a I B RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS

 
 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 £ Tlovcl 
 
 By MRS. F. H. WILLIAMSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'IN WHITE AND GOLD,' ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 lonUon 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1891
 
 ; The presence of her is young sun-rise 
 That gladdeneth, and in wondrous wise 
 Glorifieth the earth and skies. 
 
 The memory of her is mellow light 
 
 In darkness, mingling something bright 
 
 With all things ; like a summer night.'
 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I 
 
 s 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. APARTMENTS - - - 1 
 
 II. THEIR FIRST LODGER - - 18 
 
 III. NANCY IN DISGRACE - 34 
 
 
 IV. ON THE GROUND -FLOOR - - -54 
 
 V. SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL - - 76 
 
 <Y VI. LOVE - - - - -97 
 
 '' VII. JEALOUS - - - - - 117 
 
 VIII. ANOTHER ESCAPADE - - - 139 
 
 IX. MISUNDERSTANDING - - - - 156 
 
 x. millicent's surprise - - - 178 
 
 XL A TRUCE ----- 207 
 
 XII. FACE TO FACE - - - 224 
 
 XIII. HER LADYSHIP - - - 256 

 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/childwidow01will
 
 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 APARTMENTS. 
 
 Moving reluctantly along the narrow passage 
 which was ordinarily dignified by the name of 
 ' hall.' the dim light that filtered through the 
 small thick panes of glass above the door 
 falling on her upturned face in chastened rays, 
 Millicent Bell's expression was a strange mix- 
 ture of decision and doubt. 
 
 The first feeling seemed the more dominant 
 as she advanced, and, drawing forward a chair, 
 mounted upon it ; then fixed a board on which 
 
 vol. i. 1
 
 2 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 the word ' Apartments ' was inscribed, so that 
 it might be seen from outside : but the latter 
 was also very apparent as, her object achieved, 
 she turned to retrace her steps. 
 
 The action she had taken was an important 
 one, its outcome impossible to guess ; more- 
 over, it was in defiance of all the advice she 
 had been given, and in spite of repeated 
 prayers from one whose prayers were very 
 difficult to deny. She was quite young, too 
 young to bear such a heavy responsibility ; but 
 there was a gleam in her gray eyes that spoke 
 to her courage, and the firm pressure of her 
 curved lips when in repose was indication that 
 she would not allow herself to be lightly 
 turned aside from anything she took in hand. 
 Yet that something distressed her now could 
 be detected, and she stood there hesitating 
 some moments, before, with a toss of her small 
 well-shaped head, she gathered up her clinging 
 draperies and ran downstairs.
 
 APARTMENTS 3 
 
 When she reached the bottom, however, she 
 paused again. On one side was the kitchen, 
 and a woman came out to meet her with an 
 uncertain smile and nervous movement of her 
 hands down her apron. 
 
 1 You've never really done it. Miss Millicent V 
 she whispered. 
 
 * Yes, it is done — well done, I believe. Don't 
 be afraid, Mrs. Scarrot ; we will help you if 
 there is extra work/ 
 
 Her bright clear tones seemed to infuse new 
 spirit into her hearer, who hurried back to her 
 post near the fire, where something savoury 
 was simmering in a saucepan, as she said over 
 her shoulder : 
 
 c I have only been afraid for you young 
 ladies. You know best, Miss Millicent, I'm 
 sure of that. 9 
 
 Strangely enough, the confidence she had 
 inspired seemed to lessen Millicent's faith in 
 her own judgment ; she was wondering un- 
 
 1 — 2
 
 4 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 easily whether there might not have beeD 
 something of obstinacy in the persistent 
 carrying out of her purpose as she opened 
 the door of an opposite room and went 
 inside. 
 
 If that were so, here seemed a foeman 
 worthy of her steel, an opponent who would 
 not be convinced ; who, as women sometimes 
 do, disdained argument and held blindly to 
 her own opinion still. 
 
 Two angry eyes flashed rebellion as they 
 were upraised, and a crimson face turning 
 towards her for a moment was speedily 
 averted. 
 
 Millicent crossed over, and putting one arm 
 round her sisters neck, laid her own cool face 
 against hers, which was burning. 
 
 ' Nancy, won't you trust me ? Can't you 
 believe I am acting, or trying to act, for the 
 
 best v 
 
 Obstinate silence ; and cheek was pressed
 
 APARTMENTS 5 
 
 to cheek more closely as the girl went on 
 coaxingly : 
 
 1 Nancy darling, it's for your sake mostly — 
 to keep a home where we can live together. 
 You are too young, and far too pretty, dear, 
 to so out into the world alone/ 
 
 A little mollified, Nancy looked round, her 
 lips still pouting, but a lurking smile in her 
 eyes. 
 
 1 I was seventeen last June ; and at least 
 one would not lose caste if one went out as 
 governess or companion.' 
 
 1 It is possible to lose something more 
 essential,' said Millicent dryly, yet with 
 patience too. 
 
 ' 1 dare say you mean independence/ 
 
 'That is a good thing enough in its way, 
 but some day you may acknowledge we have 
 kept a little more than that in keeping home.' 
 
 She was kneeling now beside the fire, trying 
 to win a blaze from the dull red embers, and
 
 6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 presently a flame leapt up that lightened all 
 the room and illumined the faces of the two 
 sisters as they leant towards it. 
 
 Though a contrast to each other, they were 
 yet singularly alike. Both had bright brown 
 hair, which the brilliant firelight and their 
 deep mourning gowns threw into relief, but 
 what in Millicent's seemed like imprisoned 
 sunshine w 7 as in Nancy's ruddier gold. Both 
 had deep gray eyes fringed with curling lashes, 
 but Millicent's were usually dreamy, capable of 
 intense tenderness and pathos ; while Nancy's 
 laughed and danced the whole day long, and 
 seemed as if they had never known a tear. 
 Her lips, too, were very prone to laughter — 
 ' Laughing Lalage ' had been her pet name 
 ever since a child, and she had not gained it 
 without good cause. 
 
 A year ago their father, Dr. Bell, had 
 bought a practice in Brighton, it having been 
 declared that sea-air would improve his then
 
 APARTMENTS 7 
 
 failing health. He had taken a house and 
 furnished it, and was scarcely settled when a 
 severe attack of the disease from which he 
 suffered prostrated him. 
 
 For some weeks he was confined to his 
 room — not seriously ill, according to the 
 opinion of the medical man who was sum- 
 moned, only needing good nursing and great 
 care. Nor were any fears entertained that he 
 would not ultimately recover. It was only 
 a few days before his death that there was 
 any thought of danger, so that the end came 
 with all the shock of a surprise. 
 
 His two daughters were left almost penniless 
 and alone in a town where they were unknown, 
 with no reliable person to counsel them as to 
 their best course of action. All the capital at 
 Dr. Bell's disposal had been expended on the 
 purchase of this new practice, which was a 
 fashionable one and worth a considerable sum. 
 This had now gone beyond recovery.
 
 8 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Dr. Porter, who had attended the deceased, 
 had, with a fine show of professional good 
 comradeship, volunteered visits to many of his 
 patients during the long illness — visits he was 
 careful to turn to best advantage. A vulgar, 
 ill-taught man, who had never succeeded by 
 dint of his unaided exertions, he unscrupu- 
 lously seized the opportunity which now 
 offered to push his own interests, and gradually 
 absorbed the greater number of his late col- 
 league's patients into his own practice. Milli- 
 cent, who had naturally a clear head for 
 business, though as yet she had had no need 
 to exercise it, wrote once to ask if there were 
 nothing due to her father in return for pro- 
 fessional services she was aware had been 
 rendered by him, and received in reply the 
 assurance that ' it was almost impossible now 
 — some two or three months having elapsed 
 since their unfortunate bereavement — to dis- 
 cover exactly how matters stood, and to dis-
 
 APARTMENTS g 
 
 entangle somewhat complicated accounts. He 
 enclosed a cheque for £50, and trusted he 
 would be forgiven if in sincerest sympathy he 
 had erred on the side of generosity, remaining 
 their true well-wisher — James Porter.' 
 
 The letter had not quite the effect which 
 was intended. The money was accepted and 
 civilly acknowledged, but with no exuberance 
 of gratitude, MiQicent having a shrewd sus- 
 picion that this was much below what was 
 rightly due, yet being too proud to complain 
 of an injustice they would be unable to prove 
 without the publicity attendant on any close 
 investigation, and from which she naturally 
 shrank. 
 
 Having decided to let the matter remain as 
 it was, she allowed the thought of it to trouble 
 her no more, turning her attention to other 
 possible ways of earning a livelihood. 
 
 Their account at the bank was already 
 running very low, and their present rate of
 
 io A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 expenditure being considerably more than 
 they could afford, her first step was to dismiss 
 their three women-servants, and engage in 
 their stead an old charwoman who professed 
 herself equal to the general work. She then 
 made an attempt to let or sell their house, 
 which, taken on a long lease, would otherwise 
 be for some time on their hands. Unluckily, 
 however, the idea did not strike her until the 
 Brighton season was in full swing, and other 
 houses were standing unoccupied with blank 
 windows and placarded posts awaiting the 
 same desired result. 
 
 After a few weeks of alternate hopes and 
 fears the project had to be abaDdoned, and 
 when affairs were beginning to look desperate, 
 it came to Millicent as an inspiration that it 
 might be possible for them to remain as they 
 were, in comparative comfort, if they could only 
 make up their minds to let the upper part of 
 the house in lodgings.
 
 APARTMENTS u 
 
 The situation — Marine Square — was a good 
 one, the house itself being convenient, and 
 made attractive to the outside view by a mass 
 of flowers in the windows and climbing about 
 the balcony ; while, being at the quiet end of 
 the town, no objectionable people were likely 
 to offer themselves as temporary tenants. 
 
 But, as has been said, she had considerable 
 opposition to encounter before she was allowed 
 to carry her plan into execution. Nancy was 
 furious, refusing to listen to reason, fighting 
 with every weapon she possessed to avoid what 
 she considered an indignity, a degradation ; 
 even Mrs. Scarrot, who was inclined to over- 
 rate and give exaggerated credit to all the 
 young mistress of the house proposed, was 
 doubtful as to the expediency of this her 
 latest project. 
 
 One other Millicent had gone through the 
 form of consulting, though perhaps with no 
 intention of taking his advice. This was a
 
 12 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 certain Mark Skene, the possessor of a small 
 estate near the country town where the best 
 part of their lives had been spent, and who 
 only lately had met them again in Brighton, 
 showing a very sincere desire to resume their 
 former friendship. 
 
 So far as he himself had been concerned, it 
 had been something more than friendship. 
 He had fallen very deeply in love with 
 Millicent Bell, and a year ago had asked her 
 to be his wife ; but though her refusal then 
 had been sufficiently decisive and he had not 
 seen her since, he had by no means abandoned 
 hope of ultimate success. Naturally he had 
 objected to the course she intended to adopt, 
 and had used all his influence to prevent what 
 he looked upon as a very rash proceeding. 
 But every remonstrance had been in vain. 
 Confident that she was doing what was best 
 for them both under the circumstances, the 
 girl persevered in her intentions, and it was
 
 APARTMENTS 13 
 
 only now, when the step was taken, that she 
 began to seriously question its expediency. A 
 troubled look had come over her face as she 
 gazed intently into the very heart of the fire, 
 where a burning glow, caught by the draught, 
 intensified and quivered ; and Nancy, who 
 thought she detected signs of wavering, 
 endeavoured to push her supposed advan- 
 tage. 
 
 ' It is not even ladylike,' she objected. 
 
 Millicent smiled. 
 
 k I have a theory,' she answered quietly, 
 ' that anything a lady does is ladylike.' 
 
 ' And there is Mr. Skene ; he disapproved 
 of the plan, I know.' 
 
 Of the two sisters, Xancy was the acknow- 
 ledged beauty ; yet now, when a brilliant 
 colour suffused her cheeks, and her lovely eyes 
 took fire in sudden scorn, Millicunt might 
 have carried off the palm ; moreover, she 
 possessed what is only granted to perhaps one
 
 14 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 woman in a hundred — the gift of intense 
 attractiveness. The very turn of her small 
 head bewitched one ; the gesture of her hands 
 — small as a child's, but exquisitely shaped, 
 with a subtle appearance of power — and every 
 movement of her slim and lithsome body 
 allured even when she had no desire to 
 charm. Mr. Skene's infatuation had been 
 very apparent, but Millicent had always 
 chosen to ignore it. 
 
 ' He has no right to have an opinion on the 
 subject,' she declared now with pride. 
 1 That is not his fault,' demurely. 
 1 Nancy, how you teaze ! Can't you talk 
 seriously for a moment V 
 
 1 My mood is serious in the extreme — as 
 serious as our position ; it can't be more so. 
 In my mind's eye, Millicent, I see a family 
 composed exclusively of children running wild 
 on the ground-floor, and a young man of 
 objectionable tendencies — who will lie in wait
 
 APARTMENTS 15 
 
 for and ogle us on the stairs — occupying the 
 rooms above. Surely/ with a shudder of irre- 
 pressible disgust, ' there must be pleasanter 
 ways of earning money !' 
 
 ' Very likely ; but not within our compass, I 
 am afraid. Be patient, Lalage ; it won't be so 
 bad as you think. Some dear old lady will 
 come who will be like a mother to us ; or an 
 antiquated and eccentric spinster who will 
 leave us all her money, and ' 
 
 A loud knock and simultaneous ringing of 
 the bell interrupted her. Nancy started to 
 her feet, both hands thrown across her breast 
 in a delightful attitude of expectant dread ; 
 and Mrs. Scarrot appeared in the doorway 
 wiping her hands with her apron, with 
 the air of one who is prepared to meet a 
 crisis. 
 
 1 If it's after the lodgings, miss ' she 
 
 began. 
 
 ' Tell them to go away ! Tell them it's all
 
 1 6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 a mistake and we are very sorry,' cried Nancy 
 excitedly. 
 
 Whatever of trepidation Millicent felt she 
 concealed under an expression of calm supe- 
 riority. 
 
 ' Is it at all likely that anyone would come 
 the very moment the board was put up — unless, 
 of course,' with an attempted laugh, ' they had 
 been waiting opposite in the hope of our 
 doing so V 
 
 1 But if it is ?' persisted Mrs. Scarrot, de- 
 siring definite instructions. 
 
 * Then you must ask the people in and come 
 for me.' 
 
 Nancy said no more, but subsided into a 
 chair with a little air of resignation that 
 might have been amusing had it not also been 
 pathetic. As Mrs. Scarrot was heard stum- 
 bling up the dark staircase, her sister looked 
 at her wistfully, wondering whether she were 
 doino- right in running counter to feelings
 
 APARTMENTS 17 
 
 which were evidently stronger than she sup- 
 posed. The doubt threw an added softness 
 into her voice as she pleaded earnestly : 
 
 1 Don't take it so to heart, Nancy. It can 
 be no one at this hour. Until to-morrow at 
 least you are safe ; and — Lai age, look up and 
 smile — I promise I will try to think of some 
 other means of earning money, something you 
 won't dislike.' 
 
 ■ You promise V eagerly. 
 
 ' Yes, I promise.' 
 
 As she spoke Mrs. Scarrot was heard clatter- 
 ing down the stairs, and the next moment was 
 saying in an impressive whisker : 
 
 ' If you please, Miss Millicent, it's a gentle- 
 man wishes to see the rooms.' 
 
 vol. 1.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER. 
 
 Nancy proved herself to be possessed of sense 
 and generosity at this juncture, refusing to 
 allow the applicant to be turned away un- 
 interviewed when Millicent professed herself 
 willing to abide by the promise she had made. 
 1 If it is not the old lady we were talking of, 
 it may be a treasure of the opposite sex who, 
 after all, would be more amenable. Don't 
 turn fortune from our doors. 
 
 4 " By the pricking of my thumbs 
 A benefactor this way comes." ' 
 
 1 It was agreed we should wait until to- 
 morrow before deciding.'
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 19 
 
 I That was because we thought it impossible 
 anyone could come to-day. If this is the 
 right person I shall rebel no longer. I shall 
 call it Fate' 
 
 So Millicent went upstairs and found a 
 man standing in the hall, who she guessed 
 must be a servant, while looking beyond him 
 through the open door she saw a four-wheeled 
 cab laden with luggage, and someone sitting 
 inside, who leant forward as she came in sight. 
 
 ' Your master wishes to see the rooms V she 
 questioned. 
 
 I I think, ma'am, if you would not mind 
 the trouble of stepping outside, Sir Peter 
 would like to speak to you first. He is an 
 invalid,' was answered civilly. 
 
 Something in his tone aroused her curiosity. 
 She looked in his face and disliked it intensely 
 even in this cursory glance. It was lean and 
 lantern -jawed, clean-shaven and with close- 
 cropped hair, so that there was nothing to 
 
 2—2
 
 2o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 take one's attention from the dark restless 
 eyes that, never fairly meeting your gaze, 
 seemed always to attract it. They were in- 
 scrutable in their expression, sly, yet humorous 
 as well, with an evident capability of extract- 
 ing amusement from what in some might have 
 aroused repulsion. His thin lips in their 
 defined curve wore an aspect of a constant 
 smile quite out of harmony with his manner, 
 which was grave to funerealism. 
 
 Nothing could have been quieter and more 
 respectful than his bow as he moved aside for 
 Millicent to pass ; yet even then a sense of 
 being ridiculed oppressed her, and she was 
 determined if the master were anything like 
 the man she would decline to receive them on 
 any terms. 
 
 But womanly pity softened the rigidity of 
 the demeanour she had insensibly adopted, 
 when she confronted the occupant of the cab 
 — an elderly man, whose hair and fierce
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 21 
 
 moustache were iron-gray, and whose bronzed 
 face was lined deeply from suffering as well as 
 age. In spite of his bent figure and general 
 appearance of valetudinarianism he retained a 
 soldierly bearing, and the courtesy with which 
 he greeted her prepossessed Millicent in his 
 favour. Having made known his wants and 
 discovered the terms on which he might be 
 suited, he expressed a wish to see the house. 
 With assistance he managed to alight and was 
 supported upstairs, Millicent calling for the 
 lamps to be brought as she followed slowly. 
 
 It w T as not quite dark, and, looking round, 
 Sir Peter Cairn e was favourably impressed by 
 the homelike air of his surroundings — the little 
 prettinesses and signs of refinement so rarely 
 seen in rooms intended to be ' let.' 
 
 ' I think, madam, there is no doubt but this 
 will suit me excellently well, if you are pre- 
 pared to receive myself and servant as tenants. 
 My name is Cairne — Sir Peter Cairn e.'
 
 22 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 He stopped short as someone entered ; and, 
 turning, Millicent saw it was Nancy who had 
 come — Nancy, with tossed hair and cheeks 
 burning still from excitement, the light she 
 held shining straight into her eyes : a pretty 
 picture which the old Indian officer was not 
 slow to appreciate, as could be seen from his 
 lingering gaze and the effort he had to make 
 to finish the interrupted sentence. 
 
 1 1 was telling you ' he resumed ; but 
 
 Millicent stopped him with a smile. 
 
 ' I am quite satisfied, and we will do 
 our best to make you comfortable if you 
 stay/ 
 
 * You are most kind, but, if you will permit 
 me, there is something I must say before 
 allowing you to commit yourse]f to anything. 
 Perfect frankness is always desirable, in my 
 opinion, and what I have to say might alter 
 your views — to my great regret/ 
 
 Sir Peter's well-trained servant had taken
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 23 
 
 the lamp and was now drawing down the 
 blinds, so that Nancy was free to depart ; but 
 she felt so strong a desire to remain that she 
 did not attempt to resist it, and ranged herself 
 quietly by her sister's side. 
 
 'The fact is,' he went on, with a quietude 
 which, without intent, became pathetic, c I am 
 an old man, and suffering from an incurable 
 disease which might reach its crisis any 
 moment. I think I have no right to enter 
 your house without warning you that it is 
 possible I might not leave it — alive.' 
 
 Millicent's eyes were filled with tears, as, 
 bending towards him, she said gently : 
 
 ' 1 am very glad you came to us. We 
 will do all we can for you to lighten your 
 sufferings. You must never be afraid that 
 you are giving trouble.' While Nancy, more 
 impulsive, caught his hand as it lay on the 
 arm of the chair and pressed it between her 
 own.
 
 24 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' We will nurse you and cure you !' 
 she cried excitedly, and could say no 
 more. 
 
 Sir Peter also found no words forthcoming. 
 Having knocked about for so many years, he 
 had been tolerably confident that he knew his 
 world, and was taken utterly aback at this 
 unexpected warmth of sympathy. 
 
 Of lodgings he had more than a little 
 experience, but nothing like this had ever 
 come within its range. The two sweet faces 
 near him, both aglow with youth and feeling, 
 bewildered his somewhat severe sense of the 
 fitness of things ; and he could oflly stare at 
 them helplessly, wondering if he were awake 
 or only dreaming. 
 
 A feeling of restraint that seized them 
 after reaching this height of enthusiasm was 
 relieved by the monotonous tones of the man- 
 servant, who suggested that Sir Peter, having 
 gone through considerable fatigue, would be
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 25 
 
 the better for some nourishment ; and Nancy, 
 smiling brightly at her adopted charge, ran 
 downstairs to procure it. 
 
 Millicent remained behind to make other 
 necessary arrangements, and in a very short 
 time the luggage was brought in, the cab dis- 
 missed, and the Bells' first lodger was duly 
 installed. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot was waiting breathlessly for 
 the latest intelligence, and greeted Nancy 
 when she appeared with an eager stream of 
 questions. 
 
 ' Was it a young man % Was he handsome?' 
 were among the first, and her disappointment 
 was extreme when she received decisive nega- 
 tives in reply ; though some consolation was 
 derived from the news that he was rich and 
 possessor of a title. 
 
 ' He'll marry Miss Millicent, maybe, and 
 you'll not have to worrit about money any 
 more,' she commented hopefully.
 
 26 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' Why should he not marry me f asked 
 Nancy, a little ruffled. 
 
 She was cutting delicate slices of bread and 
 butter and piling them on a plate, but stopped 
 in her work to express what she considered 
 righteous indignation. 
 
 ' How is it that no one ever seems to 
 remember that / am grown-up, passably good- 
 looking, and might some day have a lover 
 too V she complained. 
 
 'Maybe you will when Miss Millicent's 
 married.' 
 
 ' Promotion going by seniority,' laughed 
 Nancy, recovering her good temper and re- 
 suming her work. 
 
 It was only now and then she felt a little 
 crushed by her sister's exceeding attractive- 
 ness, never jealous. There was far too much 
 good feeling between them for that, and 
 though Millicent was only two years the elder, 
 there had always been something maternal in
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 27 
 
 her attitude that the other instinctively 
 appreciated and respected. Never had she 
 opposed any wish of Millicent's so strenuously 
 as this last one, to which even now she was 
 becoming reconciled. She scarcely knew 
 whether to feel ashamed or amused at her 
 quick conversion ; she had only room just 
 then in her heart for intense sympathy with 
 the lonely old man who had come to them, as 
 he believed, to die. 
 
 c Marriage is a queer thing,' moralized Mrs. 
 Scarrot, as she set about preparing dinner for 
 the new arrival. ' ^Vhy ever women are so 
 set upon it beats me altogether. Not but what 
 a man's a useful thing to have about a house ; 
 and, when all's said and done, it's a matter of 
 bread and cheese. Eh, dear, marriage is a 
 lottery, no doubt ; but every now and then it's 
 them that deserve it have the luck to win the 
 prizes. I've known a case — but perhaps I've 
 told it you before, Miss Nancy.'
 
 28 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 'Then I should like to hear it again/ 
 pleasantly ; ' I want to be amused while the 
 kettle boils.' 
 
 ' Dear, dear, it's a queer story ! A widow 
 woman with only one daughter — about seven 
 or eight — with a wonderful idea of picking up 
 all she could in the way of learning, and keep- 
 ing herself to herself, not mixing with the 
 rough children that ran wild about the streets. 
 She was always terribly proud and dainty in 
 her ways. She was pretty too, and well- 
 mannered, so that people noticed her always, 
 and at last a lady, who visited the poor and 
 gave a great deal in charity, took a liking 
 to her and begged the mother to let her 
 educate her properly. Lizzie — that was 
 the child's name — went almost crazy with 
 delight at the idea, and the mother — well, 
 she only wanted to do what was best 
 for the child ; she never had any other 
 thought.'
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 29 
 
 Something on the fire required Mrs. 
 Scarrot's attention at that moment, and it 
 was perhaps the smoke going into her eyes 
 that caused her to draw her hand hastily 
 across them as she went on : 
 
 1 So Lizzie went to school, and in a few years 
 she had grown into a young lady, who sang 
 and played the piano, and dressed so neatly it 
 was a pleasure to set eyes on her. She was 
 prettier than ever — much too pretty for her 
 lot in life. It was natural that she should 
 grow discontented and grumble a little at the 
 change : her mother was no companion for her 
 then ; she had no one to speak to at all, and 
 of course she was dull and fretted. Who could 
 blame her V 
 
 The question was put with such fierceness 
 that Nancy started and ejaculated, ' No one !' 
 without considering to what she stood com- 
 mitted. 
 
 The story had not interested her much ;
 
 30 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 moreover, it was not the first time she had 
 heard it, as she now remembered. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot continued : 
 
 ' The end was that the life became impossible 
 to bear. It was fortunate that the chance 
 came for her to go as nursery governess to a 
 lady living here in Brighton — a very rich lady, 
 who made much of her, and took her about 
 with her, and treated her like her own 
 daughter.' 
 
 1 Is she there still V. asked Nancy absently. 
 
 1 I'm speaking of years ago. She's married 
 now ; she married that lady's son, and has a 
 house of her own, and visits with the best of 
 them. There's not a prettier woman in 
 London, or a better-dressed one — so I've 
 heard.' 
 
 ' And the mother has gone to live with 
 them, I suppose V 
 
 The spoon with which Mrs. Scarrot was 
 stirring something in a saucepan fell noisily
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 31 
 
 against its side and then slipped in, which 
 may have accounted for the irritability of her 
 tone as she replied : 
 
 ' You don't understand, Miss Nancy. Her 
 mother was a working woman, like myself — 
 rough and uneducated ; she would only have 
 disgraced her. Lizzie was very good to her and 
 gave her an allowance, so she could spend the 
 rest of her life in comfort and never needed to 
 work again ; and I ' — wincing a little as the 
 recovered spoon touched and burnt her 
 fingers — ' I think she loves her mother, though 
 they never see each other.' 
 
 ' You must have known them very well, and 
 can judge better ; but I should think a 
 daughter's duty did not end there,' with 
 youthful severity. 
 
 1 Marriage brings its own duties and its 
 troubles, too. Most of us have enough of 
 them ; but it's only those who wear the shoe 
 that know where it pinches.'
 
 32 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' All the same, I shall be hurt if Millicent 
 casts me off when she is Lady Cairne.' 
 
 1 Ah, well, maybe you'll have a sweetheart 
 of your own before that comes off, after all, 
 Miss Nancy.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I hope so/ devoutly. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot had left the kitchen, and 
 Nancy was alone when Millicent came down- 
 stairs. 
 
 ' Is tea ready yet V she inquired. 
 
 4 Just ready. I will take it up to him.' 
 
 ' There is no occasion to do that. Mrs. 
 Scarrot can go.' 
 
 ' I like to do it,' 
 
 ' What a child it is !' smoothing the bright, 
 dishevelled curls. 
 
 ' Always going into extremes, you mean. A 
 ballastless being who blows cold for no reason, 
 and the next moment is blowing hot. Milli- 
 cent, do you think I shall ever, ever be so — 
 so thoroughly satisfactory as you V
 
 THEIR FIRST LODGER 33 
 
 The elder sister smiled indulgently. 
 
 ' It is possible you might gain that giddy 
 eminence with years ; but,' speaking very 
 softly now, ' I love you very well — just as you 
 are.' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 NANCY IN DISGRACE. 
 
 Debonair, distinguished-looking, and exqui- 
 sitely got-up, Mr. Skene seemed decidedly out 
 of his element as he groped his way down the 
 creaking stairs that led to the kitchen floor of 
 the little house in Marine Square. 
 
 The charwoman, who had preceded him, 
 naturally more at home there, was quicker in 
 her movements, and had opened the door of 
 the sitting-room and announced him before, 
 guiding himself carefully by wall and hand- 
 railing, he had reached the bottom. He was 
 dusting his coat and fingers with the glove of 
 which he had hastily divested himself as he 
 went in.
 
 NANC Y IN DISGRA CE 3 5 
 
 1 I am afraid you found it very awkward 
 getting down,' said Millicent, flushing, as they 
 shook hands. 
 
 1 The line of country was new. I shall do 
 better another time. It is worth a little 
 trouble to get here. How comfortable you 
 look!' glancing round the warmly -curtained 
 room, with its brightness of flowers and unmis- 
 takable signs of woman's taste and refinement. 
 
 ' We are comfortable. The only drawback 
 is the approach. That dark tumble-down 
 staircase reminds me of a bridge across a moat 
 — it might, on an emergency, help us to sus- 
 tain a siege. We used to light the gas, bui 
 that gave it an uncanny look ; we felt like 
 gnomes or miners down a shaft.' 
 
 ' You are the pluckiest woman I ever met/ 
 drawled Skene admiringly. 
 
 ' What, for living on a basement and going 
 up and down those stairs several times a 
 day?'
 
 36 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' For the whole thing ; the courage with 
 which you have met your misfortunes — your 
 resolution to conquer them in the end.' 
 
 ' Needs must when someone drives, you 
 know. We could not sit and starve.' 
 
 ' There is nothing driving you but your 
 own strong will. If you wanted a home ' 
 
 ' I mean to make one,' hastily. 
 
 ' Don't be afraid ' taking the chair that, 
 
 with a gesture, she had assigned to him. ' I 
 was not going to bother you again. You 
 made it very clear to me once that you would 
 rather do anything than be my wife.' 
 
 ' Did you come to remind me of that ?' 
 
 It had always been very patent to Mark 
 Skene, who, though by no means given to 
 self-depreciation, was yet singularly free from 
 self-conceit, that this woman he would have 
 given his soul to win, not only did not love, but 
 actually disliked him. The Millicent he knew 
 best was not the Millicent that others knew.
 
