L I E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRS ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
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 P538
 
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 ^^4^
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE 
 
 BY 
 
 F. C. PHILIPS 
 
 AUTHOR OF "as IN A LOOKING-GLASS." ETC. 
 
 IX TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 DOWNEY & CO. 
 
 2, YORK STREET, CO VENT GARDEN, LONDON 
 1894
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mrsbouverie01phil
 
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 When mention was made of the " Doctor " in 
 Threegates it was not mistaken for an allusion 
 to any member of the Faculty. Not but what 
 Threegates had its practitioners, of course — one 
 of them even, by comparison with his colleagues, 
 was accounted clever — but these gentlemen 
 were referred to more expressly by their sur- 
 names, and the '' Doctor,-" pure and simple, 
 
 ^ was the term belonging to the Rev. Canon 
 
 ^^^eath. 
 
 y^ The Rev. Canon Heath had been part and 
 (^ 
 
 ^^ parcel of the place for so many years that it was 
 
 ^ difficult to imagine it without him. He had 
 CD ^ 
 
 VOL. I. ^ B
 
 2 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 christened young women who now brought their 
 own children to the font. He could remember 
 the plans being submitted for the Town Hall, 
 and when the factory lads played cricket on the 
 site of the new Post Office. He called Three- 
 gates his home, though he had not been born 
 there, and in view of the many changes he had 
 witnessed and wrought in it, it must be admitted 
 that he had every right to do so. 
 
 Pecuniarily he could without doubt have done 
 much better than minister to the spiritual and 
 intellectual requirements of the congregation 
 which filled the Parish Church. His sermons, 
 despite his efforts to adapt them to the local 
 understanding, obtained no higher appreciation 
 than might have been secured by the " dilettante 
 priest" ordained. His gifts (to the lay mind) 
 were wasted, and his culture was caviare. On 
 the other hand, he effected a great deal of practi- 
 cal good — had been prime mover in several 
 sanitary improvements, was teaching the pro-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 3 
 
 vincial mind that literature was not limited to 
 the daily issue of the Exainijter and Advertiser 
 — and, though he had twice been offered a 
 Colonial Bishopric, had declined to abandon his 
 living on altruistic grounds. 
 
 He had three children — Marion, Christabel,and 
 Frank. As a general rule, the youngest of the 
 family is always spoilt, though there are excep- 
 tions w^hich prove it. When the youngest is the 
 only son, he is spoilt invariably, and there are no 
 exceptions. Frank being the last born and of 
 the " superior sex," was impregnated with a 
 sense of his superiority almost from his birth. 
 His sisters had tired of their dolls, and lavished 
 their adoration upon the baby. As a child he 
 was coaxed and fondled^ as a boy he was de- 
 ferred to, and that he did not develop into an 
 unbearable young prig was due far more to the 
 inherent sweetness of his disposition than to any 
 merit of his early surroundings. No man is 
 always wise — not even a Canon — and before he 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 went to Harrow (where they taught him other- 
 wise) Frank, with all his cheerfulness, was the 
 least bit possible in danger of beginning to 
 regard the Creation as a premature arrangement 
 for his advent. 
 
 The Doctor's stipend, as has already been 
 hinted, was not a large one. Harrow was a 
 drain upon it, and Cambridge necessitated 
 domestic economies which it would be vulgar to 
 unveil. That the lad should have a University 
 education, however, was to his father's mind 
 almost a siite qua non^ and that the question of 
 fulfilling the cherished plan should have been 
 debated and weighed spoke volumes for the 
 natural fairness of the man. Frank was his 
 Benjamin, the alpJia and omega of his worldly 
 ambition, but he was aware that indirectly much 
 of the cost of the project must recoil upon the 
 girls. He laid the matter squarely before them 
 both, hiding neither the/r^i" nor co7is. 
 
 *' If he goes," he said, " he will leave Trinity
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 5 
 
 a sound classical scholar ; he will enter life with 
 the hall-mark of a gentleman upon him ; and he 
 will carry a credential which will always be of 
 infinite value to his career. On the other hand, 
 I do not think that Frank will ever take Orders ; 
 for all practical purposes he might obtain a 
 much more thorough and a far cheaper training 
 at the London University. You are old enough 
 to have opinions on the subject, my dears, and 
 I am sensible enough to recognize the fact. 
 Speak your minds." 
 
 Here he leant forward in his chair, polished 
 his glasses, and tried to believe that he was 
 prepared for either fate. 
 
 The girls did not take long in answering, and 
 their manner of doing so was characteristic. 
 Christabel threw back her pretty head with a 
 laugh, and cried " Cambridge " without an 
 instant's delay. Marion's beautiful face was 
 grave for some seconds while she balanced the 
 inconvenience of her father's shabby wardrobe
 
 6 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 against the strenuousness of his desire^ and then 
 she too cast her vote. She said, — 
 
 "Cambridge, dad ; let us do the most in our 
 power for him." 
 
 *' I thought you would say so," murmured 
 the happy Canon. '* It is my own view, and 
 Cambridge let it be." 
 
 That was how Frank Heath went to Cam- 
 bridge and became the possessor of a bull-pup 
 that he did not want, and the giver of "wines " 
 that he could not afford. That was how he 
 came to be dressed by a Cambridge tailor, who 
 emulated the audacity of Savile Row in his 
 charges if he failed to imitate its cut. 
 
 It is not my intention to draw a picture of a 
 University career. Excepting Monte Carlo, 
 there is nothing which novelists have worn quite 
 so industriously to death. Everybody knows, 
 either from experience or at secondhand, of its 
 latitude, and its temptations, and its follies. 
 Everybody knows that a University career
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 7 
 
 never fails to teach one thing, whatever other 
 lessons may be derived from the curriculum. 
 It teaches boys to regard themselves as men, 
 and then upon occasion reminds them of the 
 truth with crushing effect. Frank might have 
 continued the course of " wines," and bull-pups, 
 and tailors' bills ad infinitum^ without any un- 
 pleasant notice being taken by the authorities. 
 He might have landed himself up to the neck 
 in debt, and ruined his people — these things to 
 the Academic mind would have been trivialities 
 — but the error which could not be overlooked, 
 and which brought him to grief, was his impu- 
 dence in dispensing with leave to run up to 
 town. 
 
 As a matter of fact, the motive was venial 
 enough. He was very anxious to witness a 
 mathiee to be given at a certain West-end theatre, 
 and had been determined to gratify the inclination 
 by a bet of Dasha way's, of Trinity Hall, that he 
 would never have the pluck. To tell Frank
 
 8 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 that he would never have the pluck to do a thing 
 was as certain a method of propulsion as to pull 
 a pig backward by the tail. He went to the 
 matinee, and enjoyed it immensely. 
 
 Even then he might have escaped his Nemesis, 
 but when the performance was over he turned 
 into a restaurant in the Strand, to dine before 
 catching his train. In the restaurant he met a 
 fellow he knew, and the fellow — so easy is the 
 fatal descent — proposed terminating the evening 
 at a music hall. The music hall was left before 
 ten o'clock, but when Mr. Heath reached St. 
 Pancras he found it was impossible to return to 
 Cambridge before the morning. He and the 
 fellow who had accompanied him stood and 
 looked at each other blankly on the plat- 
 form. 
 
 Then he was " sent down." Dashaway's 
 wager enabled him to settle with local trades- 
 people, but as he travelled towards Threegates 
 facing the prospect of the explanation at home,
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 9 
 
 Frank was disagreeably conscious that they had 
 been dearly paid. 
 
 His had never been more than the thoughtless 
 faults of youth and high spirits, but he felt that 
 his responsibility was black indeed as he leant 
 back in his corner of the compartment, gazing 
 gloomily out at the flying banks and fields. 
 The old man^s pride in him, the girls' belief, the 
 castles which had been so fondly built on his 
 success, all came back and shamed him to the 
 heart. Much of these memories had become 
 partially effaced and dim in his new life, but now 
 they recurred to him, and with painful force. 
 He foresaw the faces that would shortly meet 
 him, conjectured the first words that each mem- 
 ber of the family would speak. He knew 
 his sisters would say, " Well, never mind," and 
 wear a brave front, so as not to appear to re- 
 proach him. He knew that Christabel, who was 
 almost of his own age, would sympathize with 
 him most, and that Marion would be gravely
 
 10 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 tender. His father's manner he could not 
 divine ; and it was his father, although he had 
 never been in the slightest degree afraid of him, 
 whom he dreaded most keenly to meet. After 
 allj his father would feel it most deeply, he 
 thought ; and he sighed again. 
 
 The porters shouted " Threegates " as care- 
 lessly as if he had come back as senior wrangler, 
 and had taken a first-class in classics as well, 
 and the young man made his way out of the 
 familiar station and into the sunny street. It 
 was market day, and the square was thronged. 
 He stared before him with eyes that did not 
 see, and strode between the crowd with lowered 
 head. 
 
 Presently the house was within sight, and his 
 pulse began to beat a shade more quickly. 
 The servant was just running in from an errand, 
 and the door stood open. He gained it before 
 it shut behind her, and inquired if anyone was 
 in.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. II 
 
 She welcomed him with inappropriate de- 
 light. 
 
 " Your father's in the study, Mr. Frank/' she 
 said, and reiterated her foolish pleasure. 
 
 He pushed past her and knocked. The Doc- 
 tor was writing at his desk. He looked up 
 from the sermon paper as his son paused 
 awkwardly on the threshold.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Frank ? " he said, interrogatively. 
 
 The young fellow moved across to the desk 
 before he answered. Vaguely he was sensible 
 that he would have felt better with the pipe 
 still in his mouth. 
 
 " Oh, yes, it^s I," he said ; " I've come back 
 again like the bad shilling ! " 
 
 " The bad shilling .? " The smile of pleased 
 surprise on the Canon's face began to be tinged 
 by misgiving. " The bad shilling," he repeated, 
 laying down his pen. " What do you mean, 
 Frank ? " 
 
 Something stuck in the boy's throat. He 
 coughed and looked away, while the nervous- 
 ness on the Canon's face increased.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 3 
 
 " What is it, my lad ? " 
 
 " I've been sent down, and I'm " he 
 
 swallowed the adjective, '^ ashamed of my- 
 self ! " 
 
 The window attracted him. He strode over 
 to it, and stood with his back to the room, 
 staring at something he did not see. 
 
 The Doctor had turned very pale. He rested 
 his elbows on the desk, and sat, his head sup- 
 ported by his palms, gazing at the figure of his 
 son. 
 
 There was a little clock on the mantlepiece 
 which ticked noisily. 
 
 The boy turned sharply, with the Doctor's 
 hand on his shoulder. " It was nothing dis- 
 honourable, Frank ? " 
 
 " On my honour, no, father ! " And he told 
 him what it was. 
 
 " Sit down," said the Canon, gently ; " let us 
 talk it over." 
 
 " I am ever so much sorrier than I can say ! "
 
 14 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 declared Frank. "I don't know what demon 
 possessed me to do such an idiotic thing. Of 
 course you are taking it awfully well, and you 
 don't reproach me or anything, but I know 
 perfectly how you must be feeling over it. If 
 I could undo it all '■* 
 
 "Well, well/' said his father, " you will undo 
 it all ! When you go back you will wipe it out, 
 my boy : your honours shall cover your folly 
 — take courage ! " 
 
 " There are the girls — what will they say ? " 
 
 "The girls shall help you to bear your 
 rustication patiently. Have a cigar, and pull 
 yourself together before you join them. I'll go 
 and prepare them, if you like — perhaps it will 
 spare you some awkwardness." 
 
 The culprit looked at him gratefully. 
 
 " What a brick you are ! " he muttered. 
 " But V\\ do that job myself — I deserve it. Are 
 they at home ? " 
 
 *' You will find them," answered the Doctor,
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 5 
 
 " upstairs. They are going to a bazaar for the 
 benefit of the Blind School, and I daresay they 
 are counting their sixpences. Now be off with 
 you, and leave me to do my work." 
 
 But his work was not resumed immediately, 
 and for awhile after the other's retirement he 
 sat thoughtful and still. He was pained more 
 deeply than he would show even to Marion and 
 Christabel. He was not angry, he had no ill- 
 temper to suppress ; but he was disappointed, 
 bitterly disappointed, and the last sentences he 
 had written, when he forced himself to read 
 them, conveyed no meaning to his mind. It 
 occurred to him that the sermon he had de- 
 signed to encourage and improve his congrega- 
 tion was powerless to assuage his own grief. 
 The thought distressed him, and fermented into 
 reflections which called for literary form. It 
 was a digression, but it was spontaneous. He 
 dipped the quill in the ink, and continued his 
 task, without effort, and with a subtlety which
 
 l6 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 would be as far above his parishioners' heads as 
 the steeple of the church. " Thus," murmured 
 the old man, with returning tranquility, " we 
 may see how true it is that there is * good in 
 everything ' ! " 
 
 Meanwhile Frank had broken his bad news, 
 and been comforted ; and then the subject was 
 tabooed, or at least reserved, as one more 
 adapted to private conference than general con- 
 versation. It was ignored at the luncheon 
 table, and the quartette found itself rather a 
 silent one in consequence. 
 
 Frank, on the whole, was not sorry that his 
 sisters were due at a bazaar. The prospect of 
 the afternoon to himself was welcome, and after 
 bidding them au revoir^ and seeing his father 
 closeted in the study again, he turned into the 
 garden, ensconcing himself in a deck chair, with 
 a book on his knees for the sake of appear- 
 ance. 
 
 He had not done much more than idly turn
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 7 
 
 the first few leaves, when he was surprised by 
 the sound of the opening of the gate, and, look- 
 ing up, saw a woman entering from a lane into 
 which it led. 
 
 She was a stranger to him, although he knew 
 most of the people in Threegates, and a glance 
 sufficed to show him that she was a visitor from 
 town. It was evidenced in her costume, her 
 carriage ; it was confirmed by her voice. Lon- 
 don, and West-end London, was stamped upon 
 her from her delightful and ridiculous bonnet 
 to the tips of her shoes. 
 
 '^ I beg your pardon," she said, " can you tell 
 me if Miss Heath has gone ? " 
 
 He rose. What was this beautiful woman 
 doing here ? 
 
 *^ My sisters have both gone," he answered ; 
 " they left a few minutes ago. They will be 
 awfully sorry. I don't think they expected 
 you." 
 
 ''They didn't. I thought I'd look in on 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 1 8 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 the way to the school-room. You are the 
 brother, then ? I didn't know you were at 
 home." 
 
 " I am ' the brother/ " he said. " And at this 
 moment very glad that I am at home ! " 
 
 *' I am Mrs. Bouverie." She smiled as if 
 amused by the compliment. " I have seen a 
 good deal of your father and sisters since I have 
 been staying at the Hall. They are so kind as 
 to allow me to drop in upon them sometimes, 
 even without ringing a bell. So you are * Mr. 
 Frank,' and you have come home ? I have 
 heard a lot about you, Mr. Frank ! " 
 
 " I am sorry for it. I must be rather a dis- 
 appointment ! " he responded, awkwardly. 
 There was a shade of matronly interest in her 
 tone which her seniority scarcely warranted. 
 One's boyhood must be already past before one 
 can appreciate a pretty woman treating one as 
 a boy. He stroked the moustache he hoped for. 
 
 " When did you arrive ?"
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 19 
 
 "This morning," he said. '^ Won't you sit 
 down ? " 
 
 "I'm afraid I haven't time/' she murmured, 
 sinking on to the bench. " What is it — a vaca- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " Er — no," he said, " not exactly. How do 
 you like Threegates, Mrs. Bouverie ? '^ 
 
 " I think it is charming; I've been promising 
 the Weatherley's to come and stay with them 
 for years, and now that I'm here I reproach 
 myself for never having come before. What a 
 pretty garden yours is ? Is that why you 
 haven't gone to the bazaar — fresh air and litera- 
 ture? I see I have interrupted you. What 
 are you reading .'' " 
 
 " I wasn^t reading," he replied ; " I was think- 
 ing." 
 
 " Thinking of the future when you will be a 
 dignitary of the Church yourself ? No ? You 
 don't mean that you are not going in for 
 Orders, do you ? What do you mean to be ? " 
 C 2
 
 20 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " I haven't decided what I mean to be," said, 
 Frank. " What do you advise } " 
 
 She looked at him and laughed. 
 
 " Both our questions are premature, aren't 
 they, considering I have only just met you ? 
 Well, Mr. Frank, I beg your pardon for my 
 inquisitiveness." 
 
 He deprecated the apology he had invited, 
 and waxed anomalously confidential, as became 
 his age. 
 
 " I think," he confessed, " I should like to 
 write." 
 
 '^To write .?" she repeated, attentively. 
 
 '^ Yes." There was a blush on his face, for 
 he was partially ashamed of himself for telling 
 her this sacred truth. " I think I should like 
 to be an author ! " 
 
 * An author," said Mrs. Bouverie, " is so vague 
 a term. Do you mean you hope to be a 
 novelist ?" 
 
 " I have written little sketches and things,"
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 21 
 
 he said, diffidently ; '' it may be stupid, but I 
 believe I have some faculty that way." 
 
 " Why * stupid ' ? I think the reverse ; it is 
 very interesting. If you would lend me one of 
 
 your manuscripts I Not that my opinion 
 
 is worth anything '^ 
 
 " Oh," he declared, '^ I am sure it would be 
 worth a great deal. But I should never have 
 the pluck ! " 
 
 " Am I so terrible ? " 
 
 She lifted her eyes, and smiled again. He 
 found, on the contrary, that she was adorable. 
 Perhaps she guessed it, for she changed the 
 subject. 
 
 " But you have not explained to me how I 
 see you here .-^ " she said. ''Yesterday I had 
 no idea that you were looked for." 
 
 He would have infinitely preferred to question 
 her instead, and he paused in confusion. During 
 his pause a few words about her may not come 
 amiss to the reader.
 
 22 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 The only child of wealthy parents, Constance 
 Bouverie had married, at the age of nineteen, a 
 man who gave her everything that marriage 
 can bring excepting sympathy. This may seem 
 a euphemism for saying she wedded unhappily, 
 but it was the way she expressed it herself, and 
 if in her heart she suffered, she bore her disillu- 
 sion in a manner which was far from disillusion- 
 izing: the world. The brilliance of her alliance 
 was cited among mothers, and envied among 
 daughters ; and down to the day when ill-tem- 
 per and inherited apoplexy joined forces to nip 
 an intended baronetcy in the bud, and to set 
 her free, she was popularly regarded as a 
 phenomenon of luck. 
 
 She was twenty-three when she entered upon 
 her widowhood; and, both her father and mother 
 having previously died, she found herself at her 
 husband's decease one of the richest women 
 in England. Independent and childless, her 
 solitary care was the necessity she felt to pre-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 23 
 
 serve some slight acquaintance > with the multi- 
 farious sources of her income. Her ground- 
 rents, her railway-stock, her mining shares, the 
 wish to be mi coiirayit with their respective 
 values, imposed upon her only obligations. Her 
 ambitions were less definite, but, though she 
 was now but twenty-nine, she had once or twice 
 been conscious of a vague desire to play the 
 part of mentor to some boy of talent, to whom 
 she could stand, as it were, in loco parentis^ and 
 in whose ultimate success she should participate 
 by a reflected glory. The idea had even carried 
 her so far as to debate the advisability of an 
 adoption, but the difficulty of selecting a 
 youngster calculated to do her credit had pre- 
 vented the idea ever developing into an actual 
 fact. A stupid protege^ she felt, would mortify 
 her beyond endurance. She inclined towards a 
 boy old enough to have already demonstrated 
 his ability, but she had never met one, and the 
 notion was not sufficiently deep-rooted for her
 
 24 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 to have taken any extraordinary steps towards 
 his discovery. 
 
 She lifted her eyes to Frank, and smiled. 
 '' But you have not explained to me how I see 
 you here ? " she said. 
 
 His silence came to an end, though he hated 
 to have to speak. 
 
 "The truth is," he stammered, horribly 
 humiliated, " I have been sent down — rusticated 
 for an offence ! "
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 She was old enough to be disappointed by his 
 confession, and regarded him with grave sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear you say so," she re- 
 turned at length. *' Dissipation in a young man 
 is the very last thing that attracts me." 
 
 He flushed anew. 
 
 *' I am not ' dissipated,' " he averred. *' There 
 was no harm in what I did ; it was just a 
 scrape." 
 
 "I like earnestness in men," said Mrs. 
 Bouverie. " I like men one can look up to and 
 admire. You must have given your father and 
 sisters great pain by your folly." 
 
 "At least I am expiating it," remonstrated
 
 26 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Frank ; " the result isn't very jolly for me. No 
 fellow cares to have to come home to his people 
 with his tail between his legs, or feels delighted 
 that the first word he has to say to a woman 
 disgusts her with him." He gave a gulp, and 
 looked at her with shamefaced homage. " I can 
 imagine nothing that would please me more 
 than to have returned covered with honours, 
 and had you applauding me." 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, softened, " I may be able 
 to applaud you yet." 
 
 He registered inward vows, and stumbled 
 over the effort to express them. 
 
 " I must go/' she murmured. She gave him 
 her hand. He begged leave to escort her. 
 They strolled to the door of the bazaar together, 
 and he detailed the story of his disgrace, and 
 was relieved to see she found the fault more 
 venial than she had supposed it. 
 
 He went back to the garden with his head in 
 the clouds. He was in love. He mentally
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 2/ 
 
 repeated all his conversation with her, and 
 thought too late of many brilliant remarks — at 
 once pathetic and witty — with which his narra- 
 tive should have been embellished. 
 
 In the evening he spoke of her to Christabel, 
 and sought tentatively to learn whether she had 
 pronounced any opinion on him. He inquired 
 if she came to the house frequently — whether 
 her stay at Threegates was to be a long one. A 
 propos des bottes, he assured his sisters they 
 should one day be very proud of him. He 
 committed, in fact, every one of the stupidities 
 peculiar to a boy in his position, even to the 
 composition of an ode and the erection of a 
 castle in Spain. The Canon, who perceived his 
 restlessness, attributed it to impatience for the 
 end of his rustication. 
 
 In the ensuing fortnight Mrs. Bouverie 
 called at the Vicarage more frequently than she 
 had been wont to do. She did not deny to his 
 relatives that she was interested in Frank.
 
 28 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " He has ability," she said to the Doctor ; " he 
 has aspirations, and he is as much mortified by 
 his present situation as any of us need desire. 
 I should like very much to be of use to him in 
 his career, but I do not see what I can do. He 
 wants to write, he tells me ; nobody can help 
 him to do that, and perhaps the greatest service 
 one could render him would be to warn him 
 not to do it at all." 
 
 To Frank himself she said : " Put your 
 modesty in your pocket, and let me see a few of 
 your manuscripts. If I think them rubbish, I 
 shall say so." She was, however, conscious of 
 an anxiety to find them clever, and when at 
 length he brought himself to show some to her, 
 she carried them home and opened them with 
 a nervousness altogether foreign to her nature. 
 
 It was after reading what he had written that 
 she recanted her opinion, and asserted that 
 literature was the best profession for him. 
 
 '' Candidly," she declared to his father, " I
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 29 
 
 believe he will succeed by his pen. I may be 
 wrong, I may be right ; anyhow, there seems to 
 me a promise in his work, and, after all, there 
 are no especial prospects open to him in any 
 other line. If he were my own son, I should 
 give him his head, and plenty of paper." 
 
 The Canon, who was delighted at the favour 
 she showed his boy, admitted that Frank's 
 future must rest on his own efforts, and said 
 that, if indeed he had a capacity for authorship, 
 he at least possessed more capital for that 
 vocation than any ether. Frank, intoxicated 
 by Mrs. Bouverie's approval^ immediately fore- 
 saw a work that was to take London by storm, 
 and felt himself famous in anticipation. 
 
 " I shall do everything that everybody would 
 like to see at Cambridge," he alleged ; " I shall 
 come back covered, like a Jack-in-the-green, 
 with laurels ; and perhaps, just at the commence- 
 ment, until my books produce an income, I may 
 get an editorship, or something of the kind, to
 
 30 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 keep the pot boiling. Oh, Mrs. Bouverie ! I'll 
 dedicate my first novel to you, in — in gratitude 
 for your encouragement, if I may." 
 
 She masked amusement at his picture of com- 
 mencing the life literary as an editor, because 
 she knew an editor who considered he had 
 attained the apex of things possible ; and 
 murmured that she certainly expected to hear he 
 had earned great distinction when he '* went up " 
 again. Her visit to the Hall had now come to 
 a conclusion, and the following day, after wish- 
 ing her farewell, Frank sighed heavily in view 
 of the dreary months which must pass before 
 his Alma Mater would re-admit him. 
 
 When three months of the probation had 
 worn away, his spirits revived a little, but it 
 was at this period — amid the effervescence of 
 his excellent resolutions — that he was called 
 upon to endure the bitterest grief his life had 
 held. His father died. 
 
 It occurred so suddenly that the boy was
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 3 1 
 
 half stunned. Only one consolation he had — 
 he was with him. A cold, contracted on a 
 rainy evening by conducting the service in wet 
 clothes, had developed into inflammation of the 
 lungs. All that love and skill could do for the 
 good old man was done. His children waited 
 on him hand and foot ; the local practitioner 
 was indefatigable in his ministrations. A 
 physician was summoned at ruinous expense 
 from town. Everything was vain, however^ for 
 the fiat had gone forth. Human aid was power- 
 less before the Divine Will, and the Rev. Canon 
 Heath had got his preferment at last. 
 
 The orphans looked at one another with 
 haggard eyes. Once more, as by degrees the 
 awful shock left them capable of reflection, their 
 respective characters were evinced. Christabel, 
 sobbing piteously, demanded comfort and en- 
 couragement; Frank cried valiantly that the 
 girls were now his charge, and besought them 
 with vague assurances to have confidence in his
 
 32 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 unceasing protection ; Marion added up the 
 bills, and calculated the surplus to be expected 
 from the sale of their furniture and effects. 
 
 They would have to leave Threegates, it was 
 obvious, and live henceforward in cheap apart- 
 ments somewhere. A University career was no 
 longer possible for Frank, and the thing to be 
 done was for him to secure a remunerative post 
 without delay. Unfortunately the Doctor had 
 had few or no influential friends, and, unpractical 
 as the lad was, he could not blink the fact that 
 the situation was extremely difficult. So far 
 from having taken a degree, and obtained the 
 " hall-mark " on which the Canon had insisted, 
 he had quitted the classic portals under the 
 shadow of an indiscretion. His talents, if 
 indeed he had any, were wholly unproved, and 
 though the girls might find themselves, when all 
 the arrangements were made, with a sum suffi- 
 cient to maintain them for a year or so without 
 privation, his pride revolted at the notion
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 33 
 
 of owing his own support to their assist- 
 ance. 
 
 A few days after the funeral, while sorrow and 
 anxiety were robbing him of sleep and poison- 
 ing his youth, a letter to Marion came from Mrs. 
 Bouverie. That lady wrote expressing her 
 sincerest sympathy with their loss, and inquiring 
 about their plans. She threw out a hint that if 
 her presence at such a time would not be re- 
 garded as an intrusion, she would like to discuss 
 Mr. Frank Heath's future with his sisters. " I 
 know such a lot of people, I may be able to 
 effect something useful," she added. 
 
 As a matter of fact, she had heard enough 
 from her friends the Weatherleys to understand 
 that the position was a critical one, and looked 
 forward with eagerness to the fulfilment of her 
 old dream. A clever boy, penniless and 
 ambitious, had been sent to her at last ! 
 
 " What shall I make of him ?" said Constance 
 Bouverie. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Not many things are impossible to a brilliant 
 woman ; and when she has beauty, and position 
 besides, her range is practically boundless. 
 Her visit to Threegates confirmed Mrs. 
 Bouverie's view that literature should offer 
 young Heath his first opening. She returned 
 to Mayfair debating only how the desired open- 
 ing should be secured. 
 
 Being, as has been said, inordinately rich, she 
 was inclined to under-estimate the necessity of 
 money ; so she considered literature as a road 
 to fame rather than as an avenue to wealth, and 
 did not propose to buy him a partnership in a 
 publishing firm. Still less, however^ did she
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 35 
 
 wish to see him playing at Chatterton in an 
 attic, and primarily she was at some loss how to 
 proceed. 
 
 It occurred to her that a Government appoint- 
 ment might leave him leisure to woo his par- 
 ticular Muse, and provide him at the same time 
 with the sinews of war — a desirable conjunction 
 — and, congratulating herself on the plan, she 
 went the length of dining at a very dull house 
 in order to meet the man who she had decided 
 should effect it for her. 
 
 Unfortunately for Frank's impatience, the 
 man was not there, and Mrs. Bouverie was so 
 chagrined by the enmd to which she had con- 
 demned herself unavailingly, that she did 
 nothing further in the matter for three days. 
 
 Even when the man was consulted, too, a 
 Government appointment for anything over a 
 hundred a year proved a far more difficult 
 matter to arrange than she had supposed, and 
 she was forced to abandon the idea and think 
 D 2
 
 36 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 of something else. In this dilemma she wrote 
 asking the editor to whom allusion has been 
 made elsewhere to call on her. She said she'was 
 very anxious to have the privilege of his advice, 
 and inquired whether he would lunch with her 
 the following Sunday. One of the advantages 
 of possessing a cook at three hundred a year 
 is that you may count with a tolerable degree 
 of certainty upon your invitations being 
 accepted, and Mrs. Bouverie had small mis- 
 givings about Mr. Brocklebank^s reply. 
 
 The editor of the Hyde Park was a man of 
 about fifty years of age. He was clean-shaven 
 and prematurely bald, and, his head and his 
 countenance being of a delicate pink, he pre- 
 sented something of the appearance of a peeled 
 shrimp. His qualifications for journalism, so 
 far as his enemies could perceive, were a pro- 
 digious self-esteem and a capacity for writing 
 the most illegible hand in London. He had, 
 however, the good sense to surround himself by
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 37 
 
 a competent staff, and, though his detractors 
 declared that its circulation was effected on 
 exactly the same principles as stone soup, the 
 sale of the Hyde Park gave many of its con- 
 temporaries, under more talented guidance, a 
 bad beating. 
 
 " The fact is," said Mrs. Bouverie, when 
 luncheon was over, and he had been given 
 permission to smoke a much better cigar than 
 he was accustomed to ; '* the fact is, I am 
 interested in the son of a very valued friend — 
 the late Canon Heath's boy. He has a strong 
 tendency towards literature, and I want to get 
 him on if I can. His father has not left him 
 overburdened with means, and it is necessary 
 he should make his own way in life. I am sure 
 he has ability. Now tell me the wisest course 
 for me to adopt." 
 
 Mr. Brocklebank crossed his legs with a 
 bland smile. " My dear Mrs. Bouverie," he 
 said, " to be perfectly frank with you — to speak
 
 38 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 quite plainly — we are absolutely overrun with 
 boys of ability. London is full of boys of 
 ability. We don't want them — we haven't 
 room for them ! If you ask my advice, let 
 your young protege choose any other profession 
 he likes — ours is the worst possible — and put 
 his youthful lucubrations in the fire." Here 
 he leant back as if he had said a very good 
 thing, and, perceiving his estimate of it, Mrs. 
 Bouverie laughed merrily. 
 
 "Everybody wants to write in his salad 
 days," he continued, encouraged by apprecia- 
 tion, "or wants to go on the stage, perhaps. 
 It's all as inevitable as the measles. To 
 succeed in journalism or literature a man needs 
 wonderful acuteness, powers of observation 
 altogether above the average, and — er — a nice 
 discriminating faculty which is wholly the 
 exception.^' 
 
 "That is doubtless true," murmured Mrs. 
 Bouverie, looking at him with admiration ;
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 39 
 
 " but, all the same, I should like to give him his 
 chance. My idea was to procure him the 
 opportunity of learning something of the routine 
 of a first-class journal ; at present he knows so 
 little of the practical part of the work. He 
 would not be qualified to write for the paper 
 at first, I daresay, but he would gain experi- 
 ence. If, for instance, it were possible to get 
 him into touch with such a paper as your own, 
 the advantage would be tremendous." 
 
 Mr. Brocklebank's expression implied that 
 there were heights of which it was ludicrous 
 even to dream. 
 
 " Heavy as the premium would be," she 
 pursued, '' I should think it well laid out. I 
 should regard his future as assured with an 
 opening like that." 
 
 The gentleman's expression was more com- 
 plex than it had been. " I could not, as a friend, 
 advise you to adopt such a plan,'* he said ; 
 " the expense would be so great.''
 
 40 MRS, BOUVERIE. 
 
 '' But the advantage/' she insisted ; '* it would 
 be proportionate/' 
 
 ** Modesty," said Mr. Brocklebank, " modesty- 
 forbids me to answer that." 
 
 " Of course I know it would,'' said she ; 
 " only I daren't ask a man in your position to 
 be troubled with a novice." 
 
 " That is unkind of you," he answered, softly ; 
 " nothing could be a ' trouble ' done for Mrs. 
 Bouverie." 
 
 The butler stood beside him with liqueurs. 
 He sipped a Benedictine with the anticipatory 
 sweetness of the cheque. 
 
 "You see," she said, ** I realize that the 
 sum would have to be substantial, because it is 
 essential there should be a commencing salary 
 of quite a hundred and fifty a year." 
 
 "Exactly," said Mr. Brocklebank; ''just 
 so." 
 
 " Will you think the matter over, and let me 
 hear from you ? " she asked.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 4I 
 
 He promised her he would. He promised 
 that if he could see his way to obliging her, he 
 would strain a point and do it. It occurred to 
 him on the road home that his sub-editor might 
 be less gratified by the arrangement than either 
 he or she, but that was beside the question. 
 
 A few days later Frank received a note from 
 Constance Bouverie to the effect that Mr. 
 Brocklebank, of the Hyde Park^ stood in need 
 of a literary assistant. *^ So far as I can 
 gather," she explained, ''' the post is not very 
 highly paid ; but as a beginning you might do 
 worse than take it. I have spoken to the 
 gentleman of you, and if you think the sug- 
 gestion worth considering, go to the office one 
 afternoon this week at three o'clock." 
 
 The postscript was : "And come in to tea 
 afterwards, and tell me all the news."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Frank found it so well worth considering that 
 he went up to town the following morning. 
 Marion and Christabel, delighted with the news, 
 kissed him affectionately, and watched him 
 depart. He felt rather proud as he strode down 
 the little lane towards the station, although he 
 had not done anything as yet to merit the self- 
 esteem. He felt vaguely that he was showing 
 the stuff he was made of very quickly, and 
 providing for his sisters by his abilities almost 
 before they had had time to realize their destitu- 
 tion. 
 
 On reaching the Metropolis he judged that 
 it was much too early for him to proceed to the
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 43 
 
 office of the Hyde Parky and he strolled about 
 the streets for a couple of hours, imagining the 
 interview that was to take place, and endeavour- 
 ing to convince himself that he was not sanguine 
 as to the result. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie had said the salary was not 
 a large one. He wondered what it actually 
 was — whether it would suffice for their require- 
 ments. He did not question how much he_, a 
 novice, was worth, but how little a woman like 
 Mrs. Bouverie would be satisfied to advocate 
 his accepting. She was so stupendously rich 
 herself, he reflected, that " not large " from her 
 lips might be capable of almost any interpreta- 
 tion. Really, even five hundred a year could 
 not be supposed to sound " large " to her — 
 perhaps five hundred a year was the salary 
 intended. He rolled a cigarette, and inhaled 
 gratefully. With five hundred a year to com- 
 mence with, to what heights might he not 
 rise — to what might he not aspire ? Then he
 
 44 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 told himself he was a fool, which was the first 
 wise thing he had said yet ; and an awful 
 misgiving assailed him that the editor would 
 find him incompetent, and declare he would not 
 do for any salary at all. 
 
 It was now two o'clock, and he turned into a 
 restaurant in the Strand, and lunched moder- 
 ately on a chop and half a pint of bitter beer. 
 The chop finished^ he surveyed himself in the 
 glass, and decided he would create a better 
 impression for some small attentions to his 
 toilette. He had a wash, and brushed his hair, 
 and re-arranged his tie. Then he looked at his 
 watch again, and sallied forth briskly to meet 
 his fate. His heart sank a little as the office 
 hove in sight ; almost he determined to stroll to 
 the end of the street before entering. Subduing 
 the weakness, however^ he walked boldly in 
 and waited for one of the young gentlemen 
 behind the counter to perceive his existence. 
 
 It was some minutes before this consumma-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 45 
 
 tion was attained, but at last a clerk lounged 
 forward, and inquired if he wanted anything. 
 
 '' Is Mr. Brocklebank in ? " said Frank. " I 
 have an appointment with him." He tendered 
 his card. The clerk took it and disappeared. 
 Frank contemplated the place, wondering if he 
 was destined to become familiar with it, and 
 listened as in a dream to the rattle of the traffic 
 outside. 
 
 " Will you come this way, please ? '^ said his 
 messenger, returning. Frank started, was again 
 horribly nervous, and followed him to the interior 
 yvith pale cheeks. _ 
 
 "Sit down," said Mr. Brocklebank. "I 
 must just finish this letter, if you don't mind." 
 
 The letter took some time, and the young 
 man was at liberty to pursue his reflections once 
 more. He decided he would be happy with a 
 hundred a year, and listened apprehensively to 
 Mr. Brocklebank's first words when at length 
 the silence was broken.
 
 46 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 That the result was a foregone conclusion the 
 reader is aware, and there is therefore no reason 
 to chronicle in detail the conversation that 
 ensued. Frank took his leave with a strong 
 sense of elation. Mr. Brocklebank's manner to 
 him was condescending, but kind, and it was 
 arranged that he should assume his new 
 duties at the commencement of the following 
 week. 
 
 The boy sprang on to a 'bus, and hurried off 
 to Mayfair to tell Mrs. Bouverie of his good 
 fortune. 
 
 She was alone when he was shown in, and he 
 thought he had never seen her look so lovely. 
 
 " Well ? " she exclaimed, eagerly. 
 
 " Oh/' he said, " it's all settled, and I can 
 never thank you enough for what you have 
 done." 
 
 " What I have * done ' ? " she repeated, 
 quickly. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, mentioning me to him, and letting
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 47 
 
 me know of the vacancy/' he answered ; " it was 
 awfully good and nice of you/* 
 
 " It was nothing at all/' she answered ; " I 
 am delighted to learn the result is satisfactory. 
 Let me hear all about it." 
 
 He accordingly recapitulated the interview, 
 and once or twice she smiled inexplicably, he 
 fancied. 
 
 " I suppose," she asked, " you will bring your 
 sisters up to town now, and you will all live 
 together here .-* " 
 
 *'Yes," he replied; "we shall take rooms, of 
 course, and it will be quite comfortable. Will 
 you come and see us sometimes ? " 
 
 She laughed. " Oh, yes," she assured him. 
 " I will come and see you sometimes, and you 
 must bring the girls to see me." 
 
 She had an idea of asking them to come and 
 
 stay with her later, and trying to get them 
 married ; but it was unnecessary to say as 
 much to their brother.
 
 48 MRS. BOUVERTE. 
 
 "When do you begin work at the Hyde 
 Park ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Monday," he said. " I don't suppose that 
 Marion and Christabel will be able to leave 
 Threegates so soon as that, but they can follow 
 me. I shall take the rooms before they come 
 up." 
 
 *' I hope you mean to be very steady and 
 industrious ? " she said. " I take a great 
 interest in you, and Mr. Brocklebank is a friend 
 of mine. You would make me feel very guilty 
 and uncomfortable if, after introducing you to 
 him, he were to complain to me that you were 
 idle, or anything like that. Now, do not look 
 indignant ! " 
 
 " I am not indignant," he responded ; " I am 
 hurt that you think so badly of me. I assure 
 you that even if I were not ambitious for my 
 own sake, I should work like a nigger for yours." 
 
 " Mine ? " said Mrs. Bouverie. 
 
 " I mean to do credit to your recommenda-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 49 
 
 tion," he stammered, perceiving how much 
 more of the truth he had spoken than he had 
 intended. " It is not likely, after you have been 
 splendid enough to help me, that I should give 
 your recommendation the lie. I am not a cad — 
 honour bright.'^ 
 
 " You are, on the contrary, a ' brick,' " said 
 she, adopting his own phraseology. " Don't 
 think I want to preach to you. I want you to 
 like me, and I know boys hate to be preached 
 to. I trust you ; and you and I are going to be 
 very good friends — * chums/ as you would say. 
 Let us shake hands on the compact." 
 
 He thought he could always forgive her 
 calling him a boy for a repetition of the 
 delightful privilege. The touch of her slim, soft 
 hand thrilled his arm, and made him giddy. 
 He wondered afterwards why it was so much 
 more intoxicating than the hand-clasp in 
 meeting or good-bye. She had said she 
 wanted him to " like her " — he left her presence 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 more wildly, more hopelessly than ever in love. 
 During the ensuing days he thought of her 
 almost continually ; her image mixed itself up 
 with his prospects and everything else. The 
 girls, who were overjoyed at the success which 
 had crowned his application, supposed his 
 demeanour was occasioned by Mr. Brockle- 
 bank's acceptance of his services. They thought 
 him anxious to begin. 
 
 " Go back to town," said Marion to him, 
 ''and take your luggage with you. We will 
 arrange everything here, and you can have the 
 apartments in readiness for us when we join 
 you." 
 
 He did not need pressing on the point. To 
 be in town was to be near Constance ! He 
 hired a bedroom in Keppel Street, Bloomsbury, 
 and took her advice as to the locality most 
 desirable for a permanent address. 
 
 After a good deal of trouble, he secured 
 three rooms, which he thought would suit.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 5 1 
 
 in Hampstead, and the day after this had been 
 effected he was due at the office. 
 
 On this, his second appearance there, he was 
 introduced to the sub-editor, with whom he 
 was to sit, and the gentleman explained to 
 him something of his duties. Frank was dis- 
 appointed to learn how puerile they were. He 
 had looked forward to writing descriptive 
 articles, and seeing himself in print within 
 twenty-four hours of the ink drying. Instead, 
 he saw that nothing was expected of him but to 
 be intelligent, and profit by the environment in 
 which he found himself. He even marvelled 
 how the performance of such things as he was 
 set to do could be worth a hundred and fifty 
 per annum to the proprietors, and he conveyed 
 an idea of his disillusion to Mr. Brocklebank. 
 
 " What I supposed I was engaged for," he 
 said, " was to write." 
 
 ''Ah," said Mr. Brocklebank, *' everybody 
 writes; we needn't have paid you a salary 
 
 E 2 
 

 
 52 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 for that. Keep your eyes and your ears open, 
 and in six months or so perhaps we will let you 
 try your hand at a ^par.' " 
 
 Frank was shocked at the lightness of the 
 editor's tone in dealing with such a sacred 
 thing as Journalism. Nevertheless, Mr. Brockle- 
 bank meant to be, and'was, consistently good to 
 him. 
 
 " I want to shape you, my boy,'' he told 
 him one day. *'You shall try your wings as 
 soon as Jessop tells me you are fit" — Jessop 
 was the '' Sub "— '' but there is a lot that I, 
 personally, have not the opportunities to do for 
 you. Get on the right side of Jessop — //^ can 
 do more at the present stage for you than 
 anybody else. He is a thirsty soul, and a 
 drink or two will go a long way with him. 
 And don't be afraid because you aren't earning 
 your salary at present — you'll be more valuable 
 by-and-by.^' 
 
 Marion, when Frank recounted this incident
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 53 
 
 to her, observed that Mr. Brocklebank must 
 have taken a tremendous fancy to him when 
 they met. " He Hkes you so much that he 
 doesn't mind you being inexperienced at first," 
 she said. And, later on, she and Christabel, 
 retiring for the night, agreed how very pre- 
 possessing their brother's manner was. 
 
 They were now properly installed in the 
 Hampstead apartments, and Frank, who often 
 used to get home from the office about six 
 o'clock, would take them for rambles over the 
 Heath, which has some very beautiful " bits," as 
 the painters say, though the general idea is 
 to conceive it given over to " roundabouts " and 
 whelk teas. 
 
 By going through Church Row and across 
 the interlying burial-yard they were able to 
 reach one of its most picturesque points in a 
 few seconds ; and sometimes, at night, Frank 
 would light his pipe, and stroll out upon the 
 heights alone, to meditate upon the woman he
 
 54 MRS BOUVERIE. 
 
 loved, and on the novel that he intended to 
 commence. It was somewhat rash to attempt 
 a novel while he was not yet considered 
 competent to contribute to a paper, but the 
 notion was suggested by Mrs. Bouverie, and it 
 had been fermenting in his brain. It would be 
 magnificent, too, to mention to Jessop, who 
 slightly patronized him, despite the drinks they 
 now discussed at an adjacent buffet, that 
 " Messrs. So-and-So are bringing out a thing I 
 have done in the last few months." It would 
 startle him ; and Brocklebank would stare 
 and begin to appreciate him at his worth. The 
 boy smiled grimly at the picture. But finer 
 and grander than all was the thought of laying 
 the book in Constance's lap, and watching her 
 read the dedication. He had composed several 
 dedications already, and in none of them could 
 he express befittingly one half of what he 
 wished to say.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 He began the magnum opus as soon as the 
 intoxication of the idea had simmered into 
 something resembling a plot. The hero, it need 
 hardly be said, was Frank Heath, and equally, 
 of course, the heroine was named Constance. 
 When he returned from the office now, it was 
 to swallow a hasty meal, and retire to his own 
 room, where, with the toilet-table for a desk, 
 and a view of the opposite tiles for inspiration, 
 he abandoned himself to the laborious ecstasy 
 of composition. 
 
 Having hitherto attempted nothing but verses 
 and sketches, he found himself at some loss to
 
 56 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 determine the length of the book, and he 
 decided to take counsel of Jessop, to whom, 
 under the ban of secrecy, he confided his in- 
 tention. 
 
 It was not without much struggling that he 
 had brought himself to relinquish his project of 
 astonishing that gentleman with the news that 
 the work was written and accepted, and he was 
 therefore the more incensed when Jessop 
 laughed. 
 
 He commenced the avowal naturally by an 
 affectation of idle curiosity. 
 
 " When a fellow writes a novel," he remarked 
 — *'say a fellow who isn't known — I suppose the 
 shorter he makes it, the more likelihood there 
 is of a publisher being willing to produce it ? " 
 
 "Eh?" said Jessop, looking up from his 
 " Notes and Comments " column. " What's 
 that, youngster ? " 
 
 " I say, the shorter it is, the greater chance it 
 stands of being brought out, I suppose ? "
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 57 
 
 " What being brought out ? " 
 
 " The book — the novice's novel." 
 
 **0h, the shorter the better, certainly." 
 
 '^ Because it is cheaper to print ? " 
 
 " No ; because he'll have wasted less time." 
 
 Frank flushed, and shifted in his chair. He 
 
 was correcting proofs, an odious occupation 
 
 which he was beginning to understand. 
 
 " Why do you ask } " inquired Jessop, laying 
 
 down his pen and staring at him vacantly. 
 
 " Proposing to astonish the public your- 
 self ? " 
 " And if I were," Frank demanded, " what 
 
 then ? " 
 
 " Oh, it would be a brilliant idea," rejoined 
 
 the elder man, with a guffaw, " nothing more. 
 
 You think of writing a novel, do you ? Ho ! 
 
 ho ! When are you going to start ? " 
 
 " I've started already," rejoined Franks hotly ; 
 
 " and we needn't go on talking about it. Thanks 
 
 for your information."
 
 58 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Jessop nodded, and proceeded to demand in 
 characters only one degree more legible than 
 his chief's how much longer the South-Eastern 
 Railway was to continue to be regarded as a 
 privileged buffoon, and when we should insist 
 upon its trains carrying us at the same rate of 
 speed as the trains of any other line in the 
 kingdom. It was not until they adjourned to 
 lunch that he recurred to the subject of literary 
 aspirations, and then he delivered himself of a 
 little homily, which left his hearer limp and 
 wretched. 
 
 The pith of it was that everyone's ambition 
 was " rot," but Frank's was especial rot. No- 
 body wanted anybody's novels — that might be 
 laid down as an obvious proposition ; but for 
 a suckling and a babe to think the world wanted 
 his was a form of vanity calling for severe cor- 
 rection. 
 
 " My lad/' he said, " you don't know your 
 alphabet, and you expect to make effects with
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 59 
 
 the language. The amateur's novel is the most 
 painful, the raosi jejune and exasperating thing 
 that human conceit has invented." 
 
 " What is an ' amateur ' ? " asked Frank. " I 
 presume the best men wrote a first novel once, 
 didn't they ? What is an amateur .? " 
 
 '^An amateur's an ass!" said Mr. Jessop. 
 " Dry up." He ordered a whisky and potash, 
 and moistened his own eloquence. " You've 
 come to us to learn journalism," he continued. 
 " Well, since you ask me, I think you a huge 
 fool for that, too." — Frank refrained from saying 
 that he hadriH asked him. — " I think Brockle- 
 bank a huge fool for taking you. And your 
 people, who allowed you to do such a silly 
 thing, I think, were huge fools as well. That's 
 my opinion of it all.^' 
 
 " Your opinion apparently coincides with 
 Carlyle's," said Frank. " Everybody of your 
 acquaintance, and outside it, seems a fool to 
 you. Well, I must get in."
 
 60 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 But he could not shake the influence of the 
 Sub's discouragement off. That night he took 
 out the few sheets he had already covered, and 
 eyed them disconsolately. He was unable to 
 resume the narrative. His phrasing suddenly 
 looked to him awkward and bald. He re- 
 proached himself again and again for having 
 broached the subject to the other ; so far from 
 the confidence having served to assist him, it 
 had daunted and thrown him back. He pitched 
 the manuscript, with a groan, into the drawer, 
 and wandered into the sitting-room, where the 
 girls were reading. 
 
 " Not getting on, dear ? " asked Marion. 
 
 He sighed, and shook his head. 
 
 " It's no good," he answered ; " I have given 
 the intention up." 
 
 " Oh, / shouldn't," said Christabel ; " 1 should 
 go on with it. Why, what^s the matter ? " 
 
 "They tell me at the office it is nonsense 
 my making the attempt. They tell me I
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 6l 
 
 am an idiot ever to have fancied I could suc- 
 ceed." 
 
 "Well," said Marion, "it's easy enough to 
 call people idiots, and it's difficult to write a 
 book. But I suppose if everybody who has 
 written a book were knocked over when every- 
 body who hasn't, and can't, called him names, 
 we shouldn't have many authors in the world." 
 
 " I daresay," replied the young man, wearily ; 
 *' but the fact remains that the pluck's all 
 shaken out of me.'* 
 
 Christabel tossed her paper on to the floor. 
 
 " Just you pull yourself together again, then," 
 she cried ; " and show the wiseacres how mis- 
 taken they are. Go on, Frank ; do. What will 
 Mrs. Bouverie say ? You will disappoint her 
 awfully." 
 
 " I will take her advice," he answered. " If 
 
 she still thinks " He rose and filled his pipe. 
 
 The thought of " disappointing'^ Mrs. Bouverie 
 was the bitterest part of his despair.
 
 62 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 He went to her house the following afternoon, 
 but she was out, and his pain deepened. He 
 turned from the door, and threaded his way- 
 through the maze of private streets with chin 
 sunk upon his breast. She was " out : " the 
 word said much to him. It reminded him of 
 the difference in their positions, the difference 
 which, with the effervescent enthusiasm of his 
 youth, he had yesterday hoped to bridge by his 
 achievements. She was driving, visiting, or 
 perhaps dining with friends, among men who 
 paid her attentions. He, with ink-stained 
 fingers, was trudging to Oxford Circus to save 
 a penny on the 'bus fare — a man without a 
 future. 
 
 He was still picturing her the centre of a 
 fashionable crowd and gaily forgetful of him, 
 when he reached his lodging; and, going up- 
 stairs, his heart gave a leap to find her chatting 
 with his sisters in the parlour. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Frank ! " she said ; '* how are you ? "
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 63 
 
 He told her he had been to call upon her ; 
 he tried to tell her what delight it gave him to 
 find her where she was. But he could never 
 tell her anything of what he wished the most to 
 say ; the subtle perfume that he always felt 
 was left by her glove upon his hand seemed 
 to mount to his brain and bewilder him, 
 so that he was faint, and breathless, and im- 
 possible. 
 
 " I am going to lecture you," she cried, 
 '* directly. I hear you are having the impudence 
 to be despondent." 
 
 " I am not very radiant," he acknowledged. 
 " It was about that I wished to speak to you." 
 
 They were having tea, tea on a japanned tray 
 on the dinner-table, and he took her cup, and 
 brought her the sixpenny cake, and waited on 
 her. When she got up to leave, and the hand 
 that was bare was gloved again, he fastened 
 the buttons for her. Christabel, who was 
 a girl, concealed a smile as she watched him.
 
 64 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Marion, who was a woman, suppressed a 
 sigh. 
 
 " Come a little way with me," said Mrs. 
 Bouverie ; " will you ? We can talk things 
 over." 
 
 She had arrived in a hansom, but she did not 
 look for a cab as they strolled up the road ; 
 indeed, they were bending their steps in the 
 direction of the Heath. 
 
 They sat upon a bench. A valley was below. 
 The sun was sinking, and the yellow of the 
 gorse merged into the green. From the land- 
 scape, which stretched for miles before them 
 into tree and sky, the light was fading. Here 
 and there a nursemaid and her charges made 
 for home. 
 
 " You mustn't feel bad," she said. '* I am so 
 sorry people have discouraged you. I am sure 
 you'll get on if you persevere." 
 
 *' When } " he muttered. " How long ? I want 
 to get on noWy and I don't — I can't ! "
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 65 
 
 '' You must be patient," she declared, gently ; 
 " you have only just begun. It is unreasonable 
 to repine so soon." 
 
 " You consider me a coward ! " he said, with 
 a gulp ; " and I'd have done anything in the 
 world to make you — proud of me. You don't 
 know, you can't think, what dreams I built on 
 the book. I longed — yes, longed — to bring it 
 to you_, and hear you say that you approved. 
 It was the hope of your approval that made me 
 commence it. What can I do when a man of 
 experience — a man who is an authority — advises 
 me, in the plainest language, not to touch the 
 thing ; when he ridicules me — calls the attempt 
 idiotic conceit ? " He rested his chin on his 
 palms, gazing gloomily into the distance, seeing 
 nothing. 
 
 "/believe in you," she murmured. ''Goon 
 with it for ine!^ 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie? " His face turned pale. 
 
 " Yes," she said, '' I do ; Frank, I believe in 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 you ! You poor boy, I understand what you're 
 feeling now as well as you." 
 
 " You know ? " he stammered ; " you under- 
 stand ? Oh. how good and sweet you are ! " 
 
 He thought she meant she understood he 
 hoped to marry her. And she — momentarily 
 she was at some pains to understand herself. 
 She was sensible of a strong compassion, a 
 defined desire to aid him, but mingled with 
 such sentiments as these there was, for a second, 
 something subtler and newer ; something that 
 perplexed her, and made her unfamiliar to her 
 own perception, and puzzled by the oddity. 
 
 They looked at each other in an instant's 
 silence, and then she rallied and rose. They 
 walked back into the streets together ; he felt 
 as if he had been about to clasp her in his arms, 
 and she had eluded him. The return to her 
 ordinary tone struck a chill to his heart. 
 
 When Mrs. Bouverie found herself alone in 
 a hansom again, driving westward, she gave a
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 6/ 
 
 little laugh which was hardly spontaneous. 
 She said to herself : " How sorry for him he 
 made me feel. What I wished was that he 
 was a girl, and I could put my arms round his 
 neck and kiss him on the cheek." 
 
 F 2
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 After the encouragement that Frank had 
 received from Mrs. Bouverie he became red-hot, 
 so to speak, with excitement. He walked home 
 feeling as if he trod on air^ with his head held 
 very erect. 
 
 Everything seemed possible to him now. He 
 walked faster and faster, his young blood 
 leaping through his veins^ and his face burning. 
 Sentences and epigrams which he meant to 
 write danced before his eyes ; he was eloquent 
 by turns — at any rate, in thought — with piquant 
 and sarcastic and philosophical and cynical and 
 witty phrases, that would burst upon the world 
 like a thunder-clap. He would make a name
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 69 
 
 for himself in a year or so, if not before. Jessop, 
 who ridiculed his project, should see that the 
 youngster he had laughed at wasn't a fool after 
 all. Fame! How glorious it sounded ! What 
 a goal for which to strive, through which to win 
 —HER. 
 
 He knew she believed in him. She had 
 told him that she believed in him. Her words 
 rung in his ears : " Go on with it for meT Go 
 on with it ! He laughed aloud in his rapture. 
 No power on earth should deter him now — no 
 disapproval, no jealousy. He started as the 
 thought came. What a fool he had been ! 
 Jessop was jealous of him. Ha ! Ha 1 Jessop 
 should have cause to be. He determined to 
 write such a novel that well-known authors 
 would congratulate him, and that publishers 
 would be glad, positively glad, to take his work. 
 
 As he entered the sitting-room of their 
 Hampstead lodgings, he experienced a thrill of 
 gratitude for his sisters' never-ending kindness
 
 70 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 and thought for his comfort. It struck him 
 afresh and more forcibly than ever that they 
 kept their sweetest smiles for him, and that 
 they hid their own regrets for the comforts 
 they had lost so well that a casual observer 
 might have thought they actually enjoyed the 
 change of existence. They had laughed, on 
 their arrival, at the lodging-house furniture, 
 at the rickety chairs, and at the inevitable 
 shelves, and the tea table, and the painfully 
 bright blue and crimson hues of the cheap 
 carpet, and at the round table, and the maroon 
 rep curtains, and the cheap white lace ones, 
 which the landlady eyed with pride in their 
 cleanliness. 
 
 But in a few days the room was completely 
 transformed. Marion and Christabel were not 
 without experience of the shops where the 
 inexpensive and artistic muslin may be bought 
 for " 4|^." a yard — where pretty Japanese and 
 other articles of use as well as ornament may
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 7 I 
 
 be had at phenomenal prices. The great thing, 
 they observed laughingly to Mrs. Bouverie, was 
 to avoid hurting the feelings of Mrs. Clark^ the 
 landlady, who was a kind-hearted woman. 
 However, by dint of much diplomacy and many 
 smiles, the terrible antimacassars and the most 
 glaring of the monstrosities were gradually done 
 away with, and replaced by others which were as 
 much in harmony with the room and each other 
 as possible. The girls draped the pots of ferns 
 and the palms they had brought with care 
 from the Rectory, sacrificing their silk sashes 
 for the purpose. Christabel, who was by no 
 means an indifferent artist, painted two little 
 tables and several stools, which anyhow looked 
 pretty, even if they were rather weak about the 
 legs. Her chef d^ceuvre was a set of panels for 
 the door, painted on American leather, repre- 
 senting mischievous and happy Cupids in 
 various light and easy attitudes — such as sitting 
 securely on clouds, and dancing on flowers, and
 
 72 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 flying about indiscriminately, albeit possessed 
 merely of a head and a pair of wings. The 
 Parisian lamp shade of soft pink and white 
 crimped papers shed a warm glow over the 
 table, and as Frank looked at his sisters in 
 their pretty gowns, he realized that he had 
 much for which to thank Providence. 
 
 '* How nice you have made the room look/' 
 he said, going up to them, and kissing them 
 both affectionately. " It is really quite artistic. 
 One would scarcely think it was the same 
 wretched place that I took a few weeks ago. 
 You have done wonders." 
 
 " I am glad you like it," Christabel said, 
 putting her fingers caressingly through his hair. 
 " Mrs. Bouverie thought we had quite taken 
 away the lodging-house look." 
 
 " We may not have to live in lodgings much 
 longer," Frank said, jubilantly. ^' Wait until I 
 am a successful author.'^ 
 
 Christabel laughed^ and patted him on the
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 73 
 
 cheek. Marion gave him a keen look, but said 
 nothing at the moment. 
 
 " You have made up your mind to take my 
 advice," Christabel cried gaily. " Of course 
 you will succeed if you don't get down-hearted. 
 Every author must have his dark hours, and at 
 one time or other has been made miserable by 
 the jealousy of others.'^ 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie advised you to go on, didn't 
 she ? " Marion asked presently. 
 
 Frank's eyes sparkled. " She gave me the 
 kindest encouragement possible. If it had not 
 been for her telling me that she believed I had 
 talent, I should have thrown the whole thing 
 over. As it is, I am going on in spite of every 
 obstacle that may be placed in my way." 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie is a clever woman,^' Christabel 
 remarked, nodding her head gravely. " She 
 would not have said so much as that unless she 
 really thought it. Would she, Marion ? " 
 
 *' No, I don't think she would."
 
 74 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " It was so kind of her to speak about my 
 painting," the younger girl went on, enthusias- 
 tically. " I shall go to that place to-morrow." 
 
 " What place, Christabel ? " Frank said 
 quickly, emerging from his own thoughts. 
 
 It appeared that Mrs. Bouverie had been 
 struck by the colouring and vigour of Christa- 
 bel's flowers and Cupids, and on hearing that 
 the girl not only loved the art, but could work 
 very quickly with little to guide her in the way of 
 copies, she had very delicately hinted that it 
 would be easy to get very fair remuneration 
 for painting on enamelled articles and screens 
 from one of the big shops which supply such 
 things. 
 
 Christabel expressed herself so delighted with 
 the idea, that Mrs. Bouverie had promised to 
 call for her the next morning and to drive her 
 to the place where she frequently bought things 
 for herself: taking with them the best of 
 Christabel's efforts.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 75 
 
 Frank frowned, and remarked that he did not 
 Hke the idea of his sister painting for shops. 
 
 " Oh, but all that sort of thing has gone out 
 now, dear," Marion said gently. '^ Years ago a 
 gentlewoman could not earn any money except 
 by being a governess, but the times have so 
 changed that anyone with a little talent and 
 perseverance can do something, and in our 
 circumstances it will be very beneficial. Chris- 
 tabel will not deteriorate if she manages to 
 make a few pounds to spend on a new gown." 
 
 "Besides, it will be something to do, Frank. 
 If I am at all successful, it will make me so 
 happy," Christabel said^ waltzing a few steps 
 round the room. 
 
 " Of course it is very kind of Mrs. Bouverie, 
 and of you too," Frank observed, doggedly, 
 " but we are not starving yet, and, although I 
 have no right perhaps to say anything, still I 
 must candidly confess that I don't like the idea. 
 Now if you went to a School of Art and studied
 
 j6 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 for the Academy, there would be something in 
 it." 
 
 "My dear boy/' asked Marion, "have you 
 any conception of what that would cost ? We 
 cannot afford to pay money now, we must make 
 it." She did not intend any reproach, but she 
 meant to make him understand that their life 
 was not a bed of roses. They had sacrificed 
 themselves before, and they would do it again, 
 but they would lose no opportunity of helping 
 themselves and him whenever one occurred that 
 entailed the loss of caste. They were not the 
 sort of girls to live contentedly on their 
 brother. Then, there was always the contin- 
 gency of his marrying some day. He was very 
 young yet, but it was only natural that he would 
 marry as soon as he had a decent income : and 
 a man would be more than human who would 
 amiably and contentedly keep two sisters in 
 addition to a wife. 
 
 She herself contemplated writing children's
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 7/ 
 
 stories which she had been accustomed to tell 
 in the Threegates schoolroom as a special treat 
 now and then, and had already approached a 
 publisher, who had known Canon Heath, upon 
 the subject. But she had fully made up her 
 mind to say nothing about the matter unless she 
 succeeded, and even then not to Frank for the 
 present. It would be time enough when his 
 novel was finished. 
 
 A little later Frank went into his room and 
 surrounded himself with paper and pens and a 
 Shakespeare, and a Tennyson, and a Nuttall, 
 and a Webster's Dictionary of Quotations. He 
 was still young enough to think that a liberal 
 sprinkling from the classics and from great 
 writers gave tone to a book, or at any rate 
 revealed that the author must of necessity be a 
 savant. He was not very well up in Shake- 
 speare, but he meant to improve his knowledge, 
 and to learn some of the great speeches by 
 heart.
 
 78 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 He looked over his notes and re-wrote his 
 first chapter^ which^ curiously enough^ contained 
 a thorough analysis of the character of Frank 
 Heath — that is to say, as Frank Heath knew 
 himself — but soon, however, as he came to his 
 heroine Constance, his pen dropped from his 
 hand. He leant back in his chair and fell 
 into a blissful reverie, going through his 
 acquaintance with Mrs. Bouverie and repeating 
 to himself the first words she had said to him, 
 and as many others as he could remember. 
 Her beauty and fascination seemed to him before 
 that of all other women ; the colour of her eyes 
 and hair were perfect, he said to himself. Then 
 in fancy he actually had the audacity to kiss her, 
 and the mere thought of it made him blush as 
 if he were a girl. Poor young man, he was 
 very young ! Would the time ever come, he 
 thought, when he might put his arm unrebuked 
 round her beautiful, supple waist, and tell her 
 how he adored and worshipped her ?
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 79 
 
 The clock struck eleven at last, and with a 
 start, he realized that the result of his four 
 hours' labour was simply a few pages of re- 
 copied manuscript.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The next mornincr Frank went down to the 
 office, with the full intention of giving Jessop a 
 Roland for his Oliver. He went through with 
 his usual routine in dignified but amiable 
 silence, and then, as there was half-an-hour 
 before luncheon, he went so far as to compose 
 a paragraph upon the subject of the domination 
 of Music Halls over the Theatres, and the 
 growing taste for Variety entertainments, and 
 left it carelessly where he knew it would be 
 seen. 
 
 It was a busy day at the office. That week's 
 issue of Hyde Park was to be specially strong. 
 A new 'paper, built on similar lines and
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 8 1 
 
 substantially backed^ was about to make its 
 debut the next day, Wednesday, which was 
 the publishing day of Hyde Park. Mr. 
 Brocklebank's mettle was aroused on account of 
 one or two attacks made upon his paper by 
 some evening contemporaries, who accused it of 
 dulness and want of vitality. He had, therefore, 
 been constantly at the office for the last three 
 days, and had secured two or three articles 
 from exceptionally gifted journalists. 
 
 Determined not to show any resentment for 
 the snub he had received, Frank asked Jessop 
 to lunch with him. " I am too busy for 
 eating," was the somewhat irritable reply, 
 " but I don-'t mind a whisky and potash by- 
 and-by." 
 
 " I wish I could help you," Frank said 
 earnestly, " but I won't bother you now. I 
 don't suppose I shall be more than a quarter of 
 an hour, and perhaps something may turn up 
 easy enough for me to do." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Jessop g3.ve him a swift look. He was 
 perfectly conscious that Frank must be 
 smarting under his rebuke, yet the young 
 fellow had spoken so naturally, that he could 
 not find it in his heart to be sulky. When he 
 caught sight of Frank's neatly-written sheets, 
 he ran his eye over them hastily. " He is not 
 half bad for a youngster," he muttered, and 
 he told his chief so when he next saw him. 
 Mr. Brocklebank knew that Jessop had 
 an ineradicable contempt for all amateurs, 
 especially when they erred on the side of youth ; 
 as a matter of fact, the ''Sub " was the moving 
 spirit of the office, and no one recognized this 
 more than the Editor, although he did not 
 consider himself bound to proclaim the truth 
 very forcibly. Between the Editor-in-Chief and 
 a *' Sub" there is a wide gulf fixed ; the duties 
 and responsibilities are so different, and the 
 talents required so opposed to each other, that a 
 man who fulfils the one rS/e well would
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 83 
 
 probably fail in nine cases out of ten to fulfil 
 the other. 
 
 " You think he shows some promise, then ? 
 I am glad of that. The lad's straight enough, 
 I believe, and as he has lost his father and has 
 two sisters, it is imperative for him to succeed 
 in due time. I will look this over.'' 
 
 Mr. Brocklebank put the manuscript into his 
 pocket, but it is doubtful whether he would 
 have remembered it had he not received a letter 
 from Mrs. Bouverie asking him to luncheon the 
 following Sunday. He knew that she would 
 wish to hear some encouraging news of her 
 young protege^ and she was not a woman to be 
 put off by mere generalities. The solidity of her 
 cheque by way of premium gave some grounds 
 for her expecting a slight return, and as yet the 
 Editor knew perfectly well that he had simply 
 left Frank to Jessop's tender mercies, and 
 that, too, without any particular recommenda- 
 tion. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 He wrote a letter accepting Mrs. Bouverie's 
 invitation, and when he had sent it, he read 
 Frank's paper carelessly. Although his own 
 critical powers were considerably inferior to 
 those of Jessop, he could see that the sentences 
 were well turned, and although perhaps a little 
 crude, and unmistakably a first attempt, there 
 was considerable merit in the writing. Touched 
 up by an experienced hand, the article would 
 do for the paper when they were short of copy ; 
 but he made up his mind that he should 
 not tell the boy so yet, or he might get too 
 uppish. 
 
 For the next few days Frank wrote a great 
 deal — going to his room directly after tea and 
 writing for several hours. The girls were each 
 busy in their own way — Christabel's painting 
 now being an organized affair, thanks to Mrs. 
 Bouverie's assistance, and Marion having 
 received an encouraging letter from her friend 
 the publisher.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 85 
 
 When he had written and re-written the first 
 six chapters, he took them with him to Mayfair 
 one Saturday afternoon. Mrs. Bouverie received 
 him with a charming smile, and said that she was 
 all impatience to hear him read his work. Her 
 words always caused him to believe in him- 
 self, and, indeed, thrilled him with intense 
 happiness. "His work"! It sounded like 
 success already. 
 
 He cleared his throat nervously, and read 
 out, like the narrator of " Happy Thoughts," 
 "Volume I., Chapter I." When he came to the 
 heroine he paused for a moment. At first he 
 had called her Constance, but on reflection 
 he changed it to Muriel, remembering that he 
 would read it over to his Constance, as he called 
 her to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie smiled, and drew her chair a 
 little further back, where the lamp-light could 
 not fall on her face. 
 
 " Poor boy," she thought. " I had no idea of
 
 86 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 this. He has exalted me into a guardian angel. 
 It is very sweet ; but I am sorry he is so very 
 young.^' 
 
 " I congratulate you, Mr. Heath ; I like your 
 phrasing, and you have hit on an interesting 
 plot. The public always likes the record of a 
 man's or a woman's career, provided it be not 
 too egotistic. You will introduce some more 
 characters, won't you ? " 
 
 She had been on the point of saying that he 
 had, as usual, fallen into the vein so habitual 
 with young authors, and that he had modelled 
 his heroine upon an edition of herself. But the 
 words stopped in her throat as she saw the 
 rapturous light on his young, ardent face. She 
 was not a flirt, and she was not a woman who 
 compelled every man in her circle to make love 
 to her. Her nine years of seniority made her 
 feel old enough to discard the usual conven- 
 tional conduct that is natural to a man and a 
 woman when there is the possibility of marriage
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 8/ 
 
 between them. But, being a woman, she could 
 easily tell when friendship had ripened into 
 warmer feeling, and, in Frank's case, she knew 
 that it was a cruel thing to win the boy's 
 first love under the guise of an elder sister's 
 sympathy. It had not been her fault ; she 
 could not help knowing that her personal 
 attractions were great ; she could not hide her 
 delicate complexion or the radiance of her large 
 hazel eyes, or the sweet tones of her voice ; but 
 she resolved to do her best to let this young 
 man see the utter hopelessness of his love as 
 well as she could, without either hurting his 
 feelings or letting him think that her friendship 
 had in any way cooled. So, when he looked 
 up shyly and asked her if she thought it would 
 do, she told him with conviction that it 
 certainly would. 
 
 *'' It is difficult to speak positively until you 
 have got on further, you know," she added, 
 with a smile. '^ You must work hard at it, and
 
 88 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 get in plenty of incident. There is a capital 
 groundwork at present, and I feel confident as 
 to the result." 
 
 And then she talked to him in quite a 
 businesslike manner, giving him excellent 
 advice, and unconsciously making poor Frank 
 more her slave than ever, because he realized 
 that besides all the trouble she had taken for 
 him, and the interest she had shown in his 
 sisters, there was a kindness and intelligent 
 sympathy in her which he might never find in 
 anyone else ; and sympathy means so much to 
 a young writer. At that moment he would 
 have sacrificed himself with keen enthusiasm 
 for Constance Bouverie. The cruellest torture 
 would scarcely have appalled him, provided 
 she knew he endured it for her sake. 
 
 The footman brought in the tea with some 
 little hot cakes, and, fearing to weary her with 
 too much of himself, Frank talked of Marion 
 and Christabel, saying how indefatigably they
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 89 
 
 had tried to make the rooms look home-like, 
 and how good they had been to him always. 
 
 " Yes, you are very fortunate in having such 
 charming sisters. I was thinking so the other 
 day when I called on them, and how dull they 
 must find it now. In Threegates, of course, 
 you knew everyone, and you had your own 
 position ; but in London one feels swallowed 
 up." 
 
 "When one's ancestral halls are comprised 
 in the luxurious phrase, * lodgings at Hamp- 
 stead/ " said Frank, with a laugh. 
 
 " Ah, but you won't be in lodgings in Hamp- 
 stead for ever. When people speak of the 
 successful young author, Frank Heath, he 
 will be living in a comfortable little house 
 somewhere ; and in a few years the little 
 house may be changed for a big one." 
 
 "If it were not for your encouragement I 
 should never get beyond the lodgings, I am 
 afraid."
 
 go MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " Of course you would. You have got some- 
 thing to say, and in spite of yourself you will 
 have to say it. But to return to your sisters. 
 I am giving a little afternoon party in about 
 a fortnight, and you must all three come. 
 Christabel has such a pretty voice that I shall 
 want her to sing. Will you give your sisters 
 my love, and say that I will send them a card 
 as soon as I have fixed the date ? " 
 
 "It is very kind of you — very kind indeed. 
 The way you have taken us up, and bothered 
 yourself; there is not another woman living who 
 would have troubled herself half so much. It 
 is a difficult thing to talk about," poor Frank 
 went on, trembling beneath the fear that his 
 feelings would lead him to commit himself and 
 thus lose all his chances. " But I want you to 
 know that I think you the most perfect woman 
 I have ever met, and I owe you a debt of 
 gratitude that I can never repay, not if I live 
 to be a hundred. Please don't think that I am
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 91 
 
 only saying this on the spur of the moment. I 
 shall never change my opinion, even if I fail 
 utterly to fulfil all your kind predictions." 
 
 And then as he rose to say good-bye, some- 
 what abruptly, he stooped and very humbly 
 and very respectfully kissed the white hand she 
 held out to him.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 '' But, my dear, our frocks ! " 
 
 Christabel let the card flutter to the table, 
 and fronted her sister with questioning eyes. 
 
 " Our frocks ! " she repeated forlornly ; " how 
 can we ? " 
 
 " Our frocks are quite all right,^* said Marion, 
 with an air of decision. " I have been thinking 
 it over. For one thing we are in mourning, 
 and nothing elaborate would be expected. For 
 another, Mrs. Bouverie wouldn't have asked us 
 if she thought we should feel underdressed. 
 She knows we can't appear in confections from 
 Worth just as well as we do ! Come, don't be 
 a silly ; it will do you good to go out, and do
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 93 
 
 me good too. I shall answer this afternoon, 
 saying we shall be very pleased." 
 
 The invitation to the '' little afternoon party " 
 was just delivered, and had indeed created 
 something like a panic. For all her semblance 
 of composure, Marion had not been guiltless of 
 certain tremors herself when she drew the awe- 
 inspiring pasteboard from the latest novelty in 
 envelopes. To live in cheap apartments, and 
 to go to a reception in Mayfair, is an incon- 
 gruity calculated to strike terror into the 
 bravest of feminine hearts, for cheap apart- 
 ments and Mayfair fashions are seldom found 
 in company. She, too, had inwardly gasped 
 " Our frocks " in a moment of agony ; she, too, 
 had mentally cast a " wild, misgiving eye " 
 over the contents of the upstairs cupboard. In 
 women self-possession is primarily the work of 
 the milliner. A chorus-girl dressed by Felix 
 will bear herself among duchesses as if she 
 were one of them ; the daughter of an earl in
 
 94 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 a gown from Westbourne Grove will feel bash- 
 ful at the Mansion House. 
 
 The girls knew each other an fond. Christa- 
 bel clasped her pretty hands behind her back, 
 looked the other straight in the face, and 
 nodded three times. 
 
 " You are a humbug, darling ! " she said. 
 " In the black, black depths of your mind you 
 are as scared of cutting a figure as I am, only 
 you won't admit it/' 
 
 Marion laughed. 
 
 ** Perhaps I am," she acknowledged, " but 
 that will simply make me take additional pains 
 with myself — not stop at home ! Besides, 
 really and truly, you know, we should never 
 have been asked if it were to be a big affair. 
 She has far too much good taste for that, has 
 our Mrs. Monte Cristo ! To refuse because 
 we fear that the people there would sneer at 
 our " get up '^ is to give her credit for less 
 tact than a school-girl. Now, isn't it ?"
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 95 
 
 " Ye — es, I suppose it is, if you put it that 
 way." 
 
 " And we should hurt her feelings if she 
 guessed the reason." 
 
 *' Possibly we might." 
 
 "Which would be both rude and ungrate- 
 ful ! " 
 
 "Marion," said Chrissie, "you are a gad- 
 about as well as a humbug. I will remonstrate 
 no longer ; I wash my hands of you. Write 
 and accept this minute, and on your own head 
 be it." 
 
 Once the note was posted, both began to 
 look forward to the event in store for them 
 with pleasurable anticipation. Since they had 
 been in Hampstead their life had been suffi- 
 ciently quiet to make anything in the shape of 
 a party a bewildering excitement. Excepting 
 a curate of the church they attended, and his 
 prim little sister, none of their neighbours had 
 condescended to notice them, nor did the Stir-
 
 96 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 lings themselves call very frequently, though, 
 when they did, Marion had more than a sus- 
 picion that the young man did not find 
 Chrissie's society disagreeable. 
 
 The Stirlings were of good family, but in 
 the most straitened circumstances. A curate's 
 stipend is not a very substantial basis on which 
 to found an income. A pittance of their own 
 the brother had refused to touch or share from 
 the day that his sister's intended husband was 
 drowned on his way home from Australia. 
 The engagement had lasted for eight years, 
 and the poor little woman of two-and-thirty 
 was completely prostrated by the shock. 
 When she recovered she set herself a task from 
 which she had never shrunk — that of hiding 
 her sorrow from the world,, and of trying to 
 make lighter, so far as she could, the griefs of 
 others. Her brother idolized her, and there 
 was scarcely a poor person in the parish who 
 did not owe gratitude to her for some cause
 
 MRS. BOUVERTE. 97 
 
 or other. Something in Clarion's face had 
 attracted her from the morning on which she 
 saw her first in church, and she had made it 
 her business to call on the Heaths. But all 
 her attempts to enlist them in the work of the 
 parish failed ; and when Miss Stirling heard of 
 the life they had led at Threegates, and of the 
 life they led now, she understood it was kinder 
 not to intrude on them too much. On an 
 average she looked in upon them once a week, 
 and once a week IVIarion and Christabel, in 
 their best hats, returned the visit. They 
 drank tea and discussed " Shakespeare and the 
 musical glasses/' and the respective merits of 
 the local shops. The High Street vras best for 
 this, and Belsize Terrace for that^ and Fitz- 
 john's Parade for the other. And what nice 
 florists there were in the neighbourhood, had 
 they noticed them ? They had noticed them 
 — they were charming ! It was blameless, 
 colourless, dull ; dull even for Christaljol, 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 towards whom the curate would look occasion- 
 ally with fascinated eyes, mutely confessing 
 adoration. Marion, for whom he had no eyes, 
 was often bored profoundly in the first stage 
 of their acquaintance. It will be seen that a 
 formal invitation from Mrs. Bouverie came to 
 them as the Ball to Cinderella, as the manna 
 in the desert, as the sail to Robinson Crusoe. 
 Yet they had had to hesitate because of gowns ! 
 Who would not be a man when a frock coat 
 and an evening suit will take him anywhere ? 
 Who will withhold sympathy from women for 
 being obliged to spend a thousand or two a 
 year on clothes ? Only husbands — brutes with- 
 out compassion. 
 
 The girls looked very nice after all when the 
 day came. Some girls do, whatever they put 
 on. And, as it turned out, Mrs. Bouverie was 
 as simply dressed as themselves. 
 
 " I am so glad you are punctual," she said, 
 welcoming them, and then turning to Frank
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 99 
 
 with a smile. "I told you an early hour on 
 purpose, so as to get you all to myself before 
 the others arrive. By the way, Mr. Brockle- 
 bank was here the other afternoon, and he 
 gave me very good accounts of a certain young 
 gentleman. Although you do not see much 
 of him, he knows exactly how you are getting 
 on, and I believe — only it is a secret, so be 
 very discreet — that an article by Mr. Frank 
 Heath will appear very soon in a number of 
 the Hyde Park, subject to certain modifications 
 and editorial cutting. I congratulate you in 
 anticipation." 
 
 Frank flushed hotly, and tried to look in- 
 different. 
 
 " I had no idea ; it was merely written in 
 spare time one day. I suppose Jessop must 
 have seen it, but he never said anything to me." 
 
 " Jessop is the sub-editor, is he not ? Mr. 
 Brocklebank has it now at all events ; and the 
 public will have it very shortly.'^ 
 H 2
 
 100 MRS. BOUVERIE, 
 
 " How delightful ! " cried Marion and Chrissie 
 in a breath. " You are doing wonders for so 
 short a time, Frank/' 
 
 " And it is all through you," Christabel 
 added, squeezing Mrs. Bouverie's hand affec- 
 tionately. " You are a perfect fairy godmother, 
 excepting that you are much too young to be a 
 godmother. Fairy godmothers, though, per- 
 haps are young ; are they ? " 
 
 " I give it up," said Constance, laughing. 
 " Now tell me what you are going to sing this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " I shall never have the courage ! " 
 
 " To tell me ? '' 
 
 " No, no, to sing of course. Oh, Mrs. 
 Bouverie, don't ask me ! " 
 
 "Well, we^ll see about it. I don't expect a 
 crowd, you know ; there'll be no occasion to 
 be nervous. Look at your brother : there's an 
 example for you ! With an article on the point 
 of seeing the light, and a novel to follow (with
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 10 1 
 
 the critics all sharpening their pens), he pre- 
 serves his composure still. How is it pro- 
 gressing — the book — well ? " 
 
 " I'm getting on with it quickly," he answered, 
 " too quickly, I'm sometimes afraid. The 
 characters are beginning to talk for themselves 
 now ; you understand what I mean ? I don't 
 have to think what so-and-so's opinion of a 
 certain subject would be ; so-and-so is a person 
 who thinks for himself." He ran his fingers 
 through his hair, and his sisters looked at him 
 as if he were Thackeray. " It is very curious 
 the way one's characters develop themselves 
 after a little," he pursued. "At the com- 
 mencement they are so wooden and so stiff — 
 just names, and then by degrees the breath 
 seems to get into them, and they live. That 
 is why I should never care to work at short 
 stories. Before your names can come to life in 
 a short story the curtain falls, and the show is 
 over."
 
 102 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " Cannot the great novelist give life to his 
 * names ' from the inception ? It would be finer 
 art still. You open the book, you turn a page, 
 and loj the character is before you." 
 
 * It would be very good," he said dubiously, 
 " but at all events / could never do it. I 
 have to warm up to it ; I find the best written 
 parts I have done so far are those in which my 
 pen has run away with me. Of course I revise 
 and correct tremendously, but even before I 
 make my alterations they seem the best done. 
 Do I talk about my method a great deal 
 considering I am only at the A B C of litera- 
 ture ? " 
 
 He found his " method " a very pleasant 
 topic, as do most young artists, and was re- 
 lieved when answered in the negative. If the 
 footman had not opened the door and an- 
 nounced Captain Lingard, of the Queen's 
 Musketeers, and Mr. Valentine Fairs, an 
 A.R.A., it is doubtful where it would have
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 103 
 
 landed him, since he was at present at that 
 stage in art in which one discovers one's views 
 chiefly in enunciating them, and contra- 
 dicts oneself epigrammatically twice every five 
 minutes. The newcomers, however, gave a 
 more impersonal turn to the conversation. A 
 few moments later the door opened again. 
 The room began to fill, and the company per- 
 force divided itself into groups. The fragrance 
 of tea was in the air ; there was the hum of 
 voices, and from time to time the ripple of a 
 laugh. Papucci played a solo ; a woman's roses 
 fell from her waistband, and in the hush their 
 drop to the carpet was heard. Everybody 
 surged to the Italian and congratulated him. 
 He shook his long hair, and deprecated his 
 performance in terrible English. There was 
 more laughter, more chit-chat. The white 
 stockings of footmen circulated more freely. 
 Mrs. Bouverie perceived that Captain Lingard 
 had taken a seat by Marion, and was gratified
 
 104 MRS. BOUVERIK 
 
 by her glimpse of them. The scheme of pro- 
 viding the two girls with suitable husbands had 
 long been simmering in her head, both for their 
 own sakes and for her proteges. Though the 
 ties between brother and sisters were of the 
 strongest, she knew that nothing hampers a 
 man more than having to support his relations 
 in the early part of his career; on the other 
 hand, if his sisters were happily married, it might 
 be of as great an advantage to Frank as to 
 themselves. It will be observed that the in- 
 terest she had taken in him was not a caprice* 
 but that she had determined to remove every 
 obstacle from his path with all despatch. 
 Papucci was going to play again. There was 
 a stir in the room. The footmen effaced them- 
 selves; people changed their chairs so as to be 
 nearer the piano. Captain Lingard and Miss 
 Heath, however, seemed content to listen 
 where they were. A most successful after- 
 noon!
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Mr. Jessop's opinion of Frank had been 
 steadily improving since the day when he 
 perceived that his snub had been taken in such 
 perfectly good part, and, indeed, without the 
 least trace of resentment. He went so far as 
 to invite Frank to a luncheon at Pagani's one 
 day, in a burst of amiability, combined with a 
 feeling of wealth, which the unexpected repay- 
 ment of a " fiver," lent in a weak moment to 
 an impecunious journalist, had occasioned. 
 
 Over their coffee and cigarettes Mr. Jessop 
 told Frank that he had worked very satis- 
 factorily, and that, with great application and
 
 I06 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 perseverance, he fancied that he ought to turn 
 out a good "all-round man" in time. 
 
 "Do you mean," said Frank, "that it will 
 be years before I can do anything really 
 good?" 
 
 " I don't know about years," the sub-editor 
 answered, '^ but everything takes time, you 
 know.^' His utterance was a little thick — he 
 had satisfied his incessant thirst pretty 
 generously that morning. "You can't expect 
 to get a ten years' experience in as many 
 weeks or months," he went on, " and take my 
 word for it, you want all that to show any real 
 grit as a journalist. A rough diamond is of no 
 use in civilized society until it's both cut and 
 polished. And a man may have plenty to say 
 on a variety of subjects, but he has got to learn 
 how to say it in order to ram it down people's 
 throats ; and it wants hard ramming in these 
 days, and plenty of it. There is no harsher 
 critic, as a general rule, than your man of
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. IQJ 
 
 superficial education, who depends upon his 
 newspaper for his knowledge. He is hard and 
 bigoted, and he has not the wide views and 
 the power of judgment which early association 
 with clever and refined people always gives, or 
 which is gained by thorough intellectual train- 
 ing. Thirty or forty years ago all the papers 
 were written for the minority. All that kind 
 of thing is impossible now. Now mind this, 
 my dear young friend, I am not advising you 
 to pander to the masses, nor to swallow all 
 your convictions (if you have any), but the 
 secret of worldly success and of popularity lies 
 in the amount of tact that a writer possesses. 
 Technical knowledge is, of course, more or less 
 essential, but it does not go for much without 
 experience. A young writer is like a woman, 
 impulsive and burning hot, or icy cold ; he 
 wants to roast all his enemies, or professional 
 adversaries, at a slow fire one minute, and to 
 hug them to his bosom with sublime self-sacri-
 
 loS MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 fice the next. Now I suppose that you want 
 to shy the decanter at my head ? " 
 
 " Not a bit," said Frank, laughing. " I am 
 taking it all in 'through the pores/ like Joey 
 Ladle." 
 
 " Have another cigarette and then we'll move 
 on. There is a lot of work to be done before 
 six to-night.' 
 
 As they were driving back to the office, 
 Jessop said, " By the way, what about that 
 novel you were talking about the other day, 
 and which I have no doubt you have com- 
 menced already } " 
 
 Frank started. ^' I have commenced it,^' he 
 said. 
 
 "Of course. I guessed as much. Now, if 
 you were to work on at it for the next six 
 months, and then put it by for five years, and 
 keep your eyes and ears open meanwhile — 
 good Lord ! when you read it again, you'd 
 either burn it or re-write every chapter. There
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. IO9 
 
 are far too many youngsters in every walk of 
 life trying to run before they can walk ; but in 
 the literary world they jostle you at every 
 corner. Look here — but I will stop if you 
 like ; I am not speaking personally." 
 
 " I should not mind if you were, because I 
 could not help feeling that you are only 
 stating absolute facts." 
 
 " I am not given to exaggeration," Jessop 
 said, a little testily. " You are exceptionally 
 reasonable for your age, or I would not have 
 said things that, though undoubtedly true, 
 might possibly offend you. But here is the 
 simple fact " — he slapped his knee emphatically 
 with his open hand — '' you can't enter the 
 Army, or the Navy, or the Church, or be called 
 to the Bar, or become a doctor — you can't even 
 be a carpenter, or a shoemaker, without passing 
 your examinations or serving your apprentice- 
 ship. In heaven's name, why should you not 
 do one or the other in the profession of letters,
 
 no MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 which requires a clearer head than any of 
 them ? " 
 
 They had reached the office by this time. As 
 Frank was taking off his coat, Jessop paused in 
 the act of opening some letters that had arrived 
 by the two o'clock delivery. 
 
 " I don't get on that tack again in a hurry," 
 he observed, with a short laugh. " Now I have 
 had my say. If you have got nothing to do 
 next Friday, I shall be pleased if you will come 
 round to my rooms. Two or three men will be 
 there, and you will probably hear some rather 
 interesting conversation." 
 
 " I shall be delighted to come," said Frank. 
 " It is very good of you to ask me — as I am 
 such a youngster," he added^ slily. 
 
 " Why, Tom Mansell's coming, and he is not 
 more than five-and-twenty. I daresay you two 
 will hit it off very well." 
 
 " Mansell, the artist ? " Frank asked, quickly. 
 
 ** He draws in black and white, and in time
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. Ill 
 
 no doubt, will be one of the best men of the 
 day." 
 
 " Then I met him out at dinner last week," 
 Frank said quietly, chuckling to himself. 
 
 " You did ? Then you met a devilish clever 
 young chap. He is on two of the best illustrated 
 papers, and got back from Africa last month." 
 
 " Jessop would have been rather angry if I 
 had said that Mansell's career rather upset his 
 theories," thought Frank, as the sub-editor 
 settled himself down to work. *' Well, after all, 
 exceptions prove the rule, and I am going to be 
 an exception if I can." 
 
 It happened that on the day of Jessop's party, 
 Marion and Christabel had received a friendly 
 little note from Miss Stirling, asking them to 
 go round in the evening to meet two young 
 cousins who had arrived unexpectedly from 
 India on the previous day. They were dis- 
 cussing this when Frank came home somewhat 
 earlier than usual. Christabel ran to open the
 
 112 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 door to him, and remarked, with a laugh, that 
 she supposed he had been a good boy that day. 
 
 " Very good,^' he said, catching her round her 
 slim waist and kissing her. " So much so that 
 I am actually going to old Jessop's rooms to- 
 night. He is giving a party, and your brother 
 is to be one of the illustrious guests." 
 
 "Just fancy,'' said Christabel, looking at 
 Marion, " that old bear asking you after his rude- 
 ness the other day." 
 
 " Not exactly the other day," Marion remarked 
 gently ; " it was quite three months ago — soon 
 after Frank went there. Mr. Jessop has had 
 time to discover that Frank is not a mere idler, 
 amusing himself with literature." 
 
 "^ But a budding novelist and a promising 
 journalist," ansvv^ered Christabel, with a mis- 
 chievous laugh. ^'Why, he occasionally has 
 paragraphs in that celebrated chronicle of fashion 
 and society and general news, Hyde Park!' 
 
 " If you chafi me too much," Frank said
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. II3 
 
 gravely, " I will smear those roses that you have 
 been painting so elaborately." 
 
 " Don't touch them, there is a darling boy ; I 
 have been slaving hard all day. We had better 
 send a note to the Stirllngs, and say we cannot 
 come, Marion ; I am rather tired." 
 
 But when Frank heard of the invitation, he 
 insisted on his sisters accepting it. " It will do 
 you good/' he said, putting an arm round each 
 of them, and giving them an affectionate squeeze. 
 " I can leave you there on my way to Jessop's, 
 and Stirling will bring you back, if I am too 
 late to do so myself. I shan't feel selfish 
 then." 
 
 So it was arranged, and with the pleasing 
 consciousness that he was not leaving his sisters 
 alone, Frank betook himself to Charlotte 
 Street, Russell Square. 
 
 He was the last arrival, for the other men all 
 lived in London and had not far to come. The 
 room was so full of smoke that for a moment or 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 two he could not distinguish Jessop himself. 
 As his eyes became accustomed to the haze, he 
 saw Mansell and three other men besides his 
 host. 
 
 " Here you are at last, Heath, my boy," said 
 the latter, with a kindly nod. " I began to 
 think that you had changed your mind. Here's 
 a chair. You know Mansell, I think." 
 
 " Any relation of the late Canon Heath, of 
 Threegates ? " asked a short, stout man, who 
 was smoking a large German pipe with the face 
 of a fat lady in ringlets on its china bowl. 
 
 " He was my father," said Frank, quietly. 
 
 " I am sorry for your loss," the other said 
 kindly. " I was at Brazenose with your father. 
 We met but rarely afterwards, I am grieved to 
 say. He was one of the noblest-minded men I 
 ever knew.^' 
 
 Jessop introduced his young colleague, and 
 Frank discovered that the stout man was the 
 dramatic critic to a leading daily, and considered
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. II5 
 
 one of the smartest journalists in London. The 
 others were a dramatic author of considerable 
 repute, and a novelist who was also proprietor 
 of a monthly review. 
 
 Various subjects were discussed, from evolu- 
 tion, electricity, the situation in Africa, to the 
 solvency of a theatrical lessee, the impending 
 collapse of a magazine, the proprietors of which 
 declined to receive contributions from any but 
 Cabinet Ministers and members of the Peerage 
 — at any rate so some of their contemporaries 
 declared, — the actor-manager question, on which 
 the dramatic critic and the author got into a hot 
 argument, and the peculiar fact of the longevity 
 of one great class of politicians in contrast to 
 the short lives of their rivals. 
 
 Mansell drew Frank aside and asked him how 
 he was getting on with his novel. 
 
 " Pretty well," he answered ; '' I hope to get it 
 out next November." 
 
 " You are tolerably young,'^ the other re- 
 I 2
 
 Il6 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 marked frankly, ^* but that is no drawback If you 
 know what you are about. Why, I wrote for 
 the papers myself before I was nineteen." 
 
 " I had rather you said nothing about it to 
 anyone, especially to Mr. Jessop, if you don't 
 mind. He was very down on me the other day 
 on the score of writing before I had had suffi- 
 cient experience. Of course he calls me only 
 a youngster," he added, laughing. 
 
 The other joined in the laugh as he offered 
 Frank a cigarette. 
 
 " He is a surly old bear, I know, but there is 
 a lot of genuine kindness underneath that surli- 
 ness. He did me a good turn once when I was 
 hard up^ he lent me a ' tenner ' and gave me a 
 thundering good introduction to the editor of 
 the Illustrated Times — Macdonald — who is a 
 very old friend of his. I don't mind telling you 
 that he went further than that. I was on the 
 point of making a fool of myself for life, and old 
 Jessop convinced me that I was an ass. It
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. liy 
 
 takes a pretty clever man to do that with an 
 obstinate, hot-headed boy/' 
 
 " I can fully appreciate all you say," Frank 
 answered warmly. " It is really through him 
 that anything of mine has appeared in Hyde 
 Park, and lately he has let me do some of the 
 reviews. At first, you know, I imagined that 
 the Chief was the Alpha and Omega of the 
 paper, but if I had to depend on him alone, 
 I am morally certain that I should have done 
 nothing but correct proofs for years." 
 
 'Til tell you what," Mansell said, as they 
 were on the eve of departure, " I have got an 
 idea about your novel. Would you like a few 
 sketches in it ? Say a frontispiece, and so on. 
 If you would, I will do them for you with 
 pleasure." 
 
 " It's very kind of you to think of it," Frank 
 returned, gratefully, " of course, your sketches 
 would be a great attraction to any novel." 
 
 " "Well, look me up," said Mansell, giving him
 
 Il8 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 his card ; " you will find me at home any Sunday, 
 and I shall always be glad to see you." 
 
 " Good-bye/' said Jessop, as Frank shook 
 hands with him. " I hope you have not been 
 bored/' he added, drily. 
 
 " I have enjoyed myself immensely, Mr. 
 Jessop, and it was very good of you to have 
 asked me." 
 
 " I thought you might as well get acquainted 
 with some good men. I am glad you didn't 
 attempt to argue with Percival and Morris, they 
 wouldn't have stood it, you know." 
 
 " I may be more or less of a fool," Frank said, 
 a little indignantly, *' but if I were such a consum- 
 mate ass as that, I should deserve hanging." 
 
 " If I hadn't felt pretty sure of you, I shouldn't 
 have asked you," Jessop said, giving him a slap 
 on the back. 
 
 Mansell walked with Frank as far as the 
 Marble Arch, where the latter got into a cab. 
 As he was driving home, he pondered over the
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 19 
 
 fact that first impressions were not always 
 to be depended upon. At Mrs. Bouverie's 
 dinner, he had not been favourably impressed 
 with Mansell, but to-night they had fraternized 
 intimately, and he made up his mind to take the 
 first opportunity that presented itself of intro- 
 ducing the artist to his sisters.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " Curzon Street, Mayfair, 
 
 ''May 14th, 189— 
 '* Dear Mr. Heath,— How is that I have not 
 seen anything of you for the last three weeks ? 
 No doubt you have been very busy. I was 
 delighted to see your article on the ' Pessimism 
 of To-day * in II}^de Park. It is a splendid 
 subject, and a clever man of five-and-thirty 
 might have composed many of the sentences. 
 But how is the novel going on ? Will you 
 come to see me on Saturday at three o'clock 
 and bring the manuscript with you ? I am 
 writing to ask your sisters to go with me to a
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 121 
 
 concert to-morrow, so you will certainly feel 
 
 your ears burning in the afternoon. — With 
 
 kindest regards, believe me, always sincerely 
 
 yours, 
 
 " Constance Bouverie." 
 
 The receipt of this letter made Frank feel 
 slightly uncomfortable, recognizing, as he did, 
 that he was certainly guilty of having broken 
 through the compact under which he had 
 arranged to call once a week at Curzon Street. 
 
 Not that he had been neglecting his work 
 and felt ashamed of owning it to the woman 
 who had helped him so very much more than 
 he knew or even guessed. But his friendship 
 with Mansell had grown very quickly, and the 
 last three Saturday afternoons had been spent 
 in the music halls. 
 
 The first time that Mansell had asked him to 
 go, Frank had not liked to refuse, fearing that 
 if he pleaded another engagement he would 
 scarcely be believed by the other. And when
 
 122 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 the next Saturday came round, he found himself 
 in the same predicament. 
 
 '^ I should like to go immensely," he said 
 with hesitation ; " but the fact is, I have a kind 
 of engagement — " 
 
 "Then take my advice," the other said, 
 decidedly. " I have had more experience than 
 you ; leave her alone. Don't go. You are too 
 young to know how to manage a woman." 
 
 " I didn't say it was a woman." 
 
 " You didn't say the sun was shining either ; 
 but it happens to be shining at this moment. 
 I want you to come back with me afterwards ; 
 some fellows are coming to dinner, and we'll 
 have some fun." 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie felt a little hurt, but being a wise 
 woman and pretty good reader of human nature, 
 she determined not to let Frank see it. After 
 three Saturdays had gone by with no signs of 
 him, she wrote to him, and Frank with trembling 
 hand answered her letter by return. He tore
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 23 
 
 up the first two sheets before he was satisfied, and 
 at last read his third effort with a sigh of relief. 
 ** Dear Mrs. Bouverie," he said, " Thank you 
 very much for your kind letter. I shall be 
 delighted to come on Saturday, and I will bring 
 the manuscript, although I fear you will be very 
 much bored. I am rather in a dilemma upon 
 one or two social points, about which I must not 
 make any blunder. I wanted to have seen you 
 ever so much, but I did not like to trouble 
 you. — Believe me, always your grateful FRANK 
 Heath." 
 
 The next day was Wednesday, and the rest 
 of the week went on leaden wings. When at 
 last Saturday came round Frank hurried home 
 from the office and spent three-quarters of an 
 hour in arraying himself, and then got into a 
 hansom. He awaited her in the cosy little ante- 
 room that led off from the drawing-room, and 
 wondered what she would say to him. The 
 flowers in the vases were chosen with perfect
 
 124 ^^RS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 taste and harmony ; the photographs on the 
 mantlepiece and one or two of the little tables 
 were of her friends and of some of the leading 
 musicians and artists and prominent politicians 
 and other celebrities. Frank smiled as he 
 thought of a certain " star " in tights and a very 
 long train, and an attitude that the County 
 Council would certainly disapprove of, whose 
 photograph lay in a drawer of his dressing- 
 table. He and Mansell had each bought one 
 at one of the music halls, where the lady was 
 making a tremendous sensation as the very 
 highest kicker on the stage. Suddenly Mrs. 
 Bouverie entered the room, and he sprang up 
 expectantly. She was wearing a tea-gown of 
 dove-coloured silk crepe, with old Mechlin lace 
 falling about it, and some bows and long loops 
 of golden-brown velvet. A few daffodils were 
 fastened a little way below her throat, and Frank 
 was for a moment quite dazzled with her beauty^ 
 " I am so glad you have come," she said, with
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 12 5 
 
 a smile, and giving him her hand. "We will 
 have a good afternoon's work. I do not expect 
 any one else, but in order that we might be 
 uninterrupted; I have told Davis to say I am 
 out." 
 
 " How awfully kind of you ! I feel utterly 
 ashamed to bother you so much," he answered, 
 showing his admiration so unmistakably that 
 she could scarcely help smiling. 
 
 " I assure you that it is the greatest pleasure, 
 and if you do not wish to offend me you must 
 never say that again. Don't you understand 
 me better than that, Mr. Heath ? " She was on 
 the point of saying '' my dear boy," but the 
 radiance in his face prevented her. 
 
 " I do not know how to thank you, Mrs. 
 Bouverie." 
 
 " The best way will be for you to begin at 
 once from the point where we left off. Shall I 
 interrupt you when I think it advisable to make 
 an alteration ? "
 
 126 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " Oh, please do ; I am afraid the ball scene 
 will sound very improbable and very crude. It 
 will have to be all re-written and the language 
 improved." 
 
 " That will be easy enough. Plenty of 
 novelists alter a whole passage several times 
 before they are finally satisfied with it. Now 
 begin. I am all attention." 
 
 Frank cleared his throat and started. 
 
 His hero, as I have said before, was founded 
 upon Frank Heath, modified, of course, accord- 
 ing to the writer's imagination. He represented 
 the kind of life that he himself would have led 
 if circumstances had been in his favour. The 
 rusticating episode came in, and various other 
 escapades, all common to youth when un- 
 hampered and unfettered by want of money and 
 other causes. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie, under the guise of the heroine, 
 played the keynote. The actual differences in 
 their ages was altered so far, that three years
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 12/ 
 
 only were on the wrong side. She was the good 
 angel, the guiding star of the Frank in fiction, 
 the confidante of all his troubles and vicissitudes. 
 During the first volume he was not exactly in 
 love with her, his reverence was so great that he 
 did not dare to throw himself at her feet. His 
 feeling was much the same as that experienced 
 by a young artist on his first view of the Venus 
 de Milo. Two brief engagements and one or 
 two entanglements brought the reader into the 
 second volume, which was as far as the manu- 
 script went. 
 
 As novels go it was distinctly good. There 
 was no padding, nor was there any evidence of 
 the desire to depict the daily life of people of 
 whom he had had no experience. Neither 
 dukes nor costermongers came into it, nor 
 duchesses, nor actresses. "The Career of 
 Gerald Ingram " was a story full of impulse 
 and probability, with here and there an 
 ardent passage that carried you along with
 
 128 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 it, and nailed your attention to the main 
 theme. 
 
 *' Of course you will re-write it all, or dictate 
 it and polish it up and — so on," Mrs. Bouverie 
 said thoughtfully. " I am certain that it will be 
 a success : the style is spontaneous and very 
 natural, without being at all dull. I should 
 recommend you to go on straight to the end, then 
 turn back, go through it all over again, and have 
 it copied out for the publishers. You will notice 
 many little faults that are principally the result 
 of quick work. I suppose," she went on, smil- 
 ing to herself, and turning her head aside for 
 the moment, " that eventually George marries 
 Marguerite ? " 
 
 " Yes, he marries Marguerite, the woman who 
 saves him from making a fool of himself, the 
 woman who has been his good angel, and is 
 worth all the other women put together. I 
 want to paint her as one of those women who 
 by their mere presence, apart from their person-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 29 
 
 ality, compel even a young hot-headed fool to 
 honour and respect them as he does his own 
 sister — who seem to him the incarnation of 
 purity and goodness and all that he reverences : 
 not exactly his ideal, you know, because one's 
 ideals are always impossible beings who would 
 be absurd and unsatisfactory in real life. A 
 good, true woman is not one of the wild self- 
 sacrificing martyr-like beings that some people 
 try to cram down one^s throat. Do you think 
 I shall succeed in creating the impression ? ' 
 Frank asked, a little breathlessly. 
 
 " Undoubtedly/' Mrs. Bouverie answered,, 
 rather drily. " Like David Copperfield's Agnes, 
 she will be a type of good womanhood." 
 
 Frank looked up and saw her eyes fixed 
 rather sadly on an engraving of " The Spring 
 of Love,'^ that hung just above his head on the 
 right. It had been delicately coloured by an 
 artist friend who knew Mrs. Bouverie's great 
 liking for the picture. As an example of per- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 fectly-matched people in years and in beauty 
 and in sympathy, whose love and admiration 
 are mutual and entirely inexplicable, because 
 one of those intuitive perceptions that requires 
 no explanation, ''The Spring of Love" must 
 ever rem.ain a masterpiece to most young and 
 impulsive natures — even to older ones it is a 
 very pleasing picture. 
 
 As Mrs. Bouverie sat, a ray of sunshine fell 
 across her head straight on to that of the girl, 
 who is holding her flowers to her lover's face. 
 Involuntarily Frank turned and looked at the 
 engraving. 
 
 " Isn't it sweet ? I am never tired of looking 
 at it," Mrs. Bouverie said, softly. 
 
 " Rather too idealistic, though. I don't like 
 the man in that get-up — it is neither one thing 
 nor the other. It certainly isn't classical." 
 
 " My dear boy, for Heaven's sake don't get 
 practical yet. Of course it is an ideal, and even 
 I am not old enough to have lost all mine. I
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 13I 
 
 hope 1 shall always have a fe\v_, or at least the 
 love for them. That is an argument with regard 
 to one of the modern great painters that irritates 
 me beyond endurance. Because you cannot 
 walk about the streets of London and Paris and 
 see a woman of the face and carriage of one of 
 his figures, does that prove that they never 
 existed ? Even if you could not discover an 
 Eastern girl or a Sicilian quite so refined as he 
 depicts them, what then ? The drawing is 
 faultless : they are the type — or the type to 
 many people — of beautiful women, and if you 
 refuse to accept them because they are not 
 commonplace, you may as well destroy most of 
 the old masters' creations upon the same 
 principle." 
 
 Frank laughed. " You are quite excited," he 
 said, looking at her with something very like 
 adoration. She was very lovely then, with a 
 curious light in her eyes, and a delicate flush 
 that had spread over her face. 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 "As for that little thing, 'The Spring of 
 Love,' I like it because it represents the most 
 exquisite thing in life : the rapture that comes 
 with the first great love — the love unsullied by 
 any previous experience or knowledge ; a love 
 pure and unselfish, and all-absorbing on either 
 side. It is the rarest gift from Heaven. Like 
 mercy, it blesses the giver and the taker. The 
 few who have experienced that love have found 
 life here below a perfect Paradise — at any rate 
 for the time being. But I should say that not 
 more than ten out of every thousand people are 
 so fortunate.'^ 
 
 She stopped suddenly, and there was a little 
 break in her voice. Frank was silent for a few 
 minutes, 
 
 " I think I understand your meaning," he 
 said presently. " You do not say that only one 
 per cent, is capable of loving ? " 
 
 '^ Ninety-nine per cent, are or may be capable 
 of it," she interrupted. "The rest only have
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 33 
 
 their love equally returned, and are happy. To 
 come back to yourself, don't try to fly before 
 you can walk. Believe me, it is the greatest 
 possible error. Cherish your illusions, and your 
 ideals : you will be all the better for them. 
 Want of belief and enthusiasm are sapping the 
 vitality and the manhood of most of the present 
 generation. They believe in nothing, they have 
 little or no ambition ; they are — or think they 
 are — old men before they are thirty. All this is 
 as bad in its way as injecting morphia or smok- 
 ing opium, this detestable physical and intel- 
 lectual anaemia. I'd rather be a savage dancing 
 round a fire and revelling in cruelty and 
 absurdity, but ready to die in the defence of my 
 religion or my tenets, and possessing a belief 
 which no torture could weaken. 
 
 '' Indeed, I consider that many savages — as 
 we call them — are far finer and nobler men than 
 half those you see in London drawing-rooms : 
 the former would scorn to do a mean action to
 
 134 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 a friend, and would resent an insult to them- 
 selves or one of their family to the death. The 
 latter have no friends, because they do not 
 possess the requisite qualifications to retain any- 
 thing stronger than a mere acquaintanceship, 
 and so long as they can cheat without being 
 detected, and win from others their dearest 
 treasures, from a wife to a fortune, they are 
 quite content, and apparently unconscious of 
 their treachery, while the victims in most cases 
 have not the courage to fight for their own. 
 
 ''Don't think I am pessimistic, my dear 
 friend. It is only the present young generation 
 that disgusts me ; the men of thirty and up- 
 wards are well enough. To tell you the truth, 
 that is why I took such a liking to you, because 
 you were still a boy, with your enthusiasm 
 unchecked, your ambition still great, and 
 because the vicious lives led by so many young 
 men were apparently unknown to you. It 
 would be one of the greatest sorrows of my life,"
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 35 
 
 added Mrs. Bouverie, earnestly, "if I thought 
 you would be foolish enough to forget that you 
 were the son of one of the most honourable men 
 who ever breathed. I should have had no 
 patience with a fool. Enjoy yourself as much 
 as you like, but read your Don Quixote, and 
 keep your honour bright." 
 
 " If ever I were unfortunate enough to offend 
 you, it would be the bitterest punishment that 
 could be given to me."" 
 
 " It is very good of you to say so, especially 
 after all this tirade. Have I bored you very 
 much?'' 
 
 Her handkerchief had fallen to the floor, and 
 under the pretence of getting it, Frank flung 
 himself at her feet. 
 
 " I would rather hear a lecture from you than 
 the softest love-vows from any other woman," 
 he cried, his voice shaking with emotion. " You 
 are an angel, as far above me as if you were in 
 heaven ; and if I live a thousand years, I can
 
 136 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 never hope to — to convince you that apart from 
 all you have done for me, I would die for 
 you." 
 
 He was only one-and-twenty, and very much 
 in love with the woman who was some years his 
 senior and his superior in position, and possess- 
 ing much more worldly experience, therefore I 
 think his living and dying in a breath may 
 perhaps be pardoned. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie showed herself his true friend. 
 She took her handkerchief from him calmly and 
 smiled. 
 
 "Thank you, my dear friend, very much," she 
 said, gently ; '^ but I would much rather you 
 lived — not a thousand years, though — and 
 achieved your share of literary fame. If I ever 
 wanted any little return from you, I should get 
 it amply when I read good criticisms on your 
 work.'' 
 
 " Of course you don't believe me," said Frank, 
 with a sigh, the torrent of love's eloquence
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 3/ 
 
 checked on his lips ; " and I am so young, I 
 know — " 
 
 " Not a bit too young to show what you are 
 made of. I am prouder of your friendship than 
 I should be of any protestations from a mere 
 society butterfly, and we are firm friends, I 
 hope ? " 
 
 " For ever and ever," said Frank, getting up, 
 with another big sigh.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 For the next week Frank felt as depressed and 
 miserable as if he were utterly alone in the 
 world — without money and without hope. He 
 went about his work mechanically, answered 
 Jessop in monosyllables, kept out of Mansell's 
 way, took a few more whiskeys-and-sodas than 
 were good for him, and wrote two exceedingly 
 tragic and harrowing short stories, in both of 
 which the heroes died uncomfortable deaths. 
 He began several letters to Mrs. Bouverie, in 
 which he tried to set forth his feelings, and 
 wished her to understand that he loved her as 
 no man on this earth had ever loved before, or 
 would ever love again, and that he would cheer-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 39 
 
 fully immolate himself within her sight, and 
 pray for her happiness with one worthier and 
 more suitable to her than himself. 
 
 Various quotations adorned these letters, and 
 he found Webster's Dictionary and Tennyson 
 very useful ; some phrase about " powers never 
 yet called into being," that he recalled having 
 read years before in some sensational story, 
 soothed him very much, and had figured in most 
 of the epistles ; but, happily, none of them was 
 despatched. 
 
 Marion and Christabel saw that something 
 was wrong, but wisely left him alone. Both 
 girls were working hard now. Marion had had 
 three of her stories for children accepted, and 
 Christabel received regularly, from a large 
 furniture firm, a supply of articles for enamelling 
 and painting. The money they each gained 
 was certainly not much ; but the two girls de- 
 rived infinite pleasure in being able to buy so 
 many things for themselves and for the house,
 
 140 MRS, BOUVERIE. 
 
 and they looked forward to the time when they 
 would be practically independent. Marion 
 guessed that Frank^s griefs were connected with 
 Mrs. Bouverie, but she determined to ignore the 
 fact, and when Christabel once or twice won- 
 dered at his loss of appetite, and slightly re- 
 sented his keeping away from them by taking 
 long walks, or shutting himself up in his 
 room for hours, Marion persuaded her to say 
 nothing. 
 
 "I am quite certain that it is nothing to do 
 with Mr. Brocklebank. The boy's working hard, 
 and a slight worry is likely to aggravate itself 
 into something great for the time being," Marion 
 said quietly, one day. 
 
 '* How do you know that it is nothing to do 
 with the office ? Perhaps he's offended Mr. 
 Jessop." 
 
 " I asked him the question, and he assured 
 me that he was on the best possible terms with 
 both Mr. Jessop and Mr. Brocklebank. He has
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I4I 
 
 written a good deal for the paper lately, and 
 there will be a great deal of his work in this 
 week's number." 
 
 " Well, then, he must be in love with some 
 one," Christabel suggested, after a few minutes' 
 silence. 
 
 " I am far from being certain you are right," 
 Marion returned, with well-assumed indifference. 
 She was engaged in watering their various ferns 
 and palms which she had placed outside the 
 window in the little enclosure which their land- 
 lady called the balcony. " He has been out a 
 good deal lately with that Mr. Mansell, whom 
 he is so anxious we should be civil to. Probably 
 at one of the theatres or the music halls he has 
 seen a chorus girl or a dancer, who, to his mind, 
 combines the charms of Venus and Juno and 
 the rest of the goddesses. Talking about it 
 would only do mischief; he will laugh at his 
 folly by-and-by — that is if it has any exist-
 
 142 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 *' I don't think he'd care about the kind of 
 people you refer to," said Christabel. 
 
 *' Nonsense, my dear child. At his age all 
 young men rave over some actress or other ; but 
 at the same time, I know Frank too well to 
 believe him capable of getting into a serious 
 scrape. Fortunately, his writing takes up most 
 of his attention." 
 
 " I shall say nothing more," answered Chris- 
 tabel. Truth to tell, she was a little piqued, 
 and she painted industriously for some time. 
 
 Marion was sensitive to a degree, and she 
 perfectly understood her sister. Nevertheless 
 she went upstairs and busied herself in dusting 
 and tidying the bedrooms. Frank's fireplace 
 was littered with scraps of paper, and some that 
 he had thrown there had blown on the carpet, 
 owing to the draught from the open door and 
 window. Marion picked them up and put them 
 in the waste paper basket, and in doing so, she 
 could not help seeing a few words here and
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 143 
 
 there ; "if only you would believe, my beautiful 
 Constance, that my love is not an ephemeral 
 — a mere boy — I can think of no one but you 
 night and day — from the first moment when 
 I saw you — sunlight on your hair and in your 
 eyes — aroused feelings never yet called into 
 being — " 
 
 As convincing proof that Mrs. Bouverie was 
 the target at which these amatory phrases were 
 aimed, an envelope, only half torn across, lay in 
 the grate, with her name and address staring 
 Marion in the face. 
 
 " Poor boy,^' she said, with a sigh. " It is just 
 as I expected. And how like a man to leave 
 such evidence about ! The landlady and Sarah 
 know Mrs. Bouverie quite well, and they might 
 have found these scraps as easily as I." She 
 gathered them all together in the grate, and then 
 set light to them. When only ashes remained 
 she tidied the room, and, meeting the servant 
 girl on the stairs, told her to sweep up the fire-
 
 144 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 place and clear it out. That done, she surveyed 
 his writing-table and pushed the sheets into a 
 little order without disarranging them. 
 
 " He'll get over it in time. She is a kind- 
 hearted woman, if ever I saw one in my life^ and 
 she will let him down easily. Poor boy, he will 
 be all the better in time for having loved — or 
 fancied himself in love — with a good woman. 
 Of one thing I am determined, and that is, he 
 shall never know that I have discovered his 
 secret." 
 
 While they were at dinner that evening 
 Marion made a startling proposal. The girls 
 had inaugurated late dinner in honour of Frank, 
 not letting him know they took nothing but 
 a make-shift luncheon, so that no additional 
 expense was incurred, nor any extra trouble 
 given in the cooking. 
 
 " Frank, dear^ you have never brought your 
 friend Mr. Mansell here yet." 
 
 Frank started. "He wants to come very
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I45 
 
 much ; but I didn't know if you would like it," 
 he said. " Not that I am ashamed of the place," 
 he added, hastily ; '* no one could be, considering 
 how pretty you have made it. I will bring him 
 back with me one night." 
 
 " I am afraid we can scarcely ask any one to 
 dinner yet. It would be wiser to wait until we 
 can afford the luxury of an extra sitting-room. 
 But if you like to fix a day next week, we 
 can ask the Stirlings to come in with their 
 cousins." 
 
 " Very well,^' said Frank. " I will go and see 
 Mansell to-morrow. But are those all you 
 propose to invite .-* " 
 
 " I don't know who else to ask," said Marion. 
 
 " Mrs. Bouverie/' cried Christabel. " Surely we 
 ought to ask her. She will certainly come if she 
 is not engaged." 
 
 Marion hesitated. She did not dare to give 
 Christabel a warning look, and if she had, the 
 younger girl would not have understood it, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 14^ MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " You must certainly send her an invitation/' 
 Frank said, decidedly. 
 
 " Very well," said Marion, gently. " If you 
 both wish it, I will write her a letter." The 
 thought occurred to her that Mrs. Bouverie 
 would have the finesse to invent a good excuse 
 if she thought it advisable. But Mrs. Bouverie 
 did nothing of the kind. The next Sunday she 
 drove over in the afternoon, and said she would 
 be delighted to come on the day in question. 
 On Thursday morning a quantity of flowers 
 and fruit arrived in a large basket, exquisitely 
 decorated and filled with lilies and roses. 
 Marion and Christabel busied themselves to 
 their hearts' content the whole morning. 
 
 Soon after breakfast the landlady knocked 
 at the door, and, on being told to enter, did 
 so, with an air of mystery and importance com- 
 bined. 
 
 " What I wanted to ask you, miss,'' she said, 
 addressing herself to Marion, " is what are you
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I47 
 
 going to do about the refreshments to-night ? 
 If you let me know your wishes, I will do all I 
 can to carry them out." 
 
 Mrs. Rogers was a good-looking woman, and 
 trim and neat in her appearance. As she her- 
 self expressed it, she had lived as housemaid 
 with the ^'quality'' before her marriage, and 
 now and then ''^gave herself airs " — at least, so 
 her neighbours said. 
 
 '^ We can't do much, you see," Marion said, 
 with a laugh, " having only one room to enter- 
 tain in. Tea and coffee, and sandwiches and 
 some fruit, are about all we shall aspire to, 
 Mrs. Rogers." 
 
 " Lor', miss, that is just what I said to myself ! 
 I knew you would not be having of anything so 
 vulgar as a sit-down supper. xA.nd how about 
 the sandwiches ? — ham, I suppose, and a little 
 tin of tongue makes a most genteel little sand- 
 wich.'^ 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Mrs. Rogers " — poor 
 L 2
 
 148 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Marion began to feel very uncomfortable, and 
 Christabel hid herself behind the piano — "to 
 tell you the truth, as we want them to be very 
 thin and nice, we thought of doing them our- 
 selves." 
 
 ''You let me do them. I rather pride myself 
 that there's very few as equals me. Some has 
 talent for one thing and some for another. The 
 best ham at two-and-six a pound, and a new 
 quartern tin-loaf. I will send the girl out at 
 once, and you shall have one or two this after- 
 noon to see." 
 
 " It is really very kind of you, Mrs. Rogers." 
 " What I mean, miss, is that I don't need to 
 be told what you have been used to all your 
 days, and what you do have now shall be as 
 good as it can be. The coffee, best Mocha, at 
 one-and-ten, very strong, and a shilling's-worth 
 of cream and hot milk for them as prefers it," 
 Mrs. Rogers went on, breathlessly ; " and it is 
 warm for the time of year, so that ices ^'
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I49 
 
 Christabel's pretty head appeared over the top 
 of the piano. " Mrs. Rogers," she said solemnly, 
 " you are a very kind woman, and your ideas 
 are excellent " — the landlady beamed — " but 
 ices ! We should positively be ruined." 
 
 " Lor' bless you, miss_, a quart of milk, half-a- 
 dozen eggs, and some of those fine raspberries 
 you've got there is all you need have,^' Mrs. 
 Rogers cried, triumphantly. " I've got a most 
 beautiful icing pail. I got it at a sale, thrown 
 in with a hip bath and a turn-up bedstead, and 
 I sometimes make ices for Mr. Schneider at the 
 Violin Academy, when he has one of his musical 
 evenings." 
 
 "You are really an angel, Mrs. Rogers." 
 "That little side table will come in handy," 
 the landlady said, walking across the room on 
 the tips of her toes, in what she deemed a most 
 refined manner. ** The coffee shall be ready at 
 nine o'clock, and the ices when you ring for 
 them. I never saw such a very elegant basket
 
 150 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 as that in all my born days, and the flowers are 
 that lovely." The good woman drew a long 
 breath, and by degrees finally got back to the 
 door, which she closed behind her safely.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Thanks to Mrs. Rogers' excellent management, 
 Marion and Christabel were able to give them- 
 selves up to entertaining their visitors without 
 any feeling of anxiety, and Mrs. Bouverie com- 
 plimented them with evident sincerity when she 
 said that she had seldom had a more enjoyable 
 evening. Christabel's singing was always worth 
 hearing. Frank had an excellent tenor voice, 
 and Mr. Mansell a ringing baritone that, in 
 spite of little training, was equal to many a 
 professional's. Then, too, he had a very quick 
 ear and could accompany himself on the piano, 
 and, as he was familiar with most of the well- 
 known operas and burlesques, his performances
 
 152 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 were extremely well received. One of the 
 Stirling cousins recited " The Portrait/' and 
 an original composition which neither at the 
 beginning nor end was very explicit ; but 
 as he knew how to act, and to make the most 
 of a dramatic scene his hearers were not bored. 
 
 When Mrs. Bouverie left, the Stirlings also 
 took their departure, and Mansell seized the 
 opportunity to try to talk to Marion, for whom 
 he, evidently, had keen admiration. Frank was 
 at first very quiet. He did his duty as host, 
 and talked to little Miss Stirling, and to one 
 of her cousins, who was rather shy. Of Mrs. 
 Bouverie he managed to keep tolerably clear, 
 without any visible avoidance, although she, 
 with her charming bonJwmie, possessed the rare 
 gift of making every one feel perfectly at ease, 
 so that he need not have been under any 
 apprehension. She was the life and soul of the 
 room without in any way depriving the girls of 
 their natural privileges ; and, at last, poor Frank
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 53 
 
 vied with Mansell in paying her little atten- 
 tions. It was too strong a trial to stand by and 
 see another man engrossing her the whole 
 evening, and Frank was too young to be able 
 to hide his feelings very successfully. 
 
 When they were once more alone, he turned 
 to Marion, who was shutting the piano, and 
 asked her how she liked Mansell. 
 
 "Very much, dear. He is wonderfully ex- 
 perienced for his years, and he seems to have 
 been everywhere, and to have seen every- 
 thing." 
 
 " He is special artist to the Illustrated Times, 
 you know. They sent him out to Africa. He 
 knows Egypt, and Abyssinia, and Morocco, and 
 the Cape equally well, and last year he went to 
 Russia. A life like that brings a fellow up to 
 the scratch." 
 
 " Very much so," Christabel said, rather dryly 
 — for her. 
 
 " I like his voice, and his manner of singing,"
 
 154 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Marion remarked. " Altogether, Frank, you are 
 lucky in your choice of a friend." 
 
 ''Then all I can say is that I hope Frank 
 will have very many friends by-and-by, who 
 will not be such paragons of success," Christabel 
 said, shortly. " Good night. I am tired, and 
 it is half-past one." 
 
 " She does not like him," Frank remarked 
 with considerable surprise. " I wonder why." 
 
 " Did you not notice his trying to drive Mr. 
 Stirling into an argument as to the efficacy of 
 missions, and the question of too much inter- 
 ference with the lower classes ? — and, when that 
 failed, he stuck to the teetotallers, I could 
 scarcely help laughing myself, his remarks were 
 so forcible and so witty." 
 
 " Didn't little Stirling like it ? Of course 
 Mansell was only chaffing — more or less. 
 Both subjects have been worn threadbare." 
 
 " Even if he partly agreed, how could Mr. 
 Stirling openly say so, considering that he is
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 155 
 
 himself a total abstainer, and that he works so 
 much amongst the poor ? You may do a thing, 
 to set an example, that may be opposed to your 
 own inclinations, but if you once let that fact be 
 known abroad, the efficacy of your sacrifice is 
 entirely destroyed." 
 
 "And Chrissie takes Stirling's side. Well, 
 he is a very good little fellow, but I certainly 
 thought Mansell would be a little more to her 
 taste." 
 
 After the first pangs of grief had been 
 lessened by time, Frank settled to work with 
 renewed energy, and the novel made rapid 
 progress. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie had written to him since her 
 last visit to Hampstead, and had returned the 
 three chapters which, by her own request, Frank 
 had left in Curzon Street on the — to him — 
 memorable Saturday. Her letter was, if 
 possible, kinder and more sympathetic than 
 ever. She agreed with him that a woman's
 
 156 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 knowledge was more or less essential on many 
 of the points to which he had referred, and thus 
 it was that she had ventured to make a few 
 notes which she hoped he would find useful. 
 
 " There are very few English or French 
 writers who understand a woman's nature as 
 thoroughly as an analytical chemist does a 
 patent medicine. In fiction this knowledge is 
 invaluable, but in private life it is most undesir- 
 able. Those men can never be very happy in 
 feminine society, because the veil through which 
 a man views a woman — the veil which makes 
 her beauty and her personality all the sweeter 
 by reason of its suggestiveness and its mystery 
 — is torn aside. They have nothing more to 
 learn, nothing more to experience, no new sen- 
 sations to be created ; and, in my judgment, they 
 are to be sincerely pitied. There is a great 
 difference between knowing too much and being 
 a fool. My dear Frank — if I may call you so — 
 don't err on either side. Don't get your enthu-
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 57 
 
 siasm damped, as I said to you the other day. 
 I know a man of seventy whose intellectual 
 powers are gigantic, and whose strength is 
 apparently unimpaired, and who can enjoy the 
 charm of a pretty, fascinating girl as heartily as 
 if he were twenty, without that blase admiration 
 that would make her shrink from him, unless 
 she were one of those ' up-to-date' monstrosities. 
 I once saw a famous Lord Chief Justice, who 
 was perilously near his seventy-fifth year, roar- 
 ing with laughter at the drolleries of the clown 
 and the policeman in a pantomime, and I am 
 sure that he wasn't a bit ashamed of it. For- 
 give me if I am boring you, but I could not 
 help noticing the regret with which you mention 
 your ignorance of women's conversation, and of 
 feminine details generally. Believe me, you 
 will write just as well despite the ignorance, 
 even if you never dispel it. Study men in every 
 phase possible to you, and let the other sex 
 reveal themselves by degrees. Many of the
 
 158 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 novels of the present day are so wanting in 
 correct intuition ! The women draw impossible 
 men ; they are either feverish or morbid, or 
 hysterical, or else guardsmen, seven feet high, 
 who lounge in drawing-rooms and flirt with 
 every girl in the book by turns. Of course, 
 there is the character dear to feminine novelists 
 — the falsely-accused hero, whose inheritance is 
 taken possession of by his brother or his rival, 
 and who goes to Dartmoor in place of the real 
 offender. Men, being less impulsive and more 
 impartial than women, seldom give themselves 
 away so completely. Men, on the other hand, 
 often draw impossible women. Let each sex 
 make a study of their own, and they will paint 
 much more faithfully than the majority of the 
 present writers of fiction. 
 
 '' Let me know how you are progressing, and 
 don't fail to count on me in every way in which 
 I can possibly help you." 
 
 When Frank looked at Mrs. Bouverie's notes.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 59 
 
 his heart swelled with gratitude. He at once 
 recognized that if he took her advice his work 
 would be considerably improved. Her letter 
 was kissed several times, and an answer, teem- 
 ing with appreciative gratitude, sent by return. 
 Then, w4th a fresh incentive to work, he stuck 
 manfully to his desk, and, after nearly a month's 
 application, realized that he had approached his 
 last chapter. 
 
 Marion and Christabel had been to see Mrs. 
 Bouverie one Saturday, and, at her request, 
 Frank had accompanied them. But other 
 visitors were there at the time, and consequently 
 the conversation was confined to general sub- 
 jects. As Frank headed a fresh sheet of paper 
 with chapter xxxv., and knew that it was the 
 last, he felt that he ought to write to acquaint 
 Mrs. Bouverie with the important fact, and ask 
 permission to take all the fresh part over to 
 Curzon Street the next Saturday. Her advice 
 had been so valuable to him with regard to the
 
 I60 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 earlier part of his story that, however much he 
 shrank from seeing her alone, he realized he 
 could not leave her in ignorance of the rest 
 of the work. And delay was useless ; his love 
 was eternal, he told himself ; never should he 
 be able to think of any other woman. Acting 
 on this thought, he wrote, and received a 
 cordial reply : — 
 
 "My dear Frank, — Come and lunch at 
 1.30 on Saturday, and we will have a long after- 
 noon over the novel. I am most anxious to hear 
 how it ends. — Always your sincere friend, 
 
 " Constance Bouverie." 
 
 He left the office early, and on his way 
 purchased some beautiful Neapolitan violets. 
 Jessop had been rather taciturn that morning, 
 Mr. Brocklebank having been put out by an 
 acrid paragraph in a rival paper, which lost no 
 opportunity of sending a Parthian shaft at the 
 Hyde Park. The fact was that there had been 
 a little slip in the Society-news column, but, as
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. l6l 
 
 the rival said^ with delighted triumph, if the 
 paper which professed to contain more accurate 
 news with regard to celebrities and social func- 
 tions than any other fell into such an error, 
 where is one to pin one's faith ? Mr. Brockle- 
 bank had gone down to the office in a towering 
 passion — instead of travelling down, as was 
 his wont, to Eastbourne on Saturday morning. 
 Everyone in the office felt the effect of the 
 "chief " being upset^ and Frank congratulated 
 himself that he had not corrected the proofs of 
 the Society-news column that week. 
 
 But Jessop stopped him as he was going out, 
 and produced a copy of the paper of a fortnight 
 back. " Look here," he said, pointing to the 
 literary criticisms, " you wrote these three short 
 notices." 
 
 " Yes, I did," said Frank. " You read them 
 afterwards, if you remember." 
 
 " I glanced through them ; the remarks were 
 true enough, but don't you know that Aubrey 
 
 VOL. I. Irl
 
 l62 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Plantagenet is a lady writer. Did you ever 
 know a man assume such a name as that ? " 
 
 " From the style of the writer I thought that 
 the author was certainly a man," Frank observed, 
 with some hesitation. ^' I read every word of it, 
 and the knowledge it showed of clubs and 
 theatres, and curious people — " 
 
 Jessop snorted. 
 
 *' What rot you talk ! A man would not 
 make such an ass of himself — and a man doesn't 
 make everyone of his women characters a 
 Jezebel either. It is only women who are 
 always heaving bricks at their own sex — or 
 paving-stones if they can manage to lift them. 
 There is no real information in the book at all. 
 As a matter of fact, I happen to know that the 
 woman who wrote the rubbish began life as a 
 ballet girl at the * Audacity.' She injured her 
 knee, and had to look out for another profession, 
 and so took to writing novels. That is the way 
 the market gets overstocked. People who have
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 163 
 
 as much idea of expressing themselves sensibly 
 and correctly as has a poodle, rush into fiction 
 with the idea of making a living/' 
 
 " I am very sorry I made such a stupid 
 mistake," Frank said, earnestly. " Has Mr. 
 Brocklebank noticed it ?" 
 
 " Fortunately not — at present. But, as I told 
 you before^ a critic must not make mistakes. 
 He has got to know everything — more or less ; 
 anyhow, he has got to convince other people 
 that he knows everything, and if the people 
 forget a mistake, a newspaper doesn't. You 
 are painstaking as a rule — but take my advice, 
 and keep your eyes and your ears open, if you 
 want to succeed. If you ever feel uncertain, 
 come to me. I had rather you did so a dozen 
 times than that you made a slip." 
 
 Poor Frank went off rather sore at heart with 
 
 things in general ; but recognizing the fact that 
 
 Jessop had spoken kindly to him, and had 
 
 refrained from venting the irritation on him that 
 
 M 2
 
 l64 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 had been caused by the Chief's smarting sense 
 of injury. 
 
 Mrs. Bouverie had a nice little luncheon 
 ready for her protege^ and she produced some 
 particularly choice wine, with which to drink 
 the success of the novel. Frank presented 
 his flowers, and she accepted them with the 
 sweetest smile, assuring him that Neapolitan 
 violets were her favourites. Then they ad- 
 journed to the little boudoir, and took their usual 
 chairs, Mrs. Bouverie seating herself with her 
 eyes on her pet picture, " The Spring of Love." 
 
 " I thought of having an illustration here ? " 
 Frank said, interrogatively, as he finished 
 reading his best love-scene. " What do you 
 think?" 
 
 " My advice to you is not to have any 
 illustrations at all ; the headings of the chapters 
 may be prettily ornamented, but in a novel, 
 except it be an edition de hixe^ I think illustra- 
 tions are a mistake. Of course, if you were to
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 16$ 
 
 have the book got up in the exquisite style 
 affected by some French writers, nothing could 
 be better. Madame Chrysantheme, on that 
 thick white paper with those little gems of 
 woodcuts or process-work is perfection itself; 
 but that means money, my dear boy, and 
 publishers are only human. By-and-by, I 
 daresay, you may, if you choose, give your 
 works to the public in that form ; as it is, I 
 recommend as plain a thing as possible." 
 
 " I will take your advice," said Frank simply ; 
 "but I first have to conquer the publishers," he 
 added, laughing, pleased with himself to find 
 that he could talk so naturally to her. 
 
 " Publishers," Mrs. Bouverie repeated, 
 musingly. " Yes. There will no doubt be 
 some difficulty there. I wish I could help 
 you. But I don't know any of them." 
 
 "You will not, I think, misunderstand me," 
 Frank observed presently, watching her delicate 
 hands as she poured him out a cup of tea, " or
 
 1 66 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 think me a young prig when I say that I want 
 to fight the battle myself. I want to feel that 
 this stuff has come out on its own merits — if it 
 ever does come out — and without being pushed. 
 One hears so much of interest ; and, if you 
 believe some people, no one can make his mark 
 in the literary world without it. But I want to 
 have a try by myself. I am prepared to meet 
 with snubs and kicks all round, but I shall 
 hang on till something happens. If failure 
 
 stares at me from every quarter, I shall " 
 
 He jumped up and took the tea she held out 
 to him. 
 
 " Yes ? " — she retained her hold of the 
 saucer, and looked at him, smiling. 
 
 " Put it all in the fire." 
 
 "You shall not leave me to-day until you 
 give me your solemn word of honour to do 
 nothing so idiotic." 
 
 And, of course, Frank gave the promise.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mr. Richard Mansell was sitting over his 
 studio fire one wet evening in April, smoking 
 and thinking. And as he looked at the 
 spluttering pine-logs and smouldering peat — 
 which he burnt instead of coal in order to avoid 
 smoke — a woman's face, in imagination, looked 
 at him from the heart of the fire. His own 
 face, by the way, did not wear a very pleasant 
 expression, and, as he stretched out his long 
 legs to their full extent, he kicked the fender 
 once or twice impatiently. Ever since he had 
 known Mrs. Bouverie — it was nearly a year, he 
 reflected — he had made up his mind to do all 
 in his power to marry her, and her possessions. 
 There was a discrepancy in their ages, but she
 
 l68 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 never appeared to notice it, for he was old for 
 his years. He fancied that he had made a 
 favourable impression, and she certainly never 
 failed to send him a card for every one of her 
 parties, besides welcoming him on Sundays, and 
 occasionally asking him to dinner. He had 
 been very careful not to betray himself in any 
 way, but he was useful as escort to private 
 views, always sending her cards, and leaving 
 her free to ask whom she pleased to accompany 
 her. Of course she asked him, and was glad to 
 hear his opinions and criticisms ; the two were 
 well known in the galleries among artists and 
 celebrities, and no one thought of inviting one 
 without the other. Thus, for several months, 
 they met constantly, and Mansell was biding 
 his time ; he expected that his income would 
 reach the respectable sum of looo/. in the 
 course of the next year, and he determined 
 to wait until then before putting the question 
 which would — he told himself — make or mar his
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. l6g 
 
 life. Matters were at this stage, when Frank 
 appeared on the scene. 
 
 It was easy enough to see that Mrs. Bouverie 
 had influenced Frank ; the thing to be dis- 
 covered was how far and to what degree Frank 
 had influenced Mrs. Bouverie. I\Iansell felt 
 tolerably sure that there was nothing to fear, 
 but " one never knows in this world," and he 
 did not like the Saturday-afternoon conferences. 
 He knew nothing positively, but, after his first 
 meeting with Frank at Curzon Street, Mrs. 
 Bouverie told him a few particulars, and had 
 herself suggested the idea of the novel being 
 illustrated, intimating that she wished to bear 
 the expense. She relied upon his — Mr. 
 Mansell's — friendship for her to manage the 
 affair wdth tact and delicacy. He immediately 
 said that her wishes should be carried out to 
 the letter, but that since he had taken a liking 
 to the young fellow himself, he would be only too 
 pleased to give him any assistance in his power.
 
 I/O MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 " No ; " Mrs. Bouverie had returned, with 
 a laugh. " Business is business. If he has the 
 drawings at all, they must be in your best style, 
 and they will take up your time just as much 
 as if they were an order from a complete 
 stranger, or from one of the people whom you 
 work for regularly ; and you will let me know 
 what I am indebted to you, unless you wish to 
 offend me very seriously." 
 
 Mansell promised, knowing that Constance 
 Bouverie was a woman of determination, but he 
 considered it quite fair to carry off Frank on 
 Saturday afternoons now and then, lest too 
 frequent meetings should lead to dangerous 
 results. 
 
 But lately he had been too busy to continue 
 his surveillance. A few weeks before, some 
 riots in Servia had attracted considerable 
 attention, and a change of Government had 
 seemed imminent. Mansell had received orders 
 to start at once, and had to remain in the
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 17I 
 
 Balkan Peninsula until matters had se'^iied 
 down peaceably, and this did not take pl^ce 
 for more than a month. When he returned, he 
 had to stick closely in his studio to finish off 
 the arrears of other work that had necessarily 
 remained neglected during his absence ; and 
 as he looked into the fire that night, tired out 
 with want of sleep, he experienced the truth of 
 of a fact that had been hovering over his senses 
 ever since he had gone out to Hampstead to 
 see Frank Heath and his sisters. Until that 
 night it had not appeared a fact ; it had merely 
 been an impression. But it was nevertheless a 
 fact that all the women and girl faces he had 
 lately drawn bore a striking resem.blance to 
 each other, and their model was undoubtedly 
 Marion Heath. He had never asked Mrs. 
 Bouverie to sit for her portrait, though her face 
 offered great facilities to an artist because of the 
 constant change of expression. It had been a 
 long-cherished wish of his to draw her in black-
 
 1/2 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 and-white, and send the portrait to the 
 Academy ; but as yet he had not asked her 
 permission to do so. Why had Marion Heath's 
 face so persistently haunted him ? he wondered. 
 The features were clearly cut and very 
 expressive, the mouth and chin beautifully 
 modelled. It was a face that grew on certain 
 people, and the look in the eyes was rather 
 proud, but full of nobility and quick intelli- 
 gence. 
 
 Mansell was a man without relations ; not 
 that I suggest for a moment that that was any 
 disadvantage to him. " Go to strangers for 
 help, to friends for advice, and to your 
 relations for nothing/' was very wise advice 
 given by a very wise man. From earliest 
 childhood Mansell had no recollection of love 
 or kindness from parents or relatives. Money 
 sufficient for his educational expenses was paid 
 regularly every quarter to the school in Bedford 
 where he spent all his holidays. Fortunately
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 73 
 
 for him, the Head ]\Iaster was a kind-hearted 
 man, and when Mansell had passed his four- 
 teenth birthday, he summoned him to his 
 library, and asked him if he had any idea of 
 what he would Hke to be in the future. The 
 boy happened to have some sheets of paper 
 under his arm, and, as he hesitated for a 
 moment, Dr. Webb held out his hand for 
 them. 
 
 " Did you do these ? " he asked, looking at 
 the clever caricatures which covered the papers 
 in every conceivable position — including one of 
 himself in cap and gown, lecturing in his 
 favourite attitude. " This answers the question 
 at once : the boy who did these without instruc- 
 tion will be a clever artist one day. What do 
 you say ? " 
 
 The boy had answered that he should like 
 nothing better. Whereupon the Head Master 
 had communicated with the lawyers who acted 
 as young ManselFs guardians, and asked
 
 174 ^IRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 whether there were any instructions as to their 
 ward's career. They replied that there was a 
 sum of 2500/., the interest of which they had 
 paid in full each year for his maintenance. His 
 father had been in the Civil Service, and had 
 died in Madras when the child was three years 
 old ; the mother had come over to England, 
 but her health was so shattered, that she only 
 survived her husband a few months. By his 
 father's will, in the event of his mother's death 
 Mansell inherited the money when he was 
 twenty-one. There were no further instructions 
 whatever, and the mother had left her child's 
 future to the chief partner in a well-known firm 
 of solicitors. 
 
 Dr. Webb, the head master, thereupon under- 
 took Dick's art education. He reasoned that 
 there was no need to press him with classics or 
 mathematics to any great extent. For the 
 next two years the boy went to the studio of an 
 R.A. who lived in Bedford. He was then sent
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I75 
 
 to Paris and Rome, and, at eighteen, he began to 
 contribute to some of the minor papers. By 
 this time his 2500/. were slightly lessened. At 
 his majority, Mansell came into about 1800/., 
 but when he first made Jessop's acquaintance 
 the greater part of it had vanished. Poor 
 Mansell had reasoned that all work and no play 
 makes Jack a dull boy. He had worked harder 
 than most of the young fellows with whom he 
 associated or whom he met, and so for a brief 
 nine months he burned the candle at both ends. 
 But his good training saved him. If a man can 
 do his work thoroughly well ; if, in fact, he 
 does it so well as to excite admiration even 
 from the uninitiated, it is not often that he 
 need starve. Competition is very great, and 
 the only way to rise out of the crowd is to 
 achieve better results than Tom, Dick, and 
 Harry. There are exceptions^ of course, as there 
 are to every rule^ but mediocrity is the demon 
 that kills individuality, crushes out enthusiasm,
 
 176 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 and produces a hopeless stagnation which is 
 fatal to the growth of perfection. 
 
 Mansell was an enthusiast in his art. He 
 had begun with black-and-white and stuck to it 
 manfully, although one or two brother-artists 
 had suggested his taking to oils as likely to 
 prove more remunerative ; but Mansell con- 
 sidered that there was room for a good deal of 
 improvement in his own particular branch of 
 art, and he meant to show his metal. There 
 was a very strong vein of obstinacy in his 
 nature, and, as is usual with such characters, 
 the surest way to arouse it was by opposition. 
 He was gathering together a collection of his 
 best sketches, and, by-and-by, he intended to 
 have an exhibition of them in Bond Street or 
 Piccadilly. There were several portraits which 
 he had not as yet shown to the world, and he 
 meant to add to them from time to time until 
 they formed a conspicuous part of the collection. 
 Needless to sav, Mrs. Bouverie was destined to
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 17/ 
 
 adorn it, if Mansell could manage to gain 
 her permission. He had several unfinished 
 sketches of her charming head and figure, 
 executed from memory_, but they were jealously 
 guarded from alien eyes. As he sat and looked 
 in the fire and smoked, Mansell thought over 
 his life as it had been up to the present epoch. 
 He was seven-and-twenty, and it was no 
 conceit which told him he had ten times the 
 experience of many men double his years ; that 
 he could give information of some kind or other 
 to everyone with whom he chose to talk, and 
 who cared to listen — information that was 
 worth having. He had a memory as keen as a 
 razor, and he often amused himself by sketch- 
 ing the faces of people he had noticed, or 
 merely passed by in the street. 
 
 He was a well-built man, at once lithe and 
 strong. Without being handsome, his per- 
 sonality was so striking that he attracted 
 women far more than a mere Adonis-type of 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 man, and, had he chosen, Mansell could have 
 married over and over again. Society belles 
 and plain heiresses smiled sweetly upon him, 
 but to no purpose. His colours were nailed to 
 the mast, and he was not going to haul them 
 down in favour of any others. Yet — what was 
 the meaning of Marion Heath's face so per- 
 sistently floating across his memory ? He felt 
 that it was absurd and annoying and un- 
 reasonable. He admired her, but he was not 
 in love with her. She was too quiet and un- 
 emotional for him. His ideal woman was a 
 combination of Psyche and Minerva — a creature 
 of nerves and impulses, of quick, keen intelli- 
 gence, passionate, hot-tempered, but sensible 
 enough to yield when in the wrong. Constance 
 Bouverie satisfied him in every fibre. Her 
 beauty appealed to him in a different phase 
 every time he saw her ; she had as many moods 
 as an April day, and in each of them she seemed 
 more fascinating than any other woman. There
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 179 
 
 were times when she was all electricity, when 
 her hair and eyes sparkled, when her very skin 
 was bright with vivacity and energy, when her 
 colouring came and went with each emotion, 
 the quick, warm blood flowing swiftly through 
 her veins. These were the days when Mansell 
 loved to watch her, and contradict her, and 
 puzzle her, and laugh at her, for the exquisite 
 pleasure it gave him to see her lose her habitual 
 self-control. Then he would beg for pardon 
 with a gleam in the deep, dark eyes that belied 
 his humility, and on more than one occasion 
 he had provoked her to strike him quite sharply 
 with her fan or her parasol. Yet they were the 
 best friends in the world. 
 
 The point which Mansell was never sure about 
 was whether — in her case — the feeling of friend- 
 ship was strong enough to turn into love. But 
 whether she loved him or not, he determined 
 that it should go hardly with a man who tried 
 to come between them. 
 
 N 2
 
 l80 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 He said this to himself, clenching his strong, 
 white teeth while he did so. He meant to stand 
 no nonsense, and if Frank Heath came in his 
 way, he would have to look out for squalls.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Frank had finished the first bit of genuine 
 hard work he had ever accomplished in his life ; 
 and he was prouder of himself than if he had 
 produced half a dozen successful novels. He 
 had re-written the whole of his MS., adopting 
 each of Mrs. Bouverie's suggestions, and as he 
 read and re-read passages selected at random, 
 he felt that, apart from his own enthusiasm, it 
 was an original and interesting book. 
 
 Marion and Christabel had been so discreet 
 during these weeks of his laborious task, and so 
 sympathetic and anxious in endeavouring — and 
 succeeding — to make his home comfortable in 
 every way, that he felt some compunction at
 
 1 82 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 his silence, and so threw aside his depression at 
 last. 
 
 He read his sisters the first chapters of his 
 novel, after impressing upon them forcibly 
 that although at the outset they might assume 
 he was writing of himself, nothing was wider of 
 the mark. 
 
 " I want you to understand thoroughly that 
 I have not drawn anyone from life. Of course 
 it is almost impossible to escape touches of 
 one's surroundings ; and peculiarities or sayings 
 must strike one, and get reproduced uncon- 
 sciously ; but, although the hero is a young 
 fellow who starts life on much the same basis 
 as myself, and, in one or two respects, may be 
 thought to resemble me, it is not so at all. 
 You will see that as it goes on." 
 
 " Of course, dear," Marion assented, not 
 glancing at Christabel, who was smiling to her- 
 self as she sketched with deft fingers a design 
 of little Cupids for a fan. " I think you did
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 183 
 
 very wisely to start in that vein. The most 
 popular novels are those which deal with a man's 
 or a woman's life at its most interesting stages, 
 and, if told in the first person, their personality 
 seems so much more real to the reader. And 
 then you get the inner self — the ego!' 
 
 " I hope there is not too much of that," 
 Frank observed, a little anxiously. " Mrs. 
 Bouverie said at first that there were a good 
 many soliloquies, so I took out several, and 
 introduced more dialogue." 
 
 They listened with rapt attention, and, when 
 eleven o'clock struck, extorted a promise from 
 Frank to continue each night until the end. 
 
 " It is splendid," cried Christabel. " Victor 
 Gray is just the kind of man I admire. Plenty 
 of determination, proud on the right occasions, 
 and never at a loss. I am so glad you have not 
 made him an Adonis, Frank — a ' pink-and-white 
 ladies' darling.' " 
 
 "WelV said Frank, "so far as I could I
 
 1 84 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 wanted to make Gray a perfectly natural 
 character." 
 
 " And you have succeeded," said Marion, 
 with conviction. 
 
 Then came Frank's ordeal with the publishers. 
 There are some recollections which one never 
 outgrows, and as long as he lives Frank Heath 
 will remember the morning that he walked 
 with his novel — his first-born — wrapped in 
 brown paper, and beautifully directed, out of 
 that little Hampstead parlour to the post-office. 
 Post-office ! commonplace, prosaic, where the 
 blotting-paper smears one's addresses, and the 
 nibs are always crossed ; what histories and 
 complications, what anxieties and disappoint- 
 ments, fall into your boxes every hour ! What a 
 Comidie Humaine might not be issued by you, 
 with every volume bulkier than your Direc- 
 tory! 
 
 He greeted Jessop cheerily, and entered on 
 his day's work with a nervous exhilaration in
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 85 
 
 his veins that was new to him. Every now and 
 again the consciousness of what he had done 
 swept over him afresh. He consulted his watch 
 several times during the afternoon, speculated 
 when the parcel might be expected to reach 
 Messrs. Pater and Xoster's — for Pater and 
 Noster were the firm he had finally selected — 
 and, at four o'clock, he permitted himself to 
 imagine it being delivered. 
 
 How soon, he wondered, might he hope to 
 hear from them about it ? A week — a fortnight 
 — perhaps a month — must drag its weary length 
 away before his suspense could be ended. And 
 then very likely he would receive a line of 
 rejection — he could hardly look for acceptance 
 by the very first people to whom the ]\IS. was 
 submitted — that would be unreasonable. '^ x\c- 
 ceptance ! " What a stupid word it sounded, 
 as if a MS. were a thing that publishers re- 
 ceived out of graciousness. 
 
 " You look uncommonly cheerful/' remarked
 
 l86 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 Jessop, sarcastically — "anybody left you any- 
 thing ? " 
 
 Frank disclaimed a legacy, and, obeying an 
 irresistible impulse, communicated the explana- 
 tion. Certainly, he had always designed to 
 keep the matter secret until it could be imparted 
 with the greatest effect, but the temptation was 
 strong. 
 
 Jessop grinned. 
 
 *' Submitted it, have you } To whom ? " 
 
 " Pater and Noster ; they are a good firm, 
 and I had a fancy for them." 
 
 "Poor devil," said Jessop; *' I hope you 
 won't have a headache till it's published.'* 
 
 " Thanks," said Frank, smiling. " It's very 
 good of you ; I hope I shan't." 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired the other, after a pause 
 — " three volumes ? " 
 
 " I think so ; it is intended to run to three 
 volumes, but of course I hardly know." 
 
 " Glad to learn there is something you don't
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 87 
 
 know," said Jessop ; " let us hear when you get 
 an answer." 
 
 Frank was sorry, as he made his way home, 
 that he had not preserved silence on the subject 
 as he had meant to do. Now, presuming re- 
 jection followed rejection, Jessop would know 
 all abuot it, or at least divine his failure by 
 the fact that the book was so long appear- 
 ing. 
 
 Hope springs eternal in the human breast, 
 however, and especially in the breast of the 
 very young. By bed-time the author was 
 confident again, and though in the ensuing days 
 he had his intervals of depression, the outlook 
 appeared to him, on the whole, quite promising. 
 What had Marion said ? What had Christabel 
 said ? Had not Mrs. Bouverie, who read all 
 the best fiction of the day on both sides of the 
 Channel, encouraged him to expect success? 
 Jessop was a journalist, and, albeit a clever one, 
 not unnaturally inclined to disparage efforts in
 
 1 88 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 the higher branches of literature, to which he 
 himself did not aspire. Jessop should be con- 
 founded and apologetic. But it was really 
 beginning to be time for Pater and Noster to 
 reply. 
 
 When six weeks, and then two months, had 
 passed from the memorable morning that saw 
 the Magnum Opus despatched, Christabel 
 declared the firm must certainly be entertaining 
 the idea of its publication. 
 
 " Perhaps they considered the thing so awful, 
 that they have even forgotten its arrival," Frank 
 muttered. 
 
 '*^ Nonsense," said Marion, while Christabel 
 laughed. " Business people don't act like that. 
 The worse a story was, the more quickly it 
 would be sent back, I should imagine." 
 
 " Mine," said Frank, " is doubtless the happy 
 medium, the unsatisfactory composition which 
 they will take their time to return." 
 
 " Smoke," responded Christabel, snatching
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 1 89 
 
 up his pipe, " smoke, my friend, and be san- 
 guine and good-humoured. Blessed man, to 
 have tobacco ! We women do the best we can 
 with tea, but nothing seems to mellow the human 
 heart like bird's-eye." 
 
 Frank consented to be comforted, and, puff- 
 ing furiously, ultimately saw Fortune in the 
 clouds. 
 
 " When it comes out " he said, presently. 
 
 ** Oh ! " said Marion, " it's coming out, is it ? " 
 
 " Yes,'^ said Frank; "it's in the press at the 
 present moment. When it comes out, I think 
 I ought to have a copy specially bound to give 
 to Mrs. Bouverie." 
 
 Both girls approved. 
 
 " With a suitable inscription," added Chris- 
 tabel. 
 
 " With a suitable inscription, of course. But 
 I was thinking just now whether it wouldn't be 
 better still to dedicate the book to her. I think 
 I ought to."
 
 1 90 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 "You would have to ask her permission," 
 said Marion, doubtful of what that dedication 
 might betray. "You would have to ask her 
 permission, and perhaps it would be good taste 
 to print only her initials for everyone to see." 
 
 Frank, whose romance had run to something 
 poetic in the way of homage, was chilled. 
 
 " Perhaps," he agreed, reluctantly ; " anyhow 
 there is time enough to consider that." 
 
 "I wonder/' mused Marion, " what you will 
 get for it .? " 
 
 " A hundred pounds," Chrissie suggested. 
 
 " It is little enough, in all conscience," said 
 the novelist ; " but for the first book " 
 
 " Plenty of first books make fortunes nowa- 
 days," she rejoined. " Look at ." And she 
 
 mentioned two or three titles to substantiate 
 the theory. 
 
 '' Fortunes for the publisher," said Marion ; 
 ** not for the people who write them." 
 
 ''And yet," said Frank, "if I were well
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I91 
 
 known in some other capacity, I might get ad- 
 vantageous enough terms, too. It is only neces- 
 sary for your name to be familiar to the public 
 for a publisher to kow-tow to you ; the merits 
 of your stuff are a detail then. If I had just 
 been acquitted in a notorious murder case, and 
 had been talked about for months by every- 
 body in London, Pater and Noster would have 
 answered me in three days, and offered me 
 brown sherry and a cigar." 
 
 " My dear boy," said Marion, " these are 
 commonplaces. You might just as well say 
 that if I were a popular actress, I need not take 
 any trouble in writing my little tales in order 
 to place them in a sixpenny 'weekly,' with a 
 picture of me at the top. In a nutshell, the 
 public buys names, and publishers and editors 
 are, before all things, men of business." 
 
 ♦' And the world is * an 'oiler mockery,' " 
 supplemented Chrissie, " and we are all three of 
 us too good for it. Marion, if I am pressed,
 
 192 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 and it's not too stale, I'll have a piece of the 
 cake that's left." 
 
 Frank went to the sideboard and got it out, 
 and then they produced one of half-a-dozen 
 bottles of claret that he had discovered in Soho 
 at a perfectly ridiculous price. They were a 
 cheery trio, despite their misfortunes and 
 affected pessimism, and Frank was again 
 conscious how much worse off he might have 
 been ; how much worse off they all might be. 
 
 " Come," he said, " things are not so bad after 
 all. The book may be taken ; we are all to- 
 gether; and one of these days, who knows, we 
 may be driving in our carriage. And Chrissie 
 shall have a horse — ' richly caparisoned.' I 
 don't know where you buy 'caparison,' but if 
 it's something-and-a-halfpenny a yard, she shall 
 have it." 
 
 At this juncture there was a postman's knock 
 at the street-door, and he stopped short, and 
 listened.
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I93 
 
 " I won't go down," laughed Chrissie ; " as 
 surely as I do the letter is for the landlady." 
 
 " Hark ! " said Marion ; " they are coming 
 up." 
 
 " For Mr. 'Eath, miss," said the little maid- 
 of-all-work, holding the missive out. 
 
 Frank caught at it with his heart in his mouth. 
 On the back of the envelope was "P. and N." 
 He tore it open, and the lines danced before his 
 eyes. There was no parcel, only the letter ; it 
 could only mean one thing. 
 
 "Well.^" exclaimed Marion and Christabel, 
 in a breath. 
 
 He passed it to them silently, and sat heavily 
 down. Messrs. Pater and Noster thanked him 
 for the offer of his story, which they regretted 
 they were unable to accept. They were 
 '^accordingly returning the MS. to-day." 
 
 His castle in Spain had fallen about him with 
 a crash. He felt twenty years older in a 
 moment. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 However^ the next morning things looked 
 better, as things have a habit of doing after a 
 night's sleep. Frank wrapped the MS. up once 
 mere, and, acting on the principle of one who 
 realizes that life is short, and the way is long, 
 sent it off again without a day's delay. The 
 publishers, he reflected, would waste enough of 
 his time ; there was no need for him to waste 
 any on his own account. 
 
 He could not help wondering if the two 
 young ladies in the little post-office remembered 
 that the package had already passed through 
 their hands, and guessed that it was a novel 
 which had been rejected. He thought one of
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. I95 
 
 them smiled, and he felt hot and uncomfortable, 
 and, albeit it was very likely that he was 
 distressing himself unnecessarily, it is none the 
 less true that an unsuccessful author appeals to 
 the majority's sense of humour very strongly ; 
 though why it should be so. Heaven knows ! 
 I think it is that, as a nation, we have very 
 little respect for even success in literature. The 
 literary man who fails seems as stupid and 
 grotesque to us as a clown who cannot turn 
 a somersault. Success is the only possible 
 apology for the existence of either. 
 
 Of course Mrs. Bouverie had to learn of Pater 
 and Noster's refusal, and the following Saturday 
 afternoon saw Frank Heath again in her 
 drawing-room. He affected a stoicism he was 
 far from feeling, having tact enough to be in- 
 stinctively aware how distasteful his goddess 
 would find repinings. 
 
 " I am very glad you have submitted it some- 
 where else," she said. " I cannot say that I 
 O 2
 
 196 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 expected to hear of acceptance so soon as 
 this ; though, inconsistently enough, I am dis- 
 appointed — and confess it." 
 
 " That is what the girls say," he answered ; 
 " and, indeed, I might truthfully declare that, 
 in cold blood, I looked for nothing better myself. 
 All the same, it is a damper. One can't help 
 asking oneself why, if it is worthy of publica- 
 tion, the first publisher should not be as likely 
 to take it as the second or third." 
 
 "Well," said Constance, "we can always 
 recall the fact that many of the most famous 
 books we have, met with refusal to begin with. 
 I don^t pretend that this is an explanation, but 
 it has its comfort. The explanation, I presume, 
 is that publishers do not always know their 
 own business ; or, to put it more politely, even 
 a publisher is not infallible." 
 
 Frank found it very charming to be consoled 
 by her. There was a sympathy in her voice 
 that she did not endeavour to repress, and,
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 197 
 
 momentarily, he almost found himself question- 
 ing whether, supposing his initial attempt to 
 place the work had been successful, he would not 
 have lost something of the delights of his labour. 
 
 This, however, was while he was with her. 
 Away from her, he was not so philosophical : 
 and there were evenings when, I am afraid, 
 Marion and Christabel had a hard time of 
 it. 
 
 The second firm to which the MS. had been 
 forwarded were just as long in communicating 
 as Pater and Noster had been, and the suspense 
 told upon his nerves. He now began to perceive 
 very clearly that his chances in life totally de- 
 pended upon his succeeding in a literary career 
 — there was absolutely nothing else for him 
 to look forward to — and he was conscious, 
 also, that most of the encouragement he had 
 received had come from those whose opinions 
 might easily be coloured by their affection 
 for him — Mrs. Bouverie and his sisters — his
 
 198 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 sisters and Mrs. Bouverie. Who else had 
 faith in him ? Mansell was very good-natured, 
 and the offer of the illustrations had been 
 distinctly amiable of him. But what did it 
 amount to ? Doubtless, he had reflected, even 
 while he made the suggestion, that the book 
 would never appear ! As to Jessop — Jessop 
 openly ridiculed his ambitions, and had told him 
 that, if he kept the MS. by him for five years, 
 at the end of that time he would assuredly tear 
 it up. It was easy to attribute the sneer to 
 jealousy while one was sanguine ; but in 
 depression it appeared terribly likely that it 
 might be true. 
 
 The Sub, who pretty clearly guessed the 
 state of affairs, had refrained from asking 
 whether Pater and Noster had replied yet ; 
 but, one day, Frank voluntarily confessed the 
 fact. He felt that the other knew it, and, 
 annoyed as he was with himself for the burst 
 of confidence which rendered the humiliation
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 199 
 
 necessary, preferred to acknowledge his defeat, 
 rather than have it suspected it was too bitter 
 to bear mentioning. 
 
 '^ Oh ! by the way,^' he said, " you asked me 
 to let you know what those people answered 
 about the novel. It didn't come off there." 
 
 "Oh! didn't it?" said Jessop. "Where 
 have you sent it now ? " 
 
 " Brodie^s." 
 
 " Brodie's ! " said Jessop. " What on earth 
 did you send it to Brodie's for? You'll get it 
 back from there, as sure as a gun. They don^t 
 bring out three books a year that aren't re- 
 prints, and those are paper covers. With a 
 three-volume society novel, you might as well 
 have chosen a Bible-house." 
 
 Frank looked foolish. 
 
 " I always understood it was a good firm," 
 he said ; *' one has known the name of ' Brodie ' 
 ever since one was a kid. Anyhow, it can go 
 somewhere else, when they send it back."
 
 200 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 "You may as well let it make the round," 
 Jessop concurred ; " you won't be satisfied until 
 you have. But Brodie's ! " he indulged in a 
 short laugh. " Why don't you ask advice 
 when youVe got experienced men to give it 
 to you?" 
 
 " I didn't know you regarded the attempt 
 sufficiently seriously to spare any," sighed 
 Frank ; '* if by ' experienced men ' you mean 
 yourself? " 
 
 " Do what I can, of course, all the same. 
 After Brodie's, who's the next you mean to 
 favour ? " 
 
 Frank ran off a short list, and Jessop nodded. 
 "They are all right. If you want my opinion, 
 I don't for a moment believe that any of them 
 will touch a novice's stuff with a ten-foot pole, 
 but the names are right enough, and when 
 you've tried all of them, I'll tell you one or two 
 others." 
 
 Frank expressed gratitude — not very badly,
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 201 
 
 considering he did not feel any, and was in his 
 first youth. 
 
 " I shall be much obliged for your help," he 
 said ; " it is really very kind of you, I'm sure." 
 
 Fulfilling the Sub's prophecy the ill-fated 
 parcel lay on the sitting-room table when he 
 reached home that evening, accompanied by a 
 brief note. Messrs. Brodie said that " while the 
 language in which it was written called forth 
 the admiration of their Reader, the story was, 
 unfortunately, not of that class of exciting 
 narrative which was in demand by the public 
 just now." Frank, who was intoxicated by the 
 '* Reader's admiration,'' did not know whether 
 to be more grateful for the encomium, or dis- 
 gusted by the fatuity of the objection. He 
 wanted to know why Messrs. Brodie could not 
 say : " We publish only shilling shockers our- 
 selves," instead of pretending to answer for the 
 taste of the United Kingdom. In the light 
 shed upon him by Jessop's information, he was
 
 202 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 sarcastic and mocking-, and inquired of the 
 girls whether it was to be feared that all the 
 higher-class publishers, who did not deal in 
 paper-covered sensation, wou'd be putting up 
 their shutters. But this was a good sign^ for in 
 the face of the previous rejection he had been 
 simply speechless. 
 
 It is not my intention to detail Frank 
 Heath's efforts to secure recognition step by 
 step. Such a proceeding would be wearisome 
 to those who have never experienced dis- 
 appointments of the same kind, and equally 
 unprofitable to those who have. Suffice it to 
 say that, in the course of the next six months 
 he had essayed half the publishing-firms con- 
 tained in the list he had submitted to Jessop, 
 and with never-failing constancy his first-born, 
 his hearths joy, had returned to him after 
 many days. The MS. was now getting dog's- 
 eared in the first sheets, and loose as regards its 
 fastening at the end. From time to time he
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 203 
 
 re-copied the opening pages, to give it the 
 appearance of a virgin work, fresh from the 
 author's hand, and secured it with the long 
 brass ch'p afresh. He had ceased to despatch 
 it on its fruitless errand by post, in view of the 
 expense, and was accustomed to take it to the 
 publishers' offices himself now, handing it in 
 across the counter to the care of a variety of 
 supercilious clerks, whom he eternally cursed 
 for their demeanour. 
 
 It was telling on him — telling on him much 
 more than the brief fits of depression, which 
 had troubled nobody. His habitual manner was 
 quieter than it had been, and the girls and Mrs. 
 Bouverie noted the change with anxious eyes. 
 He did not rail at fate, but he was acquiring the 
 tone of one who no longer expects anything of 
 it — always a distressing thing to hear, and 
 especially distressing (when it is genuine) in 
 the young. That a young man should be 
 affected so gravely by the mere fact that his
 
 204 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 novel is refused may seem an absurdity to 
 many persons, but there was more than this in 
 Frank's case. Position, love, bread-and-cheese 
 itself, were to come to him from literature, if 
 they came at all, and he was receiving, from all 
 sides, what appeared to be the most practical 
 proofs that he had no qualifications for it. It 
 is not to be denied that he had cause for 
 despondency. 
 
 Jessop had altogether discontinued his allu- 
 sions to the novel ; by a tacit agreement, the 
 subject had been dropped between them. 
 Mansell, who knew from Mrs. Bouverie what 
 the state of affairs was, secretly congratulated 
 himself. With all his admiration for her, he 
 had a sufficiently low opinion of the sex — or 
 shall I say, he was sufficiently a judge of human 
 nature — to feel that nothing would kill her 
 undesirable interest in her protege so surely as 
 for him to fail in making any progress. For 
 himself, he still refrained from putting his
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 205 
 
 fate to the test — of endangering his very 
 charming friendship with a charming woman 
 by precipitancy — but he was not without a 
 consciousness that, by infinitesimal degrees, 
 he was advancing towards the haven of his 
 hopes. 
 
 One evening, while Frank was walking 
 towards Oxford Circus for a 'bus, the two men 
 met. Mansell greeted him with the geniality 
 which was so characteristic of him, and which 
 meant so little. 
 
 " Dear boy ! " he said, " I haven't seen you 
 for ages. And how is the world treating you ? " 
 
 " It isn't treating me at all," said Frank. " I 
 have to pay for everything.^' 
 
 Mansell laughed cheerily, and clapped him 
 on the shoulder : " What's the news .? " he 
 asked. " Anything fresh about the book ? " 
 
 " Apparently not — the publishers don't seem 
 to think so at all events." 
 
 " Hard lines 1 " said Mansell. " I wonder
 
 206 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 you aren't tempted to chuck the whole thing 
 up sometimes, and go out West, or to New- 
 Zealand, where a fellow isn't so cramped. A 
 man has got breathing space out there, and a 
 chance of making a fortune." 
 
 " Emigrate ? " Frank looked at him wonder- 
 ingly. " And my profession } " 
 
 " Oh, well, of course, one can^t take one's 
 profession to places like that ; at least, a writing 
 chap can't, but — I don^t know — if I found it as 
 hard to make headway in London as lots of 
 fellows that I meet do, I think I should go in 
 for something else. Take my word for it, there 
 aren't many prizes in Literature at the best. 
 Come and have a drink." 
 
 Mansell's seemingly careless words sank into 
 the young man^s mind. Emigrate ! Pre- 
 suming he could save the money, why not ? 
 He found himself recurring to the notion after 
 the other had bidden him au revozr, and he was 
 jolting on the omnibus towards the Swiss
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 20/ 
 
 Cottage. What room was there for him here, 
 as the artist had said, in this crowded, bustling 
 city ? He did not think he could ever wholly 
 throw aside his profession, but why should he 
 not obtain a position as a journalist somewhere 
 abroad ? He might at once make more money 
 and gather more experience. He would do no 
 good in England, he was sure of it. His book 
 would never be taken — never ; and his fancies 
 of one day making Constance his wife were 
 ludicrous. He was a failure, a predestined, 
 ignominious failure — the worst kind of failure, 
 for he had been given help, and had not profited 
 by it. And yet, oh, the blank, the awful sense 
 of' loss that would fall upon him, when he 
 realized that Mrs. Bouverie and he had said 
 good-bye, and that for years and years there 
 must be thousands of miles between them ! 
 
 The 'bus stopped with a jerk at the terminus, 
 and he got down. The thought of " pastures 
 new " was still upon him, still disturbing him.
 
 208 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 as he walked past the College into Belsize 
 Park, and so on up the Avenue, in the direction 
 of home. Imagination running riot, he already 
 saw himself standing on the deck of a steamer, 
 outward bound ; landing in a strange country, 
 and posting letters, witty, delightful letters, 
 narrating his adventures to Constance and the 
 girls. Ah, how boyish, how idiotic he was ! 
 For him to go abroad with the little money 
 that it was possible for him to get together 
 would be insanity. If he travelled steerage, he 
 must be almost penniless when he arrived — 
 such a scheme would be to court destruction ! 
 No, he must remain where he was, and resign 
 himself to the worst ; but it was hard on Her — 
 she had afforded him such chances. He wished 
 she had not, since they had availed him 
 nothing. He thought he would rather have 
 been friendless and unaided than have been 
 given aid and such a friend, only to show his 
 worthlessness. It made his failure ten times
 
 MRS. BOUVERIE. 209 
 
 bitterer. By Heaven, his failure was reflected 
 upon Mrs. Bouverie herself ! She, also, was 
 humiliated, and it was he who had humiliated 
 her. 
 
 '' Of all things in this world," said Frank 
 Heath, reaching the doorstep, '' the bitterest is 
 to be given the ambitions of the artist and the 
 capabilities of the clerk ! " He sighed, and 
 took out his latchkey, unconscious that he had 
 flattered himself by inferring that he was 
 competent to be a clerk. 
 
 He went heavily upstairs. His sisters' faces 
 were expectant, as they came forward and 
 kissed him. 
 
 " It may mean nothing, of course," said 
 Marion, ''but it was delivered by the second 
 post, and — " 
 
 "And the MS. hasn't come yet, though it's 
 late!" added Chrissie, with an excited little 
 laugh. '' Look ! " 
 
 She pointed to a letter on the mantlepiece. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 MRS. BOUVERIE. 
 
 He did not dare to hope now, but he paled as 
 he saw it was from Benson's, the last firm to 
 whom the novel had been sent. 
 
 " Don't delude yourselves — " he began, 
 huskily; and then the sentence broke on his 
 lips. 
 
 Messrs. Benson and Sons wrote that, with 
 regard to the MS. which Mr. Heath had kindly 
 submitted to them, they would be glad if he 
 would call upon them any day that week 
 between eleven and one. 
 
 END OF VOL I.
 
 LONDON : 
 ?RtNTED ■BY GILBERT AND RIVINGTON, LD. 
 
 ST. John's house, clerkenwell, e.g.