V
 
 L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 T722.S 
 V. I
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/astepaside01gasc
 
 
 "A STEP ASIDE.'^
 
 ''A STEP ASIDE'' 
 
 BY 
 
 GWENDOLEN DOUGLAS GALTON 
 
 (Mes. Trench Gascoigne), 
 
 AUTHOR OF "la FENTON." 
 
 ' O ye wha are sae gude yoursel', 
 
 Sae pious and sae holy, 
 Ye've nought to do but mark and tell 
 
 Tour neebor's fauts and folly ! 
 
 Then gently scan your brother man, 
 Still gentler sister woman ; 
 
 Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang. 
 To Step Aside is human." — Burns. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: HOEACE COX, 
 
 WINDSOR HOUSE, BREAM'S BUILDINGS, E.G. 
 
 1893. 
 
 [All rights rese)-red.}
 
 LONDON. PRINTED BY HORACE COX, WINDSOR HOUSE, 
 BREAil'S BUILDINGS, E.G.
 
 -A 
 
 
 V 
 
 ^ 
 
 A3 
 
 D^ 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS STORY TO 
 
 IN MOST AFFECTIONATE REMEilBRANCE 
 
 OP 
 
 ALL HIS KIND INTEREST 
 
 IN 3IT WORK." 
 
 N
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Chapter I. 1 
 
 Chapter II 30 
 
 Chapter III 59 
 
 Chapter IV 75 
 
 Chapter V 92 
 
 Chapter VI 110 
 
 Chapter VII 141 
 
 Chapter VIII 176 
 
 Chapter IX 211 
 
 Chapter X 237
 
 A STEP ASIDE 
 
 ->o>©<c 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 " Dear ! dear ! what shall we do ? " and Miss 
 Lavendercombe wiped away a tear which had 
 trickled siuTeptitiously down her cheek. 
 
 " Do ! " exclaimed the harsh unmusical 
 voice of her sister Hannah. "A^^iy bear it, 
 I suppose, as we have to do most things in 
 this world." 
 
 " But two girls," persisted the first speaker, 
 Miss Prudence Lavendercombe, " and half 
 Americans ! Dear, dear, what will Bridget 
 say?" and the little lady fidgetted uneasily 
 in her chair. 
 
 " What will Bridget say ? " repeated Hannah 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 with a sniff. "What any sensible person must 
 say — that Arthur had no right to go and 
 marry a foreign wife with neither health nor 
 money to bless herself with." 
 
 " But he loved her," murmured Miss 
 Prudence softly, a tender light suffusing her 
 blue eyes ; " and surely, Hannah, in marriage 
 we may please ourselves." 
 
 " Certainly not ! " retorted her sister tartly. 
 " People should marry for the convenience of 
 their family, and not for the selfish sinful 
 motives that generally influence them." 
 
 Miss Prudence sighed, and looked away 
 through the window at the hawthorn bloom 
 that was burdening the boughs with its sweet 
 pink blossoms. 
 
 Miss Prudence was thinking of an old, 
 old story, which had been enacted under the 
 shade of that tree — an old story verily, and 
 yet ever new — only a plighted troth — a 
 parting — and then broken vows — nothing
 
 .4 STEP ASIDE. 3 
 
 more: and vet they had shadowed the fair 
 horizon of one life. 
 
 "AVell," she said at length, "Arthur's 
 wife is dead, Hannah, and let her rest in 
 peace." 
 
 " I very much doubt her resting in peace, if 
 she knows all the bother that she has occasioned 
 by dying," snajDped her sister, walking to the 
 window, and drawing back the curtain with 
 angry jerks. " Arthui^ always was the most 
 unpractical, thoughtless of people, and now, 
 instead of looking after his children, like 
 any decent man who had married a sickly 
 wife, he must needs go off, up country, as 
 he calls it, to this gold digging, and send 
 his two little girls over to us, without so 
 much as saying, with your leave, or by your 
 leave." 
 
 " Poor little things," remarked Miss Pru- 
 dence, soothingly, " I dare say that they will 
 be very good children." 
 
 B 2
 
 4 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " Children ! " cried Hannah, again giving 
 the unfortunate curtains such a jerk that two 
 hooks came off the rings, and the muslin 
 hung down dejectedly, " Childi'en ! You had 
 better refresh your memory by reading that 
 letter over again ; you always were a most 
 inaccurate person. If they had been children 
 it would have been a degree less vexatious, 
 but, unfortunately, they are grown ujd." 
 
 " What ! grown up ? " gasped Miss Pru- 
 dence, "is it .possible that time has fled so 
 quickly? " 
 
 "Yes, I suppose that you consider the ages 
 of seventeen and twenty grown up," returned 
 her sister with a sniff. That nasal motion was 
 a habit with Hannah, when anything especially 
 displeased her. 
 
 " Dear, dear 1 " cried Miss Prudence, holding 
 up her hands in dismay ; " and just the 
 most impressionable age. Suppose, Hannah, 
 suppose they should fall in love ! " and
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 5 
 
 the poor little lady's voice trembled with 
 agitation. 
 
 " The most likely thing to happen/' replied 
 her sister consolingly ; "a pair of giggling 
 school-girls are certain to imagine themselves 
 deeply enamoured, either with that pale-faced 
 curate, or with your vapid young friend at the 
 Manor House." 
 
 Miss Prudence coloured a little, and her eyes 
 sparkled, as she said rather hotly, " Mr. Jones 
 cannot help his complexion, Hannah, and Guy 
 Tremaine is not vapid ; only high-spirited, and 
 light-hearted." 
 
 " Oh, well ! they are all alike," remarked her 
 sister ; " if they are not wicked, they are fools. 
 I believe that God Almighty created the men, 
 not to match the women — by the by they 
 would be a very indifferent match — but as a 
 scourge on this miserable world." 
 
 The Miss Lavendercombes were old maids 
 of a certain age, in fact they had rather passed
 
 6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 the meridian of life, and were slowly sliding 
 down the wrong side of sixty. 
 
 Hannah, the eldest, was a stern, hard- 
 featured woman with hatchet-shaped features, 
 and a reddish crumpled skin. Her eyes were 
 a dull grey, and placed so near together that 
 they had a decided disposition to contemplate 
 her nose, which perhaps was scarcely wonder- 
 ful, as that feature possessed all the personality 
 of the owner. It was large and beak -like, and 
 varied in hue from red to deep purple, the 
 colour depending mostly upon the direction 
 of the wind. 
 
 The frame supporting this bewitching 
 countenance was tall and angular, and ended 
 in big, flat feet, and hands from which the 
 knucklebones protruded like hard polished 
 knobs. 
 