 NANC Y IN DISGRA CE 37 
 
 It seemed as though every fibre in her body- 
 resisted his influence, as though his presence 
 caused an actual repulsion she could not 
 attempt to disguise, as a few people feel all 
 the electricity in their bodies quivering on 
 edge at the contact, even the vicinity, of a 
 cat. Generally graceful and a little languid 
 in her movements, she became stiff and 
 almost awkward when he was there ; her 
 expression, in whose variety lay her chief 
 charm, grew set ; even her voice hardened. 
 Unobserved, he had noticed her with other 
 people, and knowing what she was then, 
 passionately resented the difference in her 
 manner towards himself, all the more that he 
 had not the right to complain. 
 
 She herself was conscious of her own 
 uncompromising demeanour, and in rare 
 moments of repentance tried to make up 
 for it with a forced sweetness whose motive 
 he instinctively guessed, so that it was very
 
 38 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 galling when he found his chains the more 
 firmly riveted thereby. At this moment 
 she felt ashamed of the scornful inflection 
 she knew had been in her voice, when he 
 answered pleasantly : 
 
 ' 1 came to offer my help. Surely there is 
 something a man can accomplish which you 
 might find difficult to do. My life is an idle 
 one, as you are aware, and also I hope that it 
 is very much at your service.' 
 
 1 You are very good to us always — I know 
 that/ 
 
 He moved impatiently in his chair. 
 
 ' Now, that's the merest conventionality of 
 phrases, a weakness I should have thought 
 you would have been above. Won't you 
 accept my help as frankly as it is offered, 
 without asking, as a friend of mine always 
 does on like occasions — ." What's his bad 
 motive V " 
 
 ' I am sure you mean it all most kindly.'
 
 NANCY IN DISGRACE 39 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders in despair. 
 
 ' No, no,' she continued, laughing ; c I am 
 not going to protest nor to praise you any 
 more. If I refuse your assistance, it is simply 
 because we do not need it,' 
 
 Not being unacquainted with some of the 
 difficulties of their position, Skene felt natur- 
 ally surprised, and waited for an explana- 
 tion. 
 
 * The fact is, we have disregarded your 
 advice. You may have guessed as much 
 when you found us down here. We have 
 Jet one suite of the rooms upstairs very well, 
 so our rent at least is secure ; and we do not 
 find it in the least unpleasant — rather the 
 reverse.' 
 
 1 All the same, I wish you had not done it. 
 If you were in need of money, you knew I 
 would have been too glad to have lent it you, 
 to ' 
 
 'That would have only been postponing an
 
 40 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 evil day. I should not like to incur a debt I 
 was not positive that I could pay.' 
 
 ' You could have repaid it months, years 
 h ence — never — or in heaven.' 
 
 ' Ah ! well, you see, I was not certain of 
 m eeting you there,' she answered lightly, 
 b ut in a tone that warned him off the 
 subject. 
 
 ' Of course you are the best judge of your 
 own actions ; but — I told you I thought the 
 project most unwise, situated as you are. I 
 am afraid I cannot alter my opinion. Ladies 
 living alone cannot be too careful, and it is 
 impossible to judge people at first glance. 
 You might find yourself saddled with the 
 veriest adventurers. There are a hundred 
 risks and dangers.' 
 
 * Luck is with us at the outset. Our first 
 lodger is unexceptionable in every way. It is 
 S ir Peter Cairne, an old Indian officer, broken 
 down in health, but quite charming ; and he
 
 NANC Y IN DISGRA CE 4 1 
 
 seems to wish to be our friend. Do you know 
 him V 
 
 ' I know who he is. He married a very rich 
 widow, who died soon afterwards and left him 
 all her money ; though there was a son, I heard. 
 You have come to no harm, so far.' 
 
 ' And I have faith our good fortune will 
 continue,' brightly. 
 
 ' But Miss Nancy — she was very much 
 against it — what does she say now V 
 
 1 She has come over to the enemy, meaning 
 me. Sir Peter has taken a great fancy to her, 
 and she waits on him and nurses him most 
 devotedly. She has forgotten her hurt dignity 
 altogether.' 
 
 Mr. Skene rose and stood with his back to 
 the fire for some moments without speaking. 
 
 While he would not have confessed it even 
 to himself, it was nevertheless true that he 
 was at heart displeased at this improvement in 
 their prospects. He had hoped more than he
 
 42 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 knew that the troubles he had foreseen would 
 have the effect of inclining Millicent to listen to 
 his suit — if not for her own, for her sister's sake. 
 His offer of assistance was therefore genuinely 
 meant, and he felt the more annoyed that she 
 had succeeded without his aid, having realized 
 from the first that in her necessity lay his best 
 chance. 
 
 While he was thinking thus, her mind had 
 not been iu active. Taking advantage of his 
 preoccupation, she was studying him intently, 
 and wondering what was the cause of her 
 unreasoning dislike. 
 
 The instinct which women are supposed to 
 share with dogs has always been a peg on 
 which to hang numberless little feminine 
 weaknesses and whims, but Millicent prided 
 herself on being just, and wished to be thought 
 practical as well. The man had always be- 
 haved with dignity and generosity so far as 
 she was concerned, and she had never heard
 
 NANCY IN DISGRACE 43 
 
 anything to his disadvantage to justify her 
 feeling. Moreover, his appearance was in his 
 favour. Although a little below the medium 
 height, he was well made, and held himself 
 well. His fair moustaches and hair, which 
 was allowed to grow into his neck just long- 
 enough to curl, also his large, rather languish- 
 ing blue eyes, generally half closed, all tended 
 to make him seem better-looking than he 
 really was, and inclined one to overlook the 
 fact that his nose was out of proportion short, 
 his lips too full, and sensual in their ex- 
 pression. His voice was charming, low and 
 trainante; his manners gentlemanly, assuming 
 naturally a protecting caressiveness with 
 women — with whom, indeed, he was usually 
 popular. As so often happens, it was only 
 when his whole heart was set on victory he 
 failed, every effort retarding, rather than 
 accelerating, his endeavour. 
 
 Now from under his helmet-lidded eyes he
 
 44 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 surveyed her quietly for a moment undetected, 
 noting her critical expression, divining that he 
 was being weighed in the balance, and, without 
 adequate reason, found wanting. The idea 
 irritated him, and made him remark abruptly : 
 ' It is an extraordinary instance of the per- 
 versity of human nature that women, variable 
 as they are, will only change their minds 
 when it suits themselves, never to suit anybody 
 else/ 
 
 ' You are speaking of Nancy V 
 ' Perhaps, but thinking most of you.' 
 ' Fickleness is not a fault of mine/ 
 1 1 am sure it is not. I almost wish it 
 were.' 
 
 It was another of Skene's grievances that 
 Millicent would never give him her whole 
 attention — that when she talked to him she 
 always worked as well. Now she was ap- 
 parently absorbed in a tea-cloth whose em- 
 broidery was in stitches requiring to be
 
 NANC V IN DISGRA CE 45 
 
 counted, which gave her an excuse for letting 
 his remark pass unanswered. 
 
 ' If Nancy marries ' he began again 
 
 presently, but was stopped by an exclama- 
 tion : 
 
 ' Nancy ! Why, she is a mere child P 
 
 ' A very pretty one ; the last year she has 
 developed wonderfully, and grown very 
 womanly in her ways. If she is a child 
 now, you will not keep her so long.' 
 
 1 Living together, I have not noticed the 
 change. Is that the reason you were so 
 against our letting rooms ? Did you think it 
 a mistake on her account ?' 
 
 He had roused her interest now. Her work 
 had fallen from her hands, and she was gazing 
 in his face with wide-open, anxious eyes. 
 
 ' You think it may spoil her prospects — be 
 a danger to her, perhaps V she continued 
 impatiently, as, fascinated by her loveliness, 
 he gazed back, forgetting to reply.
 
 46 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 That is a very real objection,' he answered, 
 noticing that she only thought of her sister, 
 never of herself, and taking his cue therefrom. 
 1 You see. she has not your dignity and pride. 
 She is so young and light-hearted, a man 
 might be misled by her manner. If your 
 father had lived it would have been different ; 
 she would have met her admirers on equal 
 terms. As it is — as it is, you are both in a 
 false position. In these degenerate days 
 beauty should be hedged in by thorns, and 
 you — are quite defenceless.' 
 
 He watched her very closely as he spoke. 
 Nothing he had said had been without motive. 
 So that he could imbue her with a sense 
 of her own helplessness, lead her to rely upon 
 his strength and wider experience, he cared 
 not what pain she might endure. 
 
 Rising from her chair, she had gone over 
 to the window, and was looking up into the 
 street.
 
 NANCY IN DISGRACE 47 
 
 1 How dark it is getting ! Nancy should not 
 be out alone. She never thinks — she docs 
 not understand. Ah ; there she is !' breathing 
 a relieved sigh. 
 
 A little later Nancy herself burst in upon 
 them, bringing a breath of the fresh sea-air 
 and some of the wintry sunshine with her. 
 She leant against the wall gasping and half 
 laughing, too excited to speak at first. 
 
 ' Nancy ! what is it V cried Millicent, in 
 alarm. 
 
 ' Don't be angry, Millie darling. It was not 
 my fault, really. I could not help it. I never 
 dreamed that he would follow me. He came 
 right to the door.' 
 
 ' Who followed you ? Why?' sharply. 
 
 1 I'll tell you from the beginning, if you 
 won't look like that. It is nothing very 
 serious, after all.' 
 
 Endeavouring to appear unconcerned, Nancy 
 unburdened herself of what she had been
 
 48 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 carrying, and now was standing on the fender, 
 smoothing back a few loose strands of hair 
 before the mirror that hung above the mantel- 
 board. Her desire to confess and be forgiven 
 was quenched by Mark Skene's presence and a 
 supercilious expression she thought she saw 
 upon his face. Not before him would she 
 express regret for what had occurred, penitent 
 as she already felt. 
 
 ' It all happened in a moment. The wind is 
 very high ; it is blowing quite a gale ; along 
 the sea-front I could scarcely struggle against 
 it, and, coming out of a shop in East Street, 
 where I had been buying some things, I was 
 blown right into a man. I nearly knocked 
 my hat off, and when I put up my hand to 
 save that, one of my parcels came undone, and 
 some ribbon flew out like a streamer and 
 wound itself round the man's neck. He 
 could not help laughing as he disentangled 
 himself, and— I laughed too.'
 
 NANCY IN DISGRA CE 49 
 
 Millicent stole a glance at Skene, who, well 
 satisfied that chance seemed to be playing 
 into his hands, could not repress the almost 
 imperceptible assumption of superiority which 
 may be permitted a man who refrains from 
 audibly remarking, ' I told you so.' 
 
 Unaware of the different sentiments she 
 was evoking by her narrative, and gaining 
 courage from the silence in which it was 
 received, Nancy went on : 
 
 c Directly I had got everything all right 
 I hurried home, but whenever I turned he 
 was following, not very closely, but evidently 
 keeping me in sight.' 
 
 ' What made you look behind you V in 
 horrified surprise Millicent found it im- 
 possible to repress, and which was not in 
 the least modified by the naivete of the 
 reply : 
 
 1 I wanted to see if he were coming. So 
 long as I went straight down the Parade I 
 vol. 1. 4
 
 5 o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 could not tell for certain that it was not his 
 way as well as mine ; but when I got to the 
 corner of the Square, and he turned too, then' 
 — concluded Nancy shamefacedly — ' I ran. 1 
 
 ' Oh ! Nancy, Nancy !' 
 
 ' 1 don't know what he did — T was too 
 afraid to look ; but he came up before Mrs. 
 Scarrot opened the door. I think he said 
 something — I did not listen. Millie ! who is 
 that? 
 
 For the bell had rung again, and an elegant 
 rat-tat followed, which sent the colour from 
 her cheeks, and made her clins; trembling to 
 her sister's arm. 
 
 ' I will go and see/ said Millicent, releasing 
 herself with gentle force. 
 
 ' Let me do that much for you,' said Skene, 
 advancing nearer to her side, and speaking 
 with persuasiveness that only required en- 
 couragement to become something more as- 
 sertive.
 
 NANC Y IN DISGRA CE 5 1 
 
 ' It is better I should go myself. It is well 
 the man should understand that we are capable 
 of taking care of ourselves.' 
 
 • He is a gentleman,' put in Nancy quickly. 
 
 ' So it would appear from what you have 
 told us, and his intrusion now.' 
 
 With head upraised, her delicate nostrils 
 dilated in contempt, Millicent swept from the 
 room. 
 
 Nancy also did not choose to remain. Be- 
 tween Mr. Skene and herself there was no 
 very friendly feeling at any time, and she 
 was guiltily convinced that what had hap- 
 pened now could not have raised her in his 
 estimation. With a half-inaudible excuse she 
 escaped, going across to the kitchen to be 
 comforted by Mrs. Scarrot. 
 
 For nearly a quarter of an hour Skene 
 waited, and when no one returned he made 
 his way cautiously upstairs. There was a 
 light in the narrow hall, but he could see 
 
 ° i 
 
 4—2 
 
 U, OF ILL LIB.
 
 52 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 no one there. Nancy's undisciplined admirer 
 was evidently routed, and he concluded the 
 victor was recovering from the effects of the 
 encounter. 
 
 It struck him that such a victory would 
 further his ends almost as well as a defeat, 
 and that Millicent must surely be convinced 
 now of her natural weakness, and in a future 
 emergency trust to him, their only friend. 
 
 A slight sound startled him, and turning 
 sharply, he discovered that he was not, as 
 he supposed, alone. Drawn in close against 
 the wall, to make room for him to go by, 
 was a man in ordinary servant's dress, whom 
 he might have passed unnoticed had it not 
 been for the oddity of appearance, by which 
 Millicent also had been struck. The mys- 
 terious quiet of his presence, the shifty eyes, 
 the smile which was carved upon his face and 
 never altered, conveying an impression of 
 unholy mirth — these riveted Skene's atten-
 
 NANC V IN DISGRA CE 53 
 
 tion, and he questioned the man rather sharply 
 who he was. 
 
 'My name is Jaynes, sir. I am Sir Peter 
 Cairn e's valet/ was returned respectfully. 
 
 As he spoke he crossed the hall, and opened 
 the door for his interlocutor to pass out. 
 
 The current of his thoughts temporarily 
 changed, Mark Skene walked slowly through 
 the Square, looking back once or twice to 
 where in the doorway the valet was still 
 standing imperturbable and grim. 
 
 1 What an uncanny-looking fellow ! I should 
 not like to live in the same house with him,' 
 he muttered to himself. ' Xow I think of it, 
 I never heard the sound of his footsteps as 
 he walked — a creepy, crawly sort of fellow, 
 who would steal into your room at midnight, 
 murder you as you slept, and go undetected, 
 except that, upon my soul ! with such a 
 villainous cast of countenance, a man micht 
 be hanged upon a bare suspicion.'
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE GROUND -FLOOR. 
 
 Millicent's wrath had by no means subsided 
 when she reached the hall- door. Opening it 
 with an indignant jerk, she stood in the 
 aperture — a picture, framed so, of tragic in- 
 dignation and wounded pride. The very 
 simplicity and sombreness of her garb seemed 
 to italicize the dignity of her attitude, and 
 the man before her, who was an artist, was 
 momentarily struck dumb by her wondrous 
 grace, as, with a regal uplifting of her head, 
 the faintest raising of her brows, she invited 
 an explanation of his presence there. 
 
 The darkness was behind her as a back-
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 55 
 
 ground ; the soft evening light from the street 
 was thrown athwart her face, and on the slim 
 fingers that were twisted in the folds of her 
 black gown. Leslie Wolffe thought he had 
 never seen anyone so lovely, at the same time 
 so unconscious of her loveliness. 
 
 'There are apartments to be let?' he said 
 at last, with an apologetic upward glance 
 at the board, which was the sole excuse he 
 could offer for what he was beginning to 
 understand was an unpardonable breach of 
 decorum. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said quietly, but with no en- 
 couragement in her tone. 
 
 She, too, was puzzled by his appearance, 
 nothing in which bore out the idea she had 
 unconsciously formed. Having expected to 
 confront someone of that type which is a 
 familiar one at seaside places, from whom she 
 might have anticipated such impertinence as 
 that of which Nancy had had cause to com-
 
 5 6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 plain, she was utterly taken aback when she 
 saw before her a man more than thirty years 
 of age, of grave countenance and courteous 
 bearing, who, very quietly dressed, had 
 ' gentleman ' written in every line of his 
 loosely-knit figure and pleasant face. Was 
 it possible that there was some mistake, 
 that by mere coincidence he had chanced 
 to make his appearance so soon after Nancy's 
 undesirable adventure ? 
 
 When, emboldened by her evident bewilder- 
 ment, he asked to see the rooms, no reasonable 
 objection suggested itself ; and reluctantly 
 she led the way to the sitting-room — only a 
 few paces off on the same floor — answering his 
 questions as briefly as was compatible with per- 
 fect politeness. Though she had the air of a 
 queen in disguise, she was a mere girl after all, 
 and had no experience to help her out of a very 
 difficult dilemma. She had thought by her 
 manner to overawe him, and when he refused
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 57 
 
 to be overawed, found she had no second 
 move with which to circumvent his tactics. 
 Moreover, she was not certain that he was 
 the person who required to be crushed, and 
 was naturally unwilling to turn away a further 
 source of income without good reason. 
 
 He, for his part, found a wicked enjoyment 
 in her growing; confusion and valiant endea- 
 vour to conceal the same from himself ; though, 
 as a matter of fact, he was equally desirous 
 of putting an end to an escapade of which 
 already he was heartily ashamed. 
 
 Lured onward by the gracefulness of Nancy's 
 flying form and backward glances, he had fol- 
 lowed her hither, and was piqued that she had 
 managed, like a will-o'-the-wisp, to elude him 
 just as she was overtaken ; yet he had only 
 meant to frighten her in revenge for the chase 
 she had led him when he knocked at the door 
 — the printed board, which had caught his 
 sight, having given him an excuse. It had not
 
 58 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 entered his mind to carry the adventure any 
 further. He had rooms at the Grand Hotel, 
 with which he had been well satisfied ; it was 
 only his present surroundings made him fancy 
 that perhaps he had not been so very comfort- 
 able after all, and that the quietude of this end 
 of the town would be more favourable to the pro- 
 gress of his work. The furniture was also more 
 grateful to the eye, more elegant and artistic, 
 not having been chosen with any thought that 
 it would be ever put to its present uses ; while 
 as for the landlady, she was a picture in her- 
 self. Already he was inclining towards a 
 belief that, by happy chance, he had lighted 
 on a place which fitted all his requirements, 
 when his gaze encountered a large photograph 
 of the two sisters — Millicent, sweetly serious 
 with dreamy eyes, Nancy bright with laughter 
 — and he was studying it rather more closely 
 than consistent with good manners, when an 
 impatient movement from his companion re-
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 59 
 
 minded him he was not alone, and must either 
 make good his presence there or pave the way 
 to his departure. 
 
 ' I could come into the rooms at once, I sup- 
 pose V he questioned, deciding hurriedly on 
 his course of action. 
 
 ' There would be no objection to your doing 
 
 so, if ' e If I accept you as a tenant ' was 
 
 on her lips, but she lacked the courage to 
 finish her sentence. It seemed a rudeness 
 which he had done nothing, to her certain 
 knowledge, to deserve ; and, bewildered and 
 distressed, she felt doubtful of her right to 
 refuse to take him in without stating her 
 objection. 
 
 Perfectly well aware of the substance of her 
 thoughts, he was careful not to confirm what 
 was only a faint suspicion by his manner, and 
 very quietly informed her that he would go at 
 once to fetch his luggage. 
 
 Millicent stared at him in open-eyed dismay.
 
 60 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 So decisive a move was entirely unexpected ; 
 for the moment she found it difficult to believe 
 in his earnestness, yet, at the same time, 
 was proudly convinced he would not have 
 dared to jest. 
 
 She heard Nancy go lightly past the door 
 and run upstairs, singing snatches of a well- 
 known air as she went — having already forgot- 
 ten her misdemeanour, and with no suspicion 
 of its dire result. It was impossible, Millicent 
 felt, that she could allow this man to come if 
 he had insulted her sister. But supposing 
 there were some mistake, supposing he were 
 innocent — he looked innocent. 
 
 All the while he was watching her, keen 
 amusement in his bright blue eyes, when sud- 
 denly he was struck by a change in her 
 expression. It became radiant with antici- 
 patory triumph as she recovered in an instant 
 the superiority of demeanour she had im- 
 pressed upon his consciousness at first.
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 61 
 
 1 We have not discussed — terms,' she 
 remarked frigidly, though her eyes gleamed 
 with suppressed malice, quickly hidden from 
 him by lowered lashes. 
 
 ' I do not suppose we shall disagree about 
 them,' he returned ; but could not restrain an 
 ejaculation when she informed him that five 
 guineas a week, exclusive of extras, was 
 what she expected for the somewhat limited 
 accommodation of one sitting and one bed 
 room. 
 
 It had come as a flash of inspiration that 
 to double the sum she intended to demand 
 for the rooms would be a sure and easy 
 method of extricating herself from what might 
 prove a false position. She could not resist 
 one upward glance to judge of its success, 
 and when their eyes met he divined her 
 intention, at the same moment resolving to 
 frustrate it. 
 
 The attitude she had adopted, the very turn
 
 62 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 of her head — at once despotic and exulting — 
 the movement of her arm as she swept back 
 her draperies and stood aside for him to pass : 
 these roused his combativeness and lent some 
 asperity to his tone when, quite contrarily to 
 her expectation, he declared himself content to 
 give what she had asked, and made no further 
 comment on the subject. 
 
 As he left the room, generous so far that he 
 would not look in her direction and thus seem 
 to be rejoicing in her discomfiture, he thought 
 he heard a movement behind him — an impul- 
 sively spoken word. 
 
 Turning, he saw that she had abandoned the 
 victorious pose which had partly aggravated 
 him into winning the battle at whatever cost, 
 and leaning forward, shamefaced and crimson, 
 was trying to say something that would not be 
 forced from her lips, so great was her sense of 
 humiliation and defeat. 
 
 ' Did you speak V he asked gently, bending
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 63 
 
 his head to her level. But her courage had 
 already evaporated, and she could only stam- 
 mer out : ' It is nothing — nothing at all/ 
 and so let him go, believing that presently 
 he would return to take up his abode with 
 them for an indefinite period at the exorbitant 
 rate of payment she had demanded. 
 
 The hall-door closed behind him. and 
 Millicent, in her desperation, felt a childish 
 longing to put up the chain and so secure 
 themselves from further intrusion. Then the 
 comical side of the question struck her with 
 irresistible force, and she smiled to think how 
 easily she had been checkmated in the game 
 which she had felt so sure of winning without 
 the loss of a single piece. 
 
 After all, she was by no means vanquished 
 yet. If the man proved to be the same who 
 had followed Xancy, she could still deny him 
 admittance, though he came backed up by any 
 amount of luggage. It was a free country.
 
 64 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 where landladies could choose their own lodgers. 
 In this case there was no very urgent need of 
 money to impel them to consider the ex- 
 pediency of overlooking such a flagrant offence. 
 It was only the uncertainty as to whether he 
 deserved the reprimand ready on her lips had 
 checked its utterance ; she would be able to 
 speak very plainly if justified in doing so 
 beyond a doubt. In the meantime she would 
 consult Nancy, the delinquent who had brought 
 this embarrassment upon them. Putting two 
 heads together would be an advantage, even if 
 one were the flightiest in Christendom. Mrs. 
 Scarrot might also join the conference, and, 
 supposing this determined intruder to persist 
 in his intention, it might also be wiser to allow 
 her to bear the brunt of the encounter, she 
 having age and experience to supplement her 
 valour. The reflection that, if he were indeed 
 the offender, he had probably only threatened 
 to return to amuse himself with her alarm, or
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 65 
 
 with a view of beating a more dignified retreat, 
 comforted her somewhat, and she had almost 
 recovered her usual unruffled mien when she 
 reached the highest landing. 
 
 ' Where have you been \ I looked for you 
 everywhere,' was asked impatiently as she 
 entered their tiny room, where Nancy was 
 already established, seated tailor-fashion on 
 the bed, and busily employed in recurling the 
 feathers of her hat, which had severely suffered 
 in the high wind. 
 
 ' I was in the upstairs sitting-room.' 
 
 ' With Sir Peter ? 
 
 1 No ; the other room.' 
 
 1 AVhat on earth were you doing there V 
 
 1 Lalage ! What was that man like V 
 
 The vehemence of the counter-question 
 startled her to whom it was addressed. The 
 paper-knife she had been manipulating with 
 some skill remained suspended in mid-air, and 
 her colour heightened. 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' You don't mean to say that it was really 
 he who knocked at the door V she asked, 
 letting each word drop at intervals one from 
 another, as though aware of their full signifi- 
 cance, her curiosity being also largely modified 
 by awe. 
 
 1 That is just what I am trying to find out. 
 Was he tall V 
 
 ' I came up to his shoulder.' 
 1 Had he a heavy brown moustache, and 
 horrid quizzical eyes V 
 
 1 His moustache was brown — reddish brown, 
 I think ; but he had nice eyes, very blue ones. 
 His hair was dark and very thick. I noticed 
 it grew low down on his forehead and was 
 parted in the middle.' 
 
 1 That's him !' cried Millicent, in depths of 
 ungrammatical despair. 
 
 She sank clown on the edge of the bed and 
 let her hands fall loosely in her lap, wondering 
 now how she could ever have given him the
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 67 
 
 benefit of the doubt, how she could have 
 allowed the strong circumstantial evidence 
 against him to ba outweighed by so plausible 
 an argument as that she had herself urged in 
 his defence. It was more than unlikely that 
 by mere coincidence anyone else should have 
 come to see the rooms so soon after Nancy's 
 adventure and at that time of the evening ; it 
 was altogether improbable that without a 
 motive he should have consented to take them 
 at such a fancy price. She was compelled to 
 admit that she had been won over by his 
 pleasant manner and appearance, and that her 
 opposition to his insistence had been of the 
 very weakest. Before Xancy's direct gaze her 
 own faltered ; she looked the guiltier of 
 the two. 
 
 ' Did you speak to him V was asked next. 
 
 Millicent nodded assent. 
 
 ' I can't imagine how he had the assurance 
 to do such a thing. What did he say V 
 
 5—2
 
 68 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 I forget,' faintly. 
 
 Nancy began to laugh. 
 
 t I don't suppose he said anything at all. 
 He would not dare. I never saw you look so 
 angry as you did when you started to confront 
 him ; and you know, Millicent, you have a 
 very fine flow of eloquence when you are 
 excited. I suppose he was crushed long before 
 you came to the end of your first indignant 
 tirade, and had only strength to gasp an 
 apology and fly.' 
 
 This suppositional account was so utterly at 
 variance with what had actually transpired, 
 that Millicent could only bury her face in her 
 hands and sob helplessly. 
 
 In a moment Nancy's young arms were 
 wound about her neck, and, all her warmth of 
 sympathy aroused by such an unusual symptom 
 of distress, she was assailing her with eager 
 questiouiugs. Had the wretch dared to insult 
 her ? Was she ill V
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 69 
 
 ■ You are not vexed with me, dear ¥ she 
 finished pleadingly. 
 
 1 I am only vexed with myself. Nancy, I 
 am not fit to take care of us both !' 
 
 ' Then let's have a division of labour, darling. 
 You shall look after me — and I dare say you'll 
 have enough to do ; but the scheme has this 
 advantage, that, having no care on my own 
 account, I shall have heaps of time to look 
 after you.' 
 
 Delighted at having brought a smile to 
 j\lillicent's sad lips, she went on blithely: 
 
 ' Consider yourself under my protection 
 already, and tell me what it is you have been 
 doing.' 
 
 Then everything was related, exciting breath- 
 less interest and no small surprise. To picture 
 Millicent shorn of her pretty dignity, embar- 
 rassed and at a loss for words, utterly at the 
 mercy of the enemy, was an excessive strain 
 on her sister's imagination, and she broke out
 
 70 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 in the middle of the story in a most undis- 
 guised astonishment : 
 
 ' Do you mean to say you actually let 
 him into the house and showed him the 
 rooms V 
 
 ' I did not quite see how to refuse. He 
 did not seem at all the sort of man who would 
 be rude to a lady.' 
 
 ' I told you he was a gentleman,' Nancy 
 reminded her, with latent satisfaction ; then 
 she added hesitatingly : ' Well, he's gone now, 
 and all we can do is to be more careful in the 
 future ; but do you know, Millie, I'm not sure 
 it would be quite proper to have a young man 
 in the house — even a well-behaved one.' 
 
 1 1 never thought of that,' sighed Alillicent ; 
 ' and he says he's coming back !' 
 
 'What!' cried Nancy, jumping to her 
 feet. 
 
 When the rest of the story had been told, 
 Millicent was relieved to find her latest
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 71 
 
 optimism shared, her hearer agreeing it was 
 not likely that, under the circumstances, the 
 man would return. 
 
 1 Though we ought to be prepared for him 
 in case he should,' she finished with decision. 
 
 And having in a measure transferred her 
 onus of guilt on her sister's shoulders, she 
 took up instead the burden of arranging how 
 its possible ill-consequences should be met 
 and obviated, Millicent meekly accepting 
 advice she had never formerly deigned to 
 solicit. 
 
 After a discussion which lasted longer than 
 they knew, it was agreed Mrs. Scarrot should 
 be instructed to tell anyone who came that 
 the rooms were previously let, and it was only 
 by mistake they had been shown that after- 
 noon. 
 
 ' One tells so many little stories for no cause 
 whatever, it won't matter for once to tell a big 
 one with such good reason,' concluded Nancy,
 
 72 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 with easy morality, which Millicent reluctantly 
 supported, and rang the bell to summon their 
 confederate. 
 
 When five minutes had elapsed with no 
 response she rang again — a clashing peal that 
 resounded through the house and brought up 
 the charwoman in nervous haste. 
 
