^^^ ^Pv /// a I E) RARY OF THE U N IVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS ..1 \ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/jean01newm %^ seemed quite un- accustomed to the position she found herself in. But, on the other side, there was old General Mark- ham telling his friend ' it did one good to see a girl able to enjoy herself in these days.' Even Nugent Orme looked a little curiously at the animated face ; but liis eyes soon turned to refresh themselves upon the fair, distinguished Maude — a quiet contrast to the other, in her delicate green crape dress, adorned with lilies. Then, fragile and elegant as she looked, he knew that her mental qualities were of a firmer and stronger texture than those of any other woman he had ever met. Yes, he felt that she was the only woman he should ever care to make his wife. He had been telhng himself that for the last half-dozen years, and yet he was partly conscious that he felt very little desire to hasten the event. He knew that he was daily and hourly committing himself to marrying her. He had not f2 68 JEAN. the slightest wish to avoid doing so, and yet he let the time slip away without ratifying the engage- ment. Moreover, he made the great mistake of supposing that his ladylove's feelings upon the matter were not any Avarmer than his own. They were not either of them given to sentiment or ro- mance — that was it. Nugent Orme believed him- self quite realistic, looking down upon everything in the shape of romance. Had she only known it, the slightest impetus on her side Avould have caused the words she longed to hear to be spoken. But she knew how fastidious he was upon many points, and was afraid to venture. ' How well you look to-night ! ' he said, Bend- ing his eyes admiringly upon her. ' All tliat soft green stuff and the silver things suit you admirably. Your milliner must be quite an artist. Had Un- dine in her mind, and perceived your fitness to represent her, I fancy.' ' I do not think Miss James is poetic enough to idealise her customers to that extent,' replied gra- tified Maude. It was so unusual for him to notice dress. ' But I am glad you approve her taste,' she added, with a little mental smile at the idea of trusting Miss James to select what she should wear. In truth none better understood the art of dress- ing than did Maude Poynder, and none knew better how to conceal the knowledge. She never COULE. R DE ROSE. 69 telked dress but to liei dressmaker, and only that person knew how much she studied it. Her ex- quisitely becoming toilettes were more suggestive than obtrusive, and only one very experienced in such matters would have suspected that she had given any thought to them. Had she now been in a company of strangers she would at once have been voted the belle of the evening. But poor Maude was under the disadvantage of having been for ten years the beauty of Eaystone, and a beauty of ten years' standing has ceased to astonish. Her reign was still undisputed. Girls knew that, wear what they would, they could never look hke Maude Poynder. Xevertheless, many of her own age found themselves h^^ppy wives and mothers, whilst she remained single. To Jean's surprise she had scarcely sat down by her aunt's side when she found herself sur- rounded bv gentlemen eaoferly solicitino; her hand for the forthcomincr dances. She dehshtedlv Rave them her tablets to fill up as they chose, and when they disagreed amongst themselves as to who was to have which, frankly informed Edward Lawrence, who appealed to her, that it did not matter in the least — it was all the same to her. Louis Poynder came up only just in time to put in his claim and rescue her for a couple of dances before she was whirled off in a galop by one of her partners. He 70 JEAIs\ had not considered it necessary to make so sure as to name any precise dances they were to have to- gether beforehand, and was not a httle surprised to find her caught up in this way. But he was a httle gratified too. It gratified him to know that the woman he intended to make his wife found favour in other men's eyes. Still he was puzzled to account for it. There were girls in the room handsomer a deal than Cousin Jean, and her man- ners certainly did not come np to the regulation pattern. It did not occur to him that the regula- tion pattern requires to be changed now and then, and that the present one had lasted some time. Any way, it appeared that a change was welcome. Jean's naive wonder and delight had drawn the Eaystone beaux about her, all eager to dance with a girl who looked as though she would enjoy it. And she did enjoy it — so thoroughly as to cause much lifting of eyebrows by those who were supe- rior to the sensation. Mrs. Poynder was a little dismayed at her niece's too evident enjoyment, but she explained to Miss Orme and two or three other ladies that this was her dear Jean's first ball. ' She was quite a child of nature — had only just left the schoolroom ' — and so forth ; making ex- cuses for her son's future wife which she would not have done for any other girl. ' Oh, how dehghtful it is ! How much nicer COULEUR DE ROSE. 71 than dancing with girls ! ' ejaculated happy Jean to her partner, Edward Lawrence, during a few moments' rest in a waltz. They happened to be standing near Maude and Nugent Orme, who were calmly discussing the merits of a new pamphlet. '1 like the tendency, which is rather Berkeleyan, and there is something very fascinating to me in the theory. But how clumsily it is advocated ! ' ' Very. The critics will not have much trouble with it; Here Jean's speech broke upon their ears. ' This sort of thing must be an admhable safety- valve for that young lady's energies,' he said, smiling. - ' In self-defence you will have to bring her to a ball now and then.' ' You are always so severe upon poor Jean, Xugent.' ' I do not admire ecstatic young ladies.' It did not improve matters in Jean's favour when she presently joined her cousin for a few minutes. ' Oh, Maude dear, isn't it delightful ? I can hardly bear myself for happiness ! ' 'You appear to be having lots of dancing, Jean. I told you there would be no lack of partners.' ' No ; I need not have been afraid, need I ? They are all so kind, too, and say such nice 72 JEAN. things to me. Do not you care for dancing, Maude?' ' Xot very much — the round dances ; but I have not been quite idle.' She had floated gracefully through a couple of quadrilles with Nugent, who was dancer enough to go through them without positive awkwardness, but had dechned others, being in truth much more interested in conversing with him than in anything beside. Miss Orme, whose tastes and deportment were of the back-board school, was very pronounced indeed in her condemnation of Jean. ' My dear child,' had been her aside to Maude, ' you will never succeed in imparting a refined tone to that young lady's manners — never. I did not take to her at first, and I am very rarely at fault in my judgment. I am afraid she will prove quite an infliction at Fernside.' ' Oh, pray do not speak in that way, dear Miss Orme ! I have just been taking Nugent to task for that very thing. He will not allow enough for Jean. She is almost a child — but just out of school, you know.' ' It is very kind, and like yourself to defend her, my dear ; but I really must take Nugent's side in this matter. Such a contrast ! ' she mur- mured to her nephew when Maude went presently to speak to her mother. COULEUR DE ROSE. 73 'Yes/ he absently replied, following Maude with his eyes. ' Wlien am I to congratulate you, Xugent ? How happy I shall be to welcome her to the Grange ! Dear Maude ! our tastes are so con- genial ! ' He patted the httle lady's hand, resting on the arm of the chair, amused at the idea of Maude being anything beyond kind and tender to his aunt. Congenial! They had not a taste in common ! Jean returned from her fii^st ball with her shoes danced nearly off her feet, her dress Hmp and torn, a solitary rose hanging in her somewhat dishevelled hair, and a general aspect of having danced four- and-twenty dances with scarcely a rest between. ' How could they ever! ' she ejaculated, gazmg in dismay at the reflection of herself in the dress- ing-glass, when she reached her room, quite at a loss to account for the bad taste of her partners. But in ten minutes her limp finery was thrown off, her prayers said, and Jean was nesthng down on her pillow fast asleep, her cheek upon her father's letter, and a happy smile upon her hps. 74 JEAN. CHAPTEE VI. ARDSEY GRANGE. Ardsey Grai^ge — a large, low, irregularly-built, ivy-covered old house — is situated about three miles from Eay stone. Approached from the main road by two long half-circular drives, from which road, above the thick plantation running parallel with it, there is only a ghmpse of its steep roof and quaint chimneys. In front of the house there is lawn enough for two or three croquet- parties, notwithstanding the great cedars and old- fashioned basket-groups of flowers. But it is the south side or back of the house which is its pride and glory. From the drawing-room and hbrary windows commences a broad stretch of green sward, bordered by a triple row of fine elms, widening grandly out towards the opposite extre- mity, and disclosing a beautiful open view of the country and distant wave of hills. The majestic old trees, in which innumerable rooks have for ages built undisturbed, are a fine setting to the ARDSEY GRANGE. 75 soft, swelling landscape beyond ; and the whole forms a picture scarcely to be matched for loveh- ness. The old Grange itself might have few ad- mirers in these days, when romance is at a discount, and gorgeous ' palatial residences ' are considered to be indispensable adjuncts of wealth, but its surroundings there could be no question about. The Ormes have owned the Grange for many succeeding generations, and are quite as attached to the old house as they are to its surroundings, never attempting anything in the way of improve- ment beyond keeping it in good repair. Its in- ternal aspect is in keeping with the character of the house. A modern fine lady would be highly amused at the long drawing-room, with its spindle- legged furniture, out-of-date chintz, lack of gilding, and endless other evidences of fashion being either unknown or disregarded at the Grange. The very suggestion of gas w^ould have been an offence to Miss Orme ; and the furniture not being conducive to lounging habits was, in her estimation, a proof of its superiority over modern inventions. If her fashionable friends regarded her as quaint and behind the times Miss Orme had her consolations. In the matter of garden- parties it was generally acknowledged that none could compete with her. More matches were made at the Grange garden-fete than at all the 76 JEAN. Other gatherings in the county; and, naturally, none were so popular. That the beautiful grounds and woods might have something to do with the success of her parties did not enter into Miss Orme's calculations. She believed it was all owing to her superior tact and management. In their everyday life the aunt and nephew saw very little of each other. During the years they had been separated, whilst he was at school or college, the little lady had occupied herself according to her own taste ; and when he returned to the Grange ' dear !N'ugent ' proved too kind and unselfish to wish her to change her habits. Ela- borately prepared for the work, with thick shoes, garden-gloves and sun-bonnet, armed with a pair of scissors, and carrying a basket for her nippings, she trotted about the grounds, holding grave dis- cussions with old Saunders, the head-gardener, over her flowers. ' As good a gardener, under proper supervision, as could be desired was Saunders,' said Miss Orme to her friends ; and ' as good a mistress as ever stepped, when she was properly managed,' said Saunders to his friends. Then there was the dearly-prized old china to be tenderly dusted (no housemaid's hands were allowed to touch it), visits to pay and receive, con- sultations with the housekeeper, the daily drive, and a certain amount of knitting to be got through ARDSEY GRAIS-GE. 77 during the day. Altogether Miss Orme felt that her life was a very important one. ^\'Tien her nephew returned to reside at the Grange she had considered it her duty to spare him some portion of her time, arranging in her own mind to devote at least a couple of hours a day to cheer him with her society. She commenced by taking her knit- ting into the library, where he spent most of his time. But, unfortunately, he always happened to be smoldncf furiouslv when she entered the room, and she found herself enveloped in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, the smell of which made her head ache dreadfully. She bravely tried to endure, but was at length compelled to give him a hint that he really must excuse her paying liim any more visits there unless he gave up smoking. Dear Nugent must be aware how very anxious she was to do her duty, and how painful it was to her to complain, but she was quite unable to endure the smell of tobacco. Then it came out that the habit was necessary for his health. He had a tendency to suffer from irritation of the nerve-tissues, which nothing but tobacco would allay, and therefore he dared not discontinue his pipe. After which little confidence !Miss Orme not only ceased to make objection, but became exceedingly anxious in her enquiries each evening whether he had taken his pipe, been very 78 JEAN. careful as to the exact quantity to be used, and so forth. But, as she could not succeed in overcoming her repugnance to the tobacco, dear Nugent was good enough to excuse her visiting him in the library. Although the Grange library cannot be said to be altogether a model one, according to modern ideas, it is large and cheerful, its oriel windows commanding the south view. Moreover, it has the generally comfortable appearance of being con- stantly used; and, to judge by the new books, reviews, pamphlets, &c. lying on the table, Nugent Orme is quite as much interested in the literature of the present as the past. It is, perhaps, just as well for her peace that Miss Orme is unable to visit the library, and is consequently unaware of the kind of reading her nephew indulges in. ' Tell me what books are lying about his |)rivate room, and I will tell you the man,' would utterly fail in appli- cation to Nugent Orme, so opposite are the opinions represented. Every important question of the day — religious, political, and social — is represented upon his library-table, with all the best opinions for and against it ; and the marginal notes indicate that the reader is in the habit of carefully sifting and weighing evidence. Great mistakes might be made by a superficial observer as to Nugent Orme's own tastes and ARDSEY GRANGE. 79 opinions, and it must be acknowledged that he takes no trouble to enlighten people ; it may be, even a little enjoying the idea of mystifying them. But whatever his private defection from orthodoxy may be, he is ready to respect the belief of others. The old rector of Eaystone always meets with respect and consideration from the son of his old friend. 'Dear, dear! I am sorry to find this here, boy!' he ejaculates, taking up a fierce raid against Church and State. ' And this,' quietly returns Xugent Orme, put- ting before him as fierce a reply. ' I see. Well, well, it seems the practice now to get at things by roundabout ways.' ' We have not all the capability for going the direct road, hke yourself, Dr. Brayleigh. You must try to be indulgent to me if I get what I want in the best way I can.' ' Only be sure you want the right thing, boy.' And the old rector would depart in the most friendly way, comforting himself ^\ith the hope that the boy was feeling his way to a behef, and that he was sound at the core, Colenso and all the rest of them notwithstanding. ' But it was a sad mistake this ranging, speculative habit of reading and thinking. Nugent had, unfortunately, got into the wrong set at the University.' 80 JEAN. ' What a fellow you are, Orme ! ' said Louis Poynder, who had lounged in for an hour, and was turning over the last importation of books upon the table. ' What man but you would go into all this bosh?' — adding, as he glanced over the authors' names, ' Swedenborg, Berkeley, and Eeichenbach ; what's to be got out of these ? * ' That's what I am trying to find out,' laughed Nugent Orme. ' I call you an awful example of the uselessness of becoming a reading man — always travelling roads that lead nowhere.' ' I get the advantage of change of scene, any way. Besides, you haven't acquired the right to throw stones yet, old man. You are an example that non-reading does not ensure settled convic- tions. ' ' Settled convictions ! I leave all that sort of thing to the women and old Brayleigh. ' Which speech, could they have heard it, would have not a little surprised his lady friends and the old doctor ; for Louis Poynder was a great deal more observant of the ceremonies of religion than Nugent Orme, and famed for his chivalrous atten- tion to women. Indeed, Nugent Orme occasion- ally takes him to task for his excessive deference towards them. ' I can't conceive how it is they put up with all AKDSEr GE.VXGE. 81 that liumbiig, Poynder. How is it that they don't see such excessive deference in small things is more hke a covert satire than a compliment ? ' he one day replied to a reminder from Louis that he had omitted to render some small service to his hostess at a dinner-party the night before. ' Couldn't she see that it would be no compliment to suppose her incapable of doing such a trifle as that without my assistance ? ' ' But, you see, it's the correct thing to offer, and they know they never look so bewitching as when they are helpless.' 'Not to me.' ' But when one is at Eome, you know. Fancy your asking Mrs. Wryville's opinion about " Com- parative Mythology" — Mrs. Wryville, who was never suspected of an idea beyond millinery ! ' ' That's her look-out. It was certainly no ill compliment to suppose her competent to give an opinion. Your sister is well up in most of the questions afloat. Your ' — there was a slight em- phasis upon the word — ' estimate of women seems none of the highest, and I can't conceive how it is that they don't find you out.' When the two were alone together each en- tirely changed his tone, the one seeming to have dropped his cynicism and the other taken it up. Louis laughed, stretching out his feet on the hearth- YOL. I. G 82 JEAN. rug as lie lay back in tlie comfortable lounging- cliair, jingling tlie loose silver in liis pockets. ' It's because I understand tliem better. I don't take them au grand serieu.x, as you do, old man, and give tliem what they want. Why, I never heard you pay a woman a compliment — not even to little Jessie.' 'When I begin, it won't be to one of her stamp.' ' Ah, you are so awfully straight-laced ; so ' Suddenly recollecting his sister, he added, good-humouredly, 'All the better for the wife, by-and-bye, eh ! ' ' If she has the taste to approve of a straig^it- laced husband.' ' Well, fortunately for me, Jean will not be very exigeante in that way, I fancy.' 'Your cousin? Jean — that child! You are not thinking of her, Poynder ? ' ' Yes, I am rather. But ' — he went on more frankly than he had ever yet spoken to the other — ' pray don't give me credit for more softness than I possess, old fellow. It's not a question of choice.' ' I do not understand.' ' Circumstances have turned out awfully against me, Orme; and there is no hope of my righting myself now unless I marry her.' ARDSEY GRANGE. 83 ' Tlien you do not care for lier ? ' asked Nugent, running a paper-knife slowly through the leaves of a pamphlet he held in his hand, his eyes gravely downcast. ' I must marry her, Orme.' Suddenly the latter's blue eyes seemed turned to steel flashing a warn- ing into the other's face. ' No, no,' he went on, hurriedly, ' it's — it's a question of money. What an ass I am ! ' he thought, as it suddenly occurred to him that he had drifted into saying just what he ought not to have said — what he had been especially warned by his mother and sister not to say to Nugent Orme. But, having gone so far, he blundered on, hot and confused in the endea- vour to explain matters a little. 'The truth is we have been very scurvily treated, Orme. As long as I can remember my uncle has led us to expect that he would make me his heir ; and knowing my mother's means were small, he has made her a very good allowance since my father's death. But a few months ago he stops the sup- phes, and coolly informs us that he has been married some years, and has a daughter at school in England, whom he intends to make his heir. You will allow that it's awfully unjust and hard upon us ? ' Nugent Orme listened a little abstractedly. He had imagined that the Poynders and himself G 2 84 JEAN. were like one family. How was it that he had received no hint of all this before.^ Who had first given him the impression that ^Irs. Poynder had offered her niece a home purely out of kind- ness ? But he put the uncomfortable doubt aside, and replied, ' Yes, I tliink it is ; but — two wrongs don't make a right, old man ; and I don't see why your cousin should have to pay for her father's injustice by being married to a man who doesn't ^.are about her. A moment, Poynder. There ought not to be the slightest hesitation or difficulty between you and me in money matters. Of course you'll take whatever you want for a start in hfe out of my superabundance ? You know I don't get through a quarter of my income. In truth, I am ashamed of having so much idle money in hand, and shall be glad if you will take whatever you require. Hadn't you a fancy for ' ' I'm past the age for serving apprenticeships,' moodily replied Louis, ' and — I can't take your money.' Nugent Orme was silent, gravely cutting a few more pages of his pamphlet, the lines about his mouth tightening a little. Half-perceiving his thought, the other went on — ' She's my cousin, after all ; and though I do not pretend to be deeply in love with her, no one could dislike Jean.' APiDSEY GKANGE. 85 ' Would you marry lier if the case were re- versed, and the money came to you after all ? ' 'If you put me in a corner like that, no.' Then, in the recklessness of his discontent, he went on : ' If the money were mine I would marry little Jessie to-morrow.' ' Jessie ! ' ' Why not ? ' a little suUenly. ■ Xugent Orme stared at him for a few moments, quite speechless. Then his face cleared again, and he said, with a smile, ' I advise you to take a blue-pill, Poynder.' ' Don't talk hke a fool. I am in earnest if you are not.' In earnest ! Xugent Orme's eyes fell and a grey shade crept over his face, his hand wandering aimlessly amongst the papers on the table by his side. As men of his calibre are apt to do, he had taken a OTeat deal for crranted in his friend, and in fact Louis Poynder had always hitherto been a good-humoured and at times brilliant companion, his gayer and more buoyant nature having its attractions for such as J^ugent Orme. Untroubled with doubts, he gaily accepted the world as he found it, passing his time in a good-humoured flirtation ^\dth religious, pohtical, and social questions, as many consider it best philosophy to do. Moreover, he had not until the last few 86 JEAN. months been inclined to carp at other people's ways, however much they might differ from his own. Nugent Orme's serious way of taking up things had been a standing jest with him, and indeed his frequent exclamation, 'What's the good of going into things to such an extent, old fellow ? one only gets more sceptical,' had seemed to have some philosophy in it to one arduously making his way through a slough of doubt. It would have been absolutely impossible for Nugent Orme to pass through life as the other had been doing, and yet he had frequently envied him his capacity for taking things as he found them. But the capacity seemed to have treacherously failed Louis Poynder in the hour of need. His philo- sophy had speedily collapsed under the pressure of circumstances — circumstances which would have brought the other's latent power to the surface, and given his mind just the impetus it needed. Nugent Orme was himself half-conscious that he would have welcomed a challenge to wrestle a fall with Fortune ; and, judging from the other's light-hearted acceptance of things as they were, he had given him credit for greater power of recovery after a blow. Suddenly had come this revelation. The friend whom he had looked upon as a brother — Maude's brother — and whose easy nature he had considered so much more ARDSEY GRANGE. 