 Her hair was lank, and of a dirty brown, 
 much sprinkled with grey — she wore it 
 plastered down on her forehead, and brought
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 7 
 
 under the ears in twisted msps. Perhaps the 
 mouth was the only feature which bore any 
 softening trace, it was small, and cm'iously 
 well drawn. 
 
 The gods had certainly not been bountiful 
 to Hannah in creating her one of the " well- 
 favoured kine," and perhaps this fact affected 
 her temper, and gave a crick to her mind. 
 
 Miss Prudence had stolen all the graces, 
 outwardly and inwardly, from her sister. She 
 was a small, daint}^ little lady, painted in 
 delicate pastel colouring, with rose pink cheeks, 
 and silver hair ; and among those tender 
 tresses nestled the finest old Mechlin lace. 
 Across her shoulders was draped a fichu of 
 soft Indian muslin, below which the folds of 
 her black silk dress made a gentle rustle as 
 she glided about. 
 
 She was an ideal, little old lady, like some 
 fairy godmother, ever dispensing kindly looks 
 and words to those around her, and leaving, as
 
 8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 it were, a sweet subtle perfume of goodness in 
 her track. 
 
 How slie and Hannah had succeeded in 
 being born sisters had puzzled many a wise 
 head. The one all tender, romantic, feeling, 
 with the semblance of her character marked 
 outwardly upon her face ; the other stern and 
 hard, alike to virtue and to vice ; she had no 
 belief in, or forbearance with, human weak- 
 nesses, and her untender nature was written 
 upon her acid, sullen countenance ; and yet, 
 strange as it may appear, these two sisters 
 were most sincerely attached to each other. 
 
 The one soft spot in Hannah's lieai-t was 
 her love for Prudence, not that she allowed her 
 sister to see her affection, for she rarely gave 
 rein to her emotions or feelings. She distrusted 
 all persons who shewed any effusiveness, and 
 she put them down as either foreigners (whom 
 she hated) or as fools. 
 
 The two sisters had lived at Hawthorn
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 9 
 
 Cottage, in the small Adllage of Dinglehurst, 
 for the greater part of their lives. Their 
 father had been a retuTcl naval officer with a 
 not too bountiful income. He had, however, 
 been wise enough to follow the excellent advice 
 of Tennyson's Northern Farmer — 
 
 " Doant tliou marry for mnnny, but goa wlieer munny is." 
 
 His first wife (the mother of Hannah and 
 Prudence) had been a lady with a comfortable 
 competence of her own. His second venture 
 in the matrimonial lottery had not been so 
 fortunate. He had married, at a somewhat 
 advanced age, a young girl, whose face was 
 her only dowry, and who had died, after pre- 
 senting him with a son (Arthur), who was 
 some fifteen years younger than his sisters, and 
 it was upon his character that Hannah Laven- 
 dercombe had just been dilating in not too 
 complimentary terms. 
 
 Arthur Lavendercombe had been what the
 
 lo A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 world designates as " rather a ne'er do weel." 
 Not that there was anything absolutely wicked 
 about him, but he was utterly thoughtless, 
 scatter-brained and unpractical, sanguine to an 
 extraordinary degree, and convinced that if he 
 could only induce some unwary indi\ddual to 
 lend him five hundred pounds, he could make 
 his fortune. 
 
 At the age of twenty he had lost his father, 
 and, finding himself his own master with only 
 a very limited income, he had set out for South 
 America, determined to realize that dream of 
 wealth, that illusive will-o'-the-msp, which he 
 was ever pursuing. 
 
 For the first few years he had done fairly 
 well, and then he had hung a load- stone about 
 his neck in the shape of a delicate wife, who 
 had brought no grist to the mill, exceptmg 
 her sincere affection for her husband. She had 
 had an anxious, troubled existence. At times 
 they had been fairly well-off, and at others it
 
 A STEP ASIDE. ii 
 
 had been hard to keep up even a respectable 
 appearance. 
 
 Miss Prudence had sent off many a re- 
 gistered letter, enclosing kind words and 
 material help to her unknoA\Ti sister-in-law ; 
 and no one knew, except Bridget (the time- 
 honoui'ed old servant), how the little lady had 
 denied herself many a small luxury, and had 
 even turned her best black silk dress, in order 
 to save the money for her step -brother's 
 family. 
 
 If Hannah suspected her sister's generosity, 
 she made no remark upon it, but with her 
 stern unrelenting creed she held foi-th in a 
 general tirade against people who made im- 
 prudent man'iages, expecting others to help 
 them. 
 
 At the time when my story opens, Mrs. 
 Arthui' Lavendercombe had been dead for 
 nearly a year, and Arthur, having heard of 
 the discovery of a new gold mine had
 
 12 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 started off again to seek tlie long expected 
 fortune, and had calmly despatched his 
 two daughters to his sisters without, as 
 Hannah said, having even the grace to ask 
 their consent. 
 
 Miss Prudence sat gazing out of the window 
 after Hannah had left her. She was ponder- 
 ing over the changes that were coming into 
 their life. 
 
 " Two girls," she repeated softly to herself. 
 " I wonder if they will be like Arthur; I shall 
 love them for his sake." 
 
 " Aunt Prue," the voice came from outside 
 the window, and made the old lady start. 
 
 " Guy ! " she exclaimed, with a glad ring in 
 her voice, " have you come back from your 
 travels ? I am so happy to see you safe 
 again," and she held out her hands to the 
 new-comer, and tears dimmed her eyes for a 
 minute. 
 
 " I only returned last night," said a bright
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 13 
 
 boyish voice, " and so I came off as soon as I 
 could to see you." 
 
 The speaker was a young man, with crisp 
 chestnut curls, and a laughing handsome face. 
 He was standmg by the window, which was 
 twined with delicate trails of wistaria and 
 roses. 
 
 "May I come in?" he asked, and then, 
 discreetly loAvering his voice, " is the coast 
 clear ? Xo Miss Hannah about ? eh. Aunt 
 Prue? " 
 
 Yes, dear, it is quite safe," answered the 
 old lady laughing, " she has gone down the 
 village on some business." 
 
 " AVhat a comfoi-tl" exclaimed Guy, putting 
 his hand on the sill, and vaulting lightly into 
 the room. " Xow we can have a nice old- 
 fashioned talk, Aunt Prue," and he leaned 
 over the old lady's chair, and kissed her 
 forehead, "I am not righteous enough for 
 Miss Hannah this morning ; she always
 
 14 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 makes me feel as if I was in clim^ch, as if I 
 must speak in a whisper, and have on my 
 best coat." 
 