 ' I am sorry to have kept you waiting, miss, 
 but I was busy, and 1 thought ' 
 
 'Never mind !' exclaimed Nancy impatiently. 
 1 A gentleman who saw the ground-lioor rooms 
 this afternoon may return to take them, and if 
 he does, we want you to tell him •' 
 
 She was interrupted in her turn. 
 
 ' The gentleman has come, Miss Nancy ; 1 
 was helping him to put his things away when 
 you rang. Such a heap of luggage, I don't 
 know where he'll stow it all. But he's a 
 pleasant, civil-spoken gentleman, and he won't 
 need anything cooked to-night ; he's dining 
 out/
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 73 
 
 She stood there blinking. The sudden glare 
 of gas on coming out of the darkness dazed 
 and bewildered her, so that she did not 
 notice their grave faces, nor the dead silence 
 in which her communication had been re- 
 ceived. 
 
 1 That will do, Mrs. Scarrot ; you can go,' 
 said Millicent, with an effort, at last ; and, 
 when they were again alone, turned helplessly 
 to her sister. 
 
 It was only with difficulty Nancy con- 
 quered her risibility : she had, in fact, almost 
 lost sight of the seriousness of the case 
 in the amusement she anticipated, when she 
 caught sight of Millicent's expression, and 
 tried to compose one correspondingly dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 1 This is a disaster, of course ; but we must 
 make the best of it, for there is no remedy, so 
 far as I can see. It would not do to make a 
 fuss, but at the end of the week we might give
 
 74 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 him notice to quit ; that is the proper thing to 
 do, is it not V 
 
 4 1 suppose so. It is too annoying that he 
 should have dared to drive us to such ex- 
 tremities ; it is maddening /' 
 
 Kising from her seat, Millicent threw back 
 her head with a gesture of angry pride. Never 
 had she been so deftly circumvented, so 
 cunningly out-witted ; and the knowledge that 
 it was her own absurd weakness and want of 
 savoir /aire that had made his victory easy 
 did not tend to allay her irritation. 
 
 Nancy looked as serious as possible for as 
 long as possible ; but one by one the dimples 
 deepened in her cheeks, and her eyes were 
 dancing with fun as she said demurely : 
 
 1 After all, I rather admire him for not being 
 frightened of you, and for getting his own way 
 in spite of everything. Anyone can be im- 
 pertinent on the spur of the moment, but he 
 has carried the matter through with an audacity
 
 ON THE GROUND-FLOOR 75 
 
 that is almost sublime. I must admire him 
 for that.'' 
 
 To which there was no reply, Millicent 
 having vanished, closing the door behind her 
 with a little vicious bang.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL. 
 
 Sir Peter Cairne's health had certainly im- 
 proved since his arrival in Marine Square. 
 The fresh sea-air, though he had only inhaled 
 it through the open windows, combined with 
 the pleasant quietude, had had their good 
 effect, and the excellent nursing he received 
 also went far to restore him. Jaynes, what- 
 ever his concealed vices, was a first-rate valet, 
 and his stealthy tread and noiseless move- 
 ments, however uncanny they might be, were 
 very grateful in a sick-room ; moreover, he 
 had been in his present situation some years, 
 and knew all his master's ways and wants.
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 77 
 
 Millicent and Mrs. Scarrot had vied with each 
 other in preparing delicate little dishes that 
 might tempt the invalid's appetite, and Nancy 
 spent most of her time reading aloud or talking 
 to him. 
 
 She went into his room one afternoon, and 
 found him lying back in a chair, the room 
 almost dark, the blinds being let down and 
 their laths carefully closed. 
 
 ' Are you going to sleep ? Shall I come 
 by-and-by instead V she asked in a low 
 voice, more calculated to soothe the hearer 
 than arouse him if he felt inclined to go on 
 dozing. 
 
 * By no means ; you are most welcome,' was 
 returned with alacrity. 
 
 She came into the room, and groped her 
 way to the window, laughing as she stumbled 
 against a chair and then a table. 
 
 ' Is this gloominess your own or Jaynes' 
 choice ? I am afraid it is only becoming in
 
 78 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 the sense that at night all cats are gray ; so 
 shall I let in a little sunshine V 
 
 ' The brightest sunshine has entered by the 
 door,' he observed gallantly. 
 
 ' I think you had better have a little outside 
 light to see it by. There ! is not that much 
 better V pulling a cord and flashing in a 
 stream of radiance almost blinding for the 
 moment. When she had tempered this a 
 little, and so arranged that the glare should 
 not hurt his eyes, she took a chair beside 
 him. 
 
 1 Do you know, Sir Peter, I am very sorry 
 for you V 
 
 ' You are very amiable, Miss Nancy,' his 
 amusement apparent. 
 
 He had reached that age when selfishness, 
 if present in a man's character, has taken firm 
 hold on him, so that no consideration for her 
 feelings prompted him to conceal from her 
 that he thought her own position infinitely the
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 79 
 
 more deserving of pity. This she was quick 
 enough to discern. 
 
 ' Kiches are not everything. Poor as we 
 may be, we are not unhappy — Millicent and I. 
 We have each other ; you have no one.' 
 
 1 1 never felt the need of anybody. It 
 would irritate me terribly to have a person 
 about me who was only waiting to step into 
 my shoes. The one embargo I have laid on 
 the man who will inherit all I have is, that 
 lie should not live in the same town that 
 harbours me. Heirs are like vampires : they 
 feed upon your blood and thrive upon your 
 sickness.' 
 
 'You might' — doubtfully — 'feel like that 
 with an outsider, not a near relation.' 
 
 1 1 assure you, Miss Nancy, I am very con- 
 tented as I am. Your sister makes me most 
 comfortable ; I don't know when I have been 
 so comfortable before. My food is excellent. 
 Jaynes is a treasure, though, of course, I do
 
 80 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 not tell him so. As for you, you are my sun- 
 shine, as I said.' 
 
 4 1 like to be of use to you, and I have 
 nothing else to do. Still, I cannot help 
 thinking you would be happier if you had 
 someone belonging to you — a daughter.' 
 
 He answered her with a quiet smile. 
 
 ' I am afraid I was never domestic in my 
 tastes. I have always preferred — other 
 people's daughters. There is a spice of the 
 old Adam left in me yet.' 
 
 ' All that you have said has not altered my 
 opinion in the least. I still think you must 
 be very lonely, and I repeat I am very sorry 
 for you,' maintained Nancy stoutly. 
 
 ' Many thanks for your sympathy. It will 
 be my endeavour to deserve it,' comically. 
 
 Expressing her disapproval of his levity by 
 a dignified silence, the girl took up the book 
 she was reading to him aloud, and opened it at 
 the place where they had last left off. A pre-
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 81 
 
 liminary clearing of her throat betraying her 
 intention, he broke in hastily : 
 
 ' Not just yet, Miss Nancy. I would like to 
 talk the matter out, and clear myself in your 
 good opinion, if I can.' 
 
 She waited for him to go on, with an aggra- 
 vating appearance of desiring to be persuaded 
 he was right that made him push back his 
 moustaches and twist them into fierce points 
 while he went on impatiently : 
 
 ' You are like the rest of your sex, and 
 believe matrimony to be a panacea for 
 every evil. I assure you it would be no 
 pleasure to me, but the contrary, to have 
 a family of grown-up sons and daughters 
 about me. I wish to spend my last clays 
 in peace.' 
 
 * 1 dare say you do think as you say now, 
 
 but if you had married years ago ' 
 
 ' Who told you I never married V he asked 
 sharply, and left his opponent nonplussed. 
 vol. i. 6
 
 82 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 1 beg your pardon, Sir Peter,' she said 
 prettily. 
 
 'There is no occasion ; you could not be 
 expected to know. I did not display much 
 sense in taking to myself a wife some twenty 
 years younger than myself; yet the world con- 
 sidered me most fortunate.' 
 
 'Perhaps the world was right.' 
 
 ' You mean I may not have been capable of 
 appreciating my good fortune. You are not 
 the only one who has said so ; but that does 
 not prove by any means that you are correct 
 in your conclusions.' 
 
 ' Lookers-on are supposed to see most of the 
 game/ she reminded him nervously, feeling 
 the awkwardness of the subject. 
 
 1 That is false !' testily. ' They only see one 
 side — the side deliberately exposed to view, 
 therefore calculated to deceive. They judge 
 by appearance ; and my wife was very hand- 
 some, very rich, very charming ; but '
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 83 
 
 Her sympathetic silence encouraged him to 
 proceed, though the habit of self-repression 
 was so strong with him that the words came 
 with an obvious effort. 
 
 1 She did not love me!' he broke out savagely, 
 and bowed his head, as though stunned by the 
 self-inflicted blow. The next moment he stood 
 erect, determinedly banishing the theme alike 
 from the conversation and his thoughts, the 
 action reminding him painfully of his age and 
 weakness, though he would not resume his seat 
 until Nancy, with gentle tact, reopened her 
 book and began to read. 
 
 A man may keep his heart's anguish hidden 
 from the world for years with Spartan-like 
 fortitude, and yet in a moment of weakness 
 betray it, at last, to the most unlikely person. 
 Perhaps Sir Peter had shown more wisdom 
 than at first sight was apparent in choosing 
 Nancy for his confidant. Though she was 
 sorry for him because he had suffered, she only 
 
 6—2
 
 84 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 dimly understood his story, and had no more 
 idea of the misery it presupposed than the 
 schoolboy of fiction could fathom the depths of 
 wretchedness and remorse which prompted 
 Eugene Aram's confession of his crime in the 
 thin veiling of a recounted dream. She sup- 
 posed the wound of which he had spoken was 
 an old one — the probabilities were that it was 
 so — but it was evident that it still rankled, 
 since he winced at a touch : therefore she 
 judged it better to allow what she felt for him 
 to remain unexpressed. 
 
 And he did not misinterpret her reticence. 
 Without her knowledge, a tenderness crept 
 into her voice as she read that told him she 
 had not been unmoved ; and as he listened 
 his thoughts wandered, and he asked himself, 
 not for the first time, whether he had not 
 rejected the good in life, and deliberately 
 chosen only to see the darker side, torturing 
 himself thereby — as he had tortured another.
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 85 
 
 Nancy also was oblivious of the words that 
 left her lips, so that it was a relief to both 
 when an interruption came in the shape of a 
 visitor announced by Mrs. Scarrot. 
 
 She put down her book and rose to go, but 
 Sir Peter detained her to introduce his friend. 
 
 For a few moments Nancy, who was not 
 shy, stood there leaning against a table, and 
 looking up in the new-comer's face chatting 
 unconcernedly, and with only that vague 
 interest in the person she addressed which 
 often is grudgingly doled out to those one 
 meets for the first time, and is not likely to 
 see again. 
 
 His bearing w r as military, and somewhat 
 stiffly so, but with very little of that almost 
 inevitable ingredient known as military 
 swagger, which by most girls is admired. 
 When she had grasped the fact that he was 
 also no longer young, and that his expression 
 was grave almost to severity, Nancy decided
 
 86 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 he was not worth a second thought. To her 
 most things furnished food for laughter, and 
 she soon lost patience with those who by 
 temperament or from force of adverse circum- 
 stances were of a different opinion ; moreover, 
 the eyeglass, which since his first entrance had 
 been fixed persistently upon her face, annoyed 
 her beyond measure. It might have mollified 
 her somewhat had she known with what 
 intense interest she herself was regarded. 
 
 Colonel the Honourable Lancelot Fayrer, at 
 that time commanding a battalion of the 
 Guards, had lounged in from pure good-nature, 
 having by merest chance heard Sir Peter 
 Cairne was there, ill and alone. Their ac- 
 quaintance had been of the slightest — made 
 first in Egypt during the campaign, and 
 subsequently cemented by meeting at their 
 different clubs in town ; but he felt now that, 
 with the hope of seeing Nancy Bell again, his 
 visits to the invalid would be very frequent.
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 87 
 
 All natures being instinctively attracted by 
 their opposites, the gay soft trills of laughter 
 that some of Sir Peter's dry remarks evoked, 
 the happy flow of words the presence of a 
 stranger had no power to repress, bewitched 
 him at once. 
 
 As a magnet draws to itself all iron, so she 
 seemed to have concentrated all the bright- 
 ness in the room in herself. The bio; gold 
 spots that had struggled through the half- 
 turned blinds lay upon her gown, and the 
 ruddy coils of her rough hair, as though they 
 loved to linger there ; the light shone full into 
 her great gray eyes. She seemed the very 
 spirit of radiance, and when caprice or some 
 definite intention took her away, the whole 
 place grew unaccountably dark as the sun- 
 beams fell unnoticed on the floor. 
 
 "With no intuition of the conquest she had 
 made, and with no suspicion that he she had 
 in a moment enslaved was an important item
 
 88 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 amongst others which would form her life, the 
 momentary sadness Sir Peter's confidence had 
 excited was lost in immediate reaction, and 
 Nancy had never been in wilder spirits than 
 now, flying downstairs two steps at a 
 time, and singing a song the echoes of 
 which floated upward, and still further 
 entranced ears that were strained to hear 
 them. 
 
 Bursting into the kitchen, she found Milli- 
 cent bending over the fire w r ith a flushed and 
 anxious face ; but she looked round and 
 smiled when Nancy entered, thinking how 
 good it was to see the child so happy and to 
 have her always there. 
 
 ' My dear !' ejaculated Nancy in mock 
 distress ; ' who on earth will ever marry you 
 if you burn your eyes out of your head and 
 lose your complexion !' 
 
 ' I have heard it said,' pleasantly, ' that for 
 every woman one lover is provided by a
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 89 
 
 beneficent destiny. Mine, I foresee, will 
 admire red cheeks and red eyes.' 
 
 ' Only one lover each, and most of us so 
 difficult to please !' 
 
 ' That refers to the less fortunate. You, 1 
 dare say, will have enough and to spare.' 
 
 ' And you V 
 
 ' I will do my best to console those you 
 drive to desperation.' 
 
 1 You may succeed beyond your expectation. 
 I think you are a humbug, Millie. Do you 
 seriously mean that you don't see that no one 
 — no one — will ever look at me while you are 
 by ? Yes, I know ' — impatiently putting up 
 a small determined hand to stay her sister's 
 speech — ' I know my eyes are a little larger, 
 and my nose a little straighter, and I have 
 dimples which you have not, and perhaps a 
 few other advantages with which I won't 
 crush you just at present ; but ' — with im- 
 pressive solemnity — f Tm not an idiot.'
 
 9o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 I have no desire to throw a doubt upon 
 anything you have said,' demurely. 
 
 Nancy had lifted herself on to the kitchen 
 dresser, and was swinging her feet to and 
 fro, her body, like her mind, being rarely quite 
 quiescent. Her short upper lip shaped itself 
 into an involuntary smile and showed the 
 gleaming teeth beneath, as she went on 
 suavely, embellishing her speech with sundry 
 little gestures that were considered suitable 
 to the sentiments expressed. 
 
 * We are like the two rivers in the song. / 
 go splashing and dashing along, and do no 
 damage to anyone. On your surface there is 
 scarcely a ripple — that is because you are 
 so deep. You flow along, oh ! so quietly, so 
 softly, but it's you should be marked " danger- 
 ous." Though 
 
 ' " I rin fast an ye rin slaw, 
 
 For ane man I droon, ye droon twa." 
 
 Whatever virtues I lack, I must possess a
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 91 
 
 certain amount of generosity, or I should 
 certainly be jealous of you, Millie. Some day 
 I shall be fond of someone, madly fond of him, 
 and he will be fond of you. I know this 
 misfortune is impending, I feel it in the air, 
 and yet ' 
 
 * I wish you knew something more to the 
 purpose. Have you no idea whether a custard 
 should boil or only simmer V 
 
 1 It all depends upon who it is for. If Sir 
 Peter, I should err on the side of caution ; 
 if it is for him, I should let it boil — 
 over.' 
 
 Their second lodger had proved most harm- 
 less, giving no trouble, and never obtruding 
 himself upon their notice ; yet he had not 
 been forgiven by Millicent, and Nancy had 
 gradually come over to her view of the ques- 
 tion. It was decided that to-morrow, his 
 first week being concluded, he should receive 
 notice to quit at the end of the next, in spite
 
 92 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 of Mrs. Scarrot's constant reports in his 
 favour. His behaviour in the beginning had 
 been too outrageous to overlook, and in any 
 case the sisters were agreed that they must 
 not receive young bachelors under their roof. 
 Though there was no one in Brighton who 
 cared whether they defied it or not, there was 
 a feeling in the mind of both that propriety 
 must be observed ; even Nancy, careless and 
 happy-go-lucky as she was, did not dispute 
 this. 
 
 'Where is Mrs. Scarrot V she asked pre- 
 sently, being struck suddenly by the fact of 
 her absence. 
 
 ' She has neuralgia very badly, and I sent 
 her to lie down. By-the-bye, who was Sir 
 Peter's visitor \ "A very fine gentleman," 
 she said, " who looked as if Brighton belonged 
 to him." ' 
 
 ' There was an air of possessiveness about 
 him,' reflectively. ' It was a Colonel Fayrer.
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 93 
 
 A soldier, of course. Looked as if he had 
 been fed on ramrods from his birth, and as if, 
 when you pulled a string, he would cry, " As 
 you were I" He was at " attention " all the 
 time. I have a crick in my neck with watch- 
 ing him,' clasping her pretty throat with an 
 assumption of making sure the mechanism 
 was not out of gear. 
 
 1 Not a very interesting old man, apparently.' 
 
 1 Not interesting at all ; but I dare say he 
 would not look so old if he dropped his eye- 
 glass and came down from his stilts. As for 
 his clothes, they were perfect, from his necktie 
 to his boots. Even his hair looked as if it had 
 been " ordered " and " fitted on." I am sure 
 it was never allowed to grow — at least, not 
 according to its own sweet will.' 
 
 The ringing of a bell resounded, through the 
 house, and caused Millicent to turn toward her 
 sister, a startled inquiry in her eyes. 
 
 'Yes, it is his bell,' replied Nancy, a
 
 94 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Burleigk-like nod proving she was alive to 
 the gravity of the situation. 
 
 ' Eun and see if Mrs. Scarrot is awake. If 
 she is, she won't mind going. Quick I' 
 
 Nancy's fleet feet carried her there and 
 back in the shortest possible space of time, 
 but she returned with no good news. The 
 charwoman was so sound asleep, it had seemed 
 cruelty to disturb her. With a regretful 
 glance at the custard, which had displayed 
 a most provoking inaptitude to gain its proper 
 consistency, but would probably reach a 
 critical point directly she deserted her post, 
 Miliicent made a movement to take off her 
 apron. An eager hand caught hers and pre- 
 vented her. 
 
 ' Let me go,' was said persuasively. 
 
 The eyes of the two sisters met and lingered 
 in their gaze. Millicent's were full of doubt 
 she hesitated to put into words ; in Nancy's 
 could be read a rather shamefaced avowal of
 
 SIR PETER WAXES CONFIDENTIAL 95 
 
 former errors and present good intentions, 
 betraying subsequently a feeling of hurt pride 
 that was immediate in its effect. 
 
 1 Yes, go f spoke the elder girl softly. 
 
 Not for worlds would she have whispered 
 any warning ; she studiously ignored the fact 
 that a fault had been condoned and renewed 
 confidence declared in the permission given. 
 Her whole attention was once more bestowed 
 upon the custard difficulty, and she missed the 
 opportunity of admiring Nancy's elaborate 
 primness of demeanour as, with a furtive 
 settling of her hair and gown, she left the 
 kitchen. When she came back she was still 
 stiff and rustling with dignity, though her 
 cheeks were a little reddened by excite- 
 ment. 
 
 ' Well V asked Millicent, with an anxiety 
 she felt it impossible to repress. 
 
 ' It was nothing. He only said he wanted 
 dinner half an hour later. He was very
 
 96 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 polite, and looked as if he had never seen me 
 before. ' 
 
 ' And that was all ?' 
 
 ' All except that he hoped Mrs. Scarrot was 
 not seriously ill. I reassured him on that 
 point, and came away.' 
 
 At that moment the custard perceptibly 
 thickened, and as she lifted it on to the hob, 
 Millicent breathed a short, sharp sigh of 
 relief not entirely caused by her culinary 
 triumph.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 "When the first week of his sojourn in Marine 
 Square was ended, Leslie AVolffe resolutely 
 looked his position in the face. 
 
 That in the beginning his coming there had 
 been an unpardonable act of folly, to call it by 
 no worse name, he readily admitted, not being 
 prone to disguise facts by pretty phrases, and 
 well aware that he deserved some animad- 
 version for what he had done on the spur 
 of an excited moment. He did not even 
 attempt to defend himself at the expense of 
 others. He was too generous to remember 
 that one sister had, perhaps unconsciously, 
 
 vol. i. 7
 
 98 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 encouraged his pursuit, or that the other, by 
 an aggressive display of hostility, had stung 
 him to retaliation. It was difficult to believe, 
 on calmer reflection, that he had been the hero 
 of this discreditable adventure, but he was 
 naturally inclined to make more allowance for 
 himself than he would have clone for another 
 under similar circumstances. It was his 
 artistic tastes had led him to err in both 
 instances, and surely no man could have fairer 
 excuses to offer. By a jury of his own sex and 
 age it would certainly be allowed that if he 
 had sinned, it was under considerable provoca- 
 tion. Nancy, as she had fled from him through 
 the Square, was a picture he had again and 
 again tried to reproduce on paper ; but Milli- 
 cent's face he had never attempted to portray, 
 though it filled his brain with a hundred 
 possibilities, bewildering him with the beauty 
 he could never hope to limn. The features 
 might be delineated and set down one by one
 
 LOVE 99 
 
 in cold perfection ; but the soul that lay 
 slumbering in those deep gray eyes, the 
 expression of tenderness mingled with disdain 
 on the sweet red lips, who could render ? 
 And combined with his hisjh admiration was 
 a feeling of veneration, vague yet, but in- 
 fluencing him more than he knew, that forbade 
 him to prove to his own intense satisfaction 
 how much he remembered. Already it would 
 have seemed a desecration. 
 
 There is in the minds of most men a high 
 ideal, and when this is, or seems to be, realized, 
 it has sometimes been that they have wor- 
 shipped contentedly from afar, scarcely wish- 
 ing to win what they adore, preferring to keep 
 it so high and pure, so unattainable — a thing 
 to dream of, not to desire. 
 
 It is only very poetic natures that are 
 capable of the divine passion that Dante 
 laid at the feet of Beatrice, by which he im- 
 mortalized her, and caused her to live now 
 
 7—2
 
 ioo A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 as she lived in those days at Florence ; but 
 an instinct that is faintly similar has been 
 known to many. The 
 
 ' Creature not too bright and good 
 For human nature's daily food ' 
 
 is well enough for the work-a-day man, but 
 is, unworthy of the poet's song or painter's 
 art, and seldom has inspired it. 
 
 Wolffe, who had hitherto not been exempt 
 from the cruelty of his craft, and had used 
 remorselessly such materials as had fallen in 
 his way, thinking nothing too sacred to sacri- 
 fice to his art, for the first time hesitated and 
 considered w r hether he had any right without 
 permission to trace the lovely lines of a figure 
 he had seen drawn up in haughtiest dis- 
 pleasure ; whether it would not be absolutely 
 brutal were he to depict her as he had seen 
 her later, shamed and distressed, almost im- 
 ploring his chivalrous consideration.
 
 LOVE joi 
 
 It might have warned him of the danger 
 he was in had he paused to wonder why it 
 was only in her case he had any such scruples ; 
 but the ordinary Englishman is not given to 
 self-analysis, and he had good cause to con- 
 sider himself safe so far as his heart was 
 concerned. 
 
 By no means is it invariably true that a 
 burnt child dreads the fire ; indeed, when the 
 adage is applied to ]ove, it is generally the 
 case that the very existence of deep scars 
 imbues one with a treacherous self-confidence, 
 and Leslie Wolffe believed he possessed a 
 talisman against all new wounds in the 
 memory of an old one. 
 
 Had anybody troubled to unearth all his 
 pictures from where they lay neglected in 
 different art emporiums, or hung unappreci- 
 ated on some thrifty buyer's walls, in many 
 might have been seen the same child-face, 
 framed in golden hair, with clear blue eyes,
 
 102 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 that, looking love, had never known of 
 sorrow. 
 
 It was the mere prettiness of youth, w T ith 
 its rose-leaf colouring and pouting, smiling 
 lips, yet to the man w r ho never w r earied of 
 painting its unchanging sw T eetness it had been 
 very clear ; and he had believed the best of life 
 and all its happiness was over when only a 
 few weeks before his wedding-day he had 
 gazed upon the creamy eyelids closed in death, 
 and kissed with passionate despair the mouth 
 that would never speak to him again. 
 
 That was years ago, but remembrance was 
 very vivid still, and had steeled him against 
 numberless shafts that had sped in his direc- 
 tion, all the weapons in beauty's armoury — 
 the witchery of glance, of touch, of words. 
 It was not that he was less sensible to love- 
 liness of every sort : his art and temperament 
 alike forbade that it should be so ; it was only 
 that women had lost their personality so far
 
 LOVE 103 
 
 as he was concerned — they were fair present- 
 ments on canvas or in stone, never living 
 flesh and blood. No face had dwelt so per- 
 sistently in his mind as that of Millicent Bell,, 
 perhaps because he had not lessened its haunt- 
 ing effect by transferring it to paper. 
 
 Again and again he had imagined how she 
 would look when they met for the second 
 time — sweet, intolerant, smiling like sunshine 
 or frowning like soft clouds ; but none of bis 
 fancies were fulfilled when at last she stood 
 before him. 
 
 That very morning Mrs. Scarrot had laid his 
 week's bill before him, and though he did not 
 open it at once, he had been speculating 
 whether he would continue paying terms he 
 well knew had been meant to be prohibitive. 
 
 Not till the meal was ended and he had 
 lit his cigarette did he break the envelope 
 and glance carelessly at the total. 
 
 It was considerably less than he had ex-
 
 104 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 pected, and a smile, in which was a strange 
 tenderness as well as some amusement, stole 
 across his face when he saw that the rooms 
 themselves were put down at two guineas 
 instead of five. 
 
 While he was considering what this con- 
 cession might denote, a knock came to his 
 door, and when he called out ' Come in,' 
 Millicent herself entered. 
 
 What wonderful expression women can put 
 into their clothes — how eloquent they can be 
 in the wearing of them ! 
 
 Before she opened her lips WolfFe under- 
 stood this was no timid girl, not even an 
 offended goddess, who confronted him, but the 
 landlady, of unimpeachable demeanour, indis- 
 turbable calm. 
 
 So far as he could see, she wore the same 
 black gown in which he had first seen her, yet 
 its very folds, which were then artistic, hung 
 differently, as though over a starched petti-
 
 LOVE 105 
 
 coat. They seemed to encase her in a coating 
 of stern respectability ; while the severe plain- 
 ness of her collar and cuffs spoke volumes of 
 determined coldness. He remembered very 
 clearly that a wisp of softest lace had 
 encircled her throat that windy afternoon 
 when Fate, in the fair shape of Nancy, had 
 led him to their door. 
 
 * I am pleased/ he said, throwing away his 
 cigarette, and speaking with most winning 
 courtesy, 'to have this opportunity of acknow- 
 ledging how very comfortable you have made 
 me.' 
 
 ' I am glad you have been satisfied,' she 
 answered quietly. 
 
 The chair he offered she refused. 
 
 1 1 came to tell you,' she went on, in the 
 same even tones, not avoiding, yet not exactly 
 meeting his glance, ' that we have made other 
 arrangements, and cannot keep you longer 
 than this week.'
 
 106 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 He looked all the surprise he felt, and some 
 of the regret. There was always a great deal 
 of boyishness in his manner, although over 
 thirty years of age, and he spoke with a boy's 
 impulsiveness now. 
 
 * I hope you will reconsider that decision. 
 I am so very comfortable, and if in any 
 way I have been unsatisfactory as a tenant, 
 you have only to tell me so, and I assure 
 you ' 
 
 1 There is nothing that is in your power to 
 alter. It is simply — we have made other 
 arrangements,' she repeated, as though saying 
 a lesson. 
 
 Her quiet obstinacy drove him to despera- 
 tion. It was not only that, as he said, every- 
 thing suited him so exactly, but he felt now, 
 stronger than ever, the inclination to struggle 
 with her for supremacy and win ; while the 
 desire to remain in her vicinity was also grow- 
 ing. As diamond facets sparkling in the dark
 
 LOVE 107 
 
 have sometimes betrayed the whereabouts of 
 the precious stone, so a sudden flash of intelli- 
 gence illumined now the artist's puzzled brain 
 and showed him clearly to what all this was 
 tending, though the warning had no power to 
 turn him from his intention. 
 
 ' You do not understand, perhaps, how im- 
 portant it is that I should remain. An artist 
 is so dependent on his surroundings,' he 
 pleaded. 
 
 ' I am sorry.' 
 
 Her voice was very sweet. Wolffe had 
 already decided it was the sweetest he had 
 ever heard — so clear of timbre, so exquisitely 
 soft and low — yet in its accent now could be 
 discerned no sign of wavering ; he felt its pur- 
 pose was as irrevocable as though a silver bell 
 had chimed the hour. 
 
 1 1 shall never discover another place where 
 I can be so quiet, so undisturbed,' he con- 
 tinued.
 
 io8 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 There are more lodgings in the Square if 
 you like this neighbourhood.' 
 
 ' Lodgings, yes ; but what sort of lodgings? 
 Do you think I do not know that I shall not 
 find elsewhere what I have found here ? If 
 you have not actually let the rooms to anyone 
 else ' 
 
 He paused, waiting for her to answer what 
 was intended for a question, but she was look- 
 ing calmly past him. If at all softened by his 
 entreaties, she did not show it in her face, nor 
 in her manner, which was indifferent to a 
 degree. 
 
 He went on with increased persuasiveness : 
 
 ' You have no idea how susceptible we are 
 to outside influences. All these pretty things ' 
 — touching an embroidered screen, and then a 
 vase filled with multi-coloured chrysanthe- 
 mums and feathery ferns — ' help us in our 
 work. May I,' with a sudden inspiration, 
 6 show you the picture I am painting now V
 
 LOVE 109 
 
 Anticipating her permission, he crossed over 
 to an easel and lifted the drapery that hung 
 over it. 
 
