convinced 
 him that she had no such affection. Mrs. Kingson 
 had very much to answer for. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.