87 enviable than his own carping one, had succumbed under tlie first blow. That Louis Poynder could contemplate marrying his cousin for her money, and, if he had had money, would have chosen a girl whom he himself had always regarded as a painted doll, without an idea in her betrimmed and befrizzled head — a girl ready to bandy jokes -^nth any man who chose to address her — came like a shock upon him. ' It's all very well for you, Orme,' presently went on Louis Poynder ; ' I dare say you are vir- tuously shocked, and all that sort of thing. You know you are always orthodox where other people are lax, and lax where other people are orthodox ; but just try to suppose yom'self in my position — I am sure you would do the same tiling. Come, dont you think you would — honestly, now ? ' Nugent Orme looked hesitatingly into the other's face. ' It's not for me to say, Poynder. I'm not a shining light, as you know, and I don't want to assume that I should do the right tiling under pressure ; but I can certainly conceive something better than marrying a girl one does not care about for the sake of her money. A moment, old man — I must go on now and have done mth it. Marrying the other seems to me even Avorse. How could you introduce a person hke that to 88 JEAN. your mother and sister ? How could you expect them to receive her ? ' ' I am not hkely to have the chance of put- ting them to the test,' moodily returned Louis Poynder. ' So far good ; and in the event of your cousin being fancy-free you will find a couple of thousand placed to your account at the bank ; it will be managed all right by my London man of business, and paid in as the debt it is. It will never be touched if you do not claim it ; and you must know I don't want you to confine yourself to that sum, if you will only be friendly enough to take more.' ' Would you take it from me, if our position were reversed ? ' ' Yes, I w^ould, and set to work with it at once,' heartily. The ' set to work ' grated harshly upon the other's ears, and he replied a little constrainedly, ' I don't see wdiy I should accept money from you, if I am too immaculate to accept it from my wife.' ' But in the event of your cousin not ' ' If you mean she might not care for me, I am not at all disturbed on that score. My only fear is that she might prove a trifie too affectionate.' Then, rising from his seat, he added, a little ARDSEY GRANGE. 89 awkwardly, 'Are you coming into the towm, Orme?' ' Xo, not this morning,' rather stiffly. Yet he followed the other out, and walked wdth him as far as the road, eyeing him AvistfuUy now and again, as each tried to get into the old groove of talk again, and tried in vain. For other reasons both were very much disturbed at wdiat had taken place. Louis Poynder was angry with himself for having spoken so openly, and the latter felt as though he were bidding good-bye for ever to the friend, or rather the illusion, of his boyhood. He stood hesitating, an almost womanish pleading in his eyes, when at length Louis Poynder passed into the road and sw^ung the gate between them, as if he still hoped to hear the other recant and declare all he had said was ' mere moonshine, to set your back up, old fellow ' — a w^ay of getting out of a dif- ficulty which had been adopted upon other occa- sions. Louis looked straight along the road, only desirous to get away as quickly and pleasantly as possible. ' You won't come, then ? ' ' No, I want to look over that pamphlet.' ' Well, you'll look us up presently, I suppose ? ' called out Louis, as he w^ent briskly along the road. Nugent turned back, walked slowly towards 90 JEAN. the house again, and in a few minutes all trace of weakness was gone. A hard, cynical smile was on his lips, and he looked altogether in what his aunt termed ' one of her dear N'ugent's unsatis- factory moods.' It so happened, too, that he came upon the little lady walking briskly down the drive on her way out. ' Something important. Aunt Jemmy ? ' Now, Miss Orme had a great objection to this curtail- ment of her name which was Jemima ; and though she was too much absorbed to protest against it at the moment, it jarred upon her very unpleasantly. ' Very important indeed, Nugent,' she replied, with a solemn shake of her head. ' I am going to the Eectory.' ' So far ! Why not have had the carriage ? ' ' I could not wait. It is to follow and take me up on the road.' ' In that case your walking will not expedite matters, and you might just as well start in the carriage.' ' It was necessary to go at once,' she rather irrelevantly replied, in her anxiety to make him understand how very important her mission was, and perhaps not altogether averse to being questioned about it, notwithstanding her mys- terious air. ' Ah ! ' with a half-suppressed yawn. AKDSEY GRANGE. 91 How trying Nugent was when he put on that air of not caring for things! It really was a defect to be so unsympathetic. ' I hope you will excuse my not entering into particulars until I have seen the Eector, Nugent ? ' ' Oh, yes, certainly, ' still rather absently, as he walked towards the gate with her. 'You see, my dear boy, there are questions which by right of his office a clergyman is more fit than anyone else to discuss.' ' Yes, I suppose so. Aunt Jemmy.' ' And I need not tell you that Dr. Brayleigh may be safely trusted in the most important matters.' Then she added, earnestly, ' But I assure you I do not intend to keep anything from your knowledge, Nugent.' ' You are quite sure, aunt ? ' he replied, with a very serious face. ' My dear boy,' ejaculated the little lady, quite distressed, ' I would not for the world have you believe that I wish to keep you in ignorance of anything I do. I quite intended to explain at luncheon.' ' Then I will try to wait patiently,' he replied, opening the gate for her. ' Only two hours, you know, Nugent dear.' ' All right. Aunt Jemmy.' ' You see it was such a serious thing to occur 92 JEAX. in a liouse. I saw at once that no time must be lost, if the girl is to be saved, although the res- ponsibility is enormous.' ' Ah ! ' with a side-look into the earnest little face. ' E-normous ! ' she repeated, in high feather. ' When Ford told me just now that he had been seen on several occasions talking to the girl ' ' He— Dr. Brayleigh ? ' ' No, no, John Wild, the under-gardener. And when Ford told me that he was a Eoman Catholic, and frequently having interviews with Mary, I saw the danger at once.' ' Mary ? Are you speaking about the under- housemaid ? ' ' Yes ; and if you happen to meet John Wild it would be well to give him a hint that he cannot be permitted to hold any further communication with her, Nugent — at least for the present — until she lias had two or three interviews with the Eector, and been advised how to reply to him.' ' You are too late, Aunt Jemmy. Only this morninfy Wild himself was talkiiicr about her to me, and I gave my hearty concurrence to his seeing a great deal more instead of less of her.' Miss Orme stopped, looking blankly up into her nephew's face. ' You gave him permission to— to proselytize her?' ARDSEY GEANGE. 93 ' So far as marrying her goes, Aunt Jemmy. He tells me that they can live very comfortably upon his wages, at the North Lodge, and that they have both saved enough to start fairly with.' ' Marry her ! ' ejaculated Miss Orme, in the greatest astonishment. It had not once entered into the little lady's head that the interviews between John and Mary had been employed in love-makiuo^ instead of doctrinal discussions. Never had she felt more crestfallen. But she presently remembered the fact of the man being a Eoman Cathohc. ' You will never stand quietly by and see the poor girl drawn into such a marriage, Nugent? Think of the consequences to her. I am sure you did not know that he was not a Protestant when you gave your permission. You would never forgive yourself if she were lost through your neghgence.' ' But how if WHd gets lost ? ' ' He is quite diflerent. There would be no fear of his being lost if he thought right, you know.' ' Ah ! there is somethinsf in that, onlv it bring^s us back to Mary, you see. We must let them take their chance, I think, Aunt Jemmy.' Looking down at the httle lady's anxious, perplexed face, he went on kindly : ' But I really think you can do very well without Dr. Brayleigh's help in the 94 JEAN. matter. It requires judicious management, to be sure. People don't like having their religious opinions interfered with, and if it's done at all it requires very delicate manipulation. But if you went warily to work — say by making Mary a pre- sent of the little tract, " Truth in a JSTutshell," which you gave me — it might, I think, be more effectual than discussion. Indeed, I think it would be assuming a more dignified attitude to say nothing, simply leaving the tract to make its own way, as you did in my case, you know.' ' My dear boy ! ' ejaculated the little lady, with a dehghted look, ' if I had only known ! There are many others, " The Believer's Help," and the ' ' You are very kind, but that would be retro- grading, you know. The help should have come first. After getting the truth into a so delight- fully condensed form as to lie in a nutshell, one is independent of all the rest.' ' Eeally, Nugent, I never know whether you are in earnest or not. If you are not now, I must remind you that jesting upon sacred subjects is, to say the least, in very bad taste.' ' I beg your pardon. Aunt Jemmy, so it is. There's something wrong about me this morning, I think.' ' It is an east wind, my dear boy, and I dare ARDSEY GRANGE. 95 say you are feeling the ill effects upon your nerve- tissues,' she replied, looking tenderly up at the great frame. Have you had your tobacco this morning, dear — the right quantity.^' ' A couple of pipes or so, aunt.' ' Do you think you get the right kind at Eaystone, dear ? Wouldn't it be better to have it forwarded direct from town ? ' she anxiously enquired. ' Oh, yes, it's all right,' he replied, a httle con- sciously, ashamed of what he mentally termed his humbug ; though he told himself she would have it. Presently he w^ent on : ' You are quite sure Wild is a Cathohc, aunt ? ' Miss Orme considered a few moments. Was she quite sure ? Xow she came to think of it, Ford had hinted something about Mary having intended to live single before she said, ' But John Wild is endeavouring to give her a different belief now, ma'am.' ' No, I cannot say that Ford told me in so many words, I^ugent ; but she said that John Wild was trying to give Mary a different belief. And — oh, yes. Ford said he had given her a cross. Still.' the little lady went on hurriedly, ' I think with you, Nugent. I am quite equal to managing the affair without troubling Dr. Bray- leigh. There can be no harm in giving Mary the 96 JEAN. tract to begin witli ; and if she appears properly impressed I shall let the matter rest until I hear more.' ' A very judicious course, Aunt Jemmy.' Whereat the little lady turned back towards the house in a very complacent frame of mind. ' Dear Nugent ! it was so kind and good of him to say that! Some people were unwilling to allow that anything was judicious unless it were suggested by themselves ! ' 97 CHAPTEE VII. AT THE FETE. Many of the Eay stone elect still held to their first verdict respecting Jean, whilst Mrs. Poynder's goodness and generosity in giving her a home, and accepting all the consequent responsibility and trouble, was lauded to the skies. Happy uncon- scious Jean ! Her existence went on as blithely as though the Eay stone verdict had been in her favour. She was still overwhelmed with her good fortune, and, in truth, there was little to complain of had she been inclined to be exigeante. Although she had not made much way with the elder portion of the community, she very quickly found favour in the eyes of the younger, and was much too happy to be critical as to the cause, readily enough ascribing it all to their goodness. She was in a continual state of wonder at people's goodness ; and as to the world, why, it was an enchanted garden of delights, old Dr. Bray- leigh's warnings about the danger of loving it not- VOL. I. H 98 jea:n\ withstanding. It was sucli a dear, beautiful old world — that lovel}' sweep of green turf with the shadows chasing each other over it, and the trees and — and everything. Surely the Giver of it all could not be angry with her for loving it, she thought, ignorant of the dark shadow of evil which is typified by the word in the pulpit. In truth, her religion was as yet but the poetic sentiment of the young and untried, to whom evil is only a name. Such of her young acquaintances as did not seek her for her own sake were glad to catch at an excuse for dropping in at Fernside on their way to the heath, the favourite walk out of Eaystone. Though they hked going to the Cottage, where they frequently met Louis Poynder and other of the Eaystone young men, they were a little afraid of beau- tiful, clever, but occasionally rather too sarcastic Maude. But Jean was soon voted ' a dear ' amongst the young girls of Mrs. Poynder's set. Her quaint surprise at their wonderful toilets, and their astonishment at her old-fashioned simplicity, caused endless fun between them. ' Not a bit up to things, you know, but a real dear ! ' said Annie Lawrence, who in her innocence and ignorance prided herself upon being ' up to things,' because it was the fashion so to seem. A frank, kindhearted, thoroughly ^^^6? girl, to whom no man for a moment imputed the knowledge AT THE FETE. 99 which her manners and style of dress seemed to imply. Indeed, her brother and his friends were rather too apt to encourage her for their own private delectation, as being so amusing a contrast to the reality. Annie Lawrence and Ellen Brayleigh, the old Eector's granddaughter, left in his charge by her parents in India, very soon called themselves Jean's especial friends, upon sufficiently intimate terms to invite her to join in their walking expeditions. Maude and her mother quite approved ; the former was not often in the mood to bring; herself down to the level of a romantic schoolgirl, and Mrs. Poynder found her niece a too good walker, and a too exuberant companion, for one of her years. Had they imagined how frequently, as time went on, Edward Lawrence and Arthur Brayleigh joined their sisters, they would not have been quite so easy upon the point. It was unconscious Jean herself who gave them the first hint of danger. ' Edward Lawrence again did you say, my dear?' asked Mrs. Poynder one day at dinner, when Jean had been detailing the afternoon's adventures. ' Yes, aunty ; we nearly always meet him now — Mr. Brayleigh and him — and it is so nice. Fancy our walking all the way to Ashleigh and back — much farther than going straight to Ardsey H 2 1 00 JEAN. Grange, you know. The funniest little village, isn't it, aunty, with its rough stone cottages and two shops ? We asked for some water at one of the cottages, and Edward Lawrence broke the cup afterwards, so that no one else should use it. The poor woman looked so shocked, and I was so vexed ; but he promised to buy her a new tea- service, and I am to choose it in the town.' Mrs. Poynder finished her dinner with a very grave face, beginning now to suspect why Ed- ward Lawrence displayed so sudden an accession of friendship for the inmates of Fernside. When Jean and Maude quitted the room, she availed herself of the opportunity to warn her son that he had no time to lose if he wished to prevent the other from making further advances. He laughed. ' All right, mother ; I'm not afraid of being cut out by Lawrence. I shall walk over the ground when it suits me. She'll be none the worse for having a little flirtation — won't be quite so namby-pamby when I take her in hand, perhaps.' ' But it may not stop at flirtation, you know,' said the anxious mother. ' Indeed, I do not think she is the kind of girl to flirt at all.' ' I'm not afraid.' Wherewith his mother tried to feel content. Her son fully believed that when he chose to walk AT THE FETE. 101 over the ground, as he termed it, there would not be the shghtest obstacle to prevent his doing so. Xevertheless his mother's hint was not entirely lost upon him, and he began to make a few lazy advances. Then he found that the task was not quite so easy a one as he had expected it to be. It was very difficult, indeed, to be loverlike to Jean. Did he become a little empresse, straight- way she was openly affectionate, and the difficulty was that the vainest man in existence could not for a moment have been mistaken as to what kind of affection it was. Louis Poynder's self-love was not a little wounded at her evident freedom from any symptom of caring for him, in the way he had taken it as a matter of course she would care. He soon began to feel quite irritated at the frank affection which was more than cousinly (in her ignorance Jean exaggerated theu' relationship into the closer one of brother and sister) and was yet so far from being loverhke. ' What are you reading now, Jean ? You ought not to strain your eyes like that.' She had taken her book to the window, to use up the last bit of fading light. ' One minute, please, Louis. They are just going into the cave.' ' You are always poring over some book.' She was indeed rarely to be seen without a 102 JEAN. book ill her hand, reading with the greatest avidity anything and everything that came in her way. Maude selected the books that came from the London hbrary, and they were of the sohdest ; but Jean had ransacked the house, and come upon a store of old poems and romances, and she was already on familiar terms with Shakespeare, Spenser, the Chevalier Bayard, Goldsmith, Jane Austen, &c. She shut the book with a low sigh, and laid her cheek caressingly upon it, her eyes wandering dreamily over the heath. ' You seem to prefer anything to listening to me,' he presently added, rather sullenly. .; She turned impulsively towards him. 'Oh, no, indeed, Louis dear ! "^Vhy I care more for you than anyone almost. Cannot you see that I do ? ' ' Cannot you see, Jean ? ' he ejaculated, impa- tiently kicking a footstool along the carpet. She looked down at the stool, and then up into his face again, so manifestly puzzled that, in spite of himself, he burst into a laugh and gave up the attempt for that day. ' She seems to have no more sense than a baby about some things,' he afterwards grumbled to his mother. ' She will never be like other girls, and mooning over books as she does won't improve her.' AT THE FETE. lOo ' I liope there is no attachment springing up between Edward Lawrence and her,' once more said Mrs. Poynder. ' Don't talk rubbish, mother. She hasn't an idea what love is, and she isn't the sort of girl ever to be capable of much in that way. As to Lawrence, if he is fool enough to enter the race against me, he will soon find himself nowhere.' Mrs. Poynder tried to feel reassured, telhng herself that of course Edward Lawrence could have no chance against her boy. Jean must be bhnd indeed not to perceive dear Louis's supe- riority. Still, she wished Louis would bring matters to a crisis. The sooner the engagement was made known the better now. The Ormes' garden party would afford a very good opportunity for making it known, if dear Louis would only settle it at once. Many besides Mrs. Poynder were counting upon the opportunities at the Ormes' garden party. Edward Lawrence had made up his mind to try his fortune with Jean, with whom, to the best of his capacity, he was deeply in love, and Maude Poynder determined that Xugent Orme should be brought to the point some vray, to say nothing of the many others eagerly anticipating the event of the year to bring about a crisis in their lives. Jean had only accompanied her cousin Maude 104 JEAN. to the Grange upon two or three occasions, and then she had found herself rather de trop^ Miss Orme making no effort to appear more cordial than she felt towards her. She had sat stiff and prim in the little lady's morning room during the visit, feeling almost as though she were back at Ivy Lodge again. Indeed, Miss Orme always assumed a schoolmistress tone in speaking to Jean the few sentences addressed to her, being carefully adapted to a child's intelligence, and inculcating a very pronounced moral. The girl offended her sense of propriety, and propriety was part of Miss Orme's religion. She had not taken the trouble to show the glories of the Grange to Jean. The latter had only seen its north aspect, and wondered to hear people talk so much of its beauties. There was the fine lawn, to be sure ; but Jean thought that the view of the heatli from Fernside was quite as good and less bounded. No one seemed able to talk of anything but the coming fete, and the earnest way in which the milHnery question was discussed showed Jean how very important the occasion was considered to be. Annie Lawrence confided to her that she had ordered the most startling of costumes and ' the most daring little hat you can conceive, my dear.' She shrugged her pretty shoulders wdien in answer to her enquiries, Jean confessed that Aunt Maria AT THE FETE. 105 always cliose what she was to wear, and she had not asked what her dress was to be. But she was too kindhearted to make any other comment. ' I suppose the dear chikl [Annie Lawrence had arrived at the mature age of eighteen] is too dependent upon them to have any will of her own,' she thought. ' But her turn will come soon ; Edward won't grudge her anything, and I can put her up to things a little when she gets less shy with me.' For at times there was still a difference — reserve, or what Annie Lawrence termed shy- ness — between them. Ellen Brayleigh gave it the name of romance ; but the other warmly defended her favourite from such an imputation. ' Oh, no, Ellen ; that's too bad ! Jean isn't a bit silly. That dreamy way she has sometimes is only manner, because she had no companions of her own age at school. She's the j oiliest darling, and has got lots of fun in her wdien you draw her out.' But Ellen Brayleigh had once or twice seen something in Jean to which she could give no name, if romance w^as not the right word for it. Jean did not know, nor perhaps did Mrs. Poynder herself, that lier dresses were always chosen to contrast with, and, so to speak, serve as a background to, her cousin Maude's. But it ge- nerally happened that the colours contrasting with 106 JEAX. Maude's became her; or if they were a httle too sombre in tone^ a latent artistic taste of h.er own caused her to add a bow or flower, which imparted the required tint. When she entered the drawing- room attired for the fete, her dress was entirely white, even to the feather in her hat, and though a pretty enough contrast to Maude's mauves, it was a little trying to the wearer. 'You require a little colour about you, Jean,' said Louis critically. He was quite willing she should be admired, although not appropriated, by other men. ' Do I ? Oh, yes ; why of course I do ! ' she ejaculated, looking in the glass. ' But I can easily manage it by putting a rose-coloured bow or two on my dress ; and if I may have some roses — may I, aimty ? ' ' Certainly, dear, as many as you please, and the rose-coloured bows really would be an hn- provement.' ' Would not you prefer a coloured feather in your hat, Jean ? I have a green one I could lend you,' asked Maude. ' Oh, no, thank you. The ribbons and roses will do,' replied unconscious Jean. ' Light and dark ones mixed, you know, Louis — lots of them, and nothing else.' He made havoc amongst the roses, and in five AT THE FETE. 107 minutes Jean was transformed. Knots of rose- coloured ribbons about her dress, and roses in her hand and at her breast, gave just the finishing touch to her toilette, which would have satisfied an artist, though it somewhat destroyed the effect of her cousin's mauves. Little did Jean suspect the surprise that awaited her. When she entered the Grange drawing-room, and her eyes fell upon the lovely view from its windows, she stood as if spell- bound, quite deaf to the few words of welcome uttered by Miss Orme, and thereby confirming the little lady's previous impressions respecting her. ' May I go out ? ' she presently whispered to her cousin. ' Oh, Maude, may I, please ? ' with brilliant eyes and deepening colour. 