 " Hush, Guy ! you naughty boy," and Miss 
 Prudence held up her finger. " I see that you 
 have come back from your travels no better 
 than you w^ent." 
 
 " On the contrary, I am a reformed charac- 
 ter, dear Aunt Prue, I assure you. I have 
 fallen in love at least a dozen times with 
 several lovely Italians, but it is all vanity and 
 vexation of spirit, and I have given up the 
 pursuit of pretty girls, and intend to settle 
 down at the Manor, as a good country squire, 
 and do nothing but study turnips and fat 
 cattle, and pa}^ my devoted addresses to you," 
 and he pressed a kiss on one of the fairy-like 
 hands with a comical gesture of devotion. " It 
 is so jolly to be back, and to have you all to 
 myseK; I do not half like sharing you with 
 Miss Hannah."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 15 
 
 He always used the deferential appellation 
 when he spoke of Hannah. She was a person 
 with whom it would have been difficult to take 
 liberties, or to address in tender or familiar 
 terms. She seemed to have written all over 
 her person, " Familiarity breeds contempt." 
 Miss Prudence had been " Aunt " to him 
 all his life, though there was no rela- 
 tionship existing between them excepting 
 the closest of all ties, that of perfect 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Gruy," said the little lady, rather suddenly, 
 stroking his hair with her fingers, " Gruy, 
 I haye some news to tell you. Do you 
 know that you will haye to make up your 
 mind ' to share me,' as you express it, ^yith 
 two strangers." 
 
 "What do you mean, Aunt Prue?" inquired 
 the young man, looking half anxiously into 
 her face. 
 
 " That we haye had a letter this mornmg
 
 1 6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 from Artliui', saying, that be is sending us his 
 two motherless girls." 
 
 Guy gave a long low whistle, which was his 
 habit when be was sm-prised, and when he did 
 not quite know what to say. He knew all Arthur 
 Lavendercombe's story, and had posted many 
 of those kind registered letters for Miss 
 Prudence. The old lady would run after him 
 to the gate, and press them into his hand, so 
 that Hannah might not discover what she bad 
 done. At last Guy remarked solemnly, 
 
 " I say. Aunt Prue, what does Miss Hannah 
 say? 
 
 "Well, dear, you know," said the little lady 
 hesitatingly, and smoothing out the folds of 
 her silk apron, " she does not like the idea very 
 much. You see she was so angry with Arthur 
 for marrying, and of course it was very im- 
 prudent," she continued apologetically, "but 
 people are carried away sometimes by their 
 feelings, and do foolish things, but dear
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 17 
 
 Hannah does not comprehend that, she has so 
 much seK-restraint, she has never been carried 
 away by anythmg." 
 
 "Or by anybody," put in Guy mischievously; 
 " he would have been an abnormally brave 
 man, who would have attempted it ! But 
 Aunt Prue, feelings are all a matter of tempera- 
 ment. Stupid, romantic people like you and 
 me cannot help doing ridiculous things for 
 the sake of love, can we ? " But he continued, 
 " Tell me some more about your nieces ; are 
 they gro^Ti up and pretty ? That is a most 
 important item. ' A thing of beauty,' some one 
 says, ' is a joy for ever.' Now tell me all you 
 know, and begin at the begimimg, as the 
 children say," and he sat down on a low stool, 
 and leaned his curly head against the old lady's 
 knee. 
 
 " I know so little, dear," answered Miss 
 Prudence, her eyes straying away again to the 
 pink hawthorn tree ; " but what I know I will 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 1 8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 tell you. Their names are Olive and Nancy. 
 Olive is twenty, and Nancy just seventeen. 
 Olive has lived at home entirely, and nursed 
 her mother with the greatest devotion. Nancy 
 has been at school for the last five or six years, 
 in New York, where she was sent by an uncle 
 and aunt on her mother's side, who have been 
 most kind to her. She spent her holidays 
 with them, only going home once in two years, 
 as the journey to Mexico w^as so long. Arthur 
 says that Olive is sedate and serious, and that 
 Nancy takes after him — all spirits and 
 fun, in fact in his own words, ' a regular 
 madcap.' " 
 
 " And w^hat a twang she'll have!" remarked 
 Gruy meditatively. "If she hails from New 
 York city, you bet we shall be all guessing 
 and calculating away in no time. Fancy you, 
 dear Aunt Prue, talking through your nose, 
 and Miss Hannah saying that she has been 
 flying around and fixing up," and the young
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 19 
 
 man burst into a laugh, which was so infectious 
 that Miss Prudence felt impelled to join in. 
 
 *' It is a terrible responsibility," murmured 
 the old lady after a minute ; " think, Gruy, just 
 think if they should fall in love ? " and her 
 face assumed an expression of almost tragic 
 horror. 
 
 " That would be appallmg," remarked the 
 young man, with a mock display of gra\dty, 
 "but, Aunt Prue, would it not be still worse, 
 if some one fell in love vdtli them ? Your 
 humble servant for example ? Which shall it 
 be ? " he continued lightly, " Olive or jS^ancy ? 
 You will have to bestow one upon me, and 
 then you will be my real aunt after all." 
 
 Miss Prudence shook her head, haK reprov- 
 ingly, and then she answered softly, 
 
 " Don't joke about marriage, dear, it is so 
 dreadfully solemn." 
 
 " By Jove I it is," replied the young man 
 rising and walking to the window. "It is a 
 
 c 2
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 precions deal too solemn for most of us poor 
 mortals. Do you know, Aunt Prue," he said, 
 with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, " I 
 shall wait to enter the holy estate till you can 
 take a wife on a lease as you do a house — a 
 lease terminable at option, either at seven, 
 fourteen, or twenty -one years, until the last 
 period, after which you would be obliged to 
 stick to your bargain." 
 
 The little lady looked up with a perplexed, 
 horrified air, not quite sure if her ears had 
 deceived her, or if her adopted nephew had 
 taken leave of his senses. 
 
 " My dear boy," she said in a severe, shocked 
 tone, " what dreadfully immoral sentiments 
 you are enunciating. I am afraid the Conti- 
 nent has not improved you." 
 
 " They are a trifle too new-fashioned for 
 you. Aunt Prue, eh?" he said, stooping over 
 her, " and perhaps on second thoughts, for me, 
 too, though my idea would prevent a great
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 21 
 
 deal of unpleasantness !" and he smiled at the 
 little lady reassuringly. 
 
 At that moment the sound of a door bang- 
 ing startled them. 
 
 " My dear," whispered Miss Prudence anxi- 
 ously, " are you quite sure that you A\dped your 
 shoes ? for I think I hear Hannah coming ; 
 and would you please put that antimacassar 
 straight, as you know it particularly annoys 
 her to see anything crooked." 
 