 On the stretched canvas was depicted the 
 story of the banishment of Hagar ; but though 
 Hagar herself should have been the central 
 figure, it was not she who attracted first atten- 
 tion. It was the son of the bondwoman, the 
 lad whose hand was to be against every man, 
 every man's hand being against him — the pro- 
 phesied father of a wild and outlawed nation 
 — who was most powerfully drawn. 
 
 The half- clothed form — whose slenderness, 
 rather than lack of height, declared his ado- 
 lescence — was held defiantly erect ; the low 
 brow, on which was stamped a darkling frown, 
 in angry harmony with the resentment that 
 flashed from his young eyes, betrayed that it 
 was not with humility he accepted his dis- 
 missal ; while his lips were curled back in a 
 scornful smile that showed his gleaming teeth,
 
 no A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 and gave him the fierce look of a tiger that 
 only hesitated to spring because he knew him- 
 self to be hopelessly over-matched. 
 
 In all this was undoubted genius. The fault 
 that robbed the picture of its reality and life 
 lay in the woman ; and here, too, was token of 
 the faithfulness of AVolffe's affection for the 
 pretty, tender-hearted child who won his heart 
 so many years ago. Though the hair was 
 dark, the features of an Eastern type, there 
 was still a resemblance to the heroine of his 
 other pictures. 
 
 In Hagar's face was no sign of wrath against 
 her rival, no trace of that mocking spirit 
 which had brought upon her this punishment, 
 nor even of the contempt she might reason- 
 ably have felt for the patriarch who was 
 powerless to protect her from his wife's malig- 
 nant hatred. It was a tame submissiveness 
 to the cruelty of her fate ; a dread of the un- 
 known was most apparent in her expression,
 
 LOVE in 
 
 which was also very sad, though with the sad- 
 ness of an innocent, frightened child, not the 
 deeper sorrow of a passionate woman w T ho, 
 having known the dear delight of love, is now 
 compelled to taste its bitterness. 
 
 Something of what was lacking made itself 
 dimly felt to Millicent, and was borne to the 
 artist as he watched her. 
 
 ' It is a beautiful picture,' she said. 
 
 I But V he asked rallyingly. 
 
 c I am sorry if my tone implied a " but." 
 ' You can atone for it, if you will, by telling 
 me where lies the fault.' 
 
 I I should not presume to criticise your 
 work, even if it needed criticism.' 
 
 1 Perhaps I can read your thoughts. Hagar's 
 face has not sufficient force of feeling. It 
 does not show the undisciplined nature 
 which would rebel the more passionately be- 
 cause in losing love she lost all. In your 
 opinion '
 
 U2 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Into Millicent's cheek stole the faintest 
 colour, but she did not avert her eyes. 
 
 ' I had not time to study it so deeply,' she 
 interrupted him. 'I merely thought she 
 looked very young.' 
 
 When she turned away and began arranging 
 the breakfast things to take them away, the 
 artist's first impulse was to help her ; but he 
 refrained, feeling certain she would prefer it 
 to be taken for granted that she was equal to 
 the task she had undertaken. 
 
 Furtively, without her knowledge, he 
 watched her, thinking, as he affected to be 
 busy with his brushes, how, like Enid, she 
 was ' sweet and serviceable,' and could infuse 
 into the most ordinary actions the daintiest 
 grace ; while, like Geraint, he 
 
 ' Had longing in him evermore 
 To stoop and kiss the tender little thumb 
 That crost the trencher as she laid it down.' 
 
 When she moved with her heavily-burdened
 
 LOVE 113 
 
 tray towards the door he allowed himself the 
 small pleasure of opening it for her, receiving 
 her gentl) T -spoken thanks. 
 
 After she had gone and the echo of her 
 footsteps had died away, he occupied himself 
 in wondering whether she would come back or 
 send her sister or the old woman who had 
 hitherto attended to his wants ; and again, 
 whether it would be wise, if she reappeared, 
 to make one more appeal to her pity, or 
 whether to let her enjoy for awhile the satis- 
 faction of having triumphed before attempting 
 to shake her resolutions. 
 
 He thought he understood her reasons for 
 requesting him to leave. From incoherent 
 sentences dropped by Mrs. Scarrot, he guessed 
 that it was not only on account of his first 
 offence, but more because he was a bachelor 
 and young, while they were both unchaperoned, 
 that his departure was considered advisable. 
 And now, glancing down at the bill, which alJ 
 
 vol. 1. 8
 
 ii 4 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 this time he had held unconsciously in his 
 hand, a sudden idea struck him. 
 
 Drawn up on approved principles with con- 
 siderable care, it was headed : 
 
 ' Mr. Wolffe, debtor to M. Bell,' 
 
 and the initial being written with a fashionable 
 flourish and with a loop to the third stroke — a 
 trick she had acquired in writing German 
 character — could easily be taken for the 
 abbreviation which marks the married woman. 
 
 A suspicion that it was admiration for herself 
 which made him desirous to stay on would be, 
 he knew, the signal for his instantaneous dis- 
 missal ; but if he practised a little diplomacy 
 and appeared anxious merely on account of 
 his picture she might even now relent — 
 especially if she believed him unaware of the 
 fact that les convenances were disregarded by 
 his remaining. 
 
 While he debated this in his mind she
 
 LOVE 115 
 
 returned, and so quietly he never knew she 
 was there until quite near, and she had passed 
 by him with an air of being oblivious of his 
 propinquity that awoke a keen and mischievous 
 wish to ruffle her annoying calm, even at the 
 cost of her displeasure. 
 
 With an admirably assumed expression of 
 perplexity he held out the bill for her inspec- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Is this a mistake, Mrs. Bell, or was I wrong 
 in thinking you asked ^ksf^ guineas for the 
 rooms V he asked, pointing to the item. 
 
 Over the milky whiteness of her brow and 
 throat there spread a crimson flame. For one 
 moment she flashed into his face an indignant 
 protest against his cruelty in pressing such 
 a question ; then, with an effort that was 
 obvious, recovered her composure. 
 
 ' The bill is quite correct,' she returned 
 haughtily, and moved back to the table. 
 
 He dared not speak to her again, and 
 
 8—2
 
 n6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 during the few moments she was in the room 
 he was only permitted to see the soft coils of 
 hair gathered together loosely at her neck, 
 and the sweep of her black gown as she flitted 
 to and fro. Then, without a glance in his 
 direction, she left, and left him more than 
 ever determined to stay where he was, what- 
 ever happened and bv whatever means.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 JEALOUS. 
 
 A solemn council of three assembled to 
 discuss the letter which Wolffe sent down 
 the following morning with the payment of 
 his week's bill. As he had with considerable 
 acumen foreseen, Millicent was well satisfied at 
 first with her own conduct — the firmness she 
 had displayed in insisting that he must go ; it 
 was during the night reflection raised a doubt 
 whether she had not been more than abrupt 
 with him, absolutely rude. 
 
 If the place suited him, and congenial sur- 
 roundings were so essential to his work's 
 progress as he had declared, it was a cruelty
 
 u8 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 to turn him away ; and, so far as their own 
 interests were concerned, was it wise ? They 
 would never get a less troublesome lodger ; 
 they might get no one in his place at 
 all. 
 
 Now for the second time she read his letter 
 aloud : 
 
 'Dear Madam, 
 
 4 1 trust you will not think me ob- 
 trusive in writing to ask you once more to 
 reconsider your decision of yesterday. I 
 should be loath in any case to move from such 
 pleasant quarters, but just now I am exceed- 
 ingly busy with the picture which you saw — a 
 commission I am bound to finish by a certain 
 date — so that it is more than ever important 
 I should remain where I can work without 
 difficulty and with no fear of being disturbed. 
 Gathering from what you said that the rooms 
 I occupy are not yet promised to anyone else,
 
 JEALOUS 119 
 
 I venture to request that you will at least 
 allow me to stay here so long as it is not 
 actually inconvenient to yourself ; and I, on 
 my part, will hold myself in readiness to turn 
 out at a moment's notice, should circumstances 
 require it. 
 
 ' Yours truly, 
 
 - Leslie Wolffe.' 
 
 ' It's a nice letter, Miss Millicent. I don't 
 see how 7 you can refuse him,' commented Mrs. 
 Scarrot, always leniently disposed towards the 
 offender. 
 
 A little had been told her of the incident 
 which had preceded the artist's arrival, and 
 something she had guessed — enough to make 
 her anxious he should remain. Honestly fond 
 of her young mistresses, like all her class she 
 had a notion that marriage was the goal 
 towards which they should be striving, and 
 was anxious that one, at least, should escape
 
 120 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 from the discomfort and uncertainty of this 
 present way of living. 
 
 Sir Peter she had long ago dismissed from 
 her thoughts as a possible husband ; but this 
 second lodger, who was young and apparently 
 not badly off, should not be sent away if she 
 could help it. 
 
 Millicent looked doubtfully at Nancy. 
 
 ' We decided,' she said slowly, ' that we had 
 better have only ladies.' 
 
 ■ That would mean another servant at once/ 
 said the charwoman sharply. i I know what 
 ladies are in lodgings : it's ringing the bell all 
 day long, and endless trouble and worry, 
 besides which, they're none such good pay.' 
 
 1 If it were a lady had the rooms, we could 
 do so much more to help ; and if they were 
 permanently let, we could afford to keep a 
 housemaid too.' 
 
 'You may not let them at all,' put in 
 Nancy.
 
 JEALOUS i2i 
 
 It was the first time she had volunteered an 
 opinion, and the words came as a surprise, 
 showing as they did that her s) r mpathies, too, 
 were with their second lodger. 
 
 'It was you,' broke in Millicent reproach- 
 fully, ' who first suggested we ought not to 
 take in any bachelors.' 
 
 1 That was when the choice was still open to 
 us. Xow that he is here, quite unobjection- 
 able and so anxious to remain, I can't think it 
 necessary to send him away/ 
 
 ' Mr. Skene thought it quite impossible we 
 could allow him to stay od.' 
 
 ' Mr. Skene is jealous. Of course, if you 
 mean to listen to him ' 
 
 ' I don't mean to listen. It is nothing to 
 me what he says or thinks ; but, all the same, 
 I doubt if he is not right in this,' said 
 Millicent. 
 
 She was blushing as she spoke — not at 
 Skene's name and implied interest in her pro-
 
 122 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ceedings, but at the imputation, very galling 
 to her pride, that there could possibly be cause 
 for jealousy where this stranger was con- 
 cerned. 
 
 Nancy threw back her head impatiently. 
 
 1 Who on earth cares what we do ? Who 
 has the right to care V 
 
 c Who would know V asked Mrs. Scarrot 
 timidly. 
 
 4 He would know himself, and think it 
 strange,' answered Millicent, a painful doubt in 
 her deep gray eyes. 
 
 Very vaguely she was feeling that this mere 
 fact alone would be inimical to her peace of 
 mind. Always he had seen her at a disadvan- 
 tage ; it was more than likely he would disap- 
 prove the action to which he was even now 
 urging her, a man being never the less hard 
 on a woman's error because in a measure 
 responsible for its committal. 
 
 She even began to imagine the cynical
 
 JEALOUS 123 
 
 gleam in his blue eyes when he found that he 
 had won another victory over her weakness. 
 
 All the time she was twisting the envelope 
 of his letter idly between her fingers, and her 
 downcast eyes suddenly caught sight of the 
 superscription. It was addressed to Mrs. 
 Bell 
 
 She hurriedly pointed out the fact to Nancy 
 and Mrs. Scarrot. By the first it was taken 
 as an unanswerable argument in favour of 
 matters remaining as they were, since the pro- 
 prieties were seemingly observed, and this had 
 been the only real objection ; while the old char- 
 woman, nervously brushing invisible crumbs 
 from her apron, remarked rather enigmatically 
 that it was ' as clear as daylight now.' 
 
 1 You know you can look very married when 
 you like,' declared Nancy cheerfully. 
 
 Perhaps her sister considered this a left- 
 handed compliment, for her countenance did 
 not lighten.
 
 124 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 * Why is he so anxious to remain V she 
 broke out petulantly. 
 
 ' Because he is comfortable, and knows it. 
 He likes his food, in fact ; you and Mrs. 
 Scarrot are always concocting dainty dishes, 
 and the man in him is not proof against them. 
 I suppose woman is the only animal devoid of 
 ' cupboard love.' 
 
 Nancy's explanation brought a smile to the 
 charwoman's pallid, melancholy features, and 
 Millicent, too, was relieved by her laughing 
 unconcern. It was principally on her sister's 
 account she had hesitated, being uneasily 
 aware of a suppressed eagerness in her tone, 
 while seeming to be neutral. Now she was 
 somewhat reassured. 
 
 So long as Nancy was safe, there was no 
 other danger, she told herself, with a scornful 
 curling of her lip. Indeed, it had been a 
 humiliation to her pride to suspect that Nancy, 
 child as she was, could so far forget her dignity
 
 JEALOUS 125 
 
 as to think of the artist in any other light than 
 that of lodger. She was glad to put the 
 thought away, with a feeling of shame that it 
 had ever been entertained. 
 
 Without further demur, she agreed to send 
 a message to the effect that Mr. Wolffe might 
 consider the notice to leave withdrawn, but 
 must, on his side, be prepared to keep to his 
 promise of going whenever his departure should 
 be desired — a message that afforded the 
 recipient unbounded satisfaction, and caused 
 him to plume himself upon the diplomacy he 
 had practised. 
 
 It chanced that Mark Skene called that 
 afternoon, and found only Millicent at 
 home. 
 
 She was nervous and constrained, and talked 
 incessantly ; to keep him from the one sub- 
 ject that she was more than unwilling to 
 discuss. 
 
 Never before had he seen her so unrestful,
 
 126 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 and gathering from her pallor that there might 
 be some reason for it, he asked solicitously if 
 she were only tired or unwell. 
 
 She protested she was neither. 
 
 ' Then unhappy — about Nancy, about money 
 matters V he persisted, in his quiet, drawling 
 tones. 
 
 ' That less than anything,' she answered 
 hastily, alarmed because, in this game of 
 ( mental ' hide-and-seek, he was getting, as 
 the children say, ' hot.' Then the feeling that 
 his slow inquisitive gaze would not be with- 
 drawn until she had given some explanation, 
 forced from her lips : ' It is want of fresh air, 
 perhaps ; I have not been out lately.' 
 
 ' Then come now.' 
 
 ' There is only Mrs. Scarrot in the house.' 
 
 1 She will be equal to emergencies for 
 once. You must not trifle with your health ; 
 that is the worst economy.' 
 
 ' I am never ill.'
 
 JEALOUS 127 
 
 1 Which is something to boast of in the past, 
 not to rely on in the future. Come !' 
 
 Still she resisted ; more because it was he 
 who asked than because she was averse to 
 going out. 
 
 1 It looked like rain, I thought, when I stood 
 at the door an hour ago.' 
 
 ' Then the outlook is not what it was ; it is 
 a clear, frosty day, scarcely a breath of wind, 
 and the sun quite warm for the time of 
 year.' 
 
 ' The sun will be setting soon,' looking at 
 the clock. 
 
 1 Why not say at once you do not wish to 
 come V he asked angrily. 
 
 ' Do you think I should hesitate to do so, if 
 it were true V smiling. 
 
 When Millicent smiled she was irresistible. 
 
 Her well-cut features, that in repose seemed 
 cold, were suddenly bathed in a bewildering 
 glow of warmth and colour, her red lips, part-
 
 128 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ing, displayed a gleaming line of pearly white- 
 ness, and in her deep gray eyes sparkled golden 
 lights. 
 
 Millicent was often statue-like in appearance ; 
 it was only those who knew her well who could 
 speak to her intense womanliness, the tender- 
 ness of her heart, its powers of sympathy. 
 Now, aware that she had been ungracious, 
 she hastened to atone, and leaving Mr. Skene 
 no time to reply, expressed her intention of 
 accompanying him. 
 
 She was gone only a moment, and returned 
 declaring herself ready to do ten miles at least, 
 laughing at rather a dismayed look she fancied 
 she detected in Skene's face, the actual exist- 
 ence of which he, however, strenuously denied. 
 
 They walked down the Marine Parade to 
 King's Koad, ultimately reaching the New 
 Pier, where a band was playing, and Skene 
 persuaded her to go on, choosing a sheltered 
 seat where she could rest without feeling cold,
 
 JEALOUS 129 
 
 and establishing himself beside her in close 
 proximity. 
 
 Millicent, always pretty enough to attract 
 attention, was looking particularly sweet in 
 dark furs and a small black velvet bonnet, 
 whose strings were tied coquettishly beneath 
 her chin, and several glances wandered in her 
 direction. 
 
 The bright weather — such weather as only 
 Brighton knows in winter — had brought a 
 number of people out, and Skene amused 
 himself noticing those who passed by, con- 
 fiding his views concerning them to his com- 
 panion in discreet undertones. 
 
 He could be very entertaining when he 
 chose, and Millicent grew interested, and 
 responded merrily to some of his happiest 
 remarks. 
 
 To an outsider it must have seemed that 
 they were on the closest terms of intimacy, 
 and someone who was passing involuntarily 
 
 vol. 1. 9
 
 i 3 o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 started, and was conscious of a sense of dis- 
 pleasure and. disappointment. The next 
 moment, in acknowledgment of Millicent's 
 slight bow, he raised his hat. 
 
 ' Who is that V asked Skene, intense 
 curiosity in his tone. 
 
 1 It is Mr. Wolffe ; the gentleman who took 
 the ground-floor in our house.' 
 
 The searching glance she knew was on 
 her face helped her to keep it impenetrable 
 and composed ; only the most critical ob- 
 server might have guessed that the very 
 absence of expression denoted some strong 
 feeling. 
 
 She rose from her seat, not wishing to be 
 there still when Wolffe passed next time. 
 Already he had turned and was coming towards 
 them. 
 
 ' It is cold ; it is getting late !' she ex- 
 claimed, hurrying in the direction of the 
 IX ate.
 
 JEALOUS 131 
 
 ' You mean you wish to go V he corrected 
 calmly. 
 
 ' Why not ? I gave two reasons for my 
 wish.' 
 
 ' A woman might give a hundred reasons, 
 and not a true one.' 
 
 He spoke good-humouredly and as if 
 without ulterior intention, but Millicent 
 bit her lip and a colour came into her 
 cheeks. 
 
 Passing out, they walked some way without 
 speaking, and the keen air they met — not 
 strong enough to be called a breeze, yet laden 
 with the freshness of ozone, and full of sooth- 
 ing force that impressed itself on the senses — 
 combined with the murmuring of the sea as it 
 washed the shore in languorous monotony of 
 music, restored to Millicent her equableness of 
 temper. 
 
 She was even ready to recognise the right 
 Skene might have as their only friend, and a 
 
 9—2
 
 i 3 2 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 declared favourite of their father's, to show an 
 interest in their doings and offer his advice. 
 When he spoke she listened patiently, as to 
 one who has a claim to be heard, he not failing 
 to see that she was looking at the matter now 
 from another different point of view, yet 
 profoundly ignorant as to why she had veered 
 round. 
 
 ' Is it — is it ' he began awkwardly. 
 
 ' It is the man who followed Nancy/ she 
 confessed. 
 
 ' And he is with you still ? I thought he 
 was to leave/ 
 
 ' 1 gave him notice to go yesterday, but at 
 his repeated requests withdrew it.' 
 
 1 Why should he be so anxious to remain V 
 sharply. 
 
 It was the same question that had puzzled 
 herself to answer that very morning, and now 
 she was as little capable as then of answering 
 it with any certainty.
 
 JEALOUS 133 
 
 1 He says he is very comfortable ; that he 
 finds it easy to paint where he is ; in fact, that 
 it would be extremely inconvenient to move 
 just now. He is finishing a picture — a com- 
 mission.' 
 
 1 You believe all that nonsense ¥ 
 
 Not even the secret conviction that all these 
 excuses were the very weakest and most inade- 
 quate, nor even the faint doubt as to their 
 truth which may have been apparent in her 
 own voice, justified, in Millicent's opinion, 
 Skene's retort. 
 
 Her great gray eyes were ablaze with in- 
 dignation as she turned on him. 
 
 ' I consider everyone deserving of belief till 
 proved untruthful. Mr. WolfFe is a gentle- 
 man ; his conduct while with us has been 
 irreproachable.' 
 
 1 Whatever it may have been before V dis- 
 agreeably. 
 
 She bowed her head.
 
 134 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Again they walked on in silence, she with 
 her face turned towards the sea, drinking in 
 eagerly its salt scent, never tired of seeing 
 the waves come in with high white crests, 
 proudly as conquerors — dying in defeat. 
 Having lived on the coast only so short a 
 time, the novelty was still unworn. As pas- 
 sionately as ever she revelled in the sense of 
 space and power the ocean conveyed to her : 
 the beauty of its ever- varying movement, 
 the magic of its mysterious sounds. She had 
 lost the thread of their argument in deeper, 
 if undefined thought, and started when next 
 Skene addressed her : 
 
 ' Your sex is so proverbially one-sided in 
 argument that probably I am only wasting 
 my breath if I remind you that a man does 
 not often deliberately show his w T orst side to 
 women. You cannot possibly judge from 
 what you have seen. He may be a murderer 
 without murdering you ; a robber without
 
 JEALOUS 135 
 
 taking anything of value from your house. 
 I have seen something of the world, and it 
 would require something more than negative 
 proofs to assure me that this artist was a 
 desirable acquaintance for you or for your 
 sister.' 
 
 * He is a lodger merely. If he pays his 
 rent and behaves with ordinary civility, it is 
 all we can require.' 
 
 ' I do not think so. As you have adopted 
 this way of earning money, at least use 
 ordinary caution. Find out who he is, what 
 he is, before acceding to his request. Let 
 me make inquiries — let me see him for you.' 
 
 1 Thank you. The matter is already settled. 
 I have promised that he shall remain — for 
 the present, at any rate,' she interrupted 
 him. 
 
 He ejaculated something indistinctly that 
 testified to his impatience at her folly, for 
 folly it seemed to him, and that of a most
 
 i 3 6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 glaring sort. Almost he suspected her of 
 being led into it by personal feeling, a pre- 
 dilection for the artist's good looks and 
 pleasant manners, a thought that it might 
 not be well to turn an eligible from their door. 
 But one look into her pure cold face disarmed 
 him, and involuntarily he began to apologize. 
 
 ' It is because I care so much what happens 
 to you that I have interfered. Forgive me 
 if in my great zeal I overstepped all bounds.' 
 
 ' Think no more of it,' she adjured him 
 sweetly. 
 
 She was looking all the better for her walk, 
 or perhaps it was the discussion had given 
 her so much colour. There was a dewy 
 moisture in her eyes, and a rich bloom lying 
 on her cheeks that spoke of splendid health ; 
 and the short fringe that curled back from 
 her forehead lay in soft rings on the velvet 
 of her bonnet like threads of light. Her 
 figure was well poised and lissom — it seemed
 
 JEALOUS 137 
 
 to follow natural lines instead of those im- 
 posed by fashion ; and every movement was 
 free and undulating, not fettered by clinging 
 skirts, nor made awkward by high heels. She 
 looked a very ' perfect woman, nobly planned,' 
 a goddess grand and gracious, yet with all the 
 winsome unaffectedness of a child, its way- 
 wardness and fancies. 
 
 Skene's desire to win her grew as he gazed. 
 The fear that another might be eager to sup- 
 plant him made him speak again at the last 
 moment on the doorstep, the door being open, 
 and Mrs. Scarrot on the threshold. 
 
 * Let the man go,' he pleaded ; 'it is not 
 worth the risk, the — the annoyance.' 
 
 Millicent shook her head and smiled, re- 
 fusing to reopen the discussion. 
 
 1 Good-bye. I enjoyed my walk immensely,' 
 she called out gaily as he went. 
 
 ' Don't heed him, Miss Millicent,' put in the 
 charwoman, following her downstairs. ' He is
 
 138 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 jealous ; Miss Nancy said so, and she sees as 
 much as anyone. It puzzles me sometimes 
 where I have met Mr. Skene — before ever he 
 came here. I know his face quite well, and 
 his voice.' 
 
 1 You've been dreaming about him/ said 
 Millicent, with a careless laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot lived in the air half her time; 
 nothing but a sharp attack of neuralgia, or 
 the exigencies of her responsible position as 
 ' woman of all work/ brought her dow T n to 
 earth. She accepted the solution with stolid 
 good-humour. 
 
 ' No doubt you're right, miss. Sleeping 
 and waking is all mixed up like in my head 
 sometimes, and it's hard to say where the 
 dreams begin and where they end. It's a 
 queer world, anyhow.' 
 
 To which Millicent absently assented.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE. 
 
 The menage at Marine Square had settled 
 down into ordinary routine, and what had 
 seemed a difficulty soon became an accepted 
 and not unpleasant fact. Millicent's idea of 
 having another servant was abandoned, as 
 Mrs. Scarrot professed herself able to do all 
 that Mr. Wolffe required, and Sir Peter had 
 his own attendant, between whom and the 
 charwoman there had been from the first a 
 smouldering feud. She had characteristically 
 declared herself willing to do his work as well 
 as her own, rather than have him ' creeping 
 about her kitchen like an ill-conditioned
 
 140 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ghost,' and had set her face against his using 
 it as a resort in hours of leisure. The two 
 girls, who shared her dislike, were not sorry 
 that she was resolute on this point, and that it 
 was in consequence only seldom he invaded 
 their territory. 
 
 Jaynes might be the most estimable man 
 alive, experience and Madame Tussaud having 
 taught us that the incipient iniquity of 
 criminals is not always ' written on their 
 foreheads,' but his appearance was decidedly 
 against him, and women are always prone 
 to judge by an appearance. 
 
 Nancy, who was light-hearted and careless, 
 and found it less trouble to be leniently than 
 critically disposed, was the least severe upon 
 him, the impulse which would have led her 
 to throw dainties to the mangiest cur prompt- 
 ing her to speak to him encouragingly and 
 with smiles ; she also saw him more frequently, 
 and perchance had discovered that he was by
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 141 
 
 no means so black as nature had painted him. 
 However it might have been, there was, if 
 no amity, at least no enmity between them, 
 and he showed no jealousy of the increasing 
 influence she was gaining daily with his 
 master. 
 
 Sir Peter, with the selfishness of an invalid, 
 seemed to have no scruple in monopolizing 
 her time, and, indeed, Nancy responded so 
 willingly to his calls that it never entered his 
 head he might be imposing on her goodness. 
 She had a very sweet voice, and though quite 
 untrained, it rendered very charmingly the 
 simple ballads which her listener preferred ; 
 she also read aloud with intelligence and 
 feeling, and would sit and chat with him for 
 hours and never tire, her hands folded idly 
 in her lap, her head slightly on one side in 
 an attitude of attention, and eyes uplifted to 
 his face in evident sympathy with all he had 
 to say.
 
 142 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Nancy never worked. It was popularly 
 supposed she did not know how to thread a 
 needle ; certainly she could never have guided 
 it through the numberless intricacies of design 
 in which some women delight, and she had 
 neither the neatness nor perseverance requisite 
 for plainer sewing. She had no ' eyes in her 
 finger-tips,' as Millicent might be said to 
 possess, and inherent laziness precluded her 
 feeling the want of occupation. When there 
 was nothing to incite her to action she could 
 be well content to sit in idleness, dreaming 
 or doing; nothing;. 
 
 Colonel Fayrer had fulfilled his intention 
 of prosecuting his acquaintance with the 
 retired Indian officer, and several times 
 Nancy had encountered him. He was too 
 stilted, too affected, to please the girl's fancy 
 at first. His slowness of speech exasperated 
 her, as also the deliberate way he fixed his 
 eyeglass for closer contemplation of herself.
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 143 
 
 There was nothing genial nor of exuberance 
 in his manner, and the dry witticisms for 
 which he was somewhat celebrated she was 
 too young to appreciate ; perhaps he was 
 not always capable of uttering them in her 
 presence. When he first made his appear- 
 ance in Marine Square she had set him down 
 as a contemporary of Sir Peter's, and in 
 contrast with her intense vitality and joyous- 
 ness, he himself felt that he was old and dull, 
 this, too, preventing him from showing to best 
 advantage. Though not a ladies' man in the 
 fullest acceptation of that term, being of good 
 family with a fair private income to supple- 
 ment his pay as colonel of the guards, he 
 had always been sought after as an eligible, 
 and Nancy's habit of ignoring that he had 
 anything to recommend him to her notice 
 amused almost as much as it annoyed him. 
 
 She did not even take the trouble to be 
 rude to him. He felt that it was simply
 
 144 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 because he bored her that she took the 
 occasion of his arrival to slip out of the room 
 with a smiling assurance that she would 
 return, on the strength of which slight promise 
 he had once or twice prolonged his visit 
 beyond all reasonable limits, though he was 
 beginning to understand that he must not 
 take her words too literally. 
 
 ' T am afraid I drive you away,' he said 
 one afternoon, as after five minutes' con- 
 versation she edged towards the door. 
 
 ' Not possible,' she returned, with a child- 
 like gaiety that took from all she said and did 
 even the semblance of impertinence or bold- 
 ness. ' Nobody ever makes me do anything 
 against my will, do they, Sir Peter V 
 
 1 1 am an invalid, you know, and cannot 
 judge.' 
 
 1 Is that a suggestion of brute force ? How 
 ungallant ! how foolish, too ! Not even that 
 would break a woman's will.'
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 145 
 
 ' Oh, you are all as obstinate as mules, I 
 know, but ' 
 
 ' We prefer to call it firmness,' she in- 
 terpolated. 
 
 ' But,' he went on, with a twinkle in his 
 eye, ' some day you find your masters. I 
 look forward to the advent of yours, Miss 
 Nancy.' 
 
 4 May the man prove merciful to his beast !' 
 she laughed. 
 
 ' You are not taking it seriously, I am 
 afraid : you think you can rise above your 
 fate — drive and not be driven. You want a 
 slave ' 
 
 The guardsman was understood to murmur 
 that even slavery might be a proud position ; 
 but Nancy, avoiding his admiring gaze, made 
 a mutinous mouth, escaping further strictures 
 and compliments alike by a retreat. 
 