'Yes, of course you may, child,' absently re- plied Maude, as Nugent Orme entered the room at the moment, and advanced towards her. ' Louis or mamma will accompany you if you ask one of them.' Taking instant advantage of the permission, and without giving a thought to the propriety of being accompanied, Jean hastily stole out of the nearest window, and stood for a few moments as if spellbound. The marquees for refreshment were placed to the left of the house, and there was nothing to vulgarise or interfere with the prospect, the ani- 108 JE.\N. mated faces and pretty dresses of the lady guests and uniforms of the bandsmen adding only life and colour to the scene. The broad green sward, bathed in sunshine, the soft swelling uplands in the distance, the grateful shade of the fine old trees on either side, the right deepening into cool shadowy woods, and the left gently undulating to- wards a lake, glittering like diamonds here and therethrough the foliage, imparted an idea of colour, space, and harmony not often to be seen at fetes. Jean glanced at the company. Some were standing about in groups, renewing and making acquaintance, amidst soft laughter and pretty patter of words, whilst others were already stray- ing with the one under the trees. ' No one will miss me,' she thought delightedly. And, descend- ing the broad steps of the terrace, she turned to the right and went towards the woods. ' Where is Jean ? ' two or three hours later enquired Mrs. Poynder, first of one and then of the other. No one could tell her. She was all the more anxious to ascertain in consequence of a rumour that had reached her. She had been asked if it was true that an engagement was on the tapis between her niece and Edward Lawrence. The latter 's sister made so very sure that when her brother's mind was quite made up Jean would be AT THE FETE. 109 found willing, that slie had given one or two of her friends a hiot what to expect. Mrs. Poynder had been more than once congratulated upon her niece's engagement. Edward Lawrence was the son of a rich man, and considered a prize in the matrimonial lottery. The anxious mother tried to impress the necessity for immediate action upon her son. It was so very thoughtless of Louis to lose sight of Jean that day. But he was enjoying his freedom, and had no idea of losing his prestige by assuming the position of an engaged man before it was absolutely necessary to so do. He quieted his mother by promising to look after Jean, and in ten minutes had forgotten her in a flirtation with Annie Lawrence. There was one looking for Jean in earnest, and he at length found her. Her hat thrown off, her hair thrust back fi^om her brow, and her hands clasped behind her head, she was half-sitting, half- lying in one of nature's seats, dainty enough for Titania herself, in a little mossy dell half hidden in the leafy solitude of the woods. ' Miss Eaymond ! ' delightedly. ' Mr. Lawrence ! ' in how different a tone, as she gathered up her hat and gloves. 'Do not rise! Pray let me join you !' he said eagerly. ' Oh, no. You have spoiled it all now,' a little 110 JEAN. impatiently — 'just as I could almost hear their tinkling feet.' He looked round. ' The fairies, you know. How can you help believing in them a tiny httle here ? ' ' 1 only know it is fairy-land to me,' he stam- mered out, reddening and paling with hope and fear, as he hurried on, too much in earnest to pick and choose his words ; ' but any place would seem that to me where you are.' She glanced at him with troubled eyes, and turned slowly away. ' Do not go : pray let me speak to you ! Pray forgive my abruptness, but — oh, Jean, do you not know — have you not seen that I love you ? ' fastening his eyes upon her downcast face. ' I know — I have thought latterly that you were not quite the same as other people are to me ; but I am very sorry if that is the reason.' she murmured. ' Oh, do not say so ! do not say that ! ' he pleaded, growing very white. ' But I must say it if it is true. I am sorry — very, very sorry.' Looking at him with puzzled eyes (she was quite as much puzzled as sorry), she added, ' However came you to ? ' ' How could I help it, knowing you ? Oh, Jean, give me some hope ! ' AT THE FETE. Ill ' I — forgive me if I do not say it in the right way, please do. I am sure I don't want to seem unkind, but I don't care about being loved in that way. I like reading about it in books, but it does not seem nice in reality, and — I am afraid I have a hard heart. Oh, dear ! pray do not look like that ! Whatever can I say to comfort you ? I'm not half so nice as other girls, when you come to know me. Louis is always complaining about my being so different, and I never had a prize at school, and no girl could have more natural defects. Miss Bowles always said so.' ' Then she was an idiot, whoever she was. But be your defects what they may, I love you as I shall never love another as long as I live,' he simply rephed, trying to bear the blow in manly fashion, but quivering painfully under it. Then came a momentary gleam of hope. There did not appear to be anyone else in her thoughts ; perhajDS, in time, there might be a chance for him. ' Will you let me try to win your love, Miss Eaymond ? Oh, Jean, let me try ! I know I am not worthy of you ; no man could ever be that ; but I will v/ait so patiently, and strive so hard ! ' He was answered by her sorrowful gesture and the tears stealing down her cheeks, and he went on in a low voice, ' Do not be unhappy ; do not let me feel I have marred your enjoyment. May 112 JEAN. I take you towards the band, Miss Eaymond ? I can show you the shortest way through the plan- tations.' For, if his love w^as not of the very higfhest order, he Avas sincere and unselfish enoucfh to wish to see her happy. ' I don't care about it now,' she said simply. 'How could I, when I know I have given you pain? I would rather stay here a little, and I think — yes, there are my cousin and ]\Ir. Orme, so you need not mind.' ' Good-bye, Jean. God bless you. Miss Eay- mond ! ' he whispered, darting away as the others advanced. ' Jean ! ' ejaculated Maude, as she recognised the bowed figure and noted the young girl's dejected air. ' And who was that hurrying away?' she wondered. She was angry as well as surprised. Just as they came within sight of Jean, Nugent Orme had once more approached the subject which was of such vital importance to her. The v/ords her soul hungered for seemed upon his lips when this girl once more prevented their being spoken. 'Was that Louis who just left you? ' slie went on to ask the confused, blushing girl. 'No.' ' Would it not be wiser to keep with those you know, my dear Jean ? ' AT THE FllTE. 113 ' Oh, yes, ever so mucli wiser,' ruefully re- turned Jean ; ' but it is too late now.' ' Too late to be wiser, Miss Eaymond ? ' She turned away, and, with an angry jerk, tlirew one of her roses against the trunk of a tree, its leaves hghtly drifting in all directions. ' Now, if I stood where that tree is, and your flower w^ere a stone,' he said, with an amused smile, but looking a little curiously at her flushed face. ' Has anyone offended you, Jean ? ' softly asked Maude. ' Myself,' a little curtly. ' Offended with yourself? ' laughed Maude. ' Then I fear I cannot be of any assistance.' 'No.' Nugent Orme gazed speculatively at the girhsh face, which expressed so much more than Jean was conscious that it did. ' Are you coming with us, Jean ? ' ' Yes, if you please — if you don't mind,' said blundering Jean, becoming aware of something less genial than usual in the other's tone. ' Mind ? No, of coiu-se not ; why should I ? ' returned poor Maude, obhged to'keep a smile on her face though ready to cry with vexation. ' Perhaps you would hke to go towards the open where the band is ? ' VOL. I. I 114 JEAN. ' Where you please, Maude ; I don't care,' dolefully from Jean. 'An awful retribution is said to have once come upon a young gentleman who "did not care," Miss Eaymond. He was torn to pieces by wild bears on the coast of Barbary.' ' I don't see why you should always talk to me as though I were a child, Mr. Orme. I call it very rude as well as unkind.' ' Jean ! ' ' Well, Maude, would not you think so if Mr. Orme were the same to you ? ' ' Let me apologise without waiting for the verdict,' he said gravely. ' I am really sorry to appear rude or unkind to you. Miss Eaymond. I had not the least intention of being either.' ' I dare say it is a great deal my fault, Mr. Orme ; but I am not quite so stupid as you think me. I am siu-e I could understand better if you tried to make me.' He bowed silently, and presently, to her great relief, seemed to become too much absorbed in conversation with Maude to remember her exist- ence. ' Ah, it's no wonder he finds me stupid in comparison with Maude, though it is not kind to let me see it so plainly,' thought Jean, as she listened to her cousin's well-chosen sentences, uttered in a low, sweet, even tone. But, as Maude AT THE FETE. 115 intended they should (it was no use keeping in the words if Jean was with them), they were soon in the midst of the company, Maude showing her fitness to be the future mistress of the Grange by many a kindly graceful speech when Nugent Orme tried to do his part as host. Jean sat down near the band, and presently Louis came to her side, prepared to make up a httle for previous neoiect. ' There is some talk of dancing for an hour or so when the sun is down, Jean,' he whispered ; ' and you must remember I don't mean to let you waltz with anyone but me.' ' I don't want to dance, thank you, Louis.' ' Don't want ? ' He glanced at her grave face, and fancying that she was piqued, and was at last beginning to be a little like other girls, and trying to coquette with him, ' Not with me^ Jean, after my keeping myself free for you ? What have I done to deserve such punishment as that ? ' ' Nothing — only — please don't ask me, Louis.' ' But you promised, you know, if there should be any dancing. Nonsense, Jean ; of course you will ; come along.' ' No ; I could not — not now. It would be like dancing over a grave.' ' What is the matter — has anything hap- pened ? ' he asked, his keen black eyes trying to I 2 116 JEAN. fathom her soft brown ones. Although her eye- lids drooped beneath his gaze, and she averted her blushing, conscious face, her lips were firmly closed. Frank and true as she was, he had known her lons^ enouo-h to be aAvare that she had a will stronc^er than his own when she chose to exercise it, and he saw that she now did not choose to explain the cause of her sudden disinclination for dancing. ' Come and have something to eat. You look fagged and not half yourself to-day. The most romantic young ladies — you know you are given to romance — cannot live entirely upon air, and life will have quite another aspect for you after a little chicken and champagne.' She rose to accompany him ; anything was better than being catechised. On their way to the tent, they met Annie Lawrence, with two or three adorers in her wake. ' Where have you hidden yoiurself all day, child?' she ejaculated in gay spirits, having suc- ceeded in shocking the ' slow Unwins ' to her heart's content. ' Have you seen Edward lately, anyone — have you, Jean? Mr. Tarleton says he saw him going away ; but that could not be. Wasn t he wdth you just now, dear? ' Jean's downcast eyes, fluttering colour, and nervous httle whispered ' Yes ' gave the sister AT THE FETE. 117 half a hint, and told Louis, who had previously been so puzzled to account for her grave re- ticence, all. ' She has refused him ! ' was his swift, triumphant thought ; ' and I'm all right now ! ' ' She cannot have refused my Edward ! ' thought the indignant little sister. ' She cannot have been so stupid as that. Eefuse Edward — a chit like her — when any other girl would thank her stars for such a chance ! If she can't love him, dear good fellow as he is, she is not what I believed her to be.' And in her love for her brother Annie Lawrence was, for the time being, quite unjust to her friend. She turned away with a toss of the head, a look meant to be very cutting, and a severe little speech about ' Edward being dearer to her than anyone else in the world.' But Jean was not at all inclined to resent her anger. She was too really troubled at having given rise to it. Louis had quite recovered his spirits. There was no necessity to hurry matters now. He could enjoy his freedom a little longer, and come to the fore a^ain when it suited him so to do. So he made himself a very amusing companion, and, in spite of herself, soon made Jean feel that she had not entirely lost her capacity for enjoyment 118 JEAN. although she was still firm in her decision not to dance. But he was quite agreeable to that now, leaving her to do as she cliose, without any fiarther protest. She sat quiet and abstracted, longing for the day to be over. She was afraid now to separate from the rest of the company, and could not enjoy either the music or the scenery in her own fashion, without the accompaniment of the light lausrhter and babble of talk around her. So slie sat with, though not of, them, gazing wistfully towards the shadowland beneath the trees. The lovehness of the scene had a more bewitching charm to her, now that the red gold of sun-set was succeeded by soft silver moonlight. How was it she was so different to other girls? How was it she could not love Edward Lawrence ? He was so good, and kind, and nice- looking. She had liked him so much before he began to talk love to her, and then her heart had seemed to harden. ' i^To, I am not like other girls. I do not tliink I shall ever feel that sort of love — unless — but he is only in a book, and of course he would not like me if he were real ! ' ' My dear Jean, what has become of you all dayP I really have not caught sight of you once ! ' said Mrs. Poynder, tapping her on the AT THE FETE. 119 shoulder. ' I hope Louis has seen after you in the way of refreshments and so forth ? ' ' Oh, yes, thank you, aunty ; he wanted me to have lots of things. Louis is always so kind.' 'But how is it you have not joined the dancers, my dear ? Did not Louis ' ' Yes ; he wanted me to, but I did not care about it.' The anxious mother glanced down at the pale, thoughtful face. Was it the time for con- gratidation? She did not feel quite sure enough to venture ; but went on gently, half-interro- gatively— ' Louis feeLs a great deal more than kind to you, Jean dear.' ' And so do I to him, aunty. No one is so nice as Louis.' ' No one ? ' with a playful little tap on the young girl's cheek. 'I meant no gentleman — except papa, you know. Dear father, was he like you. Aunt Maria, fair and tall ? ' ' No, dear, dark and short.' ' Dark ! ' with a disappointed look. ' I always pictm-ed him tall and fair, with grey eyes — grand-looking.' The mother jealously remembered that by a shght stretch of imagination that description 120 JEAN. might apply to Edward Lawrence, and a little pettishly replied, ' You would be very unlike your father if he were that.' ' Yes, all but being tall.' Then, after a moment or two, she went on, • Did you know mamma, Aunt Maria ? ' ' No, nor do I know anyone who did,' shortly returned Mrs. Poynder. ' I think people are moving away very fast, and I am sure Miss Orme must be quite thankful for it, after so very fatiguing a day. Where is Louis, I wonder ? Do you see Maude anywhere, Jean ? ' ' I saw Mr. Orme and her go in that direction, under the trees, not long ago, Aunt Maria.' Mrs. Poynder hesitated a moment. Surely it must all be settled between them by this time, and she was beginning to feel so tired. 'Will you try to find them for me, my dear ? Tell Maude that the carriage was ordered for nine, and the more of us who set the example of leaving the better now for poor Miss Orme's sake. She was looking quite worn out just now.' Jean started on her errand. Mrs. Poynder looked about for her son, and presently came upon him just emerging from one of the tents with his partner in a ualtz just finished. He brought her a chair, and stood leaning over it, AT THE FETE. 121 whispering pretty nonsense, whilst he gently fanned her with all the empressemeM of a lover. Eeally, how trying Louis was, knowing as he did how much depended upon his making way with his cousin just now. ' Louis ! ' she presently ejacu- lated rather sharply, ' I want you to see about the carriage ; it must be waiting, I think, and you will find us here on your return.' ' All right, mother.' But she had to wait patiently as she might whilst he whispered a last few words to the laughing girl. ' Eeady to go, did you say ? ' he asked, when at length he turned towards his mother. ' Where are the others ? It's no use my seeing after the carriage until they are here.' ' Jean has gone to fetch your sister,' adding anxiously, ' How can you be so foolish as to flirt in that way, Louis? If Jean had been here what would she ' ' Oh, Jean is all right, mother.' ' Are you engaged ? is it settled, then ? ' she eagerly asked. ' Not exactly, but the way is clear. She has refused Lawrence.' Mrs. Poynder breathed a sigh of rehef ' But don't you think it is safest to make quite 122 JEAN. sure, my dear boy ? Some one else may come forward, you know.' ' ISTo fear of that ; men are not so ready as all that, and if they were I flatter myself they would have no chance against me with Jean.' 123 CHAPTEE VIII. BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 'Deae Maude, I cannot let you go to-night without asking you ' ' Maude, Aunt Maria sent me to tell you that the carriao^e must be waitinn^, and she feels tired and wants to go,' said Jean, suddenly emerging from a group of trees into a strip of moonhght, where the two were standing. Maude Poynder's nerves had been stretched to their utmost tension all day ; in her deep anxiety she had not been able to take any food, and now JSTugent Orme had drawn her apart for the thud time intending to speak tlie words she was longing to hear. She saw the white figure emerge like her evil genius from the shadow, felt that the cup was once more dashed from her hps, and swerving aside with an exclamation of dismay, she shpped upon the dewy turf and fell before Nugent Orme could save her. ' Are you hurt, Maude? ' 124 JEAX. 'Dear Maude, speak to us!' they ejaculated, bending over her with anxious looks and ready hands. She lay without sense or motion amidst a confused heap of lace and muslin, her white face upturned in the moonlight. 'Dear Maude, are you— She has fainted, I think, Mr. Orme. Will you stay with her whilst I run and fetch somethins^ ? ' ' Yes ; go quick.' Jean sped away, and Nugent Orme bent ten- derly over the inanimate form, with words which poor Maude would have bartered her soul to hear. He was terribly in earnest. Unused 'to witness suffering of any kind, and still less to suffer, it seemed to act as a sort of touchstone to his innermost nature, briuQ-ino' to the surface a tenderness which he had not hitherto given others, much less himself, credit for possessing. Womanish weakness he would have designated it an hour before, a weakness to be ashamed of; yet there it was. In the depths of his nature lay a tenderness Avhich was almost more than wom.anish in contrast with its heights. A low moan was his only answer as with murmured words of love he strove to raise her. Afraid to venture more, he knelt by her side, placed his palms under her head — he could not bear to see it pillowed upon BETWEEI^ THE CUP AND THE LIP. 125 the turf — and impatiently waited for help. It was quickly at hand. Jean sped back towards the tents, hastily arranging in her mind what was best to be done as she ran. Aunty must not be alarmed. No, no necessity to tell anyone but just those she required. Louis — a doctor, if one happened to be present — and one woman if she could meet the right one to be useful. Her cousin Louis and a doctor were readily found, the latter and his wife being present as guests, and, for lack of better, Jean herself represented womankind. ' Be quick, please ; how slow you are ! ' she ejaculated, flying in advance of the two men towards the spot where she had left her cousin, carrying a carafe of water and smelling-salts, the latter taken with half an apology fi^om the unwill- ing hands of she knew not whom, and the other from one of the refreshment tables. They found Maude still insensible, lying just as she had fallen. Dr. Travers touched her pulse, then stood back a moment studying her position. 'Be good enough — no, here, Mr. Orme, at the shoulders — now, Mr. Poynder — together ; raise her gently. Only a little, so that I may get her foot from under. That's well, young lady,' as Jean hghtly bathed her cousin's temples. Nugent and Louis carefully raised the prostrate girl, whilst 126 JEAN. Dr. Travers gently extricated the foot doubled under lier, Jean silently giving her help. ' Oh ! let me lie — my foot — my foot ! ' groaned Maude. ' I see. Now flat upon the turf for a few moments. Ankle dislocated, I fear,' he mur- mured. ' Will you run forward and prepare them to receive us at the house P ' he said with a kindly nod to Jean. ' Leave it to her,' he added to the anxious men; ' she knows how to go to work.' For his professional eyes had quickly recognised the qualities he wanted in Jean. Silence, quick- ness, deftness, and self-control had all developed themselves to his quick apprehension, as he noted how she had singled out just the help she wanted, made no confidants, and possessed herself of the water and smelhng-salts. Jean hurried forwards on her errand, only stopping a moment on her way to whisper a word to the butler in the refreshment tent. Miss Orme was in the drawing-room, receiving with a very gracious, if rather a worn-out, smile the hundred and fiftieth assurance that this had been the very best of all the Grange fetes, and alto- gether the most delightful day in the speaker's hfe, really ! when Jean slipped behind and tapped the little lady on the shoulder. ' Miss Orme, my cousin Maude is not very BETWEEN THE CUP AXD THE LIP. 127 well, and wants to lie down. May I ask one of the maids to show me a room without taking you jfrom your guests ? ' 'Maude? Over-fatigaied, I suppose. Of course ; she will feel at home here. Ask for my own maid Ford, Miss Eaymond.' Armed with this authority — her only motive for applying to Miss Orme had been to get it — Jean went off in search of Ford. When the little party approached the house with their burden, they were met by the butler and led round to the side entrance, as -Jean had suggested, so as to avoid attracting the attention of the remaining guests. Jean and Ford were waiting to receive them, and led them immediately to a spare room, where two maids were busily putting the finishing touches to the arrangements for the sufferer. Maude was tenderly placed upon the bed, and then, excluding all but Jean and Ford, Dr. Travers proceeded to examine the injury. 'Dislocation of the ankle, accompanied with general exhaustion,' was his verdict, after a few minutes' manipulation of the foot. 'I will remain here whilst you inform our hostess, and see that what I want is brought at once,' he said, turning towards Jean in the matter-of-course way he would have spoken to a well-trained nurse, sure of being understood and obeyed, and giving her a short list of his require- 128 JEAN. ments. Jean found her way to tlie servants' offices, herself carried up what was required, and then set off to find her aunt and Miss Orme. They were both in the first excitement of having heard that an accident had happened to Maude somewhere in the grounds, and in a few quiet words she told them the truth, but so told it that it was less alarming than the vague rumours which had reached them. ' Everything is being done. Aunt Maria. Miss Orme was kind enough to give me permission, and dear Maude is being well cared for. Dr. Travers bade me tell you that there is no cause for alarm, and the pain will soon be allayed. He will send word when you can go to her.' ' How did it happen ? ' asked Mrs. Poynder. ' Quite accidentally, aunt. She slipped as she turned to answer me when I gave your message, and fell with her foot doubled under her.' In a hurried, nervous way Miss Orme sum- moned the housekeeper, and issued numerous direc- tions and injunctions respecting the arrangements for her dear Maude's comfort ; all of which, armed with her brief authority, Jean had already put en train. She begged her dear old friend to remain at the Grange, and use the servants and every- thing it contained as her own. Then, after a moment's hesitation (she could not very well send BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 129 her home alone with Louis), she extended the in- vitation to Jean. In time the last guest had got through the last compliment, and only a sohtary hght in the Grange windows told of the watching mthin. Dr. Travers had selected Jean and Ford only out of the many who proffered their services to sit up ^vith his patient, excluding even the anxious mother her- self. ' No, no ; you want rest yourself, my dear madam, and cannot be of the least service here. I've got what I want,' he added, with a glance at Jean's quiet face and a nod towards Ford. 'Young and able to expend a little more in the way of strength than yourself. Try to get a good night's rest, Mrs. Poynder, with the full assurance that there is not the slightest cause for anxiety.' He afterwards repeated almost the same words to Nugent Orme, who anxiously awaited him in the library. ' The young lady and the maid will be quite enough, my dear sir. The former is quite a host in herself.' 'Miss Eaymond!' ejaculated Nugent in un- feigned surprise. ' I should have supposed her too — ' He did not like to give expression to the word in his thoughts, and a little awkwardly substituted ' delicate.' VOL. L K 130 JEAN. * Delicate ! not she, any more than a racer is delicate in contrast with a dray-horse.' 'But ' ' My dear sir, she has just the kind of strength a medical man is very glad to find and make use of in any emergency like this. I wish it were not quite so rare. Wliy, that girl had her feelings under control in a moment, and used her wits to manage things quietly for me as well as one of the best trained nurses could have done : no stir in the house, and quietly led in by a side way up to a room akeady prepared, where there were only three women in the secret, when I feared to find it crowded with foolish people. Then the way she managed the mother and Miss Orme. Pardon me, but elderly ladies are apt to be a little nervous and difficult to deal with on such occa- sions, you know. The injury? Well, a little tedious probably, but,' he added, remembering the rumour of an engagement being on the tapis be- tween his patient and Nugent Orme, ' nothing per- manent, no lameness. Oh dear, no, not the slightest danger of that.' When Jean entered the breakfast-room, to which she was shown the next morning, she found only Nugent Orme there, the two elder ladies being glad to take a longer rest than usual after the fatigues and excitement of the previous day. After bett\t:ex the cup axd the lip. 131 his enquiries had been satisfied respecting Maude, Nugent spoke a few words to Jean more kindly than he had ever yet spoken to her. ' Dr. Travers tells me that we owe a great deal to your promptness and foresight last night, Miss Eaymond.' She looked askance at him, rather doubtful of tills sudden pohteness — in truth, expecting some httle tag in the way of banter to the compliments — and gave him only a bow for reply. ' I am afraid I must trouble you to preside this morning, Miss Eaymond,' he went on, with a half- smile at what he took to be a schoolgirl's shyness. She did not appear very self-possessed just now. ' Oh, dear ! ' thought Jean, wishing herself a hundred miles away; but she took the seat he indicated, and nervously commenced her task. ' Do you take tea or coffee, Mr. Orme ? ' ' Coffee, please. I am really sorry to give you the trouble,' he said, trying to repress a smile at the idea of this young lady having her feehngs under control. ' Oh, it isn't the trouble,' said poor blundering Jean, unmistakably showing what it was. ' Wliat may I give you — omelet ? Or do you like a grill — some of this chicken ? I am afraid you have overtaxed your strength,' he added 132 JEAN. kindly, as she declined everything but a little cold toast. ' No, I do not feel in the least tired.' ' Your appetite is never very good, perhaps ? ' ' Oh, yes it is. I am a very hungry girl gene- rally,' thawing a little to his genial manner — more genial than she had ever yet known it to be ; for, whatever his prejudices might be, JSTugent Orme was gentleman enough to try to entertain her now she was his guest. ' Miss Bowles was always com- plaining about my appetite.' ' Complaining ? ' ' About its being so vulgar, you know.' ' Miss Bowles was your schoolmistress, I pre- sume ?' glad to have hit upon some subject about which she would speak. ' You must have found it terribly dull work at school. I think I once heard that you had never had a holiday?' ' Not out of school, as long as I can recollect.' ' Then I suppose you found your vacations the dullest times, your companions being away?' ' I never had any companions. Mss Bowles thought it wouldn't be right for me to make friends with the other girls, because they were the daugh- ters of gentlemen, and she thought I should have to work for money. She did not know about papa then, or it would have been very different ; she told me so.' BETWEEN THE CUP AXD THE LIP. 133 'No doubt. A very sliarp lady, your Miss Bowles. I can't conceive how you managed to avoid doing something wicked.' ' I didn't avoid it,' she gravely returned. ' Now you have excited my curiosity. Don't you think you are bound to explain what your idea of beino^ wicked is ? ' ' No ; you would not understand.' Her brown eyes turned meditatively upon him for a few moments, as she thought how little allowance he would make for the ' Letters from fairy land.' His own fell, the colour in his face deepened, and for the moment he was at a loss for words, a phenomenon quite new to Nugent Orme. When he presently tried to renew the conversa- tion she had shyly shrunk back into her shell again. But he had succeeded in making her feel the least little bit more at home with him by the time she rose from the table, though he saw she was glad to do so as quickly as possible. 'Now, if there were really the strength and judgment Travers talks about allied to the sim- phcity — the simplicity is genuine enough, I begin to fancy — the girl would be an interesting study. But it's just the mental power whicli I cannot be- lieve in ; it is merely the innocence of ignorance, I expect, and any uncultivated country girl may have 134 JEAN. that.' Til en his thoughts reverted to Maude, and Jean was forgotten. He went to the Hbrary, rather restlessly await- ing the Doctor's report. All was going on well, said that gentleman. It was a case requiring little besides patience. Miss Poynder could not be moved for a few weeks, perhaps, but meanwhile he had no restrictions to make beyond the neces- sity for keeping the foot in one position. Nourish- ing diet, society, books, what not — her friends might pet her to their hearts' content. They gladly availed themselves of the permission, Miss Orme having a special gift for petting those she loved. Maude found herself surrounded with all sorts of proofs of the love of her friends. Unlike many a poor invalid, barely able to reahse kindness, and still less to avail themselves of good things, Maude could enjoy as well as appreciate. The freshest of fruit ; all sorts of dainties invented by Mss Orme and the housekeeper ; all the new books and re- views, with wilhng readers when she herself was disinchned for the exertion of turning the leaves ; precious little notes from Nugent Orme upon the questions they were mutually interested in — Maude was experiencing all a convalescent's advantages without having gone through the usual probation of pain and suffering. It was so pleasant to lie on the roomy couch, wheeled towards the open win- BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP. 135 dow, and gaze upon the lovdy scene beyond, half dreamily listening to the rooks and picturing the time when this would be her home. How fool- ishly nervous she had been because Nugent hap- pened to be interrupted at the moment of telhng his love ! She felt quite ashamed of her weakness, and was glad now to attribute it to physical ex- haustion ; she had eaten nothing all day, and was, naturally enough, faint for want of food. Of course it was now the same as though the words had been spoken, and when she was able to make her appearance downstairs she would not again allow any false delicacy to stand in her way. She would herself lead up to the point if he did not, only of course he would. Ah, how hard she would try to deserve the blessing of his love ! how hard she would strive to be a good woman ! So the time went pleasantly on with Maude. She was not naturally inclined to be irritable, and it was so easy to be patient now that the future seemed sure. After a few days Mrs. Poynder returned to Fernside (there was more necessity for her presence there than at the Grange), leaving Jean to be use- ful to her cousin, and contenting herself by a daily visit there either from herself or son. Although Miss Orme was as far as ever from taking very much to Jean, she could not but ac- knowledge to herself that the presence of a young 136 JEAN. girl brought a great deal of sunshine to the old house. In spite of herself the little lady was often amused at the very things she reprehended. Jean's unconscious violations of the convention- alities, her droll surprise when her mistakes were explained to her, her quaint schoolgirl stiffness one ten minutes and apparent disregard of all propriety the next, quite took the little lady's breath away. Then her awkward habit of always asking the reasons for things. No gentlewoman could possibly do this or that ; reason all-sufficient for Miss Orme failed to impress this tiresome girl. WJiy couldn't a gentlewoman do this ? and ivhy could not a gentlewoman do that ? would gravely ask Jean. But, her many defects notwithstanding, it was pleasant to hear the sweet girlish laugh about the house, and watch her flitting about the flower-beds or wandering under the trees in her simple holland dress and broad-leaved hat. Then Miss Orme liked to listen to her playing in the evening ; not the playing dubbed brilliant just coming into vogue, but dreamy communings with a world not in the little lady's geography, chiefly approved of for its somniferous effect and capability of being executed in the twilight, which she loved. Maude was rather desirous than otherwise that her cousin and Nugent should be thrown together. BETWEEN THE CUP AXD THE LIP. 137 Had he not told her that she never appeared to so much advantage as when in contrast with the romantic schoolgh'l, and had not Jean been always his laughing-stock? So she freely sent the young girl to him with books and messages (she did not know that Jean always availed herself of the mediumship of a servant to do the errands), keeping up a constant communication with him. He was quite as ready as she, sending her little notes about the books they were reading, daily offering of flowers, &c., entrusting them to Jean, who was willing enough to take the repKes, though she was sh}' of carrpng the messages to the library, where he seemed almost to live except at meal-times. Louis Poynder was availing himself of what he termed his freedom according to his taste, contenting himself with lookincr in at the Grans^e once or twice a week, and chatting pleasantly with Jean when she happened to be in the way. It was not always ; when not with Maude she spent most of her time in the open air, to the detriment of her complexion, although if she caught sight of her cousin Louis, she would run — race Miss Orme termed it — in to talk to him. Indeed, her bearing towards Louis quite scandahsed Miss Orme. ' You must allow me to tell you that it is not at all good taste to use that term in speaking to a 138 JEA]^. gentleman, Miss Eaymond ? ' slie said somewhat stiffly one day at luncheon, when Jean had made some allusion to ' dear Louis.' ' Not if he is my cousin, and I love him, Miss Orme ? ' said Jean, looking surprised. ' I presume your love is only of the ordinary and proper kind usual between cousins. Miss Eaymond?' * I don't know, I'm sure. I have never known any cousins but my own, so I can't tell what they do ; but I've always called him " dear Louis," and he seems to like it, Miss Orme.' ' Gentlemen may say they like it, perhaps ; but they cannot have much respect for a young lady who addresses them in that way. I sliould be very sorry to hear Nugent called " dear." ' ' Oh, yes, of course ; that would be quite differ- ent ! ' hastily ejaculated Jean, blushing violently. ' I'm sure Mr. Orme knows I should never want to ! ' Turning towards him with tears of vexation in her eyes, she added earnestly, ' You know I should not, don't you ? No, not even if you were my cousin ! ' ' I am quite aware there are cousins and cousins, Miss Eaymond ; and I am not so conceited as to suppose I should make so good a cousin as Louis Poynder.' Miss Orme nodded her wise little head. She had made a discovery, and immediately luncheon was over carried the news to Maude. 139 CHAPTEE IX. NUGEXT ORME's DISCOVERY. ' I DO not Y/isli to make you anxious, my dear Maude ; I am sure you know that,' began Miss Orme, sitting down with great solemnity by the former's side. ' Nevertheless, it is clearly my duty to inform you at once, so that you may give your brother a hint to be on his guard.' ' What is he to be on his guard against, dear Miss Orme ? ' languidly enquired Maude, too much accustomed to the little lady's solemn, important air about trifles to expect anything very astonish- ing. ' Are you feeling strong this morning, my dear? ' cautiously asked Miss Orme. ' Oh, yes ; indeed, quite strong enough to hear anything you have to tell, dear. Do not be afraid.' ' Then I am sorry to tell you that I have dis- covered symptoms of an attachment, certainly more than cousinly, in Miss Eaymond towards your 140 JEAN. brother, my dear. I saw at once that not a moment must be lost.' Maude repressed the smile that rose to her Hps, and gravely replied — ' You are so keen-sighted, so very observant, dear ; I am quite afraid of you sometimes, really ! ' ' My dear child, that you never need be ; you need not fear your most inmost thoughts being read.' Maude reflected a few moments. If the idea was just growing upon Jean it would never do to let this little busybody frighten her out of it. So she said softly and confidentially, ' Do you know, quite, quite between ourselves ' ' Yes, yes, of course ! ' eagerly. ' I sometimes think that it would not be so very bad a thing to happen. You see, dear Louis is so very high-principled. I do not think he could be induced to take even a part of my uncle's money now the daughter is acknowledged, though he has always been led to believe it would be all his. And, although he is shy of allowing Jean to see it, lest it might be supposed he were thinking of the money, mamma and I have sometimes fancied of late that he is growing attached to her. If, as you think, Jean returns his love, matters might be very comfortably arranged, might they not?' NUGENT ORME'S DISCOVERY. 141 ' Miss Orme was silent, trying to get used to the idea, her prejudice against Jean being rather in the way of her doing so. ' Jean requires a httle pohsh certainly,' went on Maude ; ' but I have akeady observed a shght difference in her since she has been here, and I know it is owing to your influence. You might do an immense deal for poor Jean. So judicious too. You will not, I know, let her suspect for a moment that we desired either to force or prevent the ens^acrement.' 'No, my dear, certainly not,' retiu'ned the lady with a very judicious air indeed. ' Fancy your being the first to discover Jean^s love for Louis, dear Miss Orme, after mamma and I having failed ! We were so anxious on his account, you know. How few are gifted with such keen perception ! ' ' Flatterer ! ' ejaculated the dehghted little lady. ' Might I not say how few are ready to acknowledge any superiority in others ? But rest assured of my using my " gift " in the right way. Leave every- thing to me, my dear, and we shall have it all settled in due time.' Maude tried to look satisfied, repeating, ' I know you will not let her perceive what you have discovered ? ' ' Oh dear, no ; of course not. I will be parti- 142 JEAN. cularly careful, and for dear Louis's sake I will do everything in my power to improve lier.' So Miss Orme grew more gracious towards Jean, and endeavoured to believe that the process of improvement had begun, althoilgh her sense of propriety was sorely tried, and her power of dis- crimination more frequently at fault than she would have liked to acknowledge. In truth, Jean's nature was just as perplexing as ever to Miss Orme, who believed that character could be and ought to be made to pattern. There was so much apparent contradiction in her to the httle lady's eyes. Where other girls would be shy and retiring, Jean often appeared free to the very verge of boldness, and where they would be free, shy even to awk- wardness. Boldness, shyness, conceit, want of proper self-respect, obtuseness, quickness, frank- ness, reticence — her puzzled little hostess found herself alternately giving the girl credit for posses- sing all sorts of contradictory qualities. But someone besides Miss Orme was besrin- ning to feel a little puzzled about Jean. ' JMr. Orme,' she said shyly and hesitatingly to him one morning when he happened to enter the breakfast room in search of a book, and to his surprise found her poring over the ' Times ' with an open dictionary by her side, ' would you mind explaining about the national debt to me ? ^a^GENT orme's discovery. 143 I can't understand what this article says about it, and I want to so much ! ' He smiled, highly amused at her attempting a 'Times' leader. 'Are you going through a course of political reading. Miss Eaymond ? ' ' I want to understand how to read politics.' ' And you don't find the dictionary of much assistance ? ' ' Xo ; it's no use looking for words when you want ideas.' He looked at her a Kttle curiously. ' You will find it rather a dry study searching after pohtical ideas. Wouldn't you prefer a novel ? ' ' Why, of course I should ! ' she rephed, looking her surprise at his asking such a question. 'Then why do you trouble your head with this sort of thing ? ' hghtly touching the ' Times.' ' Because I have to.' He bowed to such an unanswerable reason, and good-naturedly helped her with an idea or two, giving her a rough explanation of what puzzled her. A few days later Miss Orme and Jean were in the drawing-room, getting through the interval between dinner and tea, the former dozing over her knitting, and the latter writing a letter, when Nugent Orme entered with a pamphlet he had promised to send to Maude. Finding himself un- 144 JEAX. noticed, and not ^visliing to disturb tliem, he seated himself on a distant couch, and noiselessly turned over the leaves of the book, marking a passage here and there for Maude's special consideration. But presently his attention was caught by a move- ment on the part of his aunt. The little lady was sitting very erect in her chair, an expression of severe disapproval upon her face. His eyes fol- lowing the direction of hers, he saw Jean standing upon a footstool before the chimney glass, ab- sorbed in the contemplation of herself; tm-ning first one side and then the other, examining her face and figure from all points with a grave critical air. ' Eeally ! ' ejaculated Miss Orme, quite scandal- ised at such an open exhibition of vanity ; ' you appear very much interested in what that glass tells you, Miss Eaymond ! ' ' Yes,' rather absently replied Jean, measuring her nose with her pen. Then, before the little lady had recovered from the shock, she went on, ' But it is so difficult to judge about oneself. I wonder if — Would you mind telhng me exactly what I look like to you. Miss Orme ; my face and figure and all that, you know ? ' ' Eeally, Miss Eaymond, you are the most peculiar * ' Yes, I know ; but I meant my looks. Would NUGENT OE^^IE's DISCOVERY. 115 you mind telling me, please ? Do you think I might be called nice-looking — by some ? ' ' There is no accounting for tastes,' stiffly replied the little lady ; ' but if you \vish to have a plain and truthful reply I am bound to tell you I do not think so.' Jean's countenance fell. Then examining her- self again with rather anxious eyes, she added, ' I can't think how it is ; Annie Lawrence says my coloured hair and eyes are not in fashion, but my nose is straight and the shape of my mouth is good, if you don't mind its being rather large. Oh, Miss Orme, how much I wish I were pretty — half as pretty as Maude ! ' ' There are other and more serious defects than want of beauty, Miss Eaymond,' returned the elder lady severely. ' Of course ; I know that,' carelessly said Jean ' but it seems hard to have none of the right things. You don't think it would do to say I am nice- looking even — that's a long way off being beau- tiful, you know ? ' pleadingly. ' I cannot say what I do not think,' said Lliss Orme very decidedly. At the moment she really believed that she did not admire the girl. * No, of course not.' And Jean stepped down VOL. I. L 146 JEAN. from the stool, and slowly returned to her writing . again. ' Cool ! ' thought JSTugent Orme. But following her with his eyes he saw that tears were dropping upon the paper over whicli she was bending. ' Nugent ! ' ejaculated his aunt, catching sight of him, ' I did not know you were in the room. How long have you been here ? ' with a glance at Jean. The girl had httle supposed there had been another witness to her vanity. 'About a quarter of an hour or so, Aunt Jemmy,' and his eyes turned curiously in Jean's direction, as though to note the effect of his words upon her. But she showed not the least shame or self- consciousness ; merely looked up into his face in a far-off sort of way, with her pen poised in the air, for a few moments, and then went on with her writing^. ' I want this book conveyed to Maude, Aunt Jemmy ; will you give it to her and ask her if she thinks she can manage Goethe and Eckermann in the original, or prefers the translation ? ' 'Eckermann and Goethe; I will not forget, Nugent.' And away trotted the httle lady up to the invalid, to enlarge to her upon the hopelessness of attempting to improve a girl like Jean. Maude listened to Miss Orme's description of the scene she NUGENT ORME'S DISCOVERY. 147 liad just witnessed with some surprise. If Jean was vain, the quality had very suddenly developed, she thought. Nevertheless, she was not sorry that Nugent should have been a witness to the exhibition. As his aunt passed out of the room, Nugent Orme followed her towards the door, then hesi- tated and turned back a few steps, looldng speculatively at the young girl bending over her desk. Of late he had oTown a little doubtful whether his first verdict against her had been al- together a just one, and began to feel some interest in solving the question. ' Are you writing an essay on beauty, Miss Eaymond ? ' * No ; I am writing about myself to papa, Mr. Orme, and I am afraid he will be very disappointed. In his last letter he seemed so much to want me to be nice-looking.' ' Would it be an impertinence to ask what you have told him?' he enquired, led on by her frank- ness. ' Oh, no ; why should it be ? ' She put the letter into his hand, pointing out the passage to him. ' You are quite welcome to read it, if you care to.' He did care ; a month — a week—- before he would have at once declined the offer, with some l2 148 JEAN. little caustic speech about young ladies' corre- spondence. Now he quietly took the letter from her hand, and glanced curiously at the hues she had just been penning ' I am so very sorry to disappoint you, dear papa. I would give anything to be beautiful for you, but unfortunately I am plain. I hoped that I might perhaps be called nice-looking ; I don't look ugly to myself in the glass ; but, to be quite sure, I have just asked ]\iiss Orme, the lady with whom we are staying, you know, and she says " No " very decidedly indeed. I do hope you will not mind it when you are used to me and find out how much I can love, and how hard I mil try to make you happy. Annie Lawrence once told me that her papa liked having the " Times " read to him, and to talk about politics, so I am reading an article every day to try to understand it before you come.' He placed the letter upon the table, gazing at her in dumb astonishment a few moments. What a revelation had those few words been to him ! She grew uncomfortable and impatient under the grave, earnest scrutiny of his eyes, entirely mis- interpreting their meaning. Taking up the letter with an angry little toss of her head, she said — ' Oh, yes, I know ; you are going to laugh at me ; but I don't care.' mJGExN'T orme's discovery. 149 But- ' Ob, it's all very well for the people who have had fathers to care for them from the beginning ; but how would you like it if you had just found one, and you'd give all the world to tell him you were what he wanted you to be and had to say you weren't ? What am I to do if he does not love me ? ' she ejaculated, turning upon him with flaming cheeks and defiant eyes. ' What am I to do?' ' I do not think you have any cause for anxiety about it, Miss Eaymond,' he said, gently. ' It did not occur to you that my aunt might say what she thought, and yet be no authority on the subject.' Her tear-dimmed eyes turned upon him a httle doubtfully. It was so new to hear him speak in that tone. ' Will you allow me to say, in all sincerity, that I think you may set your father's mind at rest without departing from the truth, Miss Eaymond? My aunt did not know your motive for asking her the question, and might probably have been afraid of making you vain. Besides, she is as liable to make mistakes as the rest of us, you know. But I assure you that no one could possibly be in earnest in calling you plain, and to a few you would be — ' He paused, looking at the drooping face, and 150 JEAN. mentally added — 'gloriously beautiful ! ' Yes ; that had suddenly burst upon him. To a few, such as could read aright, her beauty would be a religion. As she stood before him, a half-smile quivering upon her sensitive lips, and hope faintly reviving in the wondrous brown eyes, a perception of the subtle loveliness of expression grew upon him, and he could understand why other women's beauty had hitherto touched him so little. Still a little doubtful, she presently asked, gazing straight into his eyes, ' You wouldn't say it to please me, Mr. Orme ? That would be no kindness, would it ? ' ' I assure you I have said less than I might have said. Miss Eaymond.' How much less she could not imagine. With a grateful upward look into his face she extended her hand. ' I am so glad ! ' He took the little hand in his, bowed courte- ously — it seemed almost reverently — over it, and quitted the room. 'He is kinder than he used to be,' thought Jean, taking out a fresh sheet of paper. ' How nice he is when he is like that. Shall I write another letter ? ' she hesitated. ' No ; perhaps it will be better to let papa see what Miss Orme said first, and then tell him what her nephew thinks. That is what I will do.' oi CHAPTER X. IJ^ THE LIBRARY. The following morning came a hesitating little tap at the library door. ' Come in,' called out Nugent Orme, stretching out his hand towards his pipe, with the expectation of seeing his aunt. The door opened, and Jean came shyly in, a pamphlet and a note in her hand. ' My cousin asked me to bring this, Mr. Orme. The note will tell you what she thinks about it.' ' You are very kind to bring it.' ' Oh, it isn't kindness,' absently, her eyes straying towards the treasures that lined the walls. ' I think you hardly do yourself justice,' he replied, smiling. ' I meant that I shouldn't come if I did not wish to. I always gave the books and things to Mary to bring before, you know.' ' Then I am very glad you have changed your mind,' he replied kindly, more amused at her out- 152 JEAN. speaking, and even the schoolgirl manner, than he would have once beheved possible. ' May I wait while you are writing to Maude, please, Mr. Orme ? ' ' I shall be very glad if you will,' wheeling a chair towards her. ' No, thank you ; I thought perhaps you would let me look at the books ? ' and her eyes turned longingly towards them. ' Pray make yourself at home here in any way you like. I wish I had known you had a taste for reading before ; but I hope you will now be friendly enough to help yourself.' And he took the very best means to make her feel 'at home by himself becoming absorbed in the reply to Maude's note. Nearly half an hour later — it required some reflection and reference to answer Maude's ques- tions — he suddenly recollected Jean's presence, and looked towards her. If he liad forgotten her, she had also very unmistakably forgotten him. Perched upon the top of the library-steps, with an open book in her lap, and one arm flung over two or three others by her side, as though she were afraid lest they should make to themselves wings and escape, she sat gloating over her treasure, her hair thrust back from her face and her eyes fastened upon the page. How could he have been IX THE LIBRAKY. 153 SO blind all this time as not even to perceive the glorious possibilities in such a face and head as that ? he wondered, his eyes dwelling upon the delicate grace of their contour, so well shown by her half-drooping attitude. ' Have you come upon some favourites, Miss Eaymond ? ' She slowly raised her eyes, took in the situa- tion, and descended from her perch, her arms full of books. ' I have never seen them before, only some bits out of this one,' she replied. ' Pray accept the freedom of the library from now ; take any books you wish, and come here as often as you please.' *0h, Mr. Orme, may I really? May I come when you are out ? ' ' If you prefer it, yes, certainly,' he said, laughing as Nugent Orme very rarely laughed. ' But,' he presently added, ' a moment. Miss Eay- mond. I see you have got amongst the French authors. Perhaps I ought — May I look ? Oh, I see " Corinne." Yes, that's safe enough, I suppose ; but for the future I must ask you to allow me a voice in the selection. There is a great deal here which you might not care to wade through. What do you say to my making selections for you ? ' ' Thank you,' a little slowly and doubtfully. 154 JEAN. ' What's the reservation, IVIiss Eaymond ? ' he asked, quick to note the shade of disappointment in her face. 'I don't hke selections. We used to have them at school. I should like to go all the way- round, and read every one on the shelves, if there were time.' ' I am afraid you would leave off with a very odd mixture of ideas,' he replied, smihng. ' Those shelves are weighted with amass of contradictions.' ' I don't see that it would make very much dif- ference in the end, Mr. Orme ; it would only be knowing so many more right things and wrong things than I know now, and that wouldn't hurt.' ' Not the knowing more wrong things, as you term them ? ' ' No ; I don't see why it should.' ' I do not quite follow you.' ' Because I don't know how to say it in the right way, Mr. Orme. I meant that if you knew things to be wrong, more knowledge of them would not make them seem right.' ' I see,' regarding her more intently. ' But I am afraid you would not find right and wrong quite so distinctly defined and separated as you imagine. They are apt sometimes to run into such fine gradations, and at least appear to merge into each other. Many of the subtle philosophers IX THE LIBEARY. 155 there miglit make you imagine wrong was right as well as right was wrong.' • Only which I wanted it to be. I must incline one way the tiniest httle in the beginning, you know, and all the rest would be only accumu- lation.' ' I see ; but how about freewill ? You do not consider yourself responsible for the first inclinings, I suppose ? ' ' Yes I do ; I think I always choose, Mr. Orme, and I would rather be responsible.' ' Ah ! ' He looked curiously at her. ' You have been reading this pamphlet, Miss Eaymond ? ' Her eyes fell, and the colom' rose to her brow, as she stammered out, ' Cousin Maude gave it to me last night, and said I was to bring it to you this morning, so I thought you wouldn't mind.' ' Mind ! I had not the least idea you had a taste for such reading, or ' ' But I haven't a taste for it, Mr. Orme. I like novels, and fairy tales, and poetry, and all that much better ; only I had not any to read, and this was better than nothing.' ' But you have read it carefully — critically ? ' ' I had to read it fom^ times, and look out ever so many words in the dictionary, before I could understand it. It took me till twelve o'clock.' ' But I can't conceive why you should take all 156 JEAX. that trouble about a thing that did not interest you.' 'Because I did not understand it,' she said simply. 'And after I had begun it I was not going to stop till I did. It was only hke a hard lesson, you know, and I never minded them. I set myself lessons now sometimes, when I haven't anything to read, because I like doing things that are hard to do.' ' You must have been a very good pupil.' ' So I was about lessons. Miss Bowles said she had no fault to find with me in that way ; it was the wrong tilings that came between, you know.' ' But I hope you do not incline most to the " wrong things," or how am I to trust you to the accumulations here ? ' ' I do not think I do most,' she replied, with grave consideration. ' I do not think I ever did much, only I didn't care about being good Miss Bowles's way, and did something wrong now and then just for a change, to try how it felt, you know ; but since I have lived with Aunt Maria it has been quite different. I want to be good, and I would give anything to be hke my cousin Maude, Mr. Orme. Is this the note I am to give her ? ' she added, taking it from the table. ' Yes.' IX THE LIBKARY. 157 'And may I take this book for myself? ' ' Take whatever you please. You will not find anything much worse than false philosophy there, except — No, you shall run the gauntlet. There are Scott's novels in that corner.' ' All those ! I did not know that he had written more than two ! ' He was gazing speculatively at her. In truth, he had not quite got over his sin*prise. ' You will let me come again ? ' she added anxiously, half afraid lest she had said something wrong and forfeited the privilege. ' Have I not given you the freedom of the library, Miss Eaymond ? ' he rephed, opening the door for her. She gave him a grateful look and a little half- curtsey, hugging her book to her heart as she went out. Nugent Orme slowly returned to his seat, and took up the pamphlet again, although it was only to fall into a fit of abstraction over it. Odd that this girl should have hit the centre- point of the writer's fallacy, when Maude's quick intelligence had failed to find it. How^ was it that the writer's graceful style, and, according to the premisses laid down, logical accuracy, had failed so entirely with the one and fascinated the other .^ Was Jean one of those gifted with an intuition so rapid 158 JEAX. as not only to outstrip, but transcend the or- dinary reasoning process — the intuition which constitutes the difference between a genius and an ordinary thinker? Though Jean confessed that she had to labour through the writer's subtle reasoning until she had mastered it, how very little effect it liad had upon her judgment. As soon as she had mastered the meaning, she had divined the fallacy. And this was the girl he had so loftily looked down upon, whom they had all ignored ! But after all what was it to him? It more concerned Louis Poynder than himself. He took up a mathematical treatise, his usual panacea against troublesome speculations, and resolutely plodded through a certain amount of work. But it had not its customary effect. No sooner had he laid it aside than he found his thoughts straying back to Jean again ; and, an- noyed with himself, he got up and went out. Maude Poynder lay upon the couch, the personification of serene content, gazing abstrac- tedly out of the open window, her fingers twining caressingly about Nugent Orme's note, which she had just read for the third or fourth time. How much trouble he had taken to go into the pros and cons of the question ; how- much respect he showed for her judgment even when he differed from her ! Ah, how dehghtful it would IN THE LIBRARY. 159 be by-and-by — the constant communion with a mind like his ! She pictured herself spending long hours with him in the dear old library and all that was to come of it. How proud she would be to be the wife of a man who treated a woman as a responsible being, and appealed to her strength instead of to her weakness. If all men were like Nugent Orme women woidd get their rights without ha^^ng to fight for them. 'But/ she complacently thought on, ' what are most of the women one meets? They have not enough in- telhgence to appreciate a gTeater — only sufficient to feel their own inferiority, and rebel at other people perceiving it.' For Maude Poynder had not had the opportunity of measming herself Vv'ith many really intelhgent women, and believed that she was superior to niost of her sex. More- over, she had the weakness which besets many merely intellectual people — the pride of intellect. She little suspected that there was a much finer intellect than her own developing slowly but surely in the girl she so loftily looked down upon. Her OAvn was simply the hard narrow faculty more capable of detecting a flaw in a chain of reasoning than of apprehending the truth or falsity of the premisses. She had not the highest moral perception and was entirely devoid of imagination. She believed herself strong, but she had yet to 160 JEAN. learn that intellectual strength does not always ensure moral strength. She had attained the one desire of her heart, and did not speculate as to what she might be were it withheld. ' So you ventured into the library at last, Jean,' she said with an indulgent smile at the young girl curled up on the carpet by the window, devoiu:ing her book. ' I cannot understand why you were so terribly afraid of Nugent Orme.' Jean reluctantly lifted her eyes from her book. ' I was never afraid of him, Maude. He did not seem kind. It was not kind, if he was ever so clever and I was ever so silly, to be always laughing at me. That wouldn't help me to grow wiser, you know. But I like him much better than I did.' ' He ought to feel highly comphmented, I am sure.' ' Do you like him, Maude ? ' ' A little — yes,' a rosy flush mounting to her brow. ' Ah, he does not make fun of you.' 'No,' with a supercilious curl of the well- shaped lips at the idea. ' I should not mind his laughing at me if he told me why, but it seems stupid if he does it because he thinks himself clever.' ' He certainly is not stupid,' returned Maude, IX THE LIBRARY. IGl highly amused. ' He could not be both stupid and clever, you know.' ' I meant he would be stupid if he looked down upon others for not being clever, Maude.' Maude laughed. ' If you take to argue in that way I must succumb of course.' ' I do not see why you need,' simply replied Jean. After a moment's pause she went on, ' But I do not really believe that Mr. Orme is not clever, Maude ; I think he made fun of me because he was not Idnd.' ' Why, that is worse and worse ! ' ' He is getting much kinder now — quite different. It was very kind of him to say I might have books from the library and change them when I please.' ' What has he selected for you ? ' a little curiously asked Maude. ' Oh, that's the best of it ; I am to select for myself, and go into the library when he is out.' ' Xugent ought to have had more — ' she added mentally. 'But I suppose he guessed she would keep entirely to fiction, and there is nothing very dangerous in that way — nothing worse than old-fashioned romances there.' 'I had "Corinne" first, and this is Schil- ler.' VOL. I. M 162 JEAN. ' Whose translation ? ' ' I read Frencli and German, Maude. I was to be a governess, you know.' ' Oh, yes, of course. I had forgotten.' Maude regarded the young girl with languid interest a few moments, thinking how little the knowledge had done for her. But of course it was not a critical knowledge, only the usual parrot learning of second-class schools. ' She is quite incapable of appreciating Schiller ! ' She continued aloud, ' I am glad to hear that ]\Ir. Orme has won you at last.' ' The reading part of me, Maude.' ' And what part has Louis won ? ' ' Louis ? Oh, he won my whole heart from the first.' 'You and he appear to appreciate each other. Louis is quite qoris vdth you.' ' I'm glad,' quietly replied Jean, bending over her book again. ' The fiffair seems to be getting comfortably en train,' thought Maude, once more turning her eyes towards the lovely scene without, and falling into a pleasant reverie. It never entered her head to talk to Jean upon any abstract subject. She always looked down upon her as a mere schoolgirl, with whom there could be no thoiif^ht in common; IX THE LIBRARY. 163 and Jean knew almost as little about Maude. They were, indeed, strangers to each 'other, the only difference heing that, in her enthusiastic admiration, Jean overrated her cousin, whilst Maude underrated her. 31 ti 164 JEAX. CHAPTEE XI. ox THE BRIXK. In her reply to Nugent Orme's note Maude appended a jesting allusion to liis getting into the good graces of Jean. ' You are really beginning to be taken into her favour, Nugent. Jean tells me that you have already won the reading part of her, whatever that may mean, by your offer to lend her books. But, seriously, you must look after the child a little, you know. It will never do to let one so untrained to thought roam at will amongst the shelves of the library. You must try to direct her choice a little. You would have been amused just now to see her puzzling over Schiller. For Louis's sake do your best for her.' Nugent Orme pondered long over this letter, his eyes fixed upon that last sentence. How was it that Maude knew so very little about her cousin ? Jean seemed to have quite an exalted opinion of her. He had come to be somewhat ox THE BEIXK. 165 ashamed of his own past grand airs with the girl. How was it that Maude remained bhnd ? Surely she ought to have made a better estimate by this time. For Louis's sake ! ^yas there any real hkelihood of that, then ? If so, he would strive his best, not for Louis's sake alone, but for Jean's. Throwins^ aside the letter — he did not know how impatiently — he paced up and down the room in not very pleasant thought. Since that memorable morning wdien Louis had been unguarded enough to allow Xugent to get a glimpse into his real nature, they had never succeeded in being on the old footing with each other again. Louis could not quite forgive the other for having, as he termed it, led him on to show his hand and then turned round upon him. It was all very well for Or me to take high ground. He had all he wanted, and could not tell what he would have been under different circumstances. What right had he to set up as a censor of other people's morals ? Orme was getting less and less like his old self, and ^vould become a regular prig if he went on at that rate. There were rumours afloat about his attending workmen's meetings in London, setting up a sort of business for helping poor tradesmen and others with small loans, and all sorts of bosh of that Idnd — evidence that he was degenerating into the conventional good young man. 166 JEAN. On his side, Nugent Orme's sentiments towards Louis were undergoing a change. He could not get over that morning's revelation, and, though he tried to appear the same as usual, he was con- scious that the effort must be evident to the other. They were each a great deal more ceremonious with each other than of old. In fact, neither could have attempted, the old raillery now without becoming personal. The quips, and jests, and laughing rebukes, which are between congenial natures the salt of friendship, become offensive when at- tempted where friendship is not. For Louis's sake ! He, Nugent, was asked to do his best for Jean on the chance that, when Louis had quite made up his mind he could not do without her money, he might throw the handkerchief towards her, whilst he would have preferred ' little Jessie,' as he called her, a girl ready to talk to any man who chose to buy a bag of cakes. So Maude found the latter portion of her note passed over without comment in his reply. ' Dear Nugent ; it was too much asking him to take Jean in Land ! ' smiled happy Maude. It seemed that he was not to have the chance, if he desired it. He saw very little of Jean, though he found that she availed herself of the privilege to borrow books ; they were taken during his absence. But he amused himself by ox THE BRIXK. 167 watching her reading, not a httle curious, as well as amused, at the course she took, which he traced by the gaps left in the shelves — a course growing daily more erratic. 'From the "Seven Champions " to the old Fathers ! What makes you keep amongst them, young lady ? ' he mused, fol- lo^ving her as she tried one after the other of the ancient folios, and, after an apparent cursory glance, changed it again. ' Piepresentative men ! We are getting a little nearer. Which is it we want? Ah ! " A Sceptic upon Dogma." I must enquire into that, I think.' So at luncheon he said, ' I am curious to know why you choose the book you are readmg now. Miss Eaymond. May I ask ? ' She Hushed rosy red, and then grew pale again. ' I did not think you knew,' she stam- mered. 'Nothing objectionable or unfit for a young lady's reading, I hope ? ' put in !Miss Orme, looking disapprovingly at the young girl's conscious, downcast face. ' What is the book called, Miss Eaymond ? ' ' A book upon theology. Aunt Jemmy,' said Nu'ould fall with such terrible force, utterly alone as she was and out of reach of such sympa- thy as they would have to give. ' Be careful,' he repeated in a low warning voice, as Jean at that moment entered the room. Glancing towards them as she slowly advanced into the room, her eyes fell upon the letter in her aunt's hand, then opened wide with hope as she sprang eagerly forward. ' An Indian letter — news, Aunt Maria ? Oh, tell me quick ! ' ' My dear Jean.' 'Isn't he coming so soon — what is it, Aunt Maria ? ' ' My dear child, try to — to be calm.' * Calm ! ' echoed Jean, her eyes wandering nervously towards the letter again. ' My dear child,' again began Mrs. Poynder, with an appealing glance towards the others for 250 JEAN. tlie help which they could not give, and seeking in her mind for words to convey the truth gently. ' Try to bear it with Christian ' ' Try to bear what ? ' exclaimed Jean, in a high- frightened tone. Then she went on pleadingly : ' I have borne a great deal lately, and I don't think I am strong enough to bear much more. But if papa is ill — if that is what I've got to bear, I must be brave, mustn't I ? Papa is ill, is he not. Aunt Maria ? ' Mrs. Poynder was silent, and with a last effort to ward off the blow, Jean went on, with a pathetic attempt at a smile : ' Do not be afi'aid of telling me ; it was all nonsense about not being able to bear. I am a very strong girl, really, you know. Oh, tell me he is ill, somebody tell me he is only ill ! ' turning her eyes entreatingly upon their grave faces. Then with a little hope- less cry she lay at their feet, mercifully bereft for a time of the consciousness of her misery. Putting their ready hands aside as if their touch were sacrilege, Nugent Orme knelt down and tenderly lifted her in his arms. ' Here, Nugent, on this couch.' Gently he laid her where they bade him, and they summoned aid. Nugent Orme stood looking down at the white face so terribly pathetic in its still despair. If he THE LAST STRAW. 251 heard the hints that his services could now be dispensed with they were quite unheeded. He watched them tending her with something of the same sensations which the bereaved experience at the sight of irreverent hands performing the last offices for their dead, impatiently, shrinkingly, enviously. But when Maude opened a scrap of paper which fell from the girl's dress, as they loosened it at the throat, and witli the words, ' Only a dead flower,' threw it aside, he lost all self-control. Eoughly thrusting them aside he knelt down by the unconscious girl, took the passive hand and bowed his face upon it. It would have been all the same now had the room been crowded with gazers. In his aw^e of the terrible stillness which seemed to him so much hke death and utter for- getfuhiess of everything but the misery of seeing her thus, he ejaculated, ' God help you, my darhng ! ' Miss Orme sank on to the nearest seat, with a ciy of dismay. Maude caught her mother's hand, extended to touch his shoulder. ' He thinks it is you, dear ; he must think it is you,' said Mrs. Poynder in a frightened undertone. But Maude knew. The sudden hardening of her face, the cold, stony expression of the eyes, told that she knew; although she had the self- 252 JEAN. command to keep her mother back and remain quiet. She even waved the servants aside. There must be no interruption now — the scene must be played out. 'Jean ! Jean ! ' Her eyehds fluttered, opened, closed, opened again, and the brown eyes dwelt upon his face, their terror softening into a loving smile. She was as yet only just able to grasp the fact that it was he and that he loved her. But presently her eyes shadowed again. Was this the blessed reality, or was it only a dream, and something else — something terrible — the reality ? The truant senses came struggling back to their work, and the light went out of her eyes again. Nugent Orme stumbled to his feet, and went out of the room. ' Oh, my dear Maude ! My poor ill-used Maude ! ' ejaculated ]\Iis3 Orme, wringing her hands. Mrs. Poynder sank sobbing into a chair. ' Such cruel, cruel treachery towards my poor child.' ' One's foes are to be of one's own household, you know,' coldly said Maude. ' Shame ! ' whispered the servants ; casting vindictive glances towards Jean. They had always looked upon Maude Poynder as their future mis- tress, and she was a great favourite with them. THE LAST STRAW. 253 Only that morning they had been informed by Miss Orme of the approaching marriage. With one exception, every woman present laid all the blame upon Jean. The master hadn't been to blame, of course. She was an artfiil, designing minx, and had led him aside by her treacherous ways. He was a great deal more to be pitied than blamed. ' But, perhaps, she couldn't help it ; he might have fallen in love with her, without her knowing it,' ventured a pretty housemaid, who had herself suffered from having innocently occasioned com- plications between the kitchen-maid and her lover. ' Couldn't help it ! ' with scornful emphasis, to which poor Hester succumbed. Too much ab- sorbed in her grief to hear, or if she had heard pay the slightest heed to their comments, Jean lay with closed eyes, white and still upon the couch as they had placed her. Maude dismissed the servants, and then turned towards Miss Orme. ' You will let us have the carriage, and get away as quickly as possible, dear Miss Orme.' ' If you wish it, certainly, my dear Maude. Do whatever you think right and best,' replied the little lady, the tears streaming down her cheeks. ' I dare not beg you to remain, after receiving such — such dreadful treatment ! I can only pray 254 JEAN. that he may soon be brought to see his error, although I am sure you can see where the prin- cipal blame rests.' ' Yes.' Maude kissed the little lady's cheek ; then went on to her mother : ' Mamma, ask her if she does not think that she ought to make some eflfort to leave here, unless she wishes us to go without her.' 'Yes, dear.' The anxious mother beckoned Maude towards one of the windows, and added entreatingly, ' It is very terrible for you, I know, my dear child, my heart bleeds for you, but — oh, Maude, do not offend her. What are we to do — what will become of us if your uncle has .left everything to her ? ' 'Do not fear,' returned Maude, her eyes dwelling for a moment upon Jean's face with a smile, which almost caused her mother to utter an exclamation of affright. And half-an-hour later the servants were deeply impressed by Maude Poynder's Christian forbear- ance, as she assisted them to place Jean comfortably in the carriage which was to convey them to Fern- side. 'I couldn't never have done it!' ejaculated the kitchen-maid, clenching her hand and giving a very expressive look towards pretty Hester. ' I THE LAST STKAW. 255 don't profess to be such a Christian saint as that ! ' Could she have been able to read Maude's thoughts as she rechned by her cousin's side in the barouche the kitchen-maid might have esti- mated her own capabilities rather higher. 256 JEAX, CHAPTEE XVIII. WAITING. Once in her own room at Fernside, Jean was left to bear her trouble as best she might. Whilst the disposal of her father's property, and her future position with regard to them remained in uncer- tainty, they wished to avoid committing themselves to any future line of conduct towards her ; had there been no graver cause for keeping apart from her. But Jean was only too glad to be left to herself, and was, in a numb sort of way, grateful to them for not disturbing her with condolences. Spared the knowledge of the revelation which had been made, she attributed their leaving her so much alone entirely to their kindness. To remain still and undisturbed in her own room at Fernside was aU she now desired, and that was granted to her. She was only disturbed by the servants bringing her food, and an occasional visit from her aunt, who stood by her side in a dreary state of uncertainty as to what she ought to do. WAITING. 257 111 spite of herself, Maria Poynder's heart went tenderly out towards the orphan girl, whom she could not even now quite dislike, although she knew that her daughter's future life was probably em- bittered by her. Poor Mrs. Poynder, she meant to be loyal to her child, and yet she once or twice, as time went on, found herself giving utterance to a few kind words to the girl lying all day so still and hopeless-looking in a low chair by the window, her dim eyes seeing nothing of the scene they seemed to rest upon. Once — only once — she ventured to plead a word mth her dauo^hter. But the sudden tightenino' of the beautiful mouth, and the hard glitter in the blue eyes, frightened Mrs. Poynder at her own darino\ ' I — I only meant that there is just a possibility she did not know, Maude dear. Of course if she knew he was growing attached to her, and gave him encouragement in any way, it was very, very wronsr and cruel — and ' ' That will do, mamma. I am not complaining in any way, am I ? ' ' Oh, no, my dear, no ; but it goes to m^^ heart to see you look so.' ' You have told Louis, of course.' ' Well, dear ; he wanted to know, and ' ' You wanted to tell him.' VOL. I. s 258 JEAX. ' He was so surprised at the suddenness of our return, and lie asked so many questions, and I thought you wouldn't mind. It will be sure to get about through the servants, you know. So very unfortunate their being present, wasn't it ? JSTot that you need mind in one way. Every feeling heart will deeply sympathise with you.' Maude set her teeth at the bare thought of the Eaystone sympathy. ' Dear Miss Orme, too, you will ever have a staunch friend in her. She feels how cruelly you have been wronged, and will take good care to do you the justice to inform every one of the exact truth. Will not you see her next time she conies, Maude dear ? She was here twice yesterday, and you know how fond she is of you.' ' I prefer being without her fondness. If she had not been as conceited as she is silly, she would have found out how much she bored me long ago.' Poor Mrs. Poynder burst into tears. Tliis was terrible — w^orse even than Louis' reproaches, and they Avere hard enough to bear ! But her heart ached for her child. Maude did not occupy her- self in any way, and the terrible brooding stillness was worse to witness than the grief upstairs. Cut adrift from aU that her soul had anchored to, utterly alone as she was with her sorrow, Jean WAITING. 259 ■was less to be pitied than her cousin, and the mother saw it. 'I think it is very unfeehng and unjust of Xugeut not to take any steps to set himself right with you, Claude,' one day ventured ]\Irs. Poynder. ' If only to ask your forgiveness, he ought to have come or written before now.' ' Don't worry. How do you know he has not %vritten ? ' ' Has he, dear ? ' anxiously. ' I've had a letter.' A letter that had caused her to pace her room like a wild woman nearly the whole of one night, for it confirmed all her worst fears. He had ceased to love her, and all his self-reproaches and entreaties for forcriveness went for nothin^^ now. He had ceased to love her ! Worse than all, he had ventured to appeal to her womanly feeling on Jean's account, and few and constrained as his words were, his anxiety showed terribly through them. He wrote to her as to a good woman — the Maude he had always had faith in— trustino- her cousin to her kindness, and begging her to believe that neither in thought, word, nor deed had Jean been untrue to her. She laughed aloud over the passage. ' Kind- ness ! Kindness to Jean ! ' What did he take her for — one of the spaniel women, who love all the iGO JEAX. better for being beaten P Ah, the misery of having to wait for that Indian letter, with the dread that when it came she might only find herself more powerless than she was now ! To b3 perhaps obliged for the rest of her life to keep np some semblance of consinly feehng. There was only one faint hope to live upon — the possibility of the ^vill not having been executed, and some former one made before he took Jean into liis favour still existing. She made no reply to Xugent Orme's letter. If he supposed he was going to escape so easily he would find himself very much mistaken. There was something yet to hold him by — ]iis honour. AVitliout news about either Maude or Jean, his aunt would tell liim nothing, assuming an air of cold, dignified disapproval, though she Vv^as finding it more difiicult every hour, and he dared not compromise either by asking questions elsewhere, Xugent Orme was passing his time as wretchedly as Maude could desire. Half the short nisfhts — as loni^ as lie could do so unobserved — were passed in watching the win- dow of Jean's room. She sat there long hours, her eyes upturned to the stars, unconscious of his nearness, but the prayers offered up for her did not remain unanswered. Even lie could see with Iveensightedness of love that, hopeless and cast (lown a^ she looked, her spirit had been only bent, WAITIXG. 261 not broken, by the storm which had burst over her. Louis and he had met but once since the crisis, and the former's scowhno; looks and half-averted face had taught him what he might expect from that quarter. His faithlessness to Maude was not his worst offence in Louis Po^'nder's eyes ; nor his love for Jean. It Avas the latter s love for Xuo^ent which could not be 2^ot over. Maude had meanwhile amused herself, if it might be called amusement, by exciting her bro- ther's vrorst passions. Whilst taking none into her confidence respecting her own feehngs, she rather enjoyed exposing her brother's selfishness and vanity, though he did not scruple to throw back all sorts of coarse taunts in reply. She was quite impervious to such arroAvs as he could aim. She did not mind his tellincy her that she was in the same boat, with rather worse chances for the fu- ture — couldn't he find lots of otIs readv enough to jump at an offer from him — and so forth, when she laughed at him for fancying Jean was in love with him. His telling her that she had fancied the same thing vnth respect to Orme did not sting her as her words stungr him. With her the stincr was in the fact that the thing was possible, and not in anything he could say about it ; whilst it enraged him almost beyond endurance to be taunted about having' lost Jean and her fortune too'etlier. Mrs. 262 . JEAX. Poyncler sat silently crying, afraid to utter a word. The days dragged drearily on at the cottage — never was waiting more weary. Maude's one little distraction was ordering the mourning, the richest and most becoming to be had for money, with all the newest devices in the way of orna-- ment. It was some little solace to know that black was not so unbecominc^ to her as to most people. If not selected with quite the same eye to the becoming, Jean's mourning was also expen- sive, and suitable for the daughter of a rich man. If she proved to be her father's heiress, as he had asserted she would be, they dared not offend her. ' I must wait,' Maude told lierself again and again. The ' waiting' was not much less a trial to Louis and her mother. Fortunately for herself, Jean was not present when the long-looked-for letter arrived. She had been accorded the privilege of doing as she pleased in the matter of joining them as she grew stronger, and had gladly availed herself of it, living almost entirely in her own room. The ten days' rest and quiet had restored her to a more healthy state, both physically and mentally. Little did she share or even suspect the others' excitement about the coming letter. He was dead, and the rest mattered nothing. She had not at any time given much WAITING. 263 tliouglit to the money part of the question, attri- buting ahiiost all her advantages to her aunt's kindness, and forgetting the cheques as soon as they had passed through her hands. She had everything she required — more than she had ever dared to hope for when she was at Ivy Lodge — and she did not trouble herself to enquire the cost of it, so -that her aunt was satisfied. Indeed, she had very indefinite ideas of the money value of things, never having been accustomed to spend. If she gave a passing thought to future arrange- ments it was to hope all would go on as before. After Maude was married she would try to be a daughter to dear Aunt Maria, and they would live peacefully on atFernside. The picture seemed a little colourless at present, but it would be dif- ferent when she had learned to be good — when she could hear his name without her cheeks bm^n- ing and her heart throbbing as they did now. Mother, son, and daughter quite astonished the servants by their suddenly-acquired habit of early rising, each making an effort to be in the breakfast-room by the time the morning post came in. ' At last ! ' All appearances were forgotten when their eyes one morning lighted upon the expected letter. With trembling fingers Mrs. Poynder snatched the letter from the wondering 264 JEAN. maid's liand, in her haste scattering five or six others which accompanied it upon the carpet. ' No, do not wait — go away,' as the girl stooped to gather them ii]). Maude took the letter from her mother's trembhng lingers, which essayed in vain to open it. It was immediately snatched from her by Louis, who tore it open, and greedily devoured the contents. ' Hurrah ! ' 'What — oh, Louis, tell us!' exclaimed his mother. ' All rio'ht, it's mine ! ' She sank on to a seat. ' Tell me, please, dears ! ' But neither o-ave a moment's thouaht to her. Her son stood gazing out of the window, with a triumphant smile upon his face, trying to realise the ' splendid luck,' and Maude was going slowly through the letter word by word, the co- lour deepening in her face as she read. Presently she said, with a quiet smile, addressing her brother : — ' It's mamma's first, you know.' He laughed. ' All the same, isn't it, mater ? It's worth something to be your son after all.' ' Has your uncle left his money to — us, then, dears P ' asked the bewildered mother. Lost in pleasant thought, her eyes dwelling TTAITIXG. 265 smilingly upon some mental picture, Maude heeded lier not. But at leng-tli her son condes- cended to explain to her. ' Yes, it's all right for us. The old man made a will just before he died cutting us out as he promised, but it appears it must have been de- stroyed, and she can only take what we choose to give her. Then his marriage to her mother is supposed to have been all a myth. There is no evidence of it to be found, and there was always a mystery about the woman he took out with him twenty years ago, and she must have died long since. There is no doubt Vv^hatever about it, Jean is illegitimate, and we take all as nearest of kin. Wonby ^"^fl^^ke!' Mrs. Poynder uttered a sigh of relief. Xever to be pressed for money again ! ' Is it much, Louis ? ' ' Much ! I should think so ! Supposed to bring in nearly five tliousand a year.' At which poor Mrs. Po}mder became hysteri- cal. " She shall have everything heart could -svish — she shaU never know the want of money — shall she, dears ? I will go this minute and tell her that ' ' No ! ' Maude laid her hand upon her mo- ther's arm, and added v\ith a smile which the other shrank a little from, ' I will tell her.' 266 JEAX. ' Don't quite kill her,' laughed her brother, whom good fortune made a little generous to Jean. ' Jove, Maude, I did not think you had so much of the vixen in you ! What furies you women are to each other I ' ' You — \\dll tell her gently, won't you, Maude dear ? ' pleaded Mrs. Poynder, as her daughter swept out of the room. HOW MAUDE BEOKE THE XEWS. 267 CHAPTEE XIX. HOW MAUDE BROKE THE XEWS. Well might Jean shrink back in her seat with a httle cry of alarm, when, swift and silent, Maude entered the room, and locked the door behind her. ' Is there anything the matter, Maude ? Why do you look at me like that ? ' Maude stood looking, only looking, at the girl who ' had won his love from her — who had stepped between her and happiness.' But it was enough to make Jean rise nervously from her seat and shrink farther away. ' Are you angry with me ? ' she faltered. For a few moments Maude made no reply, her eyes still fixed upon Jean with that terrible look ; then presently she asked in a low voice, 'If some crawling thing had stung you, and you had got it under your heel, what should you do ? ' ' Crush it, perhaps ; but I should be very sorry to do it, Maude.' 268 JEAX. ' I should not,' and her eyes so unmistakably hungered to crush, that Jean cowered back again with a low cry. She saw now that her secret was known, and that she must expect no n:iercy. Maude laughed aloud. ' Why a viper could not look more afraid.' 'I am not afraid, Maude, only sorry, very, very sorry, that you think me so bad as I see you do.' ' Bad ! is there any word bad enough for a girl who could treacherously take advantage of a friend's absence to spread a net for her lover ? ' ' I spread no net. I did not know^oh ! Maude, do believe it, I did not know he was your lover, and I couldn't help loving him until it was too late. When I let him see it, he told me at once that he was eno-ai^ed to vou,' But it was not that Jean loved him ; what would her love have mattered to Maude if he had not returned it? She could have watched the heart-breaking process calmly enough in Jean's case. The never-to-be forgiven offence vras that he loved her. ' Do you think I WAX ever release him ? ' ' He does not desire it, and he knows I do not.' Maude chafed at her quiet hopeless tone. She had expected passionate weeping — all sorts of HOTT MAUDE BEOKE THE XETVS. 269 rhapsodical lamentations ; but what was there to triumph over here ? ' You will never persuade me that you did not know.' ' But indeed, indeed, I did not ! ' ' You will never persuade me.' ' But I shall know it myself, and tliat will prevent my being as miserable as though I had wronged you intentionally, Maude. I shall not be entirely without comfort.' ' You are thinking of your father's promise to leave you hib money ? ' ' Xo.' ' I say, yes. You are thinking of the power it will give you ; all that you can do with five thousand a year ? ' ' It would not buy what I care for most. It would not buy my father back for me, or it should be thankfully given.' ' Very sentimental, but how if it is not yours to give after all — if you have neither father nor money?' Fixing her eyes eagerly on the girl's face, she went on : ' What if the will was never signed ? What if your motlier vras never married to my uncle, and you ate illegitimate and left dependent upon our bounty for your bread ? ' ' j^ot married ! ' faintly echoed Jean, every vestige of colour dying out of her face. 270 JEAX. ' At last ! Yes : one of tliose women who ' ' We are women, Maude.' ' Do not bracket yourself v/itli me.' ' Is that all I've got to know ? ' whispered Jean. ' Is it not enough ? Can there be anything worse than to be branded as one degraded amongst women ? ' ' Yes, yes, yes ! ' Maude stared at her, for the moment utterly dumbfounded, as she went on passionately : ' It would be worse a thousand times to be degraded, and I am not.' ' Maude caught her arm, roughly shaking it in her anger and mortification ; she was all the more violent for beginning to feel ashamed of her own violence. She had not meant to go such lengths as this, but then she had imagined the victory would be more easy. She hated the girl all the more for making her lose her self-respect in this way. She must bring her to her knees now at any cost. ' Have not you one spark of womanly feehng? Are you proud of being the child of shame ? ' Oh, Maude, do you like to say such things to me?' ejaculated Jean, the tears streaming down her cheeks, utterly unable to comprehend the other's feeling. ' I was so very sorry for you.' HOW MAUDE BROKE THE NEWS. 271 ' How dare you tell me that ? Sony for nie ! You? whom everyone will scorn.' ' I don't feel a bit more deserving; of scorn than I did yesterday, and it can't make so very much dilFerence or else people would have found it out and scorned me before.' Then, remembering what Maude had had to bear, and allowing for what was perhaps a consequence of her disappointment, it almost looked as though it had affected her brain a httle, she used to be so very different, she went on more gently: 'Cousin Maude, do believe me. I am very, very sorry to have caused you any pain. I am more sorry for that than being scorned, ever so much, and I know you don't really mean to be unkind to me.' Maude looked moodily at her. If she could have felt that the ghi was only a fool. How much better she could have borne any amount of ano'er than this I 'What do you intend to do for a living?' Not that Maude in her heart intended to diive the other to work for it. The mere cost of her food and clothes would matter nothng to them now, and she was not ungenerous with money. ' Oh, do not think about that,' cheerfLilly re- phed Jean, anxious to set her cousin's mind at rest upon that point. ' I should really prefer having work to do now ; I should not have so JEAX, miicli time for tliinking, you know, and I never minded work.' At last beginning dimly to perceive what kind of armour it was tliat blunted lier weapons, Maude moodily unlocked the door and went forth de- feated. She saw now that in her haste to strike she had gone too far. It would never do to incur the scandal of turning Jean out of doors just after her father's death and their inheritance of the property ; it would be making a martyr of her at once. Besides, it would be necessary to keep up appearances with the Ormes. In her heart of hearts she was not without some gleamings of ho]3e that Kugent might be won back to his allegiance. She knew that however he might desire to be free, he would now hold him- self bound until she chose to release him, and trusted to be able to win back his love if she could contrive to get him to come to Fernside, and be on something like the old friendly footing with them once more. He had loved her (she still tried to believe that, although those few words he had spoken to Jean were so terribly unlike any she had ever heard him utter to her- self), and Avas deeply conscious of having wronged her — both advantages on her side, to begin with. And now, in her cooler moments, Maude reflected that it would be the heis^ht of foUv to offend Miss HOW :maude broke the news. 273 Orme ; she could not afford to lose so very useful a partisan. So, when next the little lady presented herself at Fernside, her dear Maude found herself well enough to be seen, and gave her a very affectionate reception. ' You may imagine what I have endm^ed when it has prevented my seeing even such a dear old ftiend as you,' said Maude, retm^ning the little lady's kisses. Hating the deception, yet sincerely believing that not she but circumstances were to blame for forcino; her to use it. Would not she have preferred doing right ? Had not she always preferred good to evil ? ' Don't say a word, my love ; I quite under- stand. I only wonder you are as well as you are after such cruel ' ' You must not think I blame Xugent, dear ]\Iiss Orme ; I can never beheve that he meant to wrong me.' ' How good and like yom-self, dear Maude ; how very good ! ' ejaculated the little lady, very much comforted. It had been so terrible to believe that her boy was to blame. She could not think it. thoug;h she meant to be loval to Maude, and it was a great rehef to hear the latter absolve him. ' I do not want to speak about her now she is in trouble, but we all know ^vhere the blame rests. The best of people err sometimes, VOL. I. T 274 , JEAK". and my poor Nugent was too unsnspecting ' — wliicli was the utmost limit lier blame could reach. ' I can only hope that she may be brought to see her error in its true light. Her father's death seemed quite a judgment— quite a judgment.' Miss Orme returned to the Grange with just the impression she was intended to carry home. ' Dear Maude bore her trial so meekly, uttering not a word of complaint, and had been so thankful for her kind old friend's loving sym- pathy.' All ■^vas circumstantially repeated to her silent nephew, with the little additional speech so carefully taught by Maude. ' What the dear girl feels most is your avoid- ance of them ever since, Nugent. What have they done, you know? Not one word of blame have they uttered! Poor Maude expressly said she did not blame you. But she could not repress her tears when she said it seemed so hard to have lost your friendship as well as your love, when she had never uttered one word of reproach. If you would only look in at Fernside sometimes on your way past, you know, dear, it would not seem soinarked.' ' I will call certainly — if they wish it ; but I think it would be better taste to let things remain as they are — for the present,' he replied, a httle now MAUDE BKOKE THE XEWS. 275 hesitatingly ; wondering tliat Maude should desh^e him to call. ' You have not any unkindly feeling towards poor Maude, dear ^uigent ? ' anxiously. ' Xo ; she knows it.' •Then do not you hke to go because you are — .' Was he afraid of himself if he met that artful crirl ao-ain? Miss Orme had succeeded in convincing herself that Jean had, so to speak, bewitched him against his ^vill, and beheved that if she were kept out of his sight, he would very soon forget her and return to his first love. Per- haps dear Xugent was afraid of trusting himself in Jean's vicinity again. ' I do not think you need be afraid of meeting an3'one you do not wish to see, I^ugent, I hear no one sees her ; she has sufficient decency to keep out of sight — and .' Her nephew's eyes warned her to say no more ; but she flattered herself with the hope that she had not been entirely unsuccessful. Xor had she. Surprised as he was at Maude inviting him (what was it but an invitation ?) to go to Fernside, at any rate so soon, he felt that he could not decline her invitation. The next day he made his appearance at the cottage, somewhat av/kwardly enqufring for Mrs. Poynder, conscious that the maid-servant delayed her reply to study him with curious eyes, in full possession of the T 2 276 JEAx. story of his faithlessness, as indeed was everyone he met. He was shown into tlie drawing-room, and a council was immediately called in the kitchen to discuss his probable state of mind — his looks, tone of voice, the issue of tlie visit, &c. &c. The visit passed off more tolerably than he had anticipated. Carefully prepared by her daughter, Mrs. Poynder behaved admirably. She was as cordial as an old friend should be in her tone, with only just a soupcon of dejection and lowering of the eyelids now and then ; whilst Maude seemed most anxious to divest his. mind of the idea that she desired in any way to recrimi- nate upon him for the trouble that had come upon her. He was impressed ^vith the belief that, as far as possible, she wished to spare him, and avoided giving any sign of her own suffering or appealing even indirectly to his sympathy. She could not, of course, prevent his seeing that she looked very pale and out of health ; but she excused that by explaining that ' dear Uncle Oliver's death had come upon them so suddenly.^ Her generosity was fully appreciated, though it caused liis tone to become lower and more regret- ful. He felt terribly guilty of having caused that other and evidently deeper suffering. She had known her uncle too slightly to mourn for him now MAUDE JBROKE THE NEWS. 277 to sucli an extent as to affect her health, ffis manifest self-condemnation was very satisfactory to Maude. But just as she was congratulating herself upon getting on so well, Jean's voice was heard in the hall as she entered from the garden. It was only a word or two addressed to one of the servants, as she passed the drawing-room door on her way to her own room ; but Maude was quite startled at the effect. He seemed for the moment completely unmanned, and for the rest of his stay remained distm-bed and abstracted, finding the greatest difficulty in doing his part of the conversation. Maude mentally vowed ven- geance upon Jean. But she presently told her- self that she must be patient with him ; upon the whole, things had gone as smoothly as she could expect from a first visit. He had evidently done his best, and felt terribly conscious of having brought trouble upon her. Then she tried to beheve that his disturbance at the sound of Jean's voice did not necessarily proceed from his love for her. She must, if possible, keep him to paying them an occasional visit. Her last words, as he rose to take leave, uttered in a timid, hesita- ting voice, 'May I beg the loan of the last Quarterly, Nugent? I am so desirous to see MuUer's article, and the Eaystone people are so long in getting things,' was a master-piece in its way. 278 ' JEAX. Quite ashamed of having obhged her to ask for it, accustomed as she had ahvays been to receive it, he rephed hastily, ' Oh, yes ; I will send it immediately ; I hope you will excuse my having forgotten to do so before.' He was a little surprised, nevertheless, that she had any thought to give to such a matter at that moment. On his way home he puzzled a good deal over his reception, it had been so very friendly and cordial, so much more so than he had expected or had any right to expect. It almost looked as if — Was there any possibility that Maude had found out that her sentiments towards him- had been after all no Avarmer than his were towards her, and she was going to be content with friend- ship ? He was afraid to indulge the hope. A BIT OF suxsniXE. 279 CHAPTER XX. A BIT OF SUXSIIIXE. The time was passing drearily enoiigli with Jean. With the elasticity of youth she had soon re- gained her mental and bodily health ; but, from want of proper exercise, both were a little de- teriorating again. She had had an intuitive knowledge of her own need when she tokl Maude that she would be all the better for havino- work to do. Her present life afforded too much time for thought whilst supplying no healthy food for it. She was almost always alone ; it had come to be understood that she was not to make her appear- ance in the drawing-room when visitors were there, and Maude arranged that her exercise should be taken at a time when she was not likely to meet any of their acquaintances ; although even that contingency would not be inimical to herself now that people were pre- pared to regard the girl as not belonging to their sphere — a nobody dependent upon the Poynders' 280 JE.\Js\ charity. Jean walked lier couple of hours or so in the early morning, about as enjoyably as she had got through the recreative walks at Ivy Lodge. ' If only they would speak to me sometimes, and Maude would let me do some- thing ! ' sighed Jean, envying the maid-servants as they laughed and chattered over their work in the kitchen. Suddenly a bit of sunlight found its way into her hfe. Her aunt and cousins were out, and free to roam about the house as she pleased (no visitors would be admitted during their absence) she took her book into the drawing-room. -She was poring over it, trying to imagine herself one of a merry touring party described, when the door was softly opened, and someone entered the room. She did not raise her eyes from her book, taking^ it for o^anted that it was one of the servants upon some errand. To her astonishment she suddenly found two arms put round her neck, and a hearty kiss pressed upon her cheek. 'Annie — Miss Lawrence!' she ejaculated, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry in her astonishment. This was more like the Annie of old than the stiff young lady who barely accorded Jean a bow upon the two or three occasions they had happened to meet since that memorable day of the fete. A BIT OF SUXSIIIXE. 281 ' Annie, if you please, my clear. Pray don't look so scared. T hope you are not sorry to see me ? ' ' Oil, no, no ! How could I be ? Only I did not expect to see you, and I've been so — stupid lately.' Annie nodded : ' You see it was no use tellins: me that you couldn't, wouldn't, or shouldn't, be seen. They might have known that was just the way to ensure my seeing you.' ' How kind of you ! Oh, Annie dear, did you really want to see me ? ' eagerly asked Jean, with flushino^ cheeks. Annie laughed. ' If I'm to be absolutely sincere, I am not quite sure that I did, until somebody talked me into it. Well, give me a kiss, child ; I promised not to say one word that might sound like a reproach, and I suppose I must like you a tiny little since I feel so awfully glad to see you again. jSTaughty heroines are all the rage, or else I shouldn't, of course. Good gracious, how I do envy you ! ' ' Envy me — me ! Oh, Anihe, you don't know then ! ' ' Oh, yes, I do. It's all over the place, you know. A lover dying for you, when he ought to be dying for somebody else ; somebody else ready to kiU you, but trying to behave like an 282 JEAX. amiable martyr. Nobody's child ; without fortune, friends, or anything else but lovers — all sorts of delicious compUcations. I should think I do envy you ! Poor I am obhged to do everything in the most humdrum manner, engaged in the tamest way to everybody's satisfaction. Arthur says he will run away with me if I like ; but where's the use, when everybody knows we can be married whenever we please ? ' ' Arthur— Mr. Brayleigh ? ' ' Yes ; it has come to that, dear ; I did once think I cared most for Louis, but it turned out to be Arthur. The worst is, he took me by sur- prise, and the moment he spoke found out that I cared for him ; so he wasn't even kept in sus- pense. He's such a dear, too, that I really can't quarrel with him. He helped me to make my way to you, but I promised the girl not to tell how, and we have so enjoyed outwitting ]\iiss Maude. Do tell me, Jean ; isn't she more wild about it than she pretends to be ? I don't believe in her, and that's the truth ! I'm quite sure she's not quite so sweet about it, as she wants people to believe. I never did like martyrs ! Why even you can look daggers sometimes, and Edward says you are just the girl — Ah, that reminds me, I was to say all the kind tilings I could think of. He made me learn a most elaborate speech about A BIT OF SL'XSHIXE. 283 his deep re.>pect, find regret, for your trouble, and all that. But the gist of it is that he is a dear good old fellow, and wants you to under- stand that if you need a friend there is one at the Elms ready made.' ' How good of him — how very, veiy good ! ' ' Don't be sentimental, there's a dear. His being good is not a cause for tears, you know. Besides, you look — what word Avas that, Arthur ? Oh, hipped enough already.' ' Hipped P ' ' Cut-up — worried, you know,' with a superior air. • I could hardly be anything else, after ' ' Oh, no, no, of course not ; you must not mind my way.' Then, to create a diversion, ' What . do you think of this jacket, dear ? ' ' It's very — ' utterly at a loss what to say, Jean added, ' Xice and warm, isn't it ? ' ' But the shape — what does it look hke, child?' ' Isn't it — something like a — gentleman's short coat ? ' hesitatingly. ' Yes ; ' delightedly rephed Annie. ' Of course it is ; I had it made by Edward's tailor. Daring, isn't it? And this cravat; do you notice? No one could take this for a lady's. I buy them at 284 JEAX. tlie hosier's to make quite sure, and I won't have it called a tie because that's of no gender.' Jean began to laugh. ' You really do look like a boy at the top of you, Annie ! ' ' All right ! ' replied Annie, contentedly. Pre- sently she went on, eyeing the other a little curiously ; ' I suppose you are engaged to Nugent Orme now, Jean ? ' ' No, oh, no, no ! ' ' Then that accounts for Miss Maude being so meek about it. But there can't be much chance for her, after his falling in love with you.' ' Mr. Orme wishes her to be his wife, Annie, aud I think she will be.' • The story is that he doesn't wish it.' ' I cannot think how such a thing got about.' ' Don't you know, Jean ? In the simplest way in the world. It appears that when you heard of the bad news from India, you became insensible and he got frightened, and talked to you in the most loving way before all the servants, quite raved over you ; their housemaid told our Emma, whilst Maude stood listening as white as a ghost.' ' How terrible for her ! ' ' Well it couldn't have been very pleasant. I shouldn't like to stand by whilst Arthur was making violent love to another girl certainly ; but A BIT OF SUXSIIIXE. 285 it would make some clifFerence if she did not want liim, as I suppose you did not ? ' With a keen questioning glance into the girl's face. Poor Jean. In spite of herself a burning flush mounted to her brow and her eyes fell. ' Ah ! ' ejaculated Annie. ' I do beheve you are as good as somebody always said you were, and that you are going in for self-sacrifice and all that ! I should think if he were here he would say that I might go on noAv ; ' she mused ; study- ing Jean's face. ' He said I was not to let any- thing, not even her engagement to Nugent Orme, deter me.' She added aloud, ' I haven't told you yet what I came specially to say, Jean. I am (zoino; to stav at Eastbourne with Arthur's aunt for three months. Between ourselves, I think she's going to try to convert me from the error of my ways. She actually told me one day that she feared I had a tendency to fastness — as if it were desirable to be slow ! Anyway, she has taken a house at Eastbourne and talked papa over about the good it will do me to have three months with her before my 'marriage, as I had never experienced the advantage of a mother's care and counsel. Mamma died whilst I was an infant, you know. Poor papa insists upon my going, and even Arthur dared to say it would do me good. I've been thinking that there's one 286 JEAX. tiling that would make it bearable, and only one, that is yoiu" coming with me ? ' ' Oh, Annie, what a kind thought ! How very good ! ' 'Don't admire the o-oodness too much, mv dear ; it may not have originated from m^^self, you know. But I shall be really thankful if you w^ill come. Fancy how awfid it would be to be imprisoned for three months with a stiff old woman who seems to have no other subject for conversation, but feminine propriety — propriety ! ' ' I don't know hov/ to thank you, but ' ' You won't come ? ' ' I cannot, Annie.' ' You are afraid of Maude ! It is no use denying it, for I know you are, but leave me to manasre her. I will 2;et her into such a corner that she will be forced to consent. My dear, I should quite enjoy it ! ' said the laughing girl. ' I should like to give her a pat for every little nasty speech she has made to me. Only say you will come and I'll take care she shall let you. She may be a little glad to get you out of the way, you know. Say you will, Jean ? ' But Jean shook her head. Grateful as she felt for their kindness, she saw that she ouGfht not to enter into any closer relationship with the Lawrences. So, thoudi Annie Lawrence used all A BIT OF SUXSHIXE. 287 the arguments she could think of, she went away unsuccessfLiL But she left Jean a great deal cheered by the visit. It brightened her wonderfully to know that the Lawrences, who seemed acquainted with so much of what had occurred, could still have such kindly feeling towards her. If they had even known the worst part she couldn't help believing they would have been pitiful. 288 JE.\x, CHAPTER XXI. MRS. POYXDER's discovery. Whex next Miss Orme ventured to allude to Jean in talking to her nephew it was as she had been tutored to do by Maude. ' Who is Miss Bell ? ' he asked, after hearing the name repeated two or three times. ' Do not you know, Nugent ? — Oh, no ; I ought to have remembered that they would not tell you anything against her (had not Maude said they would not ?) in any way. Miss Eaymond, as she was called, never had any right to the name it appears. So far as is known, her name is Bell.' ' Bell ? ' ' It turned out that Mr. Eaymond was never married, Xugent. I always felt that tliere was somethins: Avronsf about the oirl and, as dear Maude says, I very rarely err. Of course her mother would never have introduced such a person to lier friends had she known what she does now. But dear Maude says they should not MRS. poy^s^der's discovery. 289 think of making any difference in tlieir treatment of her now, though they cannot oblige other people to associate with her. She shall always have a home there.' All of which was to show him ' dear Maude's ' generosity and largeness of spirit. But the recep- tion of it w^as much too matter of course to please the little lady. She considered that Nugent ought to be a great deal more impressed with Maude's goodness and generosity towards her rival than he appeared to be. But his matter-of-course re- ception of the intelligence was, in fact, more really complimentary to her favourite than would have been the astonishment his aunt expected. If his respect for Maude's character had shghtly dimin- ished of late it was so slightly that he was hardly aware of it, and it did not enter his head that she could be other than kind to Jean. If not quite capable of the same kind of generosity towards Jean as the latter 's towards her, he believed it was of the ordinary quality ; sufficient to prevent any display of unkindly feeling. He little imagined what Jean was subjected to ! After that first visit of his there had been a sharp attack upon her by Maude. ' I supposed if you had not the right feehng you would have the decency to keep a little in the back ground without being told to do so. When VOL. I. u 290 JEAK Mr. Orme is here again I beg you will not try to attract liis attention by talking outside the door.' ' I did not know that I attracted his notice, Maude. I'm sure he would not think I wished to do so.' ' How can you tell what he thinks of you now he knows your wretched antecedents ? ' ' He does not think worse of me for knowing them.' Sadly enough, but so quietly and decidedly as to cause the colour to rise in Maude's cheeks. ' Why will not you let me go away, Maude ? ' ' Because I choose you to remain. You would like to set up for being a martyr, I dare say ;. but you shall not have the opportunity. We cannot help people objecting to associate with you, and are, therefore, obliged to request you to keep out of the way when visitors come ; but everything that money can purchase you can have. You cannot say that anything is denied you, and you can be as comfortable as you choose to make yom^self.' Jean gave a long steady look at the pictm^e of the future marked out for her, then turned from it with a little impatient gesture, and replied, ' I don't want to be a martyr, Maude. But I really should be one if I stayed here for the sake of food and clothes when I should much prefer working to earn them.' :mks. poyxder's discovert. 291 Maude reflected a few moments before replying. Though it would never do for them to turn Jean out it would be very desirable indeed if she could be made to go of her own accord, and it could afterwards be shown that she had so gone. How much easier it would make matters — especially with res^ard to Xuo-ent Orme — if Jean could be induced to take herself off. She rephed with a smile — ' All romantic girls talk in that way, I suppose ; food and clothes, as you call them, appear such very prosaic things to you. But I do not think you would be quite so high-flown if you were put to the test and had to work for them. Anyway, you cannot pretend that there is any necessity for you to do so.' From that time Jean found her hfe at Fernside anything but an easy one. She was subjected to all sorts of petty annoyances ; and, although she eould not realise that they were really intended to wound, she experienced all the discomfort she was intended to feel. The servants beg;an to treat her T\dth systematic rudeness and neglect, and if she asked for the most triflinor service it was rendered o as though under protest. She would gladly have waited upon herself, and fetched a jug of water, or what not, when she wanted it. But that she was not allowed to do. Cook ' wasn't going to have people peeping and prying about her kitchen.' So ir2 292 JEAX. when she wanted water, and it was very rarely put m her room now, she was made to ring again and again, and had to submit to the housemaid's imper- tinence about the hardship of having to wait upon ' upstarts,' when at length the jug was thumped down just iuside her room. DoAvnstairs there was Louis Poynder's scarcely more refined rudeness to be borne. He was taking elaborate pains to prove to her hov,^ very little he cared for her, and the more unsuccessful were his endeavours to pique her the more persistent did he become. Once or twice he struck fire, and turning upon him with flaming cheeks and angry eyes she passionatel3r struck back ao'ain, blow for blow. But she would come to him afterwards, asking forgiveness like a child. ' Oh, Louis, I am so sorry ; do forgive me ! I ought to have known that you could not mean to- be unkind! I am always having tempers lately and taking things wrong. Oh, yes, it is wrong and wicked to think you capable of really wishing to be unkind after all you have done for me ! ' At which he would turn sullenly away with some muttered speech about her being a fool. ' The orirl must be a fool ! ' he told himself so over and over again. ' What could it be but stupidity to believe in people to the extent slie seemed to be- lieve ? ' Yet he was forced to acknoAvledo-e that :mrs. poyxders discovery. 293 the stupidity foiled liim. There was the difference between himself and his sister, that Maude would have given half she possessed to believe Jean stupid and could not. She had the keener pang of perceiving the truth whilst she fought against it. Then, in spite of themselves, her carelessness about the money touched them. True, they ascribed it to her inexperience and ignorance of what money could buy ; her want of taste for the beautiful, and so forth ; but the fact remained that she was honestly glad they had come into her father's fortune. Mrs. Poynder was quite over- whelmed with gratitude towards her, and meant to give her substantial proof of it when things were a little more settled. At present dear Louis and Maude kept her so completely engaged. She did not suspect that her daughter had any other end than was apparent in keeping her so much occupied as to have no time to give to Jean. Maude was determined that the latter must be got rid of some way (it was no use taking any decided steps to- wards winninfjj Xug;ent Orme back to his alleo'iance so long as the girl remained there), and contrived to keep her mother constantly occupied, and apart from Jean. Xow that the fortune was assured to them, all sorts of schemes were contemplated for the future ; 294 JEAX. Louis Poynder taking upon himself the manage- ment and settlin<^ of it all in the most matter-of- com"se way, taking his mother's acquiescence for granted. Her role in the programme was simply to sign cheques, he laughingly informed her. As soon as the necessary business of proving her heir- ship, &c., was gone through she found herself signing cheques at a rate which rendered it problematical whether five thousand a- year would suffice the needs of her children. But they told her that it was only the back debts pressing for payment all vUt once. When they were once settled things would run on smoothly enough. But, of course, Louis must now have his chambers in town, horses, servants, &c. ' The mater wouldn't expect him to live like a pauper now, and living like a gentleman would cost money. Say she put down a thousand for him to begin with, for horses, and furniture and things ; he meant to furnish his room properly, of course.' It was two months after the arrival of the last letter in which it was stated that a few of the late Mr. Eaymond's personal effects (he had left nothing of much value in that way) had been despatched by the long passage. They had duly arrived, a.nd been carefully looked over by Mrs. Poynder and her daughter, who had found nothing of import- ance. All was contained in one large chest, books. MRS. poyxder's discovery. 295 an old-fashioned mahogany desk, in which were some packets of letters chiefly from Mrs. Poynder herself, bank vouchers, a few trinkets of small value, the dead man's watch and chain, &c., and a small trunk filled with woman's clothes ; the fashion of which dated some sixteen or eighteen years back, and told nothing of the wearer. Maude and her mother minutely examined each and every- thing ; searching carefully in every fold for any scrap of intelligence respecting the woman who had lived with Oliver Eaymond. But they found that the lawyer had been right ; there was not the shghtest clue to the person who had worn the things other than the name ' M. Bell ' upon some of the linen yellow with age. The quahty of the clothes neither indicated luxury nor poverty, and showed no individuality whatever, in the way of make or ornament. The few things had been found as though left untouched for many years, and the lawyer had at first hesitated about sending them until he found there was nothing of sufficient importance to fill the chest, then put the small trunk in just as it was. It had doubtless belonged to the so-called wife, and might possibly tell some- thing to feminine eyes. All doubts set at rest, the Poynders entered joyftdly into their possessions. They were even generous enough to give Jean her father's watch 296 JEAN. and cliain, and Mrs. Poynder suggested that she might hke to have his desk. ' Well, yes ; I don't mind. If she cares for anything so ngiy,' said Maude. Upon being offered, Jean expressed herself very thankful. It would be a thousand times more precious to her than the best desk to be bought for money. ' We must examine it well first, you know,' said Maude to her mother w^hen they were alone again. 'Those old-fashioned desks have secret compartments and false bottoms sometimes. Look it well over yourself, and then let me s4e it before you give it to her.' A few hom"s later Maude was in her own room in pleasant contemplation upon the possi- bility of introducing a little violet or grey with the sombre black, when a maid-servant came running hastily to her ^vith a message from Mrs. Poynder, begging her to come immediately to her room. ' I am afraid mistress is taken ill, ]\iiss Maude ; she looked dreadfully pale, as if she had had a fright.' Maude hastened to her mother's room. Mrs. Poynder was sitting before the open desk drowned in tears ; a large packet in her hand. ' Oh, Maude, my dear child ! oh, my poor children ! ' MRS. poyxder's discovery. 297 ' What is it? ' ejaculated Maude ; every vestige of colour dying out of lier face, as her eyes fastened upon the parchment in her mother's hand. ' You have not found — not — not ? ' ' It is your uncle's will ; ' sobbed Mrs. Poynder. ' Oh what shall we do ? How can we pay her back now!' Maude moved swiftly towards the door, locked it, returned to her mother's side, and took the paper from her nerveless fingers. Amid Mrs. Poynder 's sobs and sighs and ejaculations of distress, she gathered the contents of the ^vill, which she saw was duly signed and sealed, all that was of moment to them. ' The whole of my property, funded and otherwise, to my daughter Jean. Three hundred a year to my sister Maria, wife of the said James Poynder, during her hfe. Pifty pounds each to her son and daughter, Maude and Louis,' &c., &c., read Maude, the letters dancing mockingly before her eyes. ' Oh, it's too dreadful, my poor dear children, my !' ' Be still, mamma ; cannot you be quiet ? You will be heard all over the house ! ' ' My poor children ! — cruel, cruel ! ' ' Will you be quiet ? ' said Maude, in a low 298 JEAX. voice. ' Cannot you see tliat it need not make any difference ? ' ' Ko difference ! ' echoed Mrs. Poynder, the tears streaming down her face, as she looked up into her daughter's eyes, a httle ray of hope be- ginning to appear in her own. ' You mean she woukl be generous to us, dear P Yes, I ought to have thought of that, and it's good of you to remind me.' For in truth the poor mother had been more afraid of the effect of tlie revelation upon Maude than anything else. ' I do not intend to give her the opportunity to exercise her generosity,' coldly rephed Maude ; as she spoke, looking round the room for means to do what she wanted to do, and rapidly arguing out with her conscience the necessity of doing it. The act was forced upon her — it was simply defending her mother from a gross injustice, and the blame would he with him who had made such an ini- quitous will ! Once the act was done her mother would be amenable to reason — never whilst the will was in existence. ' I do not understand,' said Mrs. Poynder, shrinking a little from her daughter's eyes, and grasping the will ^vith a tighter hold. Some one was tapping at the door. Maude lifted a finger to her lips, and gave a warning glance tow^ards her mother ; not a little astonishing :mes. poyxder's discoyeri-. 299 the latter by her sucldeiily recovered self-control as she said in her usual voice : ' Who is there ? ' ' If you please, ma'am, Mr. Orme is in the draTviuQ;-room.' ' Say that Mrs. Poynder is not very vrell and I am attending her. Ask him to excuse me, Phoebe. Xo one else is there, I suppose ? ' ' Only Miss Bell, ma'am.' ' Only Miss Bell ! only Jean ! Wait, Phoebe.' Maude stood hesitating between the two evils, glancing at her mother's tear-stained flice. ' I think I will go down. Yes ; say that I ^vill come in a few moments.' Then, as the maid went on her errand, Maude tm-ned towards her mother again. ' Give it to me, mamma.' But Mrs. Poynder seemed suddenly to have become decided and unvielding;. Thouoii she spoke no word she clasped her tw^o hands over the will, and held it pressed tightly to her heart. ' You see I must go down, mamma, she is alone with him. Well, will you promise not to mention a word to anyone till I have seen you ac^ain ? ' Then with a httle lauo'h she saw she must try to disarm her mother's suspicions, she added : ' Don't be afraid, mamma. I am not going to do anything dreadful. Put the will back into 300 JEAX. its place, and try to remain silent about it until we have talked over the best method of telling lier together.' Then, remembering that prevention is better than cure, she added, as she reached the door, ' Come down to the drawing-room imme- diately you have put it away, will you promise me that?'' ' Yes, dear,' and Mrs. Poynder turned towards the desk to do her daughter's biddino^. Maude went swiftly on lier way towards the drawinsr-room. 301 CHAPTEE XXII. GOXE. Jeax had ventured into the drawing-room in search of a book, and, happening to hght upon a new Tennyson, stood dreaming over it longer than she was aware of. It was a greater trial than either had yet gone through, when Kugent Orme Avas suddenly ushered into the room. Had they been prepared, each was capable of keeping up appearances ; but for the first few^ moments they could not utter a word beyond the ejacu- lations : ' Jean ! ' ' ISTugent ! ' Then she murmured som^ethino- about oroino- to look for aunt Maria, and turned towards the door. He tried to remember that he had no right to detain her — that she had every reason to wish to avoid him ; but, as she neared the door, he forgot everything but that she was going, and in a moment was by her side. 302 JEAX. ' Say you forgive me, Jean — say it ! ' His eyes fixed with miserable yearm*.ng upon her white face. It had grown so terribly thin and sorrowful since his love had shadowed her life. Forgetting to allow for the natural regret at her father's death, he took upon himself all the blame for the change which he perceived in her. ' Need I say it? ' she whispered ; 'Oh, Xugent, don't you know ? ' ' Child — Jean, Jean, I want the words,' he ejaculated, hardly knowing what he said, m the terrible fear that she was slipping away from him ; his eyes pleading for a little respite — only a few moments. But he presently overcame and went on gently : ' No ; do not say them ; I have no right to ask it; no right to say anything more than God keep you, Jean — Miss Eaymond.' 'You must not call me that. Haven't you heard ? My name is Jean Bell. My mother — my dear mother ' (Jean's sympathy had of late leaned more towards the mother who had been wronged, than the father who had wronged her) ' was not married to Mr. Eaymond, and people don't like me so well because of it.' Was not Maude constantly telling her they did not, and was she not obliged to keep out of the way when visitors came on that account? He uttered a short bitter laugh at the respec- GOXE. 303 tability which looked down upon what he would have bartered all he possessed to win. Blmd — blind ! She looked wistfully at him ; the revelation did not seem to have made any difference in him ; his eyes were unmistakably telling her so, though he spoke not. She had judged him rightly then. She moved another step towards the door, then stood hesitating a moment. Would it be very wrong if she could only say a word or two, whicli he might be able by and bye to interpret into farewell as well as forg;iveness ? She knew it would be a last farewell. She held out her hand which was eagerly caught between both his own. He would not have dared to take it ; but now ! ' Nugent, I want you to believe ' ' Very confidential, I am sure, Miss Bell.' He held Jean's hand with a firmer hold. She had put it into his, and not a thousand Maudes could make him release it until Jean bade him. ' I am afraid I am rather de trop^' went on Maude, almost beside herself with passion. ' No,' replied Jean, with a look which asked him to release her hand, ' I was only going to say good bye to Nugent, and I can do that now.' ' Nugent, indeed ! ' ' Good bye, Nugent,' said Jean, in a faltering 304 JEAX. voice (she kneAV wliat tliey did not, that it was her last good bye to him). ' Wlien Maude is your wife, try to give her the behef tliat though I have loved you I have not Avronged her,' look- ing up into his eyes with a steady light in her own. How Maude's proud spirit chafed under the other's words. To owe anything to the girl who had wronged her ! Say what she might, Jean had wronged her, and in the worst way one woman can wrong another ! But for his standing there ! But she mastered herself sufficiently to keep back the worst that rose to her lips and said coldly, ' Spare yourself the trouble of enteriDg into further explanations, I beg, Miss Bell. I have the same objection to rhapsodical scenes which I used to have, although Mr. Orme's taste appears to have changed.' Jean silently turned towards the door again. Nugent Orme opened it for her, bowing reverently as she passed out. Then he turned towards Maude again, and said gently and firmly (he did not know her yet, and looked upon what had taken place simply as a momentary and perhaps natural ebulli- tion of feeling at finding Jean and himself together) : ' You ought to know that it would be utterly impossible for Jean to be disloyal to the right, Maude. If I were capable of speaking to her as GOXE. 305 I have no right to speak, you ought to know she would not hsten.' 'A great deal may be expressed without speaking. But I do not think she coukl say more. When it comes to openly telling a man she loves him, a girl has ceased to care anything about appearances, loyal as she may be.' A hot flush rose to his brow. ' Will you never understand her ? ' ' Are you sure that you do, Nugent ? ' Shortly and decidedly he replied, ' We must for the future avoid any discussion upon that point, Maude. Indeed, I may not see you again for some time. It is my intention to travel for an indefinite time.' He waited a few moments. Would she say the few words which would set him free from the engagement? He had done his best — he had tried to keep faith with her ; but after what had occurred when he had lost his self-control by Jean's side that day, he thought that no woman with any self-respect would desire to be his wife. She had the gravest reason for blaming him, and he was deeply sensible of having brought trouble upon her ; but how could she still wish to become his wife ? But Maude said softly, ' I hope you will write often, as you promised, Nugent. When do you thmk of going ? ' VOL. I. X 306 JEAN. ' I don't know.' Perhaps both were equally glad that Mrs. Poynder came into the room at that moment, obhging them to enter upon a fresh topic. He very soon took his departure. Some Eaystone callers came in, and he gladly seized the oppor- tunity to make his escape ; although he chafed under Maude's leave-taking, which was a great deal more empresse than he considered necessary. It was hard work for Maude and her mother to keep up appearances, and seem to listen with a well-bred air to the customary Eaystone gossip, and both uttered a sigh of relief when the visitors at length rose to take leave. ' Go at once and fetch the will, mamma ; bring it down here and we can talk the matter over,' said Maude, remembering that there was no fire in her mother's room until later in the day. 'Just throw sometliing over it, not to attract attention, you know.' 'Very well, dear,' replied Mrs. Poynder in a depressed tone. Maude wanted to read the will before showing it to Jean, perhaps. They could only trust to Jean's generosity now ! In two minutes she entered the room again with a white terrified face. ' Oh, Maude, Maude ! ' ' What's the matter now ? ' angrily asked Maude. Nothing worse could happen than the GONE. 307 finding of that wretched will. ' I do wish you would not be so excitable — What is it, mamma ? ' ' It's gone ! ' ' What — the will ? Are you mad ? Did not you lock it up as I bade you? Nonsense, you have overlooked it, of course ! ' ' Oh, Maude dear, I did put it in the desk ; but I am afraid I forgot to lock it, and — and it's gone ! Somebody must have taken it.' ' Did you ask if anyone had been in the room — did you see anybody?' ejaculated Maude, angrily shaking her mother in her excitement. ' Only ' ' Why can't you speak ? Only whom ? ' Dear Maude, it could not have been he. I'm sure Louis would not do such a ' ' Did you find him there ? ' ' I — he wanted to speak to me, and said he had only been there a few minutes.' ' Did you tell him what you missed ? ' ' No, dear, I came straight to you.' ' That's the only sensible thing you have done.' Maude reflected a few minutes, and then went on : ' Now take my advice, mamma. If you don't want a regular exposure, try to be quite silent about the will. Say not a word to Louis about it, and try to go on just as usual. Louis has at any rate relieved us of the responsibility, and taken the 308 JEAX. consequences upon his own shoulders. We shall soon find out what he intends doing. But one thing is certain, he will not produce the will, and so long as he does not the property is yours. Now do try and exert a little self-control ; if Louis does not choose to produce the will you can't convict your own son, you know. You must keep quiet, unless you wish to ruin him. Come, mamma ; go and lie down for an hour, and try to make your appearance as usual at dinner. If I can meet her, surely you may.' As her mother went out of the room crushed and miserable under this last blow that had fallen upon her, Maude smiled pleasantly to herself, 'The very best thing that could have happened, and just at the right moment to spare me ! ' To their great relief, Jean sent a message to her aunt pleading a headache, and begging to be excused appearing at dinner. Louis Poynder came hurrying in at the last moment, and his bearing, confused and ashamed to them, and hec- toring to the servants, at once confirmed their suspicions. When the servants had quitted the room, he turned towards his mother, and avoiding his sister's eyes, said in a half-apologetic, half- defiant tone, ' I want you to give me a cheque for Thwaites, the tobacconist. Mother. I forgot his bill in the list GONE. 309 I made, and the fellow writes insolently. Hasn't heard of our luck, I suppose.' The tears so near to poor Mrs. Poynder's eyes began to fall. ' I do not think that I can sign any more. Oh, Louis, you know I ought not to ! 3taude, dear, let us give it all up, and leave it to her to do what is right ? She will be generous to us ; I know she will ! ' Louis lay back in his chair, his hands in his pockets, in an attitude of easy neghgence, re- garding his mother ^\dtli an amused smile. Maude rose, opened the door, looked into the hall to make sure there were no listeners, then returned to her seat, and said quietly, ' What do you say to mamma's proposal. Louis ? ' ' Give the property to Jean ? Likely ! Not your suggestion this time, eh, Maude ? The Mater never got so Utopian an idea out of you.' ' But,' began Mrs. Poynder. ' Oh, Louis, if you would consent to ' ' Don't be absurd, mother ! You can't be in earnest. As there was no will the money is ours in consequence of her illegitimacy, and if ' ' If there had been one ? ' asked Maude, softly. 'It would still be ours by right of the old man's promises — if we could get it. So you need have no scruples, mother. It's ours safe enough.' 310 JEAX. Maude studied his face for a few moments ; then said with a quiet smile, ' Take Louis's advice, mamma, and have no further scruples. He knows more about it than we do, I think.' 'Much obhged for your good opinion,' he returned with a mock bow. ' Do not be too grateful. I only wished mamma to understand that vou have taken the responsibility of deciding upon yourself.' ' All right ! ' And with unusual politeness he rose from his seat, and opened the door for his mother and sister to pass out. ' Hadn't I better go and see how dear Jean is now ? ' fidgeted Mrs. Poynder, when they got into the drawing-room again. ' There is no necessity ; you had much better keep where you are, mamma. I told Phoebe to take her some chicken and sherry, and she will be all the better for being left alone, whether her ailment is headache or temper.' For she felt that she must keep strict watch over her mother until she had got over her nervous fits, lest she should disclose the secret and ruin them all. At tea-time they sent a maid to enquire if Jean felt well enough to join them or preferred having some sent to her room. Maude was conscious that she would not have so far consulted Jean's wishes the day before. It was impossible just now to forget that the,, girl GONE. 311 was the rightful (or as she preferred to consider it wrongful) owner of tlie property, although Maude did not feel any less implacable towards her on that account. The maid returned with the message that Miss Bell would be much obliged if they would allow her to have some tea sent up to her. Maude kept guard over her mother until she had seen her safely in bed, and even then took the precaution of softly locking the room door on the outside, and carrying away the key. Poor mamma was so weak ! She must not be trusted alone with Jean until she could be better depended upon. But the foUomng morning no Jean appeared at the breakfast-table, and a servant despatched to summon her, returned with the intelhgence that Miss Bell was not in her room. ' Gone for a walk, perhaps,' said Maude, afraid to indulge the hope wliich suddenly sprang up in her heart. ' I do not know, ma'am ; but here is a letter, which I found on the table addressed to my mistress.' Maude snatched it from her hand, hiu-riedly glanced at the contents, and tossed it towards her mother Avith a look of triumph. ' You can go, PhcBbe.' What it might be necessary to tell the servants could be told by-and-bye. Jean had 312 JEAX. left Fernsicle. Her letter contained a few words of gratitude to her aunt for past kindness, and the statement that for the future she preferred living as she had been trained to live, by her own exertions, rather than take further advantage of her aunt's bounty ; begging her to believe that the life she had chosen would be happiest for her. Until she procured a governess's situation she was going to a good fiiend who had promised her protection. She had taken as much clothes as she should need in her mother's trunk, and had fifteen pounds in money, so they need not have any anxiety about her. She ended her letter with love to them all, and entreaties that they would take no steps to find her. ' A fortunate thing for us, is it not, mamma ? ' ' Fortunate ! Oh, Maude ! ' ' Nonsense ; she says she will be with a friend. Besides, we have no right to prevent her going if we had known she intended to go ; she was not under our control. Don't be foolish, mamma. Cannot you see that it is the very best thing that could happen for us ? ' ' I was thinkincr of her ! ' sobbed out Mrs. Poynder. ' You woidd show better taste if you thought a little more about those belonging to you. Such excessive spnpathy for one who has acted as Jean has to me, is to say the least, in very bad taste.' GONE. 313 For she saw that slie must take a high tone with her mother now. ' I do not think she meant to wrong you, dear ; indeed, I do not ! ' ' Only yesterday she was making the most of a few moments' opportunity to get up a scene with Nugent, and it's no use telhng me that she did not mean it ! ' She put the letter into the fire, and went on. 'Now, listen to me, mamma. She says she has gone with a friend, and ' ' To a friend, wasn't it, dear ? ' ' With^ mamma ; and as she does not mention her friend's sex, it is pretty certain not to be feminine.' ' But — oh, Maude, you do not mean ' ' Pray do not excite yourself so much. If you would only reflect a little, you might be able to think of ray welfare as well as hers perhaps.' At which Mrs. Poynder subsided into tears. An hour or two later when he came into the breakfast-room — Louis had become less than ever regular in his habits since their good fortune — Maude informed him of Jean's flight. ' Gone ! ' he ejaculated, taking the news much more seriously than she had expected he would. ' Has there been any quarrel ? What have you done to drive her awav ? ' ' She has not been driven away. She left a letter for mamma, stating that she has gone off 314 JEAN. with some friend with whom she will be perfectly- happy, and it is pretty evident what sort of a friend he must be.' He stared at her a moment, then burst into a short laugh. ' How some of you women can hate each other, and how bhnd you are to some things ! Take my advice, and don't hint any- thing of that sort to Orme if you have. any idea of trying it on with him again. Eomantic httle fool as she is, any man would tell you that's a thing she can't do — the worst man living would know that, and Orme would see your motive in a moment. Come, I'll bet what you like that she never said it was a " he " she had gone with. I dare say she said she had gone with a friend, and you put in the " he " now, didn't you. Miss Maude .? ' ' I am not accustomed to betting,^ she replied, coldly. But she altered her tactics, nevertheless ; and, in telling her " dear Miss Orme " of Jean's flight, merely said that it was a great surprise and regret to them. Everytliing had been done for her comfort ; but poor Jean had always of late seemed restless and so to speak conscience- stricken.' It was through his aunt that the news reached Nugent Orme, and it was thi'ough her that Maude knew how it had been received. 'My dear, if there were any such thing as GOXE. ' 315 witchcraft in these days I should seriously beheve that poor Nugent was under some evil spell. He behaved like a madman, walking about the room, and saying the most dreadful things : not even I escaped I Then he shut himself up in the hbrary for the rest of the day, and started off to town the first thing this morning looking dreadfully ill. I feel sure he has an attack on his nerve tissues ; but he wouldn't say a word beyond good-bye.' ' Gone ! ' ejaculated Maude, with a white face. ' \Vhere ? ' 'James thinks to town. I suppose to look after the business whatever it is he has invested in. ^Miy he should have gone into business I cannot conceive with his large income. His poor father was so very different ! ' But Maude could not beheve that it was busi- ness, as Miss Orme called it, which had taken him to town. He had explained to her that he was trying the experiment whether working men might be taught to help themselves in some better way than by striking. He had formed a society for granting loans to poor professional men and trades- men in opposition to the loan offices, and invested his accumulated capital in it ; but Maude knew that its success or non-success would only be to him so much experience gained for or against the scheme, and the money considered to be well 316 JEAN. spent for that end. She was tormented with the fear that he had set forth in search of Jean. But very soon Maude had worse than this to endure. Her mother's heahh suddenly gave way. Jean's abrupt departiu-e, happening just at the crisis it did, and after a long series of anxieties, was a shock greater than Mrs. Poynder was able to bear. She sank into a low, desponding, hys- terical state, from which neither reproaches nor entreaties seemed to have any power to rouse her a state of mind which Maude found it almost impossible to cope with. She seemed to have lost her influence over her mother, beginning to . find that she had quite lost her old tractability. Poor Mrs. Poynder could no longer be depended upon to say what she was told to say, and was apt to break out into self- accusations and waihngs over Jean's departure before people, hinting about some wrong done. Some subtle change was workincf m her mind, to which Maude did not find the key until too late. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. LOSDOX • PRI^^TED BY ?rOTTTSWOODE ASD CO.. XEW-PTREET SQUARE AND PARLIAMEXT feTREET o