 Guy held up one well-fitting brown shoe 
 after another for inspection, and then strove to 
 arrange the tumbled chintz and antimacassar on 
 his chair (rather clumsil}^ it must be allowed, 
 for he did not belong to the species of young 
 men who go in for draping), after which he 
 looked anxiously round for his hat, remarking : 
 
 " I am off, Aunt Prue, I feel the exalted 
 church feeling creeping over me already ! I am 
 sure that I shall begin to sing a hymn if I 
 stay any longer."
 
 22 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 But alas ! it was too late to fly ; tlie words 
 were hardly out of liis mouth ere the door 
 opened and disclosed the grim figure of 
 Hannah. 
 
 She wore an old round mushroom hat, with 
 a draggled woe -begone ostrich feather. A 
 long, black jacket edged with braid, which 
 had worn shiny, covered her angular shoulders, 
 and a brown linsey-woolsey gown hung from 
 her waist in ungraceful folds ; it was pinned 
 up well above her ankles, disclosing two flat 
 bulgy feet encased in elastic side boots, and 
 with a wide rim of white cotton stockings 
 protruding over the top. She stalked into the 
 room, and looked round, as if expecting to find 
 something out of its place, and then advancing 
 towards Guy, she said in her harsh, sepulchral 
 voice — 
 
 " I believe this is your property." Guy 
 looked down at the hard bony hand that was 
 extended, and saw between the fingers the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 23 
 
 burnt end of a cigarette ! "I found this on 
 the gravel-path outside," continued Hannah, 
 *' I beg that in future jou T\all not scatter your 
 * emblems of vice ' about in my garden ! " 
 
 " I am extremely sorry. Miss Hannah," 
 began Guy, half vexed, half amused. 
 
 *' Sorrow without amendment is of no use," 
 interrupted the stern lady, " but what can one 
 expect from people who travel in a godless 
 country like Italy, where they are all papists 
 or heathens." 
 
 " There is a good deal of difference, Hannah," 
 put in Miss Prudence, " between the two." 
 
 " I see none," replied her sister with the 
 usual sniff; "they both bow do^\m to images." 
 
 Guy and Miss Prudence knew that it was 
 useless to argue. So the former strove to give 
 a turn to the conversation, by sapng, — " I 
 hear that you are to have an invasion of 
 two charming young ladies." 
 
 Hannah looked more grim as she remarked :
 
 24 ■ A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 '' So Prudence has been cliattering as usual, 
 she never can hold her tongue. The whole 
 village will know it ere night. It is certain 
 that bad news flies apace." 
 
 " Bad news ? " repeated Guy, mischievously 
 pretending to misunderstand ; ' ' good news you 
 mean. Miss Hannah, surely, to have two lovely 
 nieces to be the joy and comfort of your life." 
 
 " Much joy and comfort there will be from 
 two giggling school girls," snapped Miss 
 Hannah; " nothing but sorrow and vexation 
 of spirit. Who ever knew a girl of nmeteen 
 with a sensible idea in her head. Love and 
 young men are the only words written on her 
 inane mind, and those stray all over her brain, 
 and saturate her whole personality," and 
 Hannah stalked across the room to the 
 unlucky curtains, and jerked another hook 
 off the ring. 
 
 " I know what it will be," she continued 
 angrily : " they will be always falling in love
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 25 
 
 with either you, or Mr. Jones, or perhaps with 
 both." 
 
 Gruy's eyes twinkled with amusement at the 
 old lady's ire, though he did not entirely 
 appreciate being classed in the same category 
 with the pale-faced cui'ate, for he had quite as 
 good an opmion of himself, as most young 
 men possess, who have a fair income and a 
 large share of good looks. 
 
 " You do me too much honour, really, Miss 
 Hannah," he answered ; '' but if you will be so 
 entrancing yourself, the lovely nieces will not 
 have a chance !" and with this parting shot he 
 vaulted hghtly over the window-sill and 
 vanished. 
 
 " I cannot imagine what you see to admire 
 in that vapid, frivolous young man, Prudence/' 
 remarked Hannah severely, trying to smooth 
 the ruffled chintz on the chair, and arrange 
 the crochet antimacassar symmetrically on the 
 back, " but you always were given to bestow-
 
 26 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 ing a weak affection on an unworthy object, 
 ever since Edward Mashingham, who threw you 
 over for the next pretty girl he met." 
 
 " Hannah ! " cried Miss Prudence, facing 
 round upon her sister with glowing cheeks, 
 and a passionate light in the blue eyes, '' you 
 shall not say these things ! You know that 
 he was true to me, but he was drowned, how 
 could he return ? " and the little lady's voice 
 died away in a whisper, and her lips trembled. 
 
 *' I do not believe that all the sailors are 
 drowned who do not return," replied Hannah, 
 with a grim smile. " In songs and books of 
 course they are always buried in the blue 
 waves ; it is more dramatic and romantic. But 
 in real life they have generally found some 
 other attraction. Men are all unfaithful ; they 
 cannot help it, poor things, they are just made 
 like that," and Miss Hannah closed her teeth 
 with a snap, as if her jaw was on a spring, 
 and then she marched slowly out of the room.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 27 
 
 Miss Prudence sat gazing dreamily out of 
 the window at the pink hawthorn tree. She 
 had not heard her sister's last remark ; her 
 thoughts had flo\\ai back through long dreary 
 years. Old memories were weaving their chain 
 around her. She saw herseK a girl once more, 
 in a white muslin dress with blue ribbons on 
 her shoulders, and round her small supple 
 waist ; her hands were clasped in those of her 
 lover — a yomig man with dark-brown hair, 
 and laughing grey eyes. They were standing 
 under the old hawthorn tree, which stretched 
 out delicate pink arms around and above them, 
 as if in benediction of their vows. 
 
 Miss Prudence clasped her hands together 
 haK passionately, and a few scalding tears 
 dropped unheeded on the black silk gown. It 
 was so long ago, and yet she seemed to feel 
 again the warm pressure of his arms, as he 
 drew her close to him, and again she felt that 
 long last embrace.
 
 28 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 At first a few letters had found their way to 
 the remote callage of Dinglehiirst — letters 
 which the poor little lady cherished still, 
 though the paper was yellow, and the ink so 
 faded they were well-nigh impossible to 
 decipher. But by and by those letters came 
 at longer and longer intervals, until at last 
 they ceased altogether. 
 