 As she passed the artist's door she found 
 it wide open, and went in to put his room in 
 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 146 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 order. It had been her custom to do so from 
 time to time, Mrs. Scarrot's hand being too 
 heavy for such delicate work ; but she drew 
 back when she saw Wolffe himself standing 
 before his easel brush in hand. 
 
 He heard the slight rustling of her skirts, 
 and when he turned she felt compelled to 
 explain her presence. 
 
 ' I did not know you were here,' blushing 
 brightly. 
 
 ' Pray come in,' he said courteously. 
 
 ' I only wanted to arrange your things. 
 Some other time will do.' 
 
 ' No time like the present. It is very good 
 of you to take such trouble. I often wondered 
 to whose deft fingers I was indebted.' 
 
 1 Mrs. Scarrot ' she began. 
 
 ' Mrs. Scarrot is as good as gold, but if I 
 were entirely dependent on her tender mercies, 
 I should find my wet brushes heaped to- 
 gether on my favourite books, and letters and
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 147 
 
 sketches hopelessly mixed up. Myself, I have 
 no idea of neatness.' 
 
 ' Genius always refuses to be trammelled 
 by ordinary laws of method and of order.' 
 
 ' Then I am only within my rights. I am 
 so glad you think so.' 
 
 He laughed as he spoke, and she laughed 
 too. She had come farther into the room, 
 and was craning her neck to see past him 
 where on the strained canvas something was 
 indistinctly shadowed. 
 
 c What is it V she asked with sudden aw T e in 
 her eyes. 
 
 1 The ghost of my great-grandmother,' he 
 returned, smiling down at her in an indulgent 
 semi-paternal fashion. 
 
 She frowned and drew up her head in a way 
 that reminded him of her sister, and recalled 
 to him the fact that, young as she looked, she 
 was a woman, and w 7 ould resent being treated 
 as a child. 
 
 10—2
 
 148 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 It is the merest sketch, a fancy only,' he 
 supplemented hastily. 
 
 ' And you think I could not understand nor 
 sympathize.' 
 
 ' You could do more,' impulsively. 
 
 She had stolen a little nearer, and with 
 brows still bent, though not in anger now, was 
 scrutinizing carefully the faint outlines that 
 scarcely yet indicated the subject. 
 
 1 It is an angel,' she hazarded — ' without 
 wings and flying.' 
 
 ' An anomaly, in a word.' 
 
 ' My way of expressing myself was Irish, I 
 admit, but ' 
 
 ' That all angels do not fly away one should 
 be very grateful,' taking mischievous delight 
 in her embarrassment. 
 
 ' It is allegorical, of course. I understand 
 that,' still rather hurt and pouting. 
 
 ' To tell the truth, I scarcely know what it 
 is myself. The subject just escapes me.'
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 149 
 
 ' What did you mean when you said I 
 could do more than sympathize V Nancy asked 
 shyly. 
 
 1 1 was talking wildly. The fault of genius 
 again/ he said evasively. ' Must you go V as 
 she turned to leave the room. 
 
 Half-way towards the door she looked back 
 over her shoulder, the wish to remain unmis- 
 takable in her speaking eyes. 
 
 4 Don't move, don't move !' he implored her 
 excitedly, his taste charmed by the attitude, 
 everything else forgotten in his art. * It is 
 the embodiment of my idea. That is how you 
 could help me if you chose.' 
 
 ' By standing like this ? How long V 
 
 She had remained motionless as he had 
 desired, but a sense of something unconven- 
 tional and unusual in the situation caused a 
 faint colour to mount into her cheeks and her 
 white lids drooped, her lashes lying like a 
 heavy shadow across her half-closed eyes.
 
 150 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' It is perfect/ he cried enthusiastically. 
 ' If you would remain like that ten minutes 
 even, I could complete my sketch.' 
 
 ' 1 will stay as long as you like,' she 
 answered simply. 
 
 Hastily arranging his materials within 
 reach, he set to work ; and Nancy proved 
 herself a very docile model, only shifting her 
 gaze, and this ranged freely. All the different 
 objects in the room were familiar to her, yet 
 gained fresh interest now that he was in their 
 midst and she was able to survey them under 
 this new condition. Visiting-cards, notes of 
 invitation, and documents that looked like 
 bills, were thrown together in a heap, and a 
 half-smoked pipe that had been hastily laid 
 down spoke to his Bohemian habits. Whether 
 or no the choice of books was any index to 
 his bent of mind, Nancy noticed at once that 
 Tennyson's ' Idylls of the King,' replaced 
 1 Prince Lucifer ' by Alfred Austin, which she
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 151 
 
 remembered to have seen before on a small 
 table near his easy-chair ; and the leaves lying 
 Hat showed that it had been well perused. 
 In ' Sandra Bellona ; was a metal book-marker 
 that proved to Nancy he had some difficulty 
 in keeping his place. ' Even men find George 
 Meredith a littie heavy,' she thought com- 
 placently, she herself preferring novels in a 
 lighter strain, arid unwilling to observe more 
 intellectuality in the tastes of others. 
 
 She was ready to admit, however, that 
 there was decided power in the artist's broad 
 low T forehead ; that, on the whole, he seemed 
 more than ordinarily clever — more interesting, 
 certainly, than anyone she had met before. 
 Having plenty of time to consider the matter 
 exhaustively, she decided that in every way 
 he favourably compared with Colonel Fayrer 
 and Mark Skene, the only other young men 
 who had lately crossed her path. He had 
 neither swagger nor pretension of any sort,
 
 152 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 but was unmistakably a gentleman and had a 
 masterful way with him, and an air of having 
 always succeeded that circumstances did not 
 combine to justify. ' Yet he is not a bit 
 good-looking,' she mentally decided — 'not 
 a bit/ 
 
 i Are you not getting tired V asked Wolffe, 
 turning round. 
 
 'Not very.' 
 
 An assertion that her appearance denied. 
 Wolffe laid down his brushes and with a 
 gesture released her from the strained posi- 
 tion. 
 
 1 1 do not know how to thank you enough ; 
 you have been of inestimable service.' 
 
 ' May I see ? Oh, how very pretty !' 
 naively, as the picture met her view. 
 
 ' Not half pretty enough. If only ' 
 
 ' Would you like me to come again V 
 
 * If you would. 
 
 1 1 will with pleasure. I consider I am
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 153 
 
 godmother to this picture and responsible for 
 its success.' 
 
 He began to explain to her what he in- 
 tended. The flying feet that sped reluctantly, 
 as was expressed by the backward glance (the 
 poise of the whole figure betraying how much 
 was left behind), were meant to represent the 
 passing to an unknown future from a happy 
 past — the merest sketch, yet full of suggested 
 grace, and with clear resemblance to herself. 
 
 ' Going, yet looking back,' said Nancy 
 softly. 
 
 ' Exactly. That is just what I meant to 
 convey. Do you know, I think you are a 
 fairy godmother, and that the child you have 
 adopted will make a name for herself and me. 
 It is the first time I have been satisfied with 
 my trial sketch of any picture.' 
 
 And then it was arranged that at the same 
 time the following day Nancy should come 
 again.
 
 154 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' That is, if your sister does not object,' put 
 in Wolffe, a remembrance coming over him of 
 Millicent's proud face and invulnerable cold- 
 ness towards himself. 
 
 ' I think we had better not tell her any- 
 thing about it at present. We will confess 
 what we have done after we have done it.' 
 
 Her face was still radiant with pleasure 
 at his praise, while a determined lifting of her 
 chin seemed to claim him as a fellow-con- 
 spirator, and a suspicion of laughter deepened 
 the lurking dimples in her cheeks, betraying 
 how she thoroughly enjoyed the escapade. 
 
 Believing that Millicent would most likely 
 refuse her consent, Wolffe was conscious of an 
 uncomfortable feeling that he should not be 
 acting fairly or well towards her if, without 
 her knowledge, he did what she would dis- 
 approve. Having entered her house against 
 her will, stayed in it by dint of continued 
 entreaty, he was the more bound to consider
 
 ANOTHER ESCAPADE 155 
 
 her wishes. He had looked to Nancy, ex- 
 pecting confirmation of this vague impression, 
 and was rather taken aback when she de- 
 liberately preached defiance. 
 
 For a moment he hesitated, though strongly 
 tempted to accede to her proposition, aw T are 
 that only so would his picture become what 
 he imagined it already in his mind. And, 
 after all, it was Nancy who should decide ; 
 she knew her sister best, and could judge how 
 far she might go without causing irremediable 
 offence. It was certainly she who should 
 decide, and Wolffe, in agreeing, told himself 
 that he assumed no responsibility at all. 
 
 Yet when he was alone, though the picture 
 still occupied his thoughts to the exclusion of 
 most other subjects, two deep gray eyes 
 haunted him and spoilt all his pleasure in 
 his work — not Nancy's eyes, laughing and 
 alluring, but Millicent's, gravely severe and 
 full of the pathos of reproach.
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING. 
 
 And for many days, though he had the artist's 
 true enthusiasm and soon became absorbed in 
 the work that grew like magic beneath his 
 ringers, promising to be a greater success than 
 even he had hoped, Wolffe found the one 
 image constantly recurring, obstinately re- 
 fusing to be banished for any time. His 
 landlady's face — calm, haughty, or imploring 
 — came between him and his picture, causing 
 everything to seem unreal and indistinct in 
 contrast with such vivid life. For every 
 feature was wonderfully defined, every line 
 strangely familiar, as though conned from
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 157 
 
 childhood ; it was as if he had always known 
 her, or always waited for her coming. That 
 other dream-face, the fancy of a few years 
 past, faded into nothingness ; the blue eyes 
 and golden hair of his first love were drowned 
 in the dull waters of that Lethean river 
 whereon so much that has been precious is 
 allowed to drift away at last without regret. 
 
 It seemed to him now a wonder that he had 
 not realized at the very moment of their 
 meeting that Millicent was the one woman 
 in the world for him. He was surprised that 
 even then, the fact being still unadmitted to 
 himself, it had not been conveyed to her by 
 some lightning-flash of electricity ; the ardour 
 of his glance, his manners in her presence 
 (audacious only in desperation), a hundred 
 signs, must have been apparent, had she cared 
 to see. 
 
 But that she was utterly indifferent he could 
 not doubt; indeed, all the feeling she had dis-
 
 153 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 played had been antagonistic, and she gave 
 him no opportunity of removing an im- 
 pression that must have been unfavourable. 
 
 She had never entered his room since the 
 day she had criticised his picture of Hagar, 
 though he had kept it back beyond the speci- 
 fied time, hoping to show bow much it had 
 gained by the touches her words had sug- 
 gested. Once or twice he had met her in the 
 passages, when she had flitted by with a most 
 distant bow, and only once he had met her 
 out of doors, when she had been with someone 
 who had roused his fiercest jealousy by the 
 earnestness of his manner and the good looks 
 Wolffe was too generous not to grant. He 
 himself seldom went out until the evening. 
 While the light lasted he worked at his paint- 
 ing, seldom stirring out of his rooms, which 
 opened one into the other. 
 
 He did not even know if he were the sole 
 male inmate of the house. He opined not,
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 1 59 
 
 having seen a man's hat hanging in the hall — 
 though this might be a feminine ruse he had 
 heard was often practised, so as not to seem 
 unprotected to the outside world — while once 
 or twice he had caught a glimpse of someone 
 wearing coat and trousers ascending the flight 
 of stairs that led to a higher floor, and a 
 heavier footstep than Mrs. Scarrot's sometimes 
 passed his door. 
 
 A few questions to the charwoman would 
 have elicited any information he desired, but 
 he felt that to seek what was not voluntarily 
 accorded by themselves would be an intrusion 
 on the privacy the sisters might wish to 
 maintain, and, if his question were repeated, 
 he could only sink lower in Millicent's 
 esteem. 
 
 Some day he might win her confidence, and 
 she might of her own free will tell him all 
 about herself and her affairs ; in the mean- 
 time, he would work hard at the picture he
 
 160 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 believed would make his fame, and establish 
 some claim on her respect. 
 
 He had secured a professional model, and 
 Nancy managed to go to him nearly every 
 afternoon to sit for a short time, so that it 
 made rapid progress ; their acquaintance, too, 
 progressed with rapid strides. 
 
 There was nothing of conventionality about 
 Nancy, nothing of affected prudery. When 
 she liked anyone, she showed it frankly, with- 
 out thinking it necessary to enwrap herself in 
 that thin veiling of indifference which women 
 sometimes adopt more as a provocative than 
 as a defence. Yet always she was so childlike 
 in her candour that the veriest boor could not 
 have misinterpreted her manner or presumed 
 upon it. The mistake Leslie Wolffe made was 
 of a different nature. 
 
 It was because she was so transparent that 
 he believed her liking for himself, which he 
 could not fail to see, a mere whim, a fancy
 
 MIS UNDERS TA NDING 1 6 1 
 
 that would fade away, as do the rootless 
 plants we are sometimes cheated into buying 
 in Mayfair, ' all a-blowing and a-growing ' to- 
 day, and dead to-morrow. He took it so little 
 seriously, that he never thought of demon- 
 strating to her that it could not be returned, 
 nor even of treating her with a little whole- 
 some neglect. 
 
 She was the sister of the woman he loved, 
 and therefore to be courteously used, and with 
 all chivalry. He never knew how much ten- 
 derness crept into his eyes, as sometimes he 
 detected a subtle shade of resemblance be- 
 tween the bright prettiness of his model and 
 the more ideal beauty of the lady of his 
 dreams. 
 
 The photograph of the two together, which 
 had attracted his attention the first day he 
 arrived, had been removed at once ; but he 
 persuaded Nancy to bring it back to him under 
 
 vol. i. 11
 
 162 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 the pretence that it would be of use to him 
 during her unavoidable absence. 
 
 ' It will be the greatest help to me.' he pro- 
 tested, not altogether mendaciously, his strong 
 nervous ringers closing over it as one clasps 
 tightly a recovered treasure, his eyes pas- 
 sionately intent on the features that had be- 
 come so unaccountably dear. 
 
 1 Do you think we are alike V asked the girl 
 after awhile, trembling a little and flushing, 
 because his gaze was not even then with- 
 drawn. 
 
 ' There is no one — I mean, you are both 
 very different, I think,' he stammered, very 
 nearly self-betrayed. ' Are you and she quite 
 alone in the world ? Have you no father, no 
 brother V he went on quickly, only to cover 
 his own confusion ; not having noticed how 
 the colour was rioting in her cheeks, and that 
 she looked as fresh and sweet as any ' rose in 
 June,'
 
 MIS UNDERS TA NDING 1 63 
 
 She had misunderstood his meaning all 
 through. At first she thought he had checked 
 himself in too open a compliment to herself, 
 and now she fancied he was surprised at their 
 letting lodgings while unprotected by any 
 elder relative — on the propriety of which 
 action they also had debated until their doubts 
 were temporarily lulled to rest by the letter 
 from himself which was addressed to Mrs. 
 Bell. Had anything opened his eyes to the 
 truth since then ? A question to which his 
 next words constituted a reply. 
 
 ' Your sister — is not married V Wolffe was 
 asking, determined to know at least this much, 
 though the fear had never very seriously been 
 entertained. 
 
 ' Xo. We have only each other. But we 
 have never felt the need of pity on that 
 account — nor protection,' proudly. 
 
 One thing more he longed to know, but his 
 tongue seemed paralyzed. He felt it impos- 
 
 11—2
 
 1 64 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 sible to speak of Millicent without showing the 
 strong interest he felt, yet was tortured by 
 the conjecture that the man who was with her 
 that afternoon on the pier was, if no relation, 
 an admirer, perhaps a favoured lover. 
 
 He endeavoured to beat back the ever-swell- 
 ing waves of pain that surged within him, 
 threatening to overcome his self-possession ; 
 and his manner towards Nancy became the 
 more impressive as his knowledge of his own 
 speech and actions became confused and vague 
 from emotion. There was some indistinct idea 
 in his mind — as often an irreverent thought 
 obtrudes on the most solemn moments, and 
 one is struck by a humorous perception in 
 spite of sorrow — that if the sweet face so near 
 him, so receptive to his influence, were not the 
 rose, it was at least so close akin to the queen 
 of flowers as to have caught some of its fra- 
 grance, and had, independently of that, charms 
 not to be despised — the conclusion to which
 
 MIS UNDERS TA NDING 1 6 5 
 
 he was insensibly hurried being that if he had 
 never known Millicent he could have loved 
 Nancy. 
 
 And Nancy, encased in the vanity natural 
 to her age, credited her own attractions with 
 having already won what she desired, and, 
 mistaking his transitory mood of false senti- 
 ment for more earnest feeling, blushed beneath 
 his glances, paling and trembling when, in a 
 sudden fit of energetic working, they were 
 withdrawn. 
 
 Time went faster than they knew, and 
 when, after a rather brilliant war of words, 
 which had. indeed, approached perilously 
 near to flirtation, a silence due to reaction 
 ensued, Nancy fell into a waking dream, in 
 which she had lost herself when startled by an 
 unexpected and unwelcome sound. 
 
 It was Millicent calling her in clear notes, 
 that presently were echoed faintly from a dis- 
 tance as she passed down the stairs.
 
 1 66 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes speaks of having 
 known two voices that frightened him with 
 their sweetness, making him aware that there 
 might be constituted a creature with such 
 wonderful vocal cords as, penetrating to a 
 man's soul, must cause him to leave all and 
 follow her-^-though it were to the gates of 
 Erebus. 
 
 Such a voice had Millicent Bell. With all 
 its liquid softness and full richness of tone, it 
 still seemed strung in a minor key, and had the 
 clear reverberance of a silver instrument. And 
 as no voice is rightly appreciated when face to 
 face with its possessor, so Wolffe felt now as if 
 he had heard hers for the first time, and hung 
 entranced on the music that pierced his ear, 
 while something close akin to reverence held 
 him mute. 
 
 Only in his heart he cried, ' Here, by God's 
 grace, is the one voice for me ' — as once 
 before, when face to face with her for the
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 167 
 
 first time, the feeling had impressed him y 
 1 Here, by God's rood, is the one maid for 
 me.' 
 
 His companion declaring in rather nervous 
 accents that she must go, brought him back 
 to the dead level of commonplace. Ac- 
 quiescing silently in her decision, he laid aside 
 his brushes and waited for her next move, 
 only anxious that she should go and leave 
 him free to lose himself in thought. She 
 came nearer to the easel and surveyed her 
 own presentment thoughtfully. 
 
 ' It is so beautiful ; surely it is nearly 
 finished ¥ she hazarded timidly. 
 
 1 1 think you need not sit again.' 
 
 Her attention arrested by the sharpness of 
 his tone, she glanced into his face and saw 
 that it was also changed in its expression. 
 His lips were firmly brought together with a 
 contraction of the lines about the mouth that 
 spoke of some disturbing force, while his eyes,
 
 i68 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 which she had once described as ' very blue,' 
 were cold now as imitation sapphires and as 
 lustreless. 
 
 Chilled, she knew not why, and overcome 
 by a novel sense of embarrassment that yet 
 kindled no reviving warmth, being utterly 
 unlike the confusion she had experienced 
 before, Nancy murmured something unin- 
 telligible and turned hastily away. The next 
 moment she had vanished from the room. 
 
 Meeting Jaynes on the stairs, she learnt 
 from him that it was Sir Peter who had been 
 asking where she was, and that this was the 
 third or fourth time within the last hour that 
 he had been despatched in search of her. 
 
 ' I will come now. Have you any idea of 
 what he wants V 
 
 1 Not unless it's to read to him, miss. He 
 used to be content with what I could do/ 
 
 1 Invalids are fanciful,' said Nancy, wearily 
 climbing the rather steep stairs.
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 169 
 
 ' Sir Peters more than an invalid now. 
 He's getting weaker every day.' 
 
 They had reached the upper landing, and 
 Jaynes stood with his ringers on the handle of 
 the door of Sir Peter's sitting-room, ready to 
 open it. 
 
 His impassive features betokened no sym- 
 pathy with the fact he had stated, nor with 
 the distressful alarm its announcement had 
 awakened in his hearer ; though that he was 
 aware of its existence was shown by his 
 waiting thus for her to recover. 
 
 The bad news was so unexpected, and 
 Nancy was so remorseful, because latterly she 
 had consciously neglected him, that she was 
 glad of a moment to collect herself. 
 
 Standing there a little breathless, more with 
 the conflicting thoughts that thronged her 
 brain than from the slight exertion, she 
 looked around her absently, and by chance 
 her gaze wandered into a room opposite. It
 
 170 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 was the room in which Jaynes spent all the 
 time not devoted to his duties, and a small 
 round table which stood in the centre of it 
 was strewn with penny weekly papers and 
 gaudily-bound books, which unmistakably be- 
 trayed his mental inclination. 
 
 It was equally evident that he resented 
 being kept so long from his favourite recrea- 
 tion, for he coughed to remind her he was 
 stil] waiting her convenience, and thus stimu- 
 lated into making an effort, Nancy nodded her 
 consent, and when the door was thrown open 
 she passed in. 
 
 Though this was not the first time she had 
 seen Sir Peter that day, she had been too self- 
 absorbed to notice any alteration until her 
 attention was directly called to it. Now it 
 struck her very painfully how thin and 
 pinched were his features, how sunken his 
 eyes, and that he seemed to have no energy 
 to more than smile a greeting.
 
 MIS UNDERS TAND1NG 1 7 1 
 
 1 1 am so very sony that I did not know 
 you wanted me,' she ejaculated, springing to 
 his side. 
 
 He turned his head impatiently to avoid 
 her gaze, feeling the reluctance natural to an 
 invalid to have the extent of his malady 
 accurately gauged, or to receive pity for what 
 he had endured. 
 
 ' I am unreasonable, selfish, Miss Nancy. 
 I .shall outwear your patience in time/ he 
 muttered fretfully. 
 
 For answer she took one long-fingered hand 
 and stroked it soothingly with her two warm 
 white ones. 
 
 ■ It is a pleasure to be with you and to 
 serve you/ she said presently when he re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 ' A pleasure you have had the strength of 
 mind to deny yourself of late.' 
 
 He spoke sarcastically, but a momentary 
 movement of his mouth, and a twitching of
 
 172 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 his chin, showed that he was feeling more 
 than anger, and Nancy, who knew that she 
 had neglected him, was remorseful, not 
 offended. 
 
 ' Now that I am here, what shall I do for 
 you ? Shall I read aloud V 
 
 * I have had as much literature as I can 
 digest in one day.' 
 
 ' Jaynes has been reading to you V 
 
 1 Every police case in the papers. He 
 revels in the description of all crimes, and 
 roots them out of the most unlikely columns 
 as a pig finds truffles.' 
 
 1 He would make a first-class criminal him- 
 self.' 
 
 ' There I disagree with you, Miss Nancy, 
 and so would he With a face and manner 
 like his a man is compelled to live uprightly. 
 It is the round-faced, comfortable-looking 
 rogue that, winning your confidence straight 
 off, can sin with impunity.'
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 173 
 
 ' And so poor Jaynes is compelled to be a 
 saint because he has the appearance of a 
 sinner,' deduced Nancy, laughing. 
 
 I Saintdom is a high altitude to which I 
 don't think he would aspire. He will always 
 hover on the borderland of vice, regretting 
 that his backslidings into the pleasant country 
 are necessarily circumscribed by adverse cir- 
 cumstances.' 
 
 His equanimity restored, Sir Peter conversed 
 in a languid, desultory fashion until dinner- 
 time. Then, as Nancy rose to go, he returned 
 to the charge he had abandoned. 
 
 ' Colonel Fayrer, too, was wondering why 
 you did not appear this afternoon. He stayed 
 until five, and I believe only w r aited on the 
 chance of seeing you,' he began, glancing 
 into the face which was pretty enough to 
 be excuse for many similar plots and plan- 
 ning^. 
 
 I I am very grateful for his condescension,'
 
 174 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 with an impertinent curling of her short upper 
 
 up. 
 
 ' Most young ladies are devoted to guards- 
 men.' 
 
 ' He looks as if he were under that impres- 
 sion/ 
 
 ' And you are determined to undeceive him 
 in your own case V 
 
 ' I have determined nothing, so far as he is 
 concerned. He never enters my head.' 
 
 ' Then it must be that someone else is in 
 possession,' shrewdly. 'What is it, Miss 
 Nancy, has been taking up your time of late V 
 
 His words had brought up a brilliant 
 carmine to her cheeks. She hesitated a 
 moment whether to answer his question or no, 
 a guilty fear that if she kept silence she would 
 be credited with a love-secret causing her to 
 blurt out at last : 
 
 1 1 have been having my picture painted. 
 Nobody knows except Mrs. Scarrot, and she is
 
 MISLNDERSTANDING 175 
 
 bound not to tell. It is a surprise for 
 Millicent.' 
 
 An idea that Millicent's surprise might not 
 be altogether one of pleasure made her stop 
 short and look away nervously, and she did not 
 notice the cloud gathering on Sir Peter's face. 
 
 ' Who is painting you V sharply. 
 
 1 A gentleman living on the ground floor, 
 who is an artist ' 
 
 * An artist ! — say vagabond, and you would 
 probably hit the mark. They are all the same 
 — these gentlemen who profess to be above 
 honest work, and mask their idleness under art 
 cant, talking as if heaven were not too high 
 for them, yet content to mix with the very 
 outscourings of the earth. Bohemians they 
 call themselves, and do well in that, for they 
 are not fit to dwell in any civilized city. They 
 are the pariah dogs of society — its outcasts ; 
 and, like other evils, perhaps they have their 
 use — one mustn't doubt it.'
 
 1 76 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Breathless from exhaustion, he was forced to 
 end his fierce tirade, while gradually it was 
 borne in upon him that a peroration might 
 possibly be expected. 
 
 ' I — I don't understand your sister allowing 
 such a person beneath her roof. Give her my 
 compliments, and say I recommend her to get 
 rid of the man at the first opportunity, and if 
 one is wanted, to make it — give her my com- 
 pliments and say that. Do you hear, Miss 
 Nancy V 
 
 Nancy was very pale, and her eyes flashed 
 ominously. It was only consideration for the 
 age and helplessness of the speaker that 
 restrained the hot retort that was ready and 
 struggling to come out. 
 
 ' I hear plainly, Sir Peter, but I decline to 
 deliver that message. My sister is the best 
 judge of her own affairs ; I should not venture 
 to interfere/ she said quietly, though her tones 
 were tremulous with passion. Then, not
 
 MISUNDERSTANDING 177 
 
 waiting to see the effect of her speech, she 
 withdrew, like a whirlwind that, lacking space 
 to execute its devastating dance, is the more 
 dangerous for its enforced repression. 
 
 vol. 1. 12
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 millicent's surprise. 
 
 Of late Millicent had contracted a habit of 
 slightly frowning when silent and unoccupied, 
 that might have conveyed to anyone interested 
 the fact that she was not quite easy in her 
 mind. 
 
 Wonderfully sweet-tempered, with an envi- 
 able knack of putting aside any disturbing 
 doubts or gloomy forebodings, the new posi- 
 tion of responsibility in which she found her- 
 self induced her to look very seriously at every 
 event which otherwise she would have deemed 
 unimportant ; while the narrow-mindedness 
 natural to a very young woman led her to
 
 MILLICENTS SURPRISE 179 
 
 exaggerate what must otherwise have been 
 considered trifles- 
 Being without brothers or young male 
 cousins, who could have initiated her into some 
 of the lesser vices of their sex, and having 
 lived always with her father, who by chronic 
 ill-health was debarred from the pleasures of 
 wine and tobacco, her rigidity of principle was 
 untempered by experience, so that she was 
 scandalized daily by (what seemed to her) the 
 unhallowed doings of her ground-floor lodger. 
 
 As his circle of acquaintances enlarged, he 
 had visitors, whose coming was generally the 
 signal for what Millicent thought was rather 
 uproarious merriment and a cheerful popping 
 of corks ; while the empty glasses that were 
 brought down by Mrs. Scarrot at indecently 
 short intervals, and a scent of tobacco that 
 crept into the hall and sometimes penetrated 
 to the basement, was a never-ending annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 12—2
 
 180 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 It was not that she actually objected to the 
 scent — few women really are averse to the 
 aroma of a good cigar — but she had an idea it 
 
 was an offence against good taste, and there- 
 
 © © 
 
 fore to be resented, the more vehemently that 
 she had no means of redress. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot openly pronounced her opinion 
 that the young man was perfectly well behaved 
 and unobjectionable, as young men ivent. 
 Nancy rather shamefacedly avowed she liked 
 the smell of smoking, and thought the sound 
 of laughter and occasional snatches of song 
 1 very cheery.' 
 
 Notwithstanding this opposition to her 
 views, the feeling grew upon Millicent that 
 she had been over-hasty in coming to a decision, 
 and unwise in prosecuting her plans against 
 Mark Skene's advice ; he being the only friend 
 she had to turn to in an emergency, and 
 having a knowledge of the world, she now 
 began to realize, was not only an undoubted
 
 MILL/CENT'S SURPRISE 181 
 
 advantage, but a necessity. Day by day, as 
 her faith in her own judgment decreased, she 
 relied more and more unquestionably on 
 Skene ; and he, moved by a dread that she 
 might grow independent of his aid, encouraged 
 all her puritanical scruples, using every effort 
 to induce her to try some other method of 
 earning a livelihood. 
 
 Her distaste for the existing state of affairs 
 came to a crisis when one morning she met in 
 the hall a girl who swept by her with that 
 assertive self-possession which is a spurious 
 imitation of the ease inseparable from good 
 manners, and rapping sharply at the artist's 
 door, not waiting for the invitation to enter, 
 walked briskly in. 
 
 Millicent passed on her way with heightened 
 colour and a throbbing in her throat that 
 nearly choked her. The cheap finery of the 
 garments that had brushed her own, the 
 momentary glimpse she had had of a com-
 
 1 82 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 plexion whose white and red was applied on 
 the arbitrary lines laid down in using paint and 
 powder, the darkened eyes that had darted 
 one bold glance and then were scornfully 
 withdrawn, affected her as painfully as a false 
 note on the piano would distress a fine 
 musician. 
 
 That delicate supersensory perception which 
 is possessed by most women told her that she 
 had been in the presence of one with whom, 
 but for this mad scheme which so recklessly 
 she had carried out, she could never have come 
 in contact. Of the darker side of life she 
 knew nothing, yet guessed that artists' models 
 were not invariably of that higher type of 
 womanhood to which she had been accustomed, 
 but ofteuer those who, in pressing against the 
 sharp points and rough edges of a precarious 
 existence, had parted with the never-to-be- 
 recovered bloom of purity. Sometimes they 
 were women who, in losing hope of a better
 
 MILLICENTS SURPRISE 183 
 
 life, had become morally dead, impervious to 
 shame — 
 
 1 Women, or what had been those gracious things.' 
 
 The encounter was a shock to her ; she did 
 not breathe freely until an hour or so later the 
 front door was banged noisily, and she knew 
 the girl was gone. Even then an uncomfort- 
 able feeling remained, and she longed to take 
 some decisive action. She had too much spirit 
 to remain willingly quiescent under what she 
 ]ooked upon as an affront, though it might 
 be an unpremeditated one, and one that she 
 had brought on herself by her own folly in 
 allowing under their roof a young man 
 of whom they knew nothing ; they being 
 themselves unprotected by the presence of 
 a parent or any duenna, since Mrs. Scarrot 
 could scarcely come under that denomina- 
 tion. 
 
 How to extricate herself from a position
 
 1 84 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 which daily became more difficult to sustain 
 engaged all her thoughts, and once during 
 that afternoon she looked so anxious and dis- 
 tressed that Nancy noticed it and asked if 
 anything were the matter. 
 
 Millicent moved her chair round to face her. 
 She had been seated before the writing-table, 
 a blank sheet of paper lying on the blotter 
 and a pen in her fingers, which she twisted 
 idly and in indecision. An idea of writing to 
 Mark Skene had been in her mind ; but 
 already she was doubting the expediency of 
 such a move, since a lover is always prone to 
 take the slightest step towards confidence or 
 familiarity as definite encouragement, and she 
 felt that, in spite of all his patience, he was 
 still her lover. 
 
 Nancy's downright inquiry compelled an 
 answer before she could make up her mind 
 what it ought to be. 
 
 ' It is the old story — the old vexed question
 
 MILUCENTS SURPRISE 185 
 
 whether I was right or you,' she said medi- 
 tative!} 7 . 
 
 1 In what ? Are you thinking about our 
 lodgers V 
 
 * About one of them.' 
 
 Nancy drew a deep breath and was silent. 
 Sir Peter could not by any stretch of 
 imagination be considered an undesirable 
 tenant ; there could be no doubt who was 
 troubling her sister's mind, causing such a 
 pained, puzzled expression to come over her 
 face. 
 
 Going over to her side, Nancy laid her cool 
 fingers upon Millicent's brow and tried to 
 smooth out the wrinkles. 
 
 * Don't frown like that ; it spoils you alto- 
 gether. There is nothing to bother about. 
 Why do you think there is V 
 
 ' Have you been in Mr. Wolffe's room 
 lately V was the counter-question that came 
 with unexpected directness.
 
 1 86 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' T was there yesterday afternoon,' Nancy 
 confessed boldly, though that the courage was 
 only surface-deep might have been guessed by 
 Millicent had she looked up ; and the gentle 
 friction of her forehead was discontinued, the 
 trembling hand withdrawn. 
 
 1 Has he finished that picture of Hagar V 
 
 ' It was finished a long time ago ; he is 
 working at another now.' 
 
 ' For which he has a model. Nancy, have 
 you seen that woman f He had no right to 
 let her come here ; it — it is an insult.' 
 
 All the indignation she had been endeavour- 
 ing to repress found a vent at last. Millicent's 
 eyes were flashing, and her white teeth bit 
 fiercely on her underlip, her voice ringing out 
 clear and sweet as ever, yet with an accent of 
 disdainful wrath that must have scathed him 
 against whom it was directed had he chanced 
 to hear. The peD, which once or twice, in 
 absence of mind, she had dipped in the ink,
 
 MILL/CENT'S SURPRISE 187 
 
 was thrown clown impulsively, as though it 
 were a challenge, splashing the paper and her 
 fingers as it fell. 
 
 Nancy tried to pacify her. 
 
 ' I don't suppose there is any harm in her, 
 Millie. All those sort of people paint and 
 powder ; and. you see, she is just my height 
 and figure.' 
 
 ' What do you mean f 
 
 Her anger was driven away by a sentiment 
 more potent still — -fear, of she knew not what — 
 that paralyzed her nerves and left her helpless 
 and confused, as though suddenly aroused 
 from dreaming. She felt as though she must 
 be walking in her sleep, when, in response to 
 Nancy's low-toned ' Come and see,' she rose 
 and followed her out of the room, up the stairs 
 and to the artist's door. 
 
 There she stopped and laid her hand re- 
 strainingly on Nancy's arm, her eyes asking a 
 question she was too perturbed to utter.
 
 1 88 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' It is all right ; it is nothing serious, and 
 he is out,' said Xancy reassuringly. 
 
 Yet she herself felt far less at ease than she 
 strove to appear. 
 
 Sir Peter Cairne's words had stripped away 
 all the plausibility from the false arguments 
 she had urged for her own comfort in self- 
 communings. 
 
 She had not dared to give his message to 
 her sister, knowing that his warning would 
 find an echo in her breast, she having always 
 been against Wolffe's coming, the more so, 
 since resistance creates resistance, that all her 
 efforts to get rid of him had been unavailing. 
 Painfully convinced that Millicent would 
 strongly disapprove what she had done, 
 though she had never been spoken to un- 
 kindly by her in all her life, she now was 
 conscious of that uneasy feeling an erring 
 schoolboy is supposed to know in the presence 
 of an unrelenting master. Her heart beating
 
 MILLICENTS SURPRISE 189 
 
 to suffocation, she pushed open the door and 
 went in. 
 
 The artist had told her that he would be 
 out all the afternoon, therefore, without fear 
 of being surprised, she went towards the easel, 
 and lifted the light covering, drawing it 
 quickly to one side in a forlorn hope that the 
 beauty of the picture would disarm Millicent, 
 and lessen her displeasure. And the picture 
 was very beautiful. Even the severe young 
 critic, who stood before it with resolutely 
 compressed lips that would only be parted 
 to condemn, was forced to acknowledge that ; 
 and for' some seconds she stood motionless, 
 slim and statuesque in her long black gown, 
 her face as white as her hands, while her eyes 
 never wandered from what they contemplated. 
 
 A woman (or an angel), exquisitely shaped, 
 her form scarcely concealed by the diaphanous 
 drapery that floated round her, as though 
 blown back by the wind, which tenderly
 
 i 9 o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 revealed the beauty it caressed. Her arched 
 bare feet were delicately poised on a base that 
 might have been of clouds, so soft was it, so 
 faint and undefined. The whole picture was 
 instinct with intense life, and all the poetry of 
 motion was expressed in each line of the figure 
 which seemed flying through the air, and yet 
 conveyed the antagonistic notion that it went 
 reluctantly and with pain — a notion that even 
 a cursory glance at the face must have con- 
 firmed. The eyes that looked back were full 
 of pathos, and yet, through a mist that might 
 mean tears, there shone a light that only hope 
 with its divine torch could have illumified — an 
 alluring radiance that seemed to invite pursuit. 
 
 The lips, though downward bent in that 
 curve which so eloquently expresses sorrow, 
 seemed only waiting for some signal to widen 
 in a bewildering smile ; the upraised arm 
 seemed to beckon, while it waved farewell. 
 
 On one corner of the canvas was scrawled
 
 MILL/CENT'S SURPRISE 191 
 
 the name on which only the night before 
 Wolffe had hastily decided, and, her eyes 
 grown dim with a violence of emotion, 
 Millicent stooped to read it. 
 
 ' A Fair and Flying Fate.' 
 
 ' Fate, indeed,' she soliloquized, as gradually 
 she realized that it was Nancy who was por- 
 trayed, and Nancy who had brought this man 
 to their house, who was also the primal cause 
 of her present agony of mind. 
 
 The picture grew distorted as she gazed. 
 Art was forgotten, and realism held cruel sway 
 as she imagined to herself the scene that must 
 have suggested the allegory before her. 
 
 It was the real Nancy she saw, her sister 
 Nancy in disordered every -day dress, who 
 had taken to undignified flight, and whose 
 hair streamed behind her ; who, smiling over 
 her shoulder, was tempting somebody to 
 follow. Already the eyes — such sweet eyes, 
 too — were losing the grace of regret, and
 
 i 9 2 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 seemed to lier bold, shameless, like — like 
 eyes she had seen that day. 
 
 For therein lay the sharpest sting : the 
 thought that she, who had been intuitively 
 condemned, was so far associated with her 
 sister that it was almost impossible to separate 
 them and declare what had been drawn from 
 which woman in the picture, galled her beyond 
 endurance. 
 
 1 How dare he ! how dare he !' she cried, 
 lashing herself into a fury, and would have 
 said far more, but that a glance at Nancy 
 checked for a moment the passionate words 
 upon her lips. 
 
 Mutely she was pointing to the door, and, 
 turning involuntarily, Millicent saw that the 
 artist had come in, arid was standing rigidly 
 behind her. 
 
 ' It is what I might have expected from 
 you !' she cried, her passion now beyond 
 control. ' It is like everything else that you
 
 MILL/CENTS SURPRISE 193 
 
 have done, unmanly — ungentlemanly. You 
 followed my sister home as though she were 
 beneath respect. You forced your way into 
 our house, you stayed on when we wished you 
 to go, when we told you to go, when — when 
 — and now you have done this !' 
 
 She stopped, panting, her fingers tightly 
 clenched and pressed against her bosom. 
 
 Her hearers were both silent, Nancy most 
 alarmed at the incoherent, wrathful speech, 
 so unlike the calm hauteur Millicent usually 
 exhibited when offended, and Wolffe also 
 uncertain how to take it. 
 
 The justice of part of her accusation he 
 was compelled to admit, but the last sentence 
 puzzled him, and made him pause before re- 
 plying. 
 
 Uneasily he glanced at the picture, which 
 seemed to him devoid of offence, except so 
 far that it had been painted at all ; thee 
 gradually a feeling grew upon him that all 
 
 vol. 1. 13
 
 i 9 4 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 he had done was not deserving of such un- 
 mitigated, such tragic condemnation — that he 
 should be wanting in proper pride were he not 
 to resent it. It struck him, too, with a sense 
 of irritation that she had always treated him 
 with contemptuous disapprobation, even when 
 persuaded into acquiescence with the policy of 
 encroachment he had adopted and acted on all 
 through. 
 
 He made a movement to speak, and his 
 words would have been pithy and to the 
 point, showing no mercy where none had been 
 dealt, had not a chivalrous scruple restrained 
 him. 
 
 She was a woman. Under no circumstances 
 could he have struck a blow, even in self- 
 defence ; and, in spite of the magnificent 
 scorn she had expressed, she looked so help- 
 less — alone, yet with another even weaker 
 depending on herself. Moreover, she w T as the 
 woman he loved, and, far from wishing to
 
 MILLICENTS SURPRISE 195 
 
 battle with her, he was fain to kneel down 
 and kiss the hem of her soft robe, beseeching 
 forgiveness, accepting any punishment she im- 
 posed. The desire to retaliate had evaporated, 
 and his voice faltered as he said humbly : 
 
 'I am in your hands. I will do whatever 
 you please/ 
 
 She looked up in his face, and, startled by 
 something she saw yet did not comprehend, 
 attempted no reply. Holding her head very 
 high, but moving a little uncertainly as she 
 went, she passed from the room ; Nancy fol- 
 lowing, a living, breathing image of the pic- 
 ture that had caused all this disturbance. 
 
 Down in their small sitting-room Millicent 
 walked over to the window and leaned against 
 it in an attitude of utter dejection, laying 
 her face against the cool glass panes to ease 
 its burning, looking yearningly outside, as 
 though longing to shift the heavy burden 
 from her shoulders, and to get into the 
 
 13—2
 
 iy6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 open air ; to be free, and yet not ruined by 
 her freedom. 
 
 How to earn a livelihood pleasantly is a 
 problem only solved by the very few ; women 
 especially find it hard to struggle with any 
 success against the difficulties that beset them. 
 It seemed madness to abandon what kept 
 them in comparative ease, for any new line of 
 business that might be as disagreeable in other 
 
 ways, and yet — and yet Their present 
 
 situation was bitterly unpalatable to her 
 taste. 
 
 Nancy seated herself on the hearthrug and 
 caught up the cat, glad to work off some of her 
 superabundant nervous energy in playing with 
 and caressing it. As she buried her face in the 
 soft fur, a moisture in her eyes was furtively 
 wiped away, and little by little her composure 
 was restored, her thoughts, always volatile, 
 returning to mundane matters. 
 
 Several times she glanced at the clock, and
 
 MILLICENTS SURPRISE 197 
 
 when the hands pointed to half-past five she 
 asked meekly whether a cup of tea would not 
 do them both good. 
 
 ' I could not drink it — could you f asked 
 Millicent, tragically reproachful, and her sister 
 was ashamed to confess that a sense of her own 
 misdoings had not robbed her of her appetite 
 for her favourite meal. 
 
 With a little air of martyrdom she returned 
 to her former occupation, considering it would 
 be improper to be the first to recover, light 
 the lamps, and settle down to their ordinary 
 routine. 
 
 It was a little break in the monotony of the 
 silence they were maintaining when an upstairs 
 bell rang and they heard Mrs. Scarrot's foot- 
 steps ascending the stairs. It was not long 
 before they redescencled, and Nancy's expec- 
 tation was raised to a high pitch when a knock 
 came to their door, and immediately afterwards 
 a voice asked if ' Miss Millicent were there/
 
 198 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 The room was quite dark. Dropping the 
 eat, Nancy sprang to her feet and poked up the 
 fire, the bright blaze that leapt up showing 
 that the charwoman held a note, and what 
 looked like a roll of parchment. Millicent 
 came forward to take them, and as she leaned 
 towards the light to decipher what was written 
 the traces of her late emotion were very plainly 
 visible. Her feelings, always very deep, once 
 roused, were not easily calmed. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot had shuffled out, and the two 
 sisters were alone, their cheeks almost touching 
 as together they read Wolffe's letter — the 
 merest line, without signature or address : 
 
 1 1 hope you will accept the only atonement 
 in my power.' 
 
 It was Nancy who, with trembling fingers, 
 untied the accompanying roll ; and she flung 
 herself face downward on the floor, sobbing 
 passionately when she saw what it was, what
 
 MILLICENT'S SURPRISE 199 
 
 it seemed to her now she had known would 
 meet her eyes. 
 
 It was the offending picture torn into some 
 six or seven strips ; and Millicent, too, was 
 strangely moved, though she stared down 
 stonily at the fragments that lay at her feet. 
 
 It was Nancy's sweet face, with the lovely 
 dawning smile, and Nancy's pretty figure with 
 the fleeting feet — and now Nancy herself was 
 weeping, weeping as if her heart would break ; 
 and it was Millicent's own fault that all her 
 innocent pride and pleasure had been turned 
 to pairi. 
 
 * Why are you crying so V she asked, almost 
 with an accent of anger, though all the anger 
 she felt now was directed against herself. 
 Then, creeping a little closer, she caught hold 
 of her sister's shoulder and shook it excitedly : 
 ' Nancy, Nancy ! why do you care ? Tell me 
 why V And then : ' Oh, Lalage ! I think you 
 care too much/ she cried, and, throwing her
 
 200 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 arms about her, tried to draw her to her 
 breast. 
 
 For awhile Nancy resisted perversely ; 
 then, like a tired bird, weary with beating 
 wounded, trailing wings, went fluttering where 
 she had always found repose and comfort, 
 clinging to the stronger nature, and loving all 
 the more fervently because love had, even for 
 the moment, been withheld. But suddenly, 
 afraid that there was something at once protec- 
 tive and sympathetic in Millicent's close em- 
 brace, she wrenched herself away, pushing back 
 the rough, bright hair from her forehead and 
 peering suspiciously into her sister's face. 
 
 1 You don't think I am minding on my own 
 account V 
 
 4 Tell me what is vexing you,' said Millicent, 
 gently persuasive, disarming Nancy's resent- 
 ment, and causing her to answer more quietly, 
 though with some pride : 
 
 ' I am sorry for his sake. He said it was
 
 MILL1CENT S SURPRISE 201 
 
 the only picture with which he had ever been 
 in the least degree satisfied — the first with any 
 life in it, any soul — and he thanked me,' her 
 lips trembling, ' for helping him to success.' 
 
 1 And you are unhappy that this chance is 
 denied him V 
 
 Nancy moved uneasily and twisted her 
 fingers in the hairs of the hearthrug, pulling 
 out a few of them before she replied : 
 
 1 I wanted to help him. I would have done 
 anything to help him,' she said. 
 
 Millicent sighed and rose from her cramped 
 position on the floor, walking to and fro in the 
 semi- darkness, wondering what she ought to 
 do, and whether advice was any good, ever any 
 good. 
 
 To warn the child against giving her heart 
 unasked would be only precipitating a possible 
 calamity ; to allow matters to continue as they 
 were until they reached a crisis might be 
 equally unwise. To send the man away now
 
 202 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 might be to spoil a fair chance of happiness 
 for them both, yet if he remained it might 
 end in a broken heart for Nancy. There 
 was no doubt that she cared now, but what 
 of him ? 
 
 Half closing her eyes, she tried to conjure 
 up a vision of these two as lovers, but the 
 figures refused to range themselves in approved 
 fashion. Always she saw Nancy wistful and 
 entreating, all her pretty smiles drowned in a 
 new familiarity with tears, while the artist 
 stood aloof, indifferent, as it appeared. The 
 look she had seen for a moment in his eyes 
 as she left the room was evanescent, and 
 would not be reproduced to please her fancy. 
 Yet she remembered that it was not — no, 
 certainly not indifferent. She went back to 
 the fire and seated herself in front of it. 
 
 ' You must remember,' she began judicially, 
 ' that we are in a false position. Two girls 
 living alone, as we do, cannot be too careful.
 
 MILL/CENT'S SURPRISE 203 
 
 If I spoke more bluntly than I ought to have 
 done to Mr. Wolffe it was for this reason.' 
 
 ' He at least was not to blame because we 
 were foolish in the first instance.' 
 
 1 And/ went on Millicent, unheeding the 
 interruption, ' men are not always chivalrous 
 where women are concerned. They take ad- 
 vantage of our mistakes sometimes and do not 
 deny themselves a pleasure, even when it is 
 at the expense of someone else's pain. They 
 amuse themselves, as the phrase goes, and if 
 anyone pays for that amusement it is not 
 they.' 
 
 Without being aware of it, she was repeat- 
 ing what she had once heard from her father 
 when he had returned indignant and distressed 
 from the bedside of a dying girl — dying because 
 she was ruined and deserted ; and the words 
 took so far the attributes of a quotation that 
 they were spoken with no warm sense of their 
 truth, but dispassionately and in even tones.
 
 204 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 1 know nothing against Mr. Wolffe except 
 what we both know, but I can imagine that 
 an artist or a poet would be more fickle and 
 unreliable than the rest. You can under- 
 stand that it would be so, can't you, 
 Lalage ? A pretty face sometimes charms 
 his fancy without touching his heart. He 
 is always off at a tangent, pursuing an 
 ideal, and when he has overtaken what he 
 has pursued he finds it disappointing on 
 a nearer view. It is not what he thought, 
 and he coolly puts it on one side with all 
 his spoilt canvas and waste paper — another 
 failure.' 
 
 'And why am I treated to this edifying 
 lecture on men and morals V with base in- 
 gratitude ; not venturing, however, to meet 
 her sister's eyes. 
 
 ' Because I felt I must warn you, even if 
 you are angry with me, dear. You are all I 
 have in the world. Lalage! if you give up
 
 MILL/CENT'S SURPRISE 205 
 
 laughing and take to tears I don't know what 
 I shall do !' 
 
 She was trying to speak lightly, but her 
 voice shook and her head was purposely turned 
 away, so as not to see the effect of what she 
 had said. She thought Nancy would be over- 
 whelmed with shame or confusion, yet it was 
 scarcely a relief when the answer came clear 
 and crisp with scorn : 
 
 1 You think I am a child still, Millie, but I 
 am not. I am only three years younger than 
 you, and old enough to judge for myself. You 
 must not thwart me — you can help me if you 
 will.' 
 
 ' I will do anything to help you.' 
 
 ' Then make it up with him somehow. Let 
 him paint me again if he chooses. Don't let 
 him think it is my sister has spoilt his first 
 chance of success.' 
 
 ' You — wish — him to stay on here — after 
 — what has happened V
 
 2o6 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' I could not bear him to go.' 
 
 Their voices had been sinking lower and 
 lower ; Nancy's last words were in a whisper, 
 but their sense had penetrated to Millicent's 
 heart and pierced it like a sharp knife. 
 
 Her little sister was lost to her ; another 
 had stepped in between them, and nothing 
 would ever be the same again. Even if this 
 were only a fancy that of itself would die a 
 natural death, yet the fact that it had ever 
 been was pregnant with meaning. 
 
 Lalage, lighthearted, laughing Lalage, had 
 put away childish things for ever, and 
 entered into her woman's heritage of love and 
 pain.
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 A TRUCE. 
 
 Nancy was no love-lorn maiden. 
 
 Having persuaded her sister not to act 
 against her, it did not enter her head that there 
 could be any further cause for fear. To know 
 that she had left her childhood behind filled 
 her with a pleasant sense of importance, as the 
 donning of her first long gown and the turning 
 up of her hair had doue a year or two ago ; 
 and when her first startled surprise at the 
 novelty of the position in which she found 
 herself was over, she was conscious of secret 
 thrills of delight, delicious hopes and dreamy 
 fancies, that, not banishing either laughter or
 
 208 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 song from her lips, yet lent a new softness 
 to the one, a new significance to the other. 
 
 At that age vanity is so natural and 
 so pretty. It is like the artless confidence 
 of a child that leads it straight to a 
 stranger's side, never doubting its wel- 
 come nor apprehensive of unkinclness. That 
 Leslie Wolffe had followed her to her home 
 that day, and then and there taken up his 
 residence under their roof, subsequently paint- 
 ing her picture, seemed sufficient proof that 
 he was deeply interested in her, and, notwith- 
 standing his ordinarily indifferent demeanour, 
 there had once or twice been an expression in 
 his eyes, a meaning in his tones, that she had 
 interpreted according to her own desires. 
 
 Quite aware of her good looks — as, indeed, 
 what woman is not ? — she had too little know- 
 ledge of life and its contradictory phases to 
 wonder whether they were the sort to please 
 his fancy, whether, indeed, he were fancy free,
 
 A TRUCE 209 
 
 and so open to an impression ; nor could she 
 have credited that a man with his whole heart 
 given to another could vet be so far disloyal 
 to its truest instincts as to allow himself 
 to admire any other in the world, and even 
 unwittingly betray that it was so. The in- 
 tolerance of youth and its faith are too strong 
 lights to throw upon a man's actions ; there 
 are few who would not step aside to avoid the 
 trying glare. Once or twice Wolffe, led away, 
 perhaps, by the likeness between the sisters, 
 or heartsore because his passion seemed so 
 hopeless, and in desperation trying to force it 
 from his memory by the introduction of other 
 thought, had suffered a superficial change to 
 come over his manner which many a girl 
 would have taken for what it was worth, re- 
 paying him in his own spurious coin, but 
 which Nancy, in her innocence, accepted as 
 purest gold. 
 
 To do the artist justice, it was almost un- 
 vol. 1. 14
 
 2io A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 consciously he had lapsed from the path 
 which so few can walk without divergence, 
 and even had he considered the matter, he 
 might have deemed it a harmless amusement, 
 since Nancy seemed to have many weapons to 
 her hand ; certainly her behaviour at their 
 first meeting was open to misconstruction. 
 The slight attraction he had felt then had 
 been so suddenly superseded by a far more 
 enduring one that he had never troubled to 
 ask himself if her conduct then was due to 
 levity or childish thoughtlessness ; and that 
 she was seriously in love with him he never 
 dreamed. In the meantime, Nancy, with a 
 hundred little airs and graces engendered by 
 her new growth into womanhood, seemed 
 translated into a world of mysterious beauty, 
 and surveyed the usual routine of household 
 duties as though from behind a veil. In 
 rapt unconsciousness of her own doings, she 
 ate her food and remarked on passing events ;
 
 A TRUCE 211 
 
 but her eyes were with her heart, and they 
 shone so radiantly as she gazed beyond her 
 into space, while so exquisite a flush alter- 
 nately deepened and faded in her face, that, 
 at the breakfast- table the morning after their 
 explanation, Millicent was carried away by an 
 enthusiasm, and leaning forward gave her an 
 impulsive kiss — a seal on her agreement to 
 help. Mark Skene had just sent them a large 
 basket of flowers that had come from the hot- 
 houses at his country home ; and, determined 
 to do what she had undertaken to do well, 
 Millicent selected some of the sweetest as a 
 peace offering, and went upstairs with them to 
 the artist's room. 
 
 It was more than a surprise to him when 
 she appeared, a smile upon her face and the 
 flowers in her hand. He had never seen her 
 thus, careless and light-hearted as other women 
 were, her sense of responsibility cast from 
 her as a cloak that is too heavy in warm 
 
 14—2
 
 212 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 weather, and with a perceptible anxiety to 
 please. 
 
 ' I brought you a few flowers to brighten 
 your room,' she said sweetly, while he re- 
 mained silent and literally a little open- 
 mouthed. ' I came,' she explained, ' because 
 I want to apologize for what I said yesterday, 
 and to tell you how sorry I am your beautiful 
 picture is spoilt— by my fault.' 
 
 ' If anyone is to blame it must be me.' 
 'No, no; I won't admit that. My sister 
 had consented, and she is old enough now 
 to judge for herself. I was wrong to inter- 
 fere ; but it seems only the other day she w T as 
 a child, and I forgot that in point of years 
 there is very little difference between us.' 
 
 Under the lightness of her tone he thought 
 he detected a wistfulness — a regret — and his 
 heart grew very pitiful. This Millicent was 
 so unlike the Millicent he had encountered 
 before, generally in war ; though even when
 
 A TRUCE 213 
 
 most self-reliant there had always been beneath 
 her girlish dignity an underlying sadness ap- 
 pealing irresistibly to his sympathy. 
 
 'There was something in the picture of- 
 fended your taste. It did not please you.' 
 
 ; Not quite,' she confessed, with a slight 
 blush. 
 
 ' You see,' twirling; his moustache rather 
 awkwardly, ' it was allegorical, and my sub- 
 ject took hold of me so that I forgot that, as it 
 was a portrait too, I must not treat it quite as 
 a fancy picture. But I would like you to 
 believe I never meant to offend.' 
 
 ' I am sure you did not. I know so little 
 about painting' — the blush still upon her 
 cheek, but her eyes upraised in prettiest 
 apology she did not know how to frame in 
 words. 
 
 He did not answer for a moment. It might 
 have been he was a little disappointed at 
 a certain conventionality of manner and
 
 214 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 opinions ; a fault from which Nancy, with 
 all her defects of character, was free — too 
 free, perhaps, for this over-civilized century. 
 If any such thought was in his mind, it was 
 very transitory, and the next moment he had 
 returned to his original idea of her perfec- 
 tion. 
 
 Just then she looked too charming to 
 criticise, excitement having given warmth 
 and colour to her beauty, and the slight 
 uncertainty and tremulousness of her speech 
 enhancing its effect. Her hair, though 
 naturally wavy, was not usually allowed to 
 fall upon her low white brow ; but now one 
 curl had rebelliously asserted its right to 
 wander whither led by its sweet will, and lay 
 there soft and bright. 
 
 The artist guessed (and was right in his 
 conjecture) that as she came she had buried 
 her face among the flowers, and that this 
 disarrangement was the result. She had
 
 A TRUCE 215 
 
 given the flowers into his hand when she 
 first came in, and now his fingers tightened 
 convulsively round the stalks. Did they not 
 come from her ? Were they not impregnated 
 by her sweetness — breathing of her presence I 
 
 1 And I am to go unpunished V 
 
 'It is not a question of your punishment. 
 It is / who will do penance. I want you to 
 paint Nancy again — that is, of course, if you 
 care to do so/ 
 
 ' Scarcely anything would give me more 
 real pleasure.' 
 
 To ask her to sit for him herself seemed 
 such wild presumption that he did not dare 
 give it a second thought, though the reserva- 
 tion he had expressed might have betrayed 
 that the idea had entered his mind only to 
 be immediately dismissed. 
 
 ' You would rather I chose another subject 
 than the last. Is it not so V 
 
 * I would rather it was not a faucy picture
 
 216 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 and not allegorical ' — the slightest stress upon 
 the word, and with just the slightest smile. 
 
 It emboldened him to beg that, to make 
 sure the picture was exactly what she ap- 
 proved, she would accompany her sister 
 sometimes and watch its progress. 
 
 To which she graciously agreed. 
 
 * My room will be all the sweeter for your 
 flowers,' he said earnestly as she left ; and 
 believing that it was for Nancy's sake, be- 
 cause they had been brought as an olive- 
 branch, Millicent showed no displeasure at 
 his impressiveness. 
 
 The interview passed from her memory at 
 once, but the circumstances that had given 
 rise to it were not so easily set on one side. 
 
 No argument could have persuaded her of 
 the propriety of their present position, more 
 especially since the case was complicated by 
 this incipient love-affair ; and though she had 
 promised to take no decisive step at present,
 
 A TRUCE 217 
 
 she did not feel bound by the promise alto- 
 gether, and intended to take resolute measures 
 to put an end to it the first opportunity that 
 offered. For Nancy's sake she had made 
 friends with the man who had been the 
 cause of all this trouble, and in spite of 
 herself, as she grew to know T him better, her 
 prejudice against him w T as insensibly softened. 
 He could talk well, and sometimes when she 
 dropped in for form's sake during a sitting 
 she was induced to stay longer than she 
 intended, becoming interested in a discussion, 
 pleased, too, with the growth of Nancy's por- 
 trait beneath her eyes. 
 
 In this fresh effort everything that had 
 offended before was carefully avoided, and 
 bounded on every side by his promise, "Wolffe 
 found a difficulty in lifting it above the com- 
 monplace. Within the narrow limits assigned 
 to him it was impossible to move freely ; but 
 there was too much poetry in his nature for
 
 218 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 some of it not to escape through his brush, 
 and, like ichor, spread through the picture, 
 endowing it with ideality of beauty. 
 
 The subject in itself was simple and en- 
 tirely conventional, but in its treatment it 
 had gradually become something more. 
 
 Nancy, with her head slightly on one side, 
 in a bird-like attitude of attention, which was 
 very characteristic — a canary perched upon her 
 finger, with open beak and ruffled wings out- 
 stretched — was all would have appeared at the 
 cursory first glance : but as one gazed one felt 
 curious to know what it was the bird was 
 singing — whether it could be the ordinary 
 light shakes and trills and swelling notes that 
 brought the yearning look into the girl's sweet 
 eyes, the shadowy smile on to her lips. 
 
 Was it the ' maddening music of other 
 days ' that so stirred her soul, or something 
 unknown yet and feared, while it was desired % 
 
 There was a suggestiveness in the picture
 
 A TRUCE 219 
 
 that was infinitely taking. It might have 
 been called ' Mystery,' instead of merely 
 ' Birdie/ and subsequently Wolffe wrote these 
 verses underneath : 
 
 ' Birds' love and birds' song 
 Flying here and there ; 
 Birds' song and birds' love, 
 And you with gold for hair. 
 
 1 Birds' song and birds' love, 
 Passing with the weather ; 
 Men's song and men's love, 
 To love once and for ever.' 
 
 Quite unconsciously, Nancy had aided this 
 success, and the story written in her eyes 
 Wolffe would never have portrayed had he 
 guessed that the key to it lay in her love 
 for himself. His admiration of her was so 
 purely artistic that he spoke of it quite 
 frankly to Millicent one afternoon, as they 
 stood alone for a few moments before his 
 easel. 
 
 ' I think she is the loveliest child I ever 
 saw,' he said with enthusiasm.
 
 220 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' She is not a child — you must not think 
 of her as one/ said Millicent quickly, startled 
 out of her self-possession, and forgetting what 
 meaning her words might bear. 
 
 But he had not understood. In her 
 presence he never seemed to realize anything 
 that was not connected with herself, and his 
 only fear now was that he had offended by 
 too bald a compliment. He hastened to 
 apologize, and somehow his apology strength- 
 ened Millicent in the doubt she scarcely dared 
 to harbour. On Nancy she bestowed re- 
 doubled affection, surrounding her with in- 
 stances of her love as we lavish benefits with 
 prodigal open hands on those predestined by 
 unalterable fate to death or worse affliction. 
 And in spite of the girl's almost invariable 
 brightness there was at times a sorrow- 
 ful cadence in her voice that filled her 
 sister with apprehension, while once, when 
 she had met her coming; out of Wolffe's
 
 A TRUCE 221 
 
 room, she had seen tears shining in her 
 eyes. 
 
 This precipitated an action she had con- 
 templated for some time. 
 
 Mark Skene, with a jealousy that must have 
 been intuitive, could not rest under the know- 
 ledge that the artist still lived in the little 
 house in Marine Square, and so far as he 
 could determine was likely to remain there. 
 When he found that for some unexplained 
 reason Millicent would not consent to his 
 dismissal, he took a different course, and tried 
 to induce her to leave her lodgers in pos- 
 session, i.e., to sell the lease of the house 
 as it stood, and let the new owners take their 
 chance of not "losing them. 
 
 He had so far interested himself that he 
 had instructed his lawyer to look out for 
 anyone wishing to start such a speculation, 
 and a few days ago had brought a letter to 
 Millicent from a widow who had had a
 
 322 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 small school at Putney, and finding the work 
 too hard for her, was anxious to try a less 
 onerous way of earning a livelihood. 
 
 Her health having failed, she had been 
 advised to go to the seaside, and the house 
 being at that time full, proving the situation 
 a desirable one, she was willing to exchange 
 on even terms with its present occupants, or 
 pay a sum down for it when she disposed 
 of her own property. 
 
 This letter had remained unanswered ; but 
 now Millicent, consulting Skene, and confirmed 
 in her resolution by his evident approbation 
 of her scheme, wrote and announced that 
 she would go up to town for a day or two, 
 and see whether the house would suit them 
 if they decided on altering their plans. 
 
 To this Nancy made no demur. She had 
 always wished to live in London, and did not 
 believe that WolfFe would remain with them 
 always here, however strong the inducement.
 
 A TRUCE 223 
 
 There may have been, too, an undefined 
 thought — since thought travels fast, and is 
 not fettered by any ordinary rules or scruples 
 — that if they were to be separated, and 
 Millicent must live her life alone, it was only 
 just she should choose on what lines she 
 would work. 
 
 Besides which, she knew, without Millicent's 
 tender assurance to that effect, that if Wolffe 
 loved her he would follow wherever she might 
 go, now that this open friendliness was estab- 
 lished ; while if he did not love her — why, 
 then nothing mattered. She might as well 
 die a schoolmistress as in any other business 
 or profession. 
 
 So no obstacles were laid in Millicent's way, 
 and a day or two later she went to London by 
 a mid-day train, a little excited at the pros- 
 pect of a possible change, but with no pre- 
 science of the strange events which were to 
 transpire before her return.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 FACE TO FACE. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot always declared that the door 
 had not closed upon her young mistress before 
 things began to go wrong ; in which statement 
 she was literally correct. 
 
 Though Millicent and Nancy were in the 
 cab, something was missing at the last mo- 
 ment, and Mark Skene, who had come to 
 superintend the departure, was despatched in 
 search of it, so that the door was actually not 
 simt, but held close by the charwoman to 
 keep out the cold wind — a disappointment to 
 Leslie Wolffe, who had heard from Nancy of 
 her sister's intention, though not of its ulterior 
 motive, and had come out of his room in the
 
 FACE TO FACE 225 
 
 wild hope of catching a last glimpse of Milli- 
 cent before she went. 
 
 While he hesitated as to how best he could 
 carry out his plans, Sir Peter Cairne's valet 
 came downstairs with so noiseless a tread that 
 his propinquity was unsuspected until actual 
 friction of his shoulder caused the artist to 
 turn, as with sinuous dexterity Jaynes managed 
 to pass between him and the spiral end of the,, 
 balustrade. 
 
 The recognition was mutual, and evidently 
 as unexpected by both as by one it was un- 
 desired. Mrs. Scarrot could see as much 
 from where she stood, and Mark Skene, re- 
 turning from his errand, had also a full view 
 of them, and knew that, unlikely as it might 
 seem, they were face to face for the first time, 
 when he heard the few sentences that were 
 uttered : 
 
 'Jaynes here? with whom?' burst from, 
 Wolffe's lips first. 
 
 vol. 1. 15
 
 226 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 'I have not lost my old place, sir.' 
 
 I And Sir Peter ?' 
 
 The valet ignored the query conveyed in 
 the exclamation. The sardonic smile on his 
 thin lips was more marked than ever, and his 
 silence alone was irritating, perhaps not with- 
 out design. 
 
 ' Did you hear me speak ? I asked where 
 Sir Peter was. Answer!' cried Wolffe 
 violently. 
 
 I I presumed you knew he was here, sir, 
 or ' 
 
 Again he stopped short, warned that he must 
 not finish what he had meant to say by the 
 angry light in the listener's eyes. Once be- 
 fore he had disregarded a similar warning, 
 and paid for his temerity. 
 
 ' Confound you for an infernal liar V flashed 
 out the artist, and went back into his room, 
 wnite and shaken with wrath. 
 
 The collision had lasted a few seconds only,
 
 FACE TO FACE 227 
 
 and was concluded before Skene reached the 
 hall-door. 
 
 Without comment he got into the cab, and 
 told the man to drive to the station. It was 
 with no definite reason he kept silence, but 
 from habitual caution, experience having 
 proved to him that words once spoken no 
 power on earth can recall, while reticence, 
 if an error, can often at leisure be re- 
 paired. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot, closing the door sharply, 
 flounced down to the kitchen, darting a scorn- 
 ful glance at the object of her inveterate 
 hatred as she passed. 
 
 Jaynes was left alone in the hall, and stood 
 for some moments in deep thought, during 
 which time the smile on his face flickered and 
 changed before reverting to its original fixed 
 expression of unpleasant mirth. Then, with 
 the air of one who, having laid a train of gun- 
 powder, is conscious of his ability to fire it 
 
 15—2
 
 228 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 with effect at the right time, he slowly went 
 upstairs. 
 
 He was greeted by his master with an 
 angry question as to why he had been so long, 
 and where the newspaper was. 
 
 ' The paper has not come yet, sir, but I 
 have some news,' was answered quietly. 
 
 ' Then give it, man. I suppose it won't 
 increase in value by keeping/ 
 
 < It's Mr. Wolffe. He's in this house — has 
 been here some time, sir.' 
 
 'What! what! what!' 
 
 Sir Peter fell back in his chair, staring and 
 stammering. 
 
 For an instant the valet thought he was 
 going to have a fit, and blamed himself for 
 not having made his communication more 
 carefully ; but gradually the livid whiteness 
 which had spread over the old man's face was 
 succeeded by a more health} 7 hue, as, power 
 of speech restored, he burst out into a storm
 
 FACE TO FACE 229 
 
 of invectives. ' Had the scoundrel come to 
 look after his own interests ¥ ' Did he think 
 that, if not actually on the spot to step into 
 a dead man's shoes, they would be spirited 
 away ?' were among the more intelli- 
 gible of his inquiries ; and, purple now 
 with rage, he finished with cutting bitter- 
 ness : 
 
 1 At least, he was determined to get early 
 notice of my death !' 
 
 For years Jaynes had borne a grudge 
 against Wolffe he had determined to repay, 
 and now that the opportunity had come he did 
 not withhold his hand. Leaning forward and 
 speaking slowly, that the poisoned drop ho 
 meant to instil might not miscarry, but its 
 deadly meaning be infused through the re- 
 ceiver's whole system, he suggested, with an 
 admirable assumption of reluctance to vilify 
 the absent, commingled with a desire to do 
 his duty by his master :
 
 230 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' I only hope, sir, he did not mean to 
 hasten it/ 
 
 ' Good God!' whispered Sir Peter, paralyzed 
 by this new abominable fear. 
 
 It was necessary to administer a stimulant 
 before he could recover, and even then he 
 seemed to have lost all his self-confidence ; 
 and though he affected then to laugh at 
 Jaynes' suggestion, disdainfully ascribing it to 
 the yellow-backed novels which were devoured 
 daily with such avidity, he could not banish 
 the thought from his mind, and at last, in 
 desperation, sent a note to Colonel Fayrer, to 
 beg his immediate presence. 
 
 By the time he arrived, in answer to the 
 summons, Sir Peter was less overcome, and 
 could talk the matter over with tolerable 
 calmness. It was necessary to have the facts 
 of the case clear, and to do this he had to tell 
 the story from the beginning. 
 
 It was nearly twelve years ago that, during
 
 FACE TO FACE 231 
 
 a year's furlough from India, he had en- 
 countered a rich and very handsome widow, 
 with one son — a young man of about eighteen 
 years of age, then at college. 
 
 Sir Peter was still a personable, distin- 
 guished-looking man, and no one imagined 
 but that the widow liked him for himself — a 
 belief he shared at the time of his marriage, 
 but which subsequently he set aside as a 
 delusion, being one of those men who are 
 depressingly modest and correspondingly sus- 
 picious. 
 
 The honeymoon was scarcely over before 
 he began to remember that Mrs. Wolffe in 
 marrying him had gained a better position, 
 and that, being well connected and with 
 interest at headquarters, she might have calcu- 
 lated on his help in starting her son in his 
 own profession. That she was rich enough 
 to have purchased a younger, and in other 
 respects a more desirable, husband, had she
 
 232 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 held those views, weighed for nothing against 
 this jaundiced impression ; and the fact that 
 her son had no taste for the army he regarded 
 as a perversity she had not taken into account 
 as possible. 
 
 He was furiously jealous of his stepson, and 
 ■ full of contempt when he elected to stay at 
 home and take up painting as an amusement, 
 and perhaps more seriously later if likely to 
 succeed ; for he held the old-fashioned ideas 
 that every man should belong to some trade 
 or profession. Sir Peter had never dignified 
 art with the name of either, and believed 
 those who adopted such erratic courses were 
 beyond the pale ; while the Bohemian! sin of 
 which Leslie, with youthful enthusiasm, talked 
 glibly was merely a euphemism for ' going to 
 the devil/ Never having been thrown with 
 young men, he had no sympathy with them ; 
 and it was not to be surprised that his dislike, 
 once understood, was returned with interest.
 
 FACE TO FACE 233 
 
 His wife steered her very difficult course 
 with tact and patience. No longer very- 
 young, she understood that perfect happiness 
 was not compatible with the conditions of our 
 poor humanity, and having in her first 
 marriage met with unlimited devotion and a 
 characterless amiability that had finally palled, 
 she was almost relieved to find that her 
 second husband was not likely to err in the 
 same direction. Womanlike, she loved him 
 better that he was not completely within her 
 thrall, and the jealousy and doubt which 
 would have tormented some to desperation 
 were almost welcomed by her as signs of his 
 affection. Still beautiful, she courted no 
 admiration except his ; and even her son had 
 reason sometimes to feel himself neglected, 
 and ultimately withdrew from her house and 
 settled himself in rooms of his own, where the 
 preference she showed would not always be 
 before his eyes to distress him.
 
 234 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 The idea that he was unloved being once 
 firmly established in Sir Peter's mind, it 
 proved impossible to eradicate it. Five years 
 of unvarying and most angelic patience had 
 not persuaded him to the contrary ; and when 
 at the end of that period she died, leaving 
 him her whole fortune and her son dependent 
 on his generosity, it altogether failed to con- 
 vince him of her love and perfect trust. 
 Indeed, by some strange mental twist, it 
 rendered him more gloomily determined that 
 she had not been true, and that only as an 
 atonement for a wrong in thought, if not in 
 deed, would she have perpetrated what even 
 he felt to be an injustice. 
 
 According to his lights, he had acted fairly 
 by her son. He had made him an allowance 
 of eight hundred a year, and, there being no 
 others with better claims, in his will had left 
 him his own private fortune as well as his 
 mother's ; but he had never kept up any
 
 FACE TO FACE 235 
 
 friendly relation with hhn, and of late years 
 ill-health not having improved his always 
 irritable temper, his dislike to him had become 
 a mania. 
 
 Once the young artist, to show he felt no 
 resentment at being kept out of the fortune he 
 naturally believed would come to him direct, 
 had called upon him when he heard he was in 
 town ; but the visit had been misconstrued. 
 Sir Peter, in a paroxysm of rage, had accused 
 him of coming to see when he was going to 
 die, and driven to frenzy by the young man's 
 cool contempt, had threatened that if ever he 
 came to his house again, or anywhere they 
 might be likely to meet, he would cut him off 
 with a shilling. 
 
 * And now he is here — has been here in the 
 same house with me for weeks, without my 
 knowledge,' he finished, the first vehemence 
 of his wrath having subsided into a no less 
 ominous calm.
 
 236 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' How is it you never knew?' asked Colonel 
 Fayrer. 
 
 'A chapter of accidents. I never leave my 
 room, and Jaynes has managed to quarrel 
 with the servant, and is afraid to show his 
 nose in the kitchen, so he never met him until 
 to-day.' 
 
 * Then is it not quite possible that your 
 stepson was also ignorant ?' 
 
 Sir Peter glanced sideways at Jaynes to see 
 if any credence could be given to the pre- 
 sumption, but met with no encouragement 
 from those thin, pursed lips and mocking 
 eyes. 
 
 Like all invalids, he depended a great deal 
 on the one who was always near him for moral 
 support, and he felt unwilling to go against 
 him now. 
 
 ' Not at all likely,' he said, the more 
 sharply that he might seem to have hesitated. 
 ' There's a letter from him there in which he
 
 FACE TO FACE 237 
 
 probably says as much, but the facts are 
 against any such professions.' 
 
 He flicked it across the table impatiently, 
 and Colonel Fayrer, taking the action to mean 
 a request to open it, broke the envelope, first 
 skimming its contents, then reading it a 
 second time aloud : 
 
 ' Dear Sir, 
 
 ' I would like you to believe that 
 when I took up my abode here I had not the 
 faintest idea you were also a resident ; I was 
 even unaware you were in Brighton. So soon 
 as Miss Bell returns I will make immediate 
 arrangements to leave. 
 
 ' Yours truly, 
 
 ' L. WoLFFE.' 
 
 ' It seems a manly, straightforward sort 
 of a letter; and, you see, he promises to
 
 238 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 ' At some vague future date. Why did he 
 not go at once, if it were a chance en- 
 counter V 
 
 To which Colonel Fayrer, knowing nothing 
 of the feeling which had prompted Wolffe's 
 remaining — a feeling stronger even than self- 
 interest, which is usually the guiding impulse 
 of a man's mind — had no reply ready. 
 
 ' It does not matter in the least ; he is at 
 liberty to suit his own convenience now,' 
 went on Sir Peter, with a deadly quietude of 
 manner that, in a man of his disposition, 
 signalled ' danger ' more certainly than any 
 crimson flag. 
 
 ' You mean ' 
 
 ' I mean that his presence is no longer 
 antagonistic to my peace of mind. It is the 
 presence of my heir I objected to, and he is 
 that no longer/ 
 
 ' Good heavens, sir ! do you mean that 
 because of this — an accident, perhaps, and in
 
 FACE TO FACE 239 
 
 any case no grave offence — you will disinherit 
 your wife's son, your own nearest connection, 
 if I understand you right V 
 
 i That is my intention.' 
 
 The guardsman, never very fluent of speech, 
 was utterly dumfounded. His eyeglass 
 quivered and fell from his eye, and he tugged 
 at his moustaches as though trying to pump 
 up words. It was owing to the very strength 
 of his ideas that the words which suggested 
 themselves were disconnected, meaningless, 
 and quite useless for expressing any purpose. 
 
 His life, if an eventful one, had been 
 exceptionally blameless, and he could at any 
 time have presented a fair sheet for inspec- 
 tion, un blotted, and with only a short register 
 of faults, common enough and with no founda- 
 tion in evil ground. Like the woman in a 
 dimly-remembered story, who, given three 
 wishes, chose first to possess tact, secondly 
 desired tact, and thirdly begged for tact, so
 
 240 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 his primary consideration was honour, and all 
 subsequent thoughts pointed in the same 
 direction. 
 
 Slow in coming to a conclusion, when once 
 he arrived there he very seldom wavered, and 
 as he debated on the subject it became very 
 clear that this money did not belong to 
 Sir Peter at all, and he had no right to divert 
 it from the course in which it was originally 
 intended to flow. 
 
 When, annoyed by his silence, the old man 
 asked him querulously what his opinion was 
 on the case, he did not hesitate to answer, 
 and his thoughts being lucid now, words were 
 no longer wanting in which to clothe 
 them. 
 
 He spoke very coldly and decisively : 
 
 ' As you have called me into consultation, 
 I will tell you candidly that I think this 
 money was left you in trust; you have no 
 right to dispose of it as you please ; if
 
 FACE TO FACE 241 
 
 you did as you threatened, it would be ini- 
 quitous.' 
 
 1 It is no threat. You may regard it as an 
 established fact. I have telegraphed for my 
 lawyer, and he will arrive to-night or early 
 to-morrow morning. Moreover, I have al- 
 ready decided whose name is to be substituted 
 for Leslie WolfiVs in my will.' 
 
 ' Then remonstrances are useless ?' 
 
 ' Quite so. Have you no curiosity to learn 
 who is to inherit ?' 
 
 ' Not the slightest,' said the Colonel, looking 
 about for his hat and stick, intending to 
 depart. 
 
 Jaynes, who had remained in the room 
 under the pretence of arranging the writing- 
 table and replenishing the inkstand, was deeply 
 interested and glued to the spot. It was 
 characteristic of the man that his work had 
 been done so noiselessly that Sir Peter, who 
 hated any sound or movement Avhile he was 
 
 vol. 1. 16
 
 242 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 talking, had been oblivious of his presence, 
 and that now, intense as was his excitement, 
 he did not suffer one drop of ink to fall from 
 the bottle he was holding. 
 
 ' And yet,' went on Sir Peter with a 
 flickering smile, ' it may concern you very 
 nearly.' 
 
 A suspicion that flashed across Colonel 
 Fayrer's mind made him draw up his slight 
 figure into more than military rigidity, and a 
 disagreeable expression of hauteur came into 
 bis face. 
 
 Everything connected with one'sself is 
 viewed through microscopic or telescopic 
 glasses, so that naturally the importance of 
 the merest trifle is exaggerated, while far- 
 away possibilities are sometimes brought by 
 the same agency alarmingly near. The 
 least imaginative man, and the least impul- 
 sive, Colonel Fayrer was momentarily con- 
 vinced that his eccentric companion contem-
 
 FACE TO FACE 243 
 
 plated leaving to hint the property in question, 
 and felt sorely tempted to renounce it indig- 
 nantly before actually offered. 
 
 Jaynes himself, though he had acted from 
 revengeful motives, was fully alive to the 
 chance that he might reap even more than he 
 had sown ; that, the rightful heir displaced, 
 Sir Peter might elect to reward the man who 
 had unmasked him, who had also been his 
 faithful servitor so many years. 
 
 He was breathless with suspense, and, 
 indeed, to both the men the pause seemed 
 interminably long before Sir Peter, who had 
 probably guessed something of their thoughts 
 and been amusing himself at their expense, 
 said with deliberate emphasis : 
 
 ' I mean to leave everything to Miss Nancy 
 Bell.' 
 
 ' She would not take it,' said the guardsman 
 quickly. 
 
 ' Not ? We will see. Jaynes, go down- 
 
 16—2
 
 244 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 stairs and request Miss Nancy to come to me 
 for a moment, if not engaged.' 
 
 Without a word the valet left the room, his 
 thoughts scattered by the unexpectedness of 
 the denouement, but with a shrewd idea that it 
 would be well to pay court to the coming 
 queen. 
 
 His manner towards her was so obsequious, 
 so servile in its suppleness, that Mrs. Scarrot, 
 who was with Nancy when the message was 
 delivered, could not restrain her disgust until 
 he was out of hearing. 
 
 * He's up to no good, you may be bound, 
 miss, or he'd not be so palavering. I doubt 
 he's in trouble with his master, and wants you 
 to say a word for him. If you'll take my 
 advice, Miss Nancy, you'll do nothing of the 
 sort. Let him go. A horrid creepy- crawly 
 sort of creature ; it makes one's blood curdle 
 to see him !' 
 
 ' You are too hard on poor Jaynes. He
 
 FACE TO FACE 245 
 
 can't help looking like a villain, and I don't 
 suppose he is one,' said Nancy. 
 
 Putting down her book, she rose and went 
 upstairs, not dreaming that there was more in 
 the summons than the usual request for music 
 or some reading. She frowned a little when 
 she saw Colonel Fayrer, giving him rather a 
 curt little nod before she addressed Sir Peter. 
 
 ' Jaynes said you wanted me.' 
 
 'So I do, Miss Nancy. I w r ant to do 
 something for you. Have you any objection 
 to my acting fairy godmother to your Cin- 
 derella.' 
 
 ' That depends,' nonchalantly. ■ I have no 
 particular fancy for glass slippers. I always 
 thought they must have been very uncom- 
 fortable wearing.' 
 
 ' Do you think dead men's shoes would be 
 any better ?' with a cynical smile. 
 
 ' I cannot say, never having worn them. 
 Did you call me to ask conundrums, Sir
 
 246 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Peter, and is my head to be cut off if I fail to 
 answer them, like the hero of a fairy tale ?' 
 
 She spoke lightly, yet looked inquiringly 
 from one to the other, seeing that something 
 serious was at the bottom of this burlesque. 
 Colonel Fayrer, meeting her glance, felt a 
 curious impulse to go over to her side, as if 
 someone standing near might strengthen her 
 to a right decision. She looked such a little 
 child., such a tender, fragile child, and it was a 
 temptation that might overcome a Hercules. 
 That he himself had not been moved when he 
 thought himself likely to be assailed thereby 
 never struck him ; and if it had, he would 
 have explained the mystery away with a 
 careless remark that he had always had 
 leanings towards eccentricity, and never 
 sufficiently appreciated the goods the gods 
 had already given him to desire further 
 favours. 
 
 ' Sit down, child ; it's a long story, and — it
 
 FACE TO FACE 247 
 
 may surprise you. Do you remember when I 
 came here first I warned you I might never 
 leave the house alive ?' 
 
 Nancy nodded gravely. 
 
 1 And you will understand that, even 
 judging by the natural order of events, I must 
 be a little nearer dying than I was then, and 
 that therefore ' 
 
 ' I hoped you were better/ she murmured, 
 a film across her eyes dimming her vision, or 
 she might have seen that he was looking 
 wretchedly ill and shaken. It was indeed 
 only by an effort he went on with what he 
 had to say. 
 
 ' I don't think I am actually any worse, 
 but my health has no immediate bearing on 
 the point at issue. I am a very rich man, 
 Nancy, and the question has arisen to whom 
 my money should go at my death/ 
 
 He spoke so solemnly that the words 
 which rose naturally to Nancy's thoughtless
 
 248 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 lips, ' What has that to do with me ?' seemed 
 unsympathetic, almost irreverent, and were 
 not uttered. 
 
 ' Now, Nancy, it is very charming to be 
 rich. However pretty a woman may be, she 
 is all the prettier for a golden setting. She 
 has more friends than ever her sweet looks 
 would win her, and there are always plenty of 
 people ready to make the rough places 
 smooth for her and easy.' 
 
 ' Ye — es. I have never doubted it would 
 be very nice, but why — why say all this — to 
 me — now ?' 
 
 Listening a little breathlessly and in won- 
 derment, her brow puckered over her widely- 
 opened eyes, Colonel Fayrer was reminded 
 irresistibly of the wooing of Danae in a shower 
 of gold, and wondered whether she, too, could 
 be tempted to succumb, as have been so many 
 of her sex since those mythological days. 
 Oddly enough, almost simultaneously his
 
 FACE TO FACE 249 
 
 thoughts flew back to the moment when he 
 had seen her first, bathed in the glory of a 
 setting sun, its gold upon her hair and eyes 
 and woollen gown. To which would she 
 incline ? Would she stretch eagerly after the 
 metallic brightness that is so seldom without 
 marks and stains, gathered in passing through 
 hands soiled by guilt, of which too often it 
 was the primal cause, or be content with the 
 brightness which is shed lavishly on land and 
 sea — God's wealth of brightness, which is free 
 to rich and poor alike, and only shines to 
 bless ? 
 
 * Because I want to leave everything to you,' 
 said Sir Peter, speaking with the weight and 
 impressiveness of one who knows it is some- 
 thing marvellous he has to tell. Nor was he 
 disappointed of the effect of his announce- 
 ment. 
 
 Nancy had not availed herself of his invita- 
 tion to sit down when she first entered ; she
 
 2$o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 was still standing ; and as she understood 
 what it was he was saying, what it might 
 mean to her, she swayed uncertainly, like a 
 leaf shaken by a sudden gust of wind — like a 
 leaf fluttered down softly on to a low ottoman 
 that was beside her. 
 
 Colonel Fayrer's heart sank as he watched 
 her. She was such a little child — * such a 
 little child,' he repeated again and again 
 to himself, in tender excuse for an error 
 not yet committed. Sir Peter also felt 
 triumphant, in advance assured of her actual 
 consent. 
 
 * It is all so strange and so — so sudden ! 
 I can say nothing, not even ' thank you/ 
 until I know more about it. Why are you 
 only now deciding what to do w T ith your 
 money ? Surely there is someone belonging 
 to you, someone with a claim — not a mere 
 stranger, as I am,' she murmured presently, 
 pushing back the hair from her forehead, as
 
 FACE TO FACE 251 
 
 though the soft silken Huff weighed heavily 
 and impeded her power of thought. 
 
 Colonel Fayrer breathed a sharp sigh of 
 relief, believing he saw a distant light through 
 darkness. Sir Peter did not attempt to shirk 
 the question. 
 
 ' There was someone, but he has forfeited 
 his claim/ he said sternly. 
 
 ; And where is he ? who is he V she asked 
 faintly. 
 
 ' He is in this house. The rascally painter 
 I warned you against is my stepson, who 
 came here secretly to watch and wait for my 
 death — a human vulture — a jackal — longing 
 for the breath to be out of my body ! But I 
 will cheat him yet. He shall never have 
 what he expects — never, never!' 
 
 Sir Peter was white from emotion, and 
 trembling in his chair, though, conscious of 
 his weakness, he grasped both arms of it to 
 keep himself steady and outwardly composed.
 
 252 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 Nancy, on the contrary, had recovered, and 
 was bright and alert as ever. 
 
 ' You wish to enrich me at his expense ?' 
 
 ' The money will never go to him now, 
 whatever happens. I should like you to have 
 it rather than any other.' 
 
 ' You are very good, Sir Peter, and I am 
 sorry to disappoint you, but I could not accept 
 a fortune so. I should expect the money to 
 burn my fingers ; it would weigh me down 
 and smother me. I could not live under such 
 a burden !' she returned. 
 
 She had tried to speak calmly, feeling that 
 her decision would seem the more unalterable 
 if calmly uttered ; but her passionate feeling 
 on the subject betrayed itself in her last words, 
 and she threw out her little hands as she rose 
 from her seat with a gesture of infinite scorn 
 and indignation. 
 
 ' Tut, tut, child ! you are too quixotic. I 
 am the best judge of my own action; I may
 
 FACE TO FACE 253 
 
 surely choose what to do with my own. 
 You don't know what you are refusing, what 
 it means ; you don't realize the benefit it 
 would be, not only to yourself, but to your 
 sister.' 
 
 1 1 should like to help her, of course ; but 
 she would be the last to wish to be helped so. 
 You are angry now, Sir Peter. When you 
 have had time to reflect, you will see that I 
 am right. I could not take your money ; 
 but I thank you all the same for wishing me 
 to have it.' 
 
 Nodding to Colonel Fayrer, who was look- 
 ing at her with adoration in his eyes, and 
 smiling at Sir Peter, she went out, meeting 
 Jaynes outside, and passing him with some 
 surprise that he should be so near the door 
 with no ostensible reason for his vicinity. 
 
 ' A woman's " no," that precedes a " yes," ' 
 said Sir Peter, glancing uneasily at the Colonel, 
 who, however, shook his head. ' Women
 
 254 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 often have these high heroics, but they come 
 out of them. It is their nature to like 
 pleasant things — luxuries and amusements 
 that only gold can buy. For all their hypo- 
 critical ways, their mock airs of independence, 
 their coquetry with serious matters, and their 
 angelic faces, they have generally a keen eye 
 to the main chance.' 
 
 ' Not she ; she will never take your money,' 
 dissented Colonel Fayrer. 
 
 6 You say so because you are half in love 
 with her, if not wholly — I have seen it from 
 the first — and most men, without any very 
 logical reason, believe one woman better than 
 the rest.' 
 
 Colonel Fayrer for a second time took up 
 his hat to go. 
 
 The question being decided, it was no good 
 discussing it any more, and he wanted to be 
 alone to think over what had occurred. A 
 hasty movement of his arm at one stage of
 
 FACE TO FACE 255 
 
 the proceedings had swept one of his gloves 
 from the table, and it was some time before he 
 could find it in the gathering gloom. When 
 he raised himself again, he found Sir Peter in 
 a sort of swoon — his head fallen backwards, 
 his eyes protruding, his face a strange gray 
 tint. 
 
 Calling loudly for the valet, his summons 
 was answered with surprising speed ; and 
 between them they moved him on to a bed, 
 where he lay unconscious for some time. 
 The doctor, who was hastily called in, pro- 
 nounced the symptoms to be very grave, and 
 due probably to a sudden shock to the nervous 
 system, prescribing perfect rest, quietude, and 
 freedom from excitement.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HER LADYSHIP. 
 
 Very early next morning Colonel Fayrer 
 called to inquire after his friend's health. 
 He sincerely pitied the old man who was so 
 utterly alone, dependeut on the companionship 
 of his servant and tortured by suspicions that 
 in a happier, healthier state of affairs never 
 could have arisen in his mind, and had also 
 an idea that the shock of his sudden discovery 
 might terminate fatally. If this were so, he 
 must not die alone ; even the presence of a 
 comparatively new acquaintance were better 
 than no one at all of his own station ; and if 
 he were there, he might find an opportunity
 
 HER LADYSHIP 257 
 
 to befriend the rightful heir, and strengthen 
 that loyal little girl in her desire to do what 
 was honourable and just. 
 
 It was of Nancy that he thought the most. 
 His admiration had been increased a hun- 
 dredfold by her conduct the previous day ; in 
 fact, where his feelings had been indefinite 
 and intangible before, dreamings, founded on 
 a pretty face and bright sweet voice, they 
 now assumed more solid form, and would be 
 henceforth part and parcel of his life. There 
 was a slightly rueful smile upon his lips as 
 he realized that the time might come when he 
 would be ready to resign his hitherto over- 
 prized freedom and go into willing bondage to 
 a tyrant, five feet two in height, soft and 
 gentle of appearance, but whose flowery 
 manacles would be as powerful to hold him 
 as heavy chains of iron. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot opened tlie door for him and 
 volunteered a rather incoherent account of 
 
 vol. 1. 17
 
 25 8 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 what had happened since he left. The 
 doctor had been once or twice, the lawyer 
 was there and waiting to be summoned ; the 
 only one who had not appeared on the scene 
 was the clergyman — ' and it's my opinion he 
 is most wanted of them all. It's as well to 
 have some idea of charity and common 
 justice, even if it's only got at secondhand, 
 when one's dying,' she concluded, having 
 evidently gained some notion of what was 
 going on, and apparently under the impres- 
 sion that the cloak which ' covers a multitude 
 of sins ' was a garment which could be 
 donned and doffed at pleasure, but w r as 
 peculiarly suitable for sick-bed wear. 
 
 At the same moment the doctor came 
 downstairs. 
 
 ' Sir Peter is much the same. It is only a 
 question of days, perhaps hours. The one 
 thing to be done for him is to keep him as 
 easy in his mind as possible. Nothing more
 
 HER LADYSHIP 259 
 
 but good nourishment, which is, of course, 
 essential,' was his hurried verdict as he 
 passed out. 
 
 Colonel Fayrer went upstairs, and finding 
 the door of Sir Peter's bedroom ajar, and 
 Jaynes standing opposite, made a sign to 
 know if he might enter. 
 
 * My master has been asking for you since 
 daybreak,' was the valet's quiet reply, moving 
 a chair near to the bed. 
 
 Colonel Fayrer came in and took it, with a 
 muttered hope he felt to be a mockery of 
 good manners, that Sir Peter was feeling 
 better. 
 
 A feeble smile came in reply. 
 
 ' As well as ever I shall be. It is of no 
 consequence. I seem to mind nothing now, 
 only I want the money to fall into the right 
 hands.' 
 
 ' That is a very natural desire.' 
 
 ' But you do not agree with me as to 
 
 1 7 — 2
 
 2 6o A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 where it should go. Have you thought well 
 over what occurred yesterday ?' 
 Colonel Fayrer nodded. 
 ' I am more assured than ever that it was 
 wisely refused. Had she consented, it might 
 have caused her more pain than pleasure. 
 Eemember, the outside world does not know 
 Miss Nancy as we know her. The belief 
 would be pretty general that she had 
 wheedled you into leaving her the money ; 
 they might even go so far as to dispute the 
 will, and to assert that you must have been of 
 unsound mind when you made it.* 
 
 ' I have thought of all that during the 
 night while I lay awake, and have come to a 
 new conclusion. It is to my wife I will leave 
 everything. ' 
 
 ' Your wife — I understood she was dead,' 
 blurted out Fayrer awkwardly. 
 
 ' I mean to ask Nancy to marry me.' 
 
 * To marry you, now, when '
 
 HER LADYSHIP 261 
 
 He stopped short, but Sir Peter understood 
 and finished the sentence for hirn. 
 
 ' When I am dying. Why, my dear sir, 
 you don't think I would ask her to be my 
 wife if I were likely to live V he asked dryly. 
 
 Then, receiving no response, he went on 
 haltingly, growing more exhausted with every 
 breath : 
 
 * I want you to be my ambassador. Ex- 
 plain to her that, if she refuses, no one more 
 deserving will be the gainer. I shall leave it 
 to some museum or communistic society, or 
 to Jaynes here, who I dare say is a sheaf of 
 crimes. Jaynes would not refuse it.' 
 
 The valet's face was imperturbable, his 
 smile as fixed and vague as ever, while he 
 busied himself in pouring out a mixture 
 into a glass, then holding it to his master's 
 lips. 
 
 Drinking it off, Sir Peter gained strength 
 to continue :
 
 262 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 1 Will you go and ask her if she will marry 
 me for this reason ? — marry me at once, 
 to-day or to-morrow, before it is too late ? It 
 has been done before. No one can blame 
 her, and I should die the happier. Will 
 you go ?' 
 
 'You know my views on the subject. I 
 should be a bad ambassador.' 
 
 ' 1 have no better. Be as neutral as you 
 can reconcile it to your conscience to be — 
 and — take my advice : don't lose sight of the 
 fact that when I die my widow will be a mighty 
 good match/ 
 
 The other bit his lip to prevent a retort. 
 Utterances on a death-bed, like words from 
 the pulpit, cannot be answered, however the 
 hearers may disagree with the sentiments 
 expressed, and the doctor's warning was still 
 fresh in Fayrer's mind. 
 
 ' I will go,' he said, rising from his seat, 
 ' and let you know the result.'
 
 HER LADYSHIP 263 
 
 1 The bribe is big enough. It ought to 
 have its weight/ said Sir Peter bitterly. 
 
 Does anyone consider the loneliness of a 
 very rich man, without anyone belonging to 
 him so near of kin as to be beyond suspicion 
 of mercenary motives, who can, therefore, 
 lavish tenderness and care, never so sorely 
 needed as when soon it will be required no 
 more? To live with no close friends is suffi- 
 ciently sad, but to know that when one dies 
 there are none that will grieve is infinitely 
 worse ; and Sir Peter's unhappy nature, 
 which had caused him to doubt even his 
 wife's love, which was so freely and 
 generously given, had also separated him 
 from others who were capable of disinterested 
 friendship. 
 
 He had never realized until now how 
 utterly alone he was, and the money which 
 had intensified a trait in his character, always 
 inherent, now assumed exaggerated value,
 
 264 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 as mortals ever prize what costs them 
 most. 
 
 It was all he had to count upon, so poor 
 was he in every other respect, so forsaken, 
 so forlorn. 
 
 Perhaps it was a dim appreciation of this 
 pain that lessened Colonel Fayrer's indig- 
 nation, and sent him away, more in sorrow 
 than in anger, on his errand. 
 
 Mrs. Scarrot was still wandering aimlessly 
 about the scene of action, very much excited 
 and interested in all that went on, though 
 terrified at the idea of a death taking place 
 in the house, more especially in the absence 
 of its mistress. She felt in a manner re- 
 sponsible for all that occurred, since every- 
 thing had beer left in her charge, and Nancy's 
 contributions of help were seldom of a practical 
 sort. 
 
 She was very earnest in her inquiries as to 
 whether Sir Peter could possibly live until
 
 HER LADYSHIP 265 
 
 Millicent returned, and when the Colonel 
 told her rather impatiently that his know- 
 ledge did not extend beyond what she, too, 
 had heard the doctor say, she retired in 
 dudgeon to the kitchen, having first thrown 
 open the door of the sitting-room and an- 
 nounced his coming. 
 
 Nancy rose from a chair by the fire as 
 he entered. She was considerably sobered 
 by the serious nature of recent circumstances, 
 but forced a faint smile to cover her astonish- 
 ment at his visit. 
 
 ' I bring a message from Sir Peter,' he said 
 in explanation. 
 
 ' I would have gone to him if he had sent. 
 I thought he might be offended. Does he 
 want me now ?' 
 
 ' He did not commission me to say so. His 
 message is a continuation of the subject of 
 yesterday's proposal,' said the Colonel, the more 
 stiffly that his feelings were very deeply moved.
 
 266 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 He would have sympathized with any 
 woman at such a juncture, much more with 
 one so tenderly enshrined in his heart. 
 
 4 You approved of what I said, then ?' 
 
 ' 1 thought it very noble of you — very 
 wise.' 
 
 1 Yet you come to weaken my resolution. 
 Kemember, riches are a great temptation to 
 a woman.' 
 
 1 I rank you above most women, and I am 
 here only as a mouthpiece for one who 
 cannot come himself/ 
 
 ' I — I hope Sir Peter is reconciled to his 
 stepson,' timidly. 
 
 ' That will never be, I am afraid. It is a 
 choice, he declares, between your taking the 
 money and it being left to someone else — 
 Jaynes, for example.' 
 
 ' Then Jaynes must be promoted to the 
 position of heir-apparent. How funnily he 
 will fill it ! Yet I dare say he would not
 
 HER LADYSHIP 267 
 
 make a worse use of the money than I, 
 unless ' 
 
 Something had evidently struck her sud- 
 denly, and he waited patiently for the idea 
 to be developed, watching her with unbounded 
 admiration as, with both her hands pressed 
 tightly against her temples, she tried to con - 
 centrate her thoughts. He saw her face 
 change as various emotions passed over it, 
 her eyes reflecting the fleeting shadows that 
 were thrown over the clear mirror of her 
 mind. First she seemed filled with shy 
 delight at some pleasant prospect, then 
 covered with confusion at a quickly follow- 
 ing fear; but eventually she appeared to 
 arrive at some decision, for she looked 
 very bright and determined when she spoke 
 at last, her head upraised, her hands slightly 
 clenched, as they hung down at her side. 
 
 ' The money would be mine to do as I 
 liked with, I suppose ?'
 
 268 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 He nodded, a sense of disappointment 
 strangling the words that should have come. 
 
 ' Then what/ she asked triumphantly, ' is 
 to prevent my giving it back to the rightful 
 owner ?' 
 
 ' Ah ! I quite understand you now. But 
 do you think it would be quite honest, quite 
 fair to Sir Peter, to accept his legacy with 
 such an object in view ?' 
 
 1 It would be doing wrong with a good 
 object in view/ 
 
 ' But. is that ever right ?' he questioned 
 gently. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise, not having 
 expected to hear a very high standard of 
 morality from his lips. He had always 
 seemed to her very worldly and very formal, 
 altogether rather uninteresting, from the 
 commonplaceness of his opinions and some- 
 what stereotyped manner of expressing them. 
 Now she felt half inclined to rush into an
 
 HER LADYSHIP 269 
 
 opposite extreme, and to see something heroic 
 in the slight spare figure and sallow face, 
 whose features were generally distorted by 
 the eyeglass almost perpetually in use. Two 
 sweet eyes full of reverential awe were lifted 
 to his face, and may have considerably molli- 
 fied the strictness of his views. 
 
 ' I am not so good as you/ she confessed 
 humbly. e To me it seems sufficient to mean 
 to act for the best, and we women are more 
 used, perhaps, to employ diplomacy as a 
 substitute for the strength we lack. And 
 then,' with a charming burst of confidence 
 in marked distinction to the rather stilted 
 phrasing of her last words, 'I would not mind 
 sinning just a very little bit like that if I 
 could help Mr. Wolffe.' 
 
 ' You know him well ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; he has been painting my picture — 
 two pictures of me. It seems so very 
 hard that he should lose what he had a
 
 270 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 right to expect, and through no fault at 
 all.' 
 
 ' Then if you know him well you can best 
 judge whether he would be likely to accept a 
 fortune at your hands/ 
 
 She hesitated a little, and her colour 
 deepened. It was impossible to explain to 
 him that she trusted to love to bridge over 
 the difficulty he foresaw ; that she believed 
 the lesser gift of money (possessed only to re- 
 bestow) would be ignored and forgotten in the 
 greater treasure she would bring him in 
 herself and her proved devotion. 
 
 * I cannot tell you all ; but I think he will 
 take it/ she said in a low voice, that con- 
 veyed to the listener more than she divined. 
 
 1 You know best ; I must not presume to 
 advise you,' he said gravely ; ' but there is 
 something else I have to tell you. To make 
 your position more secure, and to save you 
 from possible disagreeables, Sir Peter wishes
 
 HER LADYSHIP 271 
 
 you to go through the form of marriage with 
 him, a ceremony that cannot bind you in the 
 least, since it is impossible he should live 
 over the next few days/ 
 
 Nancy could not hide her dismay. The 
 step, comparatively unimportant before, seemed 
 at once to assume enormous proportions, and 
 she dared no longer trust her own judgment. 
 To take the money with the end she had in 
 view, which partly justified it, might be per- 
 missible perhaps ; but to take Sir Peter's 
 name, and then in a sense betray him, 
 appeared impossible at first sight. Besides, 
 to marry at all at a moment's notice was 
 alarming ; and would it not be a desecration 
 of a service, that should be holy, to use it for 
 her own advantage, and with a motive not 
 altogether true ? 
 
 She turned towards Colonel Fayrer, tremb- 
 ling. 
 
 1 1 could not ; I could not !' she cried
 
 272 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 piteously, longing to be persuaded against her 
 own conviction. 
 
 It was natural he should not understand 
 the intricate working of her mind. The deli- 
 cate degrees of right and wrong, the imper- 
 ceptible lights and shades she herself could 
 not have described very clearly, would have 
 had one common tint to him who only had 
 one law to rule his conduct, and that one 
 precept — honour. If it were honourable to 
 accept a fortune in the hope of cheating its 
 owner into doing an act of justice, then a 
 mere empty ceremony could make no differ- 
 ence in his opinion. 
 
 * It is simply a form,' he repeated, with a 
 surprise that caused her own excitement to 
 appear ridiculous and over-strained. 
 
 * I could not possibly do anything of the 
 sort while Millicent is away,' she said, 
 modifying her first objection. 
 
 1 And when does she return V
 
 HER LADYSHIP 273 
 
 ' To-morrow morning, by the first train.' 
 
 'Perhaps you would rather wait until then; 
 although, I ought to warn you, you risk losing 
 everything by delay.' 
 
 'Whatever happens I will wait. Tell 
 Sir Peter it can only be if Millicent approves ; 
 I must not promise anything till she comes.' 
 
 He bowed his acquiescence and withdrew. 
 In his heart he felt she was already wavering, 
 and would in the end consent, with or with- 
 out her sister's sanction ; not for her own 
 sake, but for this artist's, who had painted 
 her portrait, and evidently created a warm 
 interest in her breast. 
 
 When Sir Peter congratulated himself with 
 feeble hilarity on a foregone success, he felt 
 unable to combat his arguments, a jealous 
 instinct predicting that Nancy would allow no 
 one to save her from the rashness she contem- 
 plated if once assured the act was feasible, and 
 not actually false. 
 
 vol. 1. 18
 
 274 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 The next day decided it. A telegram 
 arrived from Millicent to say that she was 
 unavoidably delayed, and could not arrive 
 before the following morning; and this 
 announcement, coupled with the doctor's 
 opinion that his patient could not possibly last 
 four-and-twenty hours, forced Nancy into an 
 independent decision. 
 
 Every arrangement for the marriage had 
 been made by Sir Peter in anticipation of her 
 consent, when Colonel Fayrer was despatched 
 for a final answer. 
 
 ' Is it to be " yes " or " no "?' he asked 
 gravely. 
 
 Pale and frightened, she looked into his 
 face for counsel; but the fixed eyeglass seemed 
 to spread over his face and become a wall of 
 glass between them, causing him to appear 
 cold and antipathetic. That the transparent 
 barrier would have fallen at a word or glance 
 she could not be supposed to know, nor did
 
 HER LADYSHIP 275 
 
 she guess what a warmth of feeling lay 
 behind it. 
 
 'Wait one moment; I will come back/ she 
 said in a breathless whisper, and was out of 
 the room and half-way up the creaking 
 kitchen stairs before his assent was uttered. 
 
 Yesterday she had waited about in the hall, 
 hoping to intercept Wolffe either coming in or 
 going out, and to discover what were his idea > 
 on the subject ; but he had not returned home 
 until long after she was in bed, and she had 
 had no opportunity of seeing him that morn- 
 ing. Now she went boldly to his door, 
 determined to seek an interview, and to ask 
 him straight out if he would wish her to do 
 this thing on his account. 
 
 But a vigorous knocking gained no 
 response. Finding it impossible to settle 
 down to work, he had gone out for a long- 
 walk, and was at the present moment striding 
 across the Downs at a swinging pace, glad of 
 
 18—2
 
 276 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 the sharp exercise to counteract his excite- 
 ment, and utterly unaware how much was 
 occurring that nearly concerned his future 
 fate. Indeed, it was of Millicent he was 
 mostly thinking, longing for her return, yet 
 dreading it, as it must be the signal for his 
 own departure, and he saw no hope of 
 prosecuting the acquaintance so ill-omenedly 
 begun. 
 
 Crestfallen, yet inwardly convinced that 
 WolnVs absence might be for the best, since 
 perhaps no man would, if the question were put 
 to him, permit a woman to sacrifice her natural 
 scruples on his account, Nancy returned to 
 the lower sitting-room, where Colonel Fayrer 
 still stood ; his attitude the same, and 
 Ins thoughts unaltered, only intensified by 
 pity. 
 
 ' I have decided. Tell Sir Peter it is 
 " yes," ' she said, not looking up from the 
 ground.
 
 HER LA D YSHIP 2 7 7 
 
 1 You have well considered ?' 
 
 ' I am doing what I believe is best — for 
 others. I am not thinking of myself.' 
 
 ' And I am only thinking of you. It is 
 an important step. Be sure you make no 
 mistake.' 
 
 She remained unmoved, and something 
 impelled him to add impressively : 
 
 ' Remember, money is often a bar to 
 happiness.' 
 
 Had she looked in his face then she could 
 not have called it cold. A deep flush suffused 
 his sallow complexion, and the glass having 
 fallen from his eye, his kindly glance was 
 unfettered. He would have sacrificed his 
 own good to have secured hers, and what 
 he felt most was his powerlessness to inter- 
 fere, being ignorant of all the circumstances 
 of the case. 
 
 He saw that she shivered at his words 
 as though struck by a sudden chill, but her
 
 273 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 courage reasserted itself at once, and, be- 
 lieving she was doing right, she returned 
 firmly : 
 
 ' I have quite decided. I can be ready 
 in half an hoar.' 
 
 So much delay she had requested for no 
 special reason, only from a vague idea of 
 gaming time — a hope, undeclared even to 
 herself, that something might occur during 
 the interval to prevent so decisive an action, 
 or simplify its execution ; but now, when she 
 was alone, she did not know how to use it. 
 
 To tell Mrs. Scarrot was the first thing, 
 and a faint smile at the way in which her 
 news was received momentarily illumined her 
 face. 
 
 1 He to be thinking of marrying ! Why 
 isn't he " making his soul " ?' she cried, sink- 
 ing into a chair, and tearing open her dress- 
 bnttons at the throat, as though anticipating 
 a fainting fit and taking preliminary precau-
 
 HER LADYSHIP 279 
 
 tion. Then, as suddenly recovering, she 
 exclaimed eagerly : 
 
 < And you'll be " my lady," after all ! I'm 
 glad I lived to see the day. You'll be rich, 
 and Miss Millicent '11 have no cause to trouble 
 herself farther. It'll be a grand surprise for 
 her. Little she dreamt of it when she went 
 away.' 
 
 To this Nancy made no reply, a vivid 
 memory coming back to her of a former 
 surprise she had planned, which had not had 
 a happy ending. 
 
 As the time grew nearer she went up to 
 her own room, moved thereto by the impulse 
 deeply ingrained in woman's nature to adorn 
 herself for every occasion whether it be 
 festival or funeral. She washed her hands, 
 arranged her hair, and presently, her lovely 
 face uplifted, was examining an almost im- 
 perceptible spot upon her chin with horrified 
 dismay. Then the hand-glass was thrown
 
 280 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 down impatiently. She was disgusted with 
 her own frivolity, and angry because every 
 now and then the subject that should have 
 been all-important floated from her mind, dis- 
 placed by absurdly trivial thoughts. 
 
 The charwoman, who had followed her 
 upstairs, and was fidgeting around her in 
 a state of delighted unrest, suggested that she 
 must change her gown, which was shabby, 
 and, moreover, being black, unlucky. She 
 turned round impatiently. 
 
 ' It is no marriage — it is the merest form,' 
 she said petulantly, arguing against her own 
 conviction rather than Mrs. Scarrot's, which, 
 though sketchy, had a comparatively firm 
 foundation. 
 
 ' Marriage is marriage,' she said doggedly ; 
 ' this day's work will be more serious than 
 you think. To love, honour, and obey in 
 sickness and in health ' (this emphasis, as 
 though the phrase had special bearing on the
 
 HER LADYSHIP 281 
 
 case in point) ' is hard enough, as you will 
 find.' 
 
 Nancy opened her lips to speak, but closed 
 them again. What, however, she felt a deli- 
 cacy in mentioning Mrs. Scarrot remembered, 
 and she had no scruple in remarking : 
 
 ' To be sure it makes a difference if your 
 husband dies off-hand. A woman had need 
 to be an angel to live a lifetime with a man, 
 and never hanker after a change. There's 
 precious little gingerbread under the gilt, and 
 all gingerbread gets soft with keeping — not 
 that you'll keep him long.' Her tone of satis- 
 faction was finely tempered by decent regret, 
 and she dismally shook her head. 
 
 Despairing of impressing the facts upon 
 this woman's mind, Nancy gave a final glance 
 into the mirror, and settled her gown pre- 
 paratory to descending. 
 
 The charwoman had all the realism in- 
 separable from her class, and could not grasp
 
 282 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 the incident of this marriage, which was no 
 marriage so far as duties and moral obliga- 
 tions went, but the merest ceremony to en- 
 sure a succession to property, whose inherit- 
 ance might otherwise be disputed. Equally 
 ready to view it from a sentimental or re- 
 ligious point, she could not see that it was 
 purely a business transaction ; or divest 
 herself of the idea that Sir Peter would 
 have a miraculous renewal of health and 
 strength, and in the end carry off his bride 
 in a coach and four amidst showers of rice 
 and blessings. 
 
 She accompanied Nancy downstairs, and 
 when they came to Sir Peter Cairne's room, 
 first wiped her mouth with a corner of her 
 apron, then solemnly kissed her. 
 
 1 I'll wait outside, close to the door, until 
 it's over. You'll like to think you've some 
 %o omen folk about you, even if it's only 
 me. God bless you, child !'
 
 HER LADYSHIP 283 
 
 With these last words ringing in her ears, 
 distinct and separate from all the incon- 
 sequence that had characterized the rest of 
 the charwoman's observations, Nancy passed 
 inside, and found everybody waiting. 
 
 If any intention of making a passionate 
 appeal to Sir Peter's sense of justice had 
 been in her mind, it was stifled at sight of his 
 face as it lay back on the pillow, gray and 
 fixed in its expression of stern resolve. He 
 looked utterly unlike what she remembered, 
 though it was only two days since she had 
 seen him. His anger then was not so ter- 
 rible as his present relentless calm, and even 
 had not the presence of strangers restrained 
 her, she would not have dared to speak. He 
 himself uttered no greeting, fearful, perhaps, 
 of wasting his strength ; he only made a 
 signal for the ceremony to begin. 
 
 Nancy went through it in a dream, con- 
 scious sometimes of the solemn words that
 
 2S 4 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 would cause so great a revolution in her 
 existence, while every now and then her 
 mind went wandering away, and dwelt with 
 aggravating intensity on quite irrelevant 
 matters. 
 
 She was recalled from one of these mental 
 divagations by the necessity of putting on the 
 symbol of her altered state ; and as her finger 
 felt the cold contact of the plain broad ring, 
 she glanced at Sir Peter Cairne. His eyes 
 were eager, his expression was as resolute as 
 ever ; he seemed to be growing stronger with 
 the fulfilment of his wishes ; and as his hand 
 clasped hers convulsively, sudden forebodings 
 arose within her mind. Suppose, after all, 
 he should live ; suppose Wolffe should mis- 
 construe her motive ; suppose — a hundred 
 suppositions started up before her. No longer 
 able to blind herself to what she had done, or 
 to lull her scruples by a repetition of the 
 phrase, that had become almost mechanical,
 
 HER LADYSHIP 285 
 
 1 that it was a mere form,' Nancy grew paler 
 and paler, and before the service was concluded 
 had once or twice to grasp the nearest object 
 for support. Her knees were tottering ; her 
 brain, confused and troubled, was cruelly sen- 
 sitive to the doubt whether she might not 
 have taken up a burden too heavy for her 
 to bear. 
 
 When a general movement told her that 
 the ceremony was at an end, she turned with 
 an excited sob to leave the room, anxious 
 to get away from this atmosphere of oppres- 
 sion. Colonel Fayrer opened the door and 
 caught her hand, pressing it closely with an 
 impulsiveness quite foreign to his usually 
 languid manner as he wished her happiness. 
 
 Somehow the words, which were meant to 
 reassure and blot out the memory of his 
 dehortations, had a contrary effect ; they 
 reminded Nancy vividly of what he had said 
 to her last, ' Money is often a bar to hap-
 
 286 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 piness,' and she felt faint with apprehension 
 when, as she reached the hall, she heard a 
 latch-key turn in the door and the next 
 moment stood face to face with Wolffe. He 
 came quickly towards her. 
 
 ' How is Sir Peter ? Have you seen him ?' 
 he asked with solicitude. 
 
 Nancy's two small hands went up to her 
 throat as though trying to force out a reply, 
 but no sound came, since words can only 
 follow the action of the mind, and hers was 
 then a blank. She did not know how to 
 begin her story, how to explain her motives ; 
 and the knowledge that if she touched a 
 wrong note his attention would be out of 
 tune with her recital, and would result in 
 irreclaimable discord, did not restore her 
 equanimity. Had she listened to the 
 promptings of her overstrained nerves, she 
 would have fled, but she retained sufficient 
 composure to remember that unmistakable
 
 HER LADYSHIP 287 
 
 fear always looks suspiciously like guilt, and 
 she was not guilty. 
 
 There w r as a feeling in her heart that he 
 might even see something of nobility in her 
 conduct if only she could explain clearly why 
 she had acted thus. 
 
 All her new dignity, however, did not help 
 to sustain her at this juncture. She was hot 
 and confused, and Wolffe's question appeared 
 as though it must remain unanswered, when 
 like a douche of cold water, every drop of 
 which communicates an icy chill, there came 
 from behind her a reply: 
 
 ' Sir Peter is much the same, sir. Milady 
 has been with him now.' 
 
 Without turning, Nancy knew it was 
 Jaynes who had come upon her so noiselessly, 
 and who was w T atching this interview on 
 which so much depended — perhaps, she 
 thought, with a childish thrill of fear, 
 throwing an ' evil eye ' upon it.
 
 288 A CHILD WIDOW 
 
 < Milady !' repealed Wolffe blankly. 
 
 The searching glance he threw upon the 
 frightened face seemed to read its secrets, 
 yet failed to find the motive which had 
 ennobled her reckless action. The wide-open 
 eyes, unshadowed by their lashes and un- 
 dimmed by -tears, met his, alarmed, and half 
 imploringly ; the parted lips quivered once or 
 twice distressfully, but gained no pity. 
 
 Before the valet spoke again, and put the 
 matter beyond a doubt, Wolffe had a pre- 
 monition how it was — that this fragile, 
 innocent-looking girl had defrauded him of 
 his birthright, and stood shamelessly in his 
 mother's place, a robber as well as a 
 usurper. 
 
 ' Lady Cairn e is fatigued, sir. I think she 
 ought to rest,' observed Jaynes in his most 
 automatic manner, although in his face there 
 was a diabolical enjoyment of the situation. If 
 he had waited years for his revenge, it was
 
 HER LADYSHIP 289 
 
 complete now, and exquisitely sweet was 
 its savour. 
 
 ' 1 will not stand in Lady Cairne's way/ 
 said Wolffe with bitter irony, and, bowing 
 low, he passed into his room. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, OUILDFORD.
 
 Burn{> 
 
 * c o ;