 " She waited month after month, year after 
 year, till she told herseK there was no hope, 
 that the sailor-boy was drowned in the cruel 
 blue ocean. It never entered her guileless mind 
 to doubt him, to dream that anything but 
 death could take him from her ; and perhaps 
 she was right ; it is only our hard worldly 
 hearts that feel inclined to suggest another 
 solution. 
 
 But let us leave her with her faith, that 
 faith which has been her comfort and help 
 through all these years. She has borne 
 her trial nobly, determined that her sorrow
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 29 
 
 sliould not darken the lives of those aronnd 
 her, but nevei-theless she has remained fii-m in 
 her purpose to be true to her ideal, and to keep 
 herself for him till God gives him back to her 
 at the Golden Gate.
 
 30 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 To-day ! The clocks seemed to tick it, the 
 birds to chirrup it, and Bridget's shoes to 
 squeak it out of the creaky stairs, as she 
 mounted up and down with almost nervous 
 haste. 
 
 To-day they are coming ! Miss Prudence's 
 heart beat high with expectation, as she drew 
 up her blind, and gazed out at the sky on that 
 eventful morning. Miss Prudence's first matu- 
 tinal exercise was always to push back the 
 curtains, and let the sunshine (if by any happy 
 accident there were any sunshine) stream into the 
 small neatly-furnished chamber. She loved to 
 look up at Grod's heaven — it seemed like a dedi-
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 31 
 
 cation of the day to Him, andall Miss Prudence's 
 life had been one long beautiful service. Her 
 religion was so entirely a part of herself 
 that the two were inseparable. Her faith 
 was not of the stern, uncompromising kind 
 which speaks harsh bigoted words of the belief 
 of others, nor of that kind which is simply 
 paraded on the Sabbath day, and then carefully 
 locked up, and laid aside for the rest of the 
 week ; nor did it make itself apparent by the 
 dragging in of useless arguments and canting 
 phrases upon every inopportune occasion. 
 Her religion was simply a subtle soothing au- 
 of holiness that seemed to pervade the 
 atmosphere wherever she was. 
 
 How busy the old ladies were on that event- 
 ful Tuesday morning ! Miss Prudence tripped 
 gaily up and down the narrow and rather steep 
 stairs, while Hannah stumped round with a 
 grim dissatisfied countenance. 
 
 " I will not have those flowers placed in the
 
 32 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 bed-rooms, Prudence/' she said acidly. " You 
 know I pai-ticularly dislike it, they are most 
 unwholesome in a sleeping chamber, besides 
 which they make a mess on the table-covers 
 when the petals fall." 
 
 Miss Prudence sighed, but said nothing; it 
 was only one of Hannah's many cranks, and 
 she had given up resistance years ago. She 
 took the poor red roses out of the little vase, 
 and fastened them silently into her own dress. 
 
 " Poor things," she murmured, " I wanted 
 you to give a welcome to Olive and Nancy ; you 
 would have made their room look home-like." 
 
 She glanced half wistfully around the small 
 chamber that was prepared for the girls. The 
 walls were covered with a rose-bud sprinkled 
 paper, and there were white dimity curtains 
 over the beds and round the windows. In the 
 centre was a large island of a rather faded 
 green carpet, round which the bright deal 
 boards shone in spotless purity. A few spindle-
 
 .4 STEP ASIDE. 33 
 
 legged chaii's and tables stood stiffly, and 
 rather forbiddingly against the walls, and a 
 row of daguerreotypes, representing departed 
 Lavendercombes, frowned sullenly, and dis- 
 paragingly down on the present generation. 
 
 Miss Prudence sighed and gave a few last 
 pats to the soft diaper-patterned table-covers, 
 and then descended quickly into the small 
 drawing room, which looked bright and fresh 
 in readiness for the expected guests. 
 
 The chaii's were decked in their crisp chintz 
 covers, and starched muslin antimacassars, 
 which scratched your neck pamfully if you 
 were foolish enough to lean back. An old- 
 fashioned ponderous sofa leant wearily against 
 the wall, and upon it reposed two large beaded 
 cushions, and a woolly cou^Te-pied of many 
 colours. 
 
 In the middle of the room stood a large 
 round table covered vniYi a patch -work cloth, 
 yellow and red being the predominant hues, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 and a few books (mostly photographic albums) 
 lay on its brilliant surface. On the chimney- 
 piece were three or four vases of old Chelsea 
 and Worcester ware, but these were huddled 
 together to make way for a large alabaster 
 basket round which little cupids sat majesti- 
 cally, under a huge glass shade. A piano 
 occupied one corner of the room (upon which 
 Miss Prudence played soft old-fashioned au\s 
 of Haydn and Scarlatti), and a ponderous 
 mahogany chiffoniere gleamed, with shining 
 exultation, from the other corner. 
 
 Near to the window stood a green wire 
 flower-stand, which was resplendent with 
 scarlet geraniums, dark purple cinerarias, and 
 soft green ferns. This stand was Miss 
 Prudence's great pride and delight ; it was her 
 child, her love, upon which she expended 
 many an anxious hour. 
 
 It had been with much difficulty that she 
 had gained Hannah's grudging consent to its
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 35 
 
 presence in the drawing room, and it was only 
 tolerated upon the express understanding that 
 the obnoxious article should always remain upon 
 a large piece of oilcloth, so that no leaves or 
 mould might dim the lustre of the sacred carpet. 
 
 Miss Hannah did not like flowers ; she said 
 that they w^ere nasty, messy things with dis- 
 agreeable odours, and that she did not intend 
 her house to be turned into a florist's shop. 
 
 Miss Prudence was watering and tending 
 her darlings, and carefully dislodging several 
 unruly leaves which had dared to fall suspi- 
 ciously near the holy confines of the oil-cloth, 
 when Gruy's voice suddenly startled her, saying, 
 
 " Aunt Prue, I am not coming in, because 
 my boots are dirty and I do not feel saintly 
 enough for any psalm singing this morning, 
 but I just called to say that I told Stanton to 
 send you down some grapes and peaches. I 
 am going to stay a day or two with Eustace 
 Devereux at " The White Ladies." 
 
 D 2
 
 36 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " Eustace Devereux," repeated Miss Pru- 
 dence, slowly. " Was there not some odd story 
 told about him once long ago. Is he not 
 rather — well — rather hot-tempered and eccen- 
 tric ? " 
 
 " Not that I am aware of," replied the young 
 man, " except that he has twice the amount of 
 brains generally bestowed upon us mortals, 
 and that he plays the violin divinely." 
 
 " I suppose that I made a mistake," mused 
 Miss Prudence," but his grandmother was 
 Spanish and he has lived abroad a great deal, 
 has he not? " 
 
 "Yes," retui-ned Guy, laughing, "and for 
 that reason, you dear old ' stay-at-home,' you 
 think he must be wicked ; but you shall see 
 him and judge for yourself. He is coming 
 back with me to the Manor House on Satur- 
 day. Do you know, Aunt Prue, I am going 
 to entertain a select circle next week. Eleanor 
 is coming with the two children, and a little
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 37 
 
 French friend of mine, Count de Villebois, and 
 a young gentleman of the Yery modern school 
 of thought, a species of mortal upon whom 
 you have never set eyes. His metier in life is 
 to paint miniatures, trim hats, and design 
 dresses." 
 
 " Trim hats, and design dresses ! my dear 
 Guy, and a yoimg man ! " exclaimed Miss 
 Prudence. " You know, dear," she continued, 
 walking to the window, and looking up in his 
 face with a t^^dnkle in her eye, " I am very- 
 foolish about believing everything that you 
 tell me, but you must not draw quite such a 
 
 long bow next time ! " 
 
 '' I assui'e you. Aunt Prue, it is gospel truth. 
 
 But tell me, do the nieces really arrive this 
 evening ? " and he broke off a sprig of honey- 
 suckle that was clambering up the wdndow, and 
 twisted it meditatively round his finger. 
 
 " Yes, dear," replied Miss Prudence, flushing 
 slightly. " I do feel so nervous, Gruy," and she
 
 38 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 stammered sliglitly, " for suppose tliey should 
 not be liappy. It is dull for young people 
 here, and — and — you know, that — that — " and 
 the old lady smoothed out the folds of her 
 apron — " well, sometimes Hannah is a little, 
 just a little fidgety. Of course she cannot help 
 being particular ; and it is quite right, for I am 
 so careless, I do not mind about the muddy 
 shoes, and the crumbs, or the antimacassars 
 being ruSled, which is very T\Tong of me, I 
 know, but those sorts of things young people 
 do not like, it worries them. But Hannah 
 does not understand ; she never was really 
 young herself. Do you know what I mean 
 dear? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed I do," answered Gruy, striving 
 to smother a smile, and at the same time a 
 tender light starting into his eyes, as he met 
 the little lady's wistful gaze. " Miss Hannah 
 is A^ery excellent and worthy, but she was 
 born an old maid, and if she liad had fifty
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 39 
 
 liusbands she would still have remained an old 
 maid." 
 
 " But I did not mean to blame dear Hannah, 
 Guy," Miss Prudence murmured apologetically; 
 " she is so good, only," and she gently twisted 
 an old-fashioned diamond ring romid her thin 
 finger; " only life would be far easier if she 
 would not fidget herself quite so much." 
 
 " Life is not long enough, Aunt Prue, to 
 fritter it away over muddy boots and anti- 
 macassars, eh ? Well, I must be off ; the 
 nieces cannot help being happy with you, dear," 
 and he leant through the open wdndow, and 
 swiftly brushed the fair cheek with his lips. 
 
 Guy Tremaine walked home slowly. He was 
 pondering in his mind over the advent of the 
 two expected nieces, vaguely wondering what 
 difference their an-ival would make in his life. 
 He was not altogether pleased at the prospect. 
 He would not have Aunt Prue to himself, as in 
 the old days. In the future he would have to
 
 40 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 share her love and sympathy with others, and 
 the thought made him ahnost jealous. He 
 had had Miss Prudence to himself so long. 
 She had been his best and dearest friend ever 
 since he was a tiny mite. 
 
 How well he remembered her first ministra- 
 tions to him ! It had been on the darkest day 
 of his life. His mother lay dying, and all his 
 soul was torn with misery. He had been 
 forgotten in the dread confusion, and had 
 escaped from the nursery with his pet kitten 
 clinging round his neck ; and, passing the 
 whispering crying maids, who stood about on 
 the landings, he had reached his mother's 
 room — 
 
 A stern, grave gentleman was just emerging 
 through the door with his father, and he 
 caught the words, " There is no hope, I can do 
 nothing more." He had drawn back into the 
 shadow, afraid of being discovered, and then 
 with a beating awe-struck heart he had peeped
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 41 
 
 through the crack of the door into the darkened 
 silent chamber — 
 
 On the bed hiy his mother, her beautiful 
 face motionless and white as a statue, and her 
 long fair hair floating around her like a golden 
 shadow. How still she lay ! and then the 
 kitten gave a faint mew, and a sunbeam stole 
 in through the chinks of the shutter and crept 
 up and up over the white coverlet, and illumined 
 the golden strands of hair, and then the pallid 
 face seemed transfigured with unearthly radi- 
 ance. Could that be his ot\ti beautiful mother? 
 Surely it was an angel lying there, and she — 
 where was she P and, with a low, bitter cry, he 
 had fled away, up into the old hay-loft, with 
 the white kitten clasped in his trembling arms, 
 and his breast heaving with hard, passionate 
 sobs. 
 
 He had wept his poor little eyes sore, and 
 his throat dry, and then he had fallen asleep 
 with the kitten still pressed close to his flushed,
 
 42 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 tear-stained cheek. And there Miss Prudence 
 had found him. He remembered waking up, 
 stiff and cold, and seeing the tender face bend- 
 ing over him, and hearing her soft musical 
 voice speaking gentle, soothing words, and then 
 he remembered being gathered into her arms 
 in a loving sorrowful embrace. 
 
 Ever since that day they had loved each 
 other. She had been his mother's friend, and 
 that had woven a bond of sympathy between 
 them — a bond which had been strengthened 
 still more when several years later his father 
 had followed his mother, and he and his sister 
 had been left orphans. 
 
 Guy's face assumed a grave, thoughtful 
 expression, as he recalled these scenes, and he 
 gave a sigh for the old days that were fleeting 
 away, gliding into the great solemn church- 
 yard of the past — that burial ground, which is 
 so full of graves belonging to us all — for some 
 they are the sunny, flower-decked mounds of
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 43 
 
 happy hours — for others the sombre covering 
 of bitter anguish and lost opportunities. We 
 all have a " God's Acre " of buried times, and 
 happy are we, if, in our hearts, we can say 
 that oui' past as well as our present belongs 
 unto Him. 
 
 * Tie iiJ TiJ * * 
 
 " Are you tired, Olive ? " 
 
 " Tired," repeated the girl addressed, " No, 
 only it is all so strange and sad," and the 
 speaker leant back in the railway carriage, and 
 unclosed her eyes slowly ; they were large, and 
 of a deep grey, with dark curling lashes and 
 brows. 
 
 " It seems all new and lovely, to me," 
 replied the first speaker, gazing out at the fly- 
 ing landscape. " If you had been cooped up in 
 a school for the last seven years with that 
 odious Miss Marion, OliA^e, I guess you would 
 find any change pretty acceptable." 
 
 " Perhaps so," assented the other listlessly.
 
 44 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " but I hate leaving America," and the grey 
 eyes sparkled suspiciously. " It was different 
 for you, Nancy," she went on, " you were not 
 at home, and you did not know her." 
 
 A wave of remorse swept across the face of 
 the first speaker, and she clasped her hands on 
 her sister's arm, as she cried, 
 
 '' Forgive me, Olive ; you will think me 
 dreadfully heartless, but I was so young when 
 I left home, and — and — well, you know we 
 never quite got on, I was too harum-scarum 
 and thoughtless for mother, but I always loved 
 her, and meant to improve." The intonation 
 of her voice was decidedly American. 
 
 The difference between the two sisters, as 
 they sat side by side, was very striking — Olive, 
 with her slim, graceful figure, tender grey 
 eyes, and hair the colour of autumn leaves, a 
 deep, bronzy brown, touched here and there by 
 a golden lustre. 
 
 Nancy, small and wondrously fair, with
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 45 
 
 round, blue eves, which looked out upon the 
 world joyously, and a mouth which seemed 
 only created for smiles. The featm-es were not 
 regular, the nose was a shade too tip-tilted, 
 and the eyes a little far apai-t, but there was 
 something so loveable and attractive in the 
 cherubic countenance, witli its wreathing 
 dimples and curves, and its setting of rippling, 
 golden locks, that it must have been a stern 
 heart indeed, which Nancy Lavendercombe 
 could not move. 
 
 In Olive's face there was far more power 
 and thought, but there was a slightly stern 
 expression about the mouth, and a touch of 
 melancholy m the eyes. It was an extra- 
 ordinarily handsome countenance with the 
 square white forehead, oval face, and straight 
 Greek profile. It was a face calculated to stir 
 passionate emotion in others — a face for which, 
 in the old chivalric days, men would have 
 dared to die ; and it was the index to a nature.
 
 46 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 strong and faithful unto death — a nature 
 capable of great self-sacrifice for those she 
 loved. 
 
 " You take life too seriously, Olive," said 
 Nancy playfully. 
 
 " That is what Father used to say," re- 
 turned her sister, letting her eyes linger 
 for an instant on her sister's face, "but I 
 cannot help it. 1 was born old, I think. I 
 feel as if all my life had passed, or as if 
 the recollection of another existence still hung 
 around me." 
 
 '* How odd you are, Olive, I do not mider- 
 stand you when you talk like that." 
 
 '' And perhaps I hardly understand my- 
 self," returned the girl dreamily, her eyes 
 gazing out on the sunny fields and trees 
 burdened with their sweet perfumed blossoms. 
 
 There was a silence for some minutes, and 
 then Nancy exclaimed, "Is it not a glorious 
 evening ? and look, Olive, at the sea, with the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 47 
 
 lovely dancing wliite sails. This must be 
 Dingleliurst." 
 
 The train slackened its pace a few minutes 
 later, and drew up at the small wayside 
 station. Few passengers descended there, so 
 that the two girls enjoyed the monopoly of 
 attention from the one poi-ter, and a small 
 boy, w^ho stared at them with open-eyed 
 admiration. 
 
 "You be for Hawthorn Cottage, Miss?" 
 inquired the poi-ter, and upon their answermg 
 in the affirmative, he volunteered that there 
 was a fly " a- waiting houtside," and if they 
 would be so good as just to step in, he'd see 
 to the luggage. 
 
 The road lay at first along the sea coast 
 where the baby wavelets rippled playfully 
 along the shore, flecked with soft, pearly foam. 
 It was low tide, and a long wet streak of 
 yellow sand gleamed and sparkled in the 
 evening sunlight, while here and there some
 
 48 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 gaunt rocks reared their rugged crests, robed 
 in shining broT^^l sea-\Veed. 
 
 The girls were very silent during the drive ; 
 Olive's eyes were fastened wistfully on the blue 
 changeful ocean, and Nancy's ready tongue 
 was for once hushed by the novelty of her 
 surroundings. 
 
 The girl was a little awed by the close 
 proximity of the new life, and the near approach 
 of her aunts. She felt that in a way she knew 
 them already from her father's descriptions. 
 But how would she really like them ? They 
 were old maids, and the words seemed to 
 convey no meaning to her but boredom. 
 Before her eyes rose up an endless vista of 
 missionary meetings, tabby cats, and tea- 
 parties, where the curate was the only apology 
 for a man, and where a good deal of harmful 
 scandal would be imbibed with that harmless 
 beverage. 
 
 While these thoughts were slowly coursing
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 49 
 
 thi'ough the girl's brain, the ramshackle fly 
 proceeded in a dignified manner up the hill 
 towards the quaint old-world village of 
 Dmglehurst. 
 
 The fly, like most things in that far western 
 country was almost antediluvian in build. 
 The old grey horse climbed wearily up the 
 little steep picturesque village street, with its 
 rather tumble -down irregular houses clustering 
 together on the crest of the hill. Each house 
 displayed a gorgeous wealth of colour in its 
 small garden, where fuchsias and roses were 
 rioting in glad profusion. 
 
 The population of Dinglehurst were for the 
 most part fisherf oik, poor but hard-working. The 
 women did a little gloving, and the men went 
 herring-fishing. It was dangerous, uncertain 
 work, and many were the brave fellows who 
 had gone " sailing down to the west " and who 
 had never returned, or been heard of more. 
 The women had an anxious light in their 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 eyes, as if they had often stood on the white 
 cliffs, and peered after the fishing crafts, or 
 watched in silent breathless suspense for the 
 first glimpse of the returning sails. 
 
 Hawthorn Cottage lay a little beyond tlie 
 village, where the cliff shelved away, and 
 disclosed a tiny blue bay, where the sea left 
 delicious miniature lakes and rivers on the 
 golden sand, and where the trees strayed down 
 to the water's edge, and wooed the grey rocks, 
 and glittering sea-weed. 
 
 The Cottage itself was a low building of 
 two stories, with a thatched over-hanging 
 roof, and lattice windows. In front of the 
 house was a neat gravel sweep in which the 
 stones seemed to be set as methodically as in 
 a Pompeian mosaic pavement. Framing this 
 was a garden which carried you back to your 
 childhood. Dear old-fashioned flowers ram- 
 paged in glorious abundance. Pinks and 
 rosemary, syringa, honey - suckle, and roses
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 51 
 
 fouglit for life in that graceful battle of 
 tangled luxuriance ; while the turf which 
 trimmed the borders seem to be spun from off 
 some faiiy shuttle. 
 
 The fly pulled up with a jerk at the 
 gate, and the grey horse stood panting and 
 steaming. Solomon descended cautiously 
 from his box, and, opening the door with 
 a flourish, said, " If you please, Miss, 
 you'll be good enough to alight here, as 
 Miss 'Annah don't allow of any vehicle 
 on the drive a' fear of cutting up the 
 gravel." 
 
 A moment later, and they were ascending 
 the spotless white steps leading up to the little 
 green front door. Hannah stood on the 
 threshold, looking grim and forbidding, Miss 
 Prudence at her side with hands outstretched, 
 and a flush of excitement and welcome upon 
 her tender face. Hannah shook hands with 
 the girls, and tlien gave a peck at their faces, 
 
 ^urvt«s>T.ona.No.s
 
 52 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 which was meant to do duty for a kiss, and 
 then she said sharply — 
 
 " Will you have the goodness to shake your 
 dresses before coming in, as there are always 
 fleas in Solomon's fly, and I wish to prevent 
 them from being brought into the house." 
 
 The girls did as they were requested, Nancy 
 convulsed with suppressed amusement, Olive 
 mth a puzzled, rather bored, expression in her 
 grey eyes. 
 
 " May we come right in now. Aunt 
 Hannah?" asked Nancy. "I guess all the 
 fleas are shaken out." 
 
 Miss Prudence looked a little nervous and 
 uneasy during the flea operation, but, Hannah 
 having gone out to superintend the bringing 
 in of the luggage, which she feared otherwise 
 they might knock against the wall. Miss 
 Prudence ventured to clasp the girls to her 
 heart, and kissed them warmly, whispering, 
 
 *' You must not mind Hannah, my dears, it
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 53 
 
 is only her little way. She is just a little — 
 well, a little paiiicular, you see, but you will 
 soon become used to it, and understand her," 
 and then she led them into the little drawing- 
 room, and made them sit on the large solemn 
 sofa, while she dispensed the tea with loving 
 hands. 
 
 " I knew^ you were Aunt Prudence,"' Xancy 
 cried, " the moment I saw you. You are just 
 like father's description ! He said that you 
 were like a little fairy godmother." 
 
 Miss Prudence smiled gently at the gM's 
 words, and then she said, 
 
 " And you, dear, are so like Arthur, you 
 have his blue eyes, and curling locks," and 
 she stroked the girl's hand fondly. 
 
 "Yes, they all say I resemble father," 
 replied Xancy, " and Olive is like what mother 
 was," she said, turning to her sister, who had 
 sat silent since their entrance, gazing thought- 
 fully around.
 
 54 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 Olive half stai-ted at being addressed, and 
 replied hnrriedl}', her eyes filling with tears, 
 " I wish I were more like her ; if she had only 
 lived a little longer I might have become so." 
 
 Hannah returned at that moment, and 
 catching the last remark, she said, wdth a 
 sardonic smile straying over her harsh features, 
 
 "It is a mistake, girls, to be a repetition of 
 your forefathers ; you are placed in this world 
 to improve, and not to remain like your rude 
 and savage ancestors." 
 
 " But they were not rude or savage, Aunt 
 Hannah," remarked Nancy, laughing; "they 
 were pretty smart people." 
 
 " Well, I don't know so much about that," 
 replied her Aunt, severely ; " your fatlier 
 was a very foolish man, and as to your 
 mother, I — " 
 
 " Hannah, dear," broke in Miss Prudence, 
 with nervous haste, terrified at what her sister 
 might say, and catching sight of Olive's grey
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 55 
 
 eyes, which were darting fiery lights and 
 shades. 
 
 " Hannah, did you go and see about the 
 luggage?'* 
 
 " Of course ; I always have to do every- 
 thing," sniffed her sister, " and I came to 
 say that if Olive and Xancy expect that 
 the}' can bring trunks about with them 
 the size of houses, they cannot be taken 
 in here. I have given orders that the 
 boxes are to be left in the outhouse till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Olive and Xancy looked rather dismayed at 
 this aimouncement, but perhaps those of my 
 readers who know the size of " Saratoga " 
 trunks will make some allowance for Hannah's 
 remonstrance. 
 
 " But, Aunt Hannah, we must get out a 
 few things," pleaded Olive. 
 
 " Yes, dear, of course," replied Miss Pru- 
 dence, soothingly. " I will help you presently,
 
 56 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 and to-morrow I am sure that we can arrange 
 something." 
 
 So, peace being restored, they resumed their 
 tea. Nancy had taken off her hat, and leant 
 back against the hard, cold, beaded cushions, 
 with her golden locks rioting over her forehead 
 in picturesque disorder. Miss Hannah looked 
 at her with undisguised disapproval, and at last 
 she remarked, 
 
 " Do you always wear your hair like a 
 poodle-dog?" 
 
 The girl flushed slightly, and answered 
 good-humouredly, " I guess it is rather rough 
 just now, but it won't lie smooth. A 
 class-mate of mine used to try and brush 
 it down, but it always curled right up 
 again." 
 
 " I was not aware that we were guessing 
 riddles," remarked Hannah, tartly, " and I 
 do not understand the reference to class-mates. 
 Perhaps now that you have come to a
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 57 
 
 civilized country you will strive to acquire a 
 civilized language." 
 
 Miss Prudence rose hurriedly (afraid of 
 what might follow as she saw Nancy's lips 
 tremble) and suggested that the girls were 
 tired, and would like to see their room. 
 
 Before slie left them that night, she kissed 
 them fondly and whispered, — 
 
 " ^ly dears, T hope that you will be happy 
 here, but I fear it Avill be dull for you with 
 two old maids like us ; and, my dears, you 
 must not mind Hannah ; her tongue is a little 
 sharp at times, but she does not mean to be 
 mikind, and she is so clever, and that makes 
 her seem, well — a little odd." 
 
 Xancy threw her arms impulsively round 
 the old lady's neck. 
 
 " (Jf course we sliall be happy here, Aunt 
 Prudence. It is so good of you to take in 
 two poor wanderers, and I love you already." 
 
 Olive smiled gently ; she was naturally
 
 58 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 reserved, and it was hard for her to express 
 her feelings, but she took the old lady's hand 
 and murmured — 
 
 " Thank you for your kind words to us, and 
 for all your tender letters to my mother ; she 
 loved you too." 
 
 Miss Prudence looked up at the beautiful 
 dark face that was working with strong 
 suppressed emotion, and she read there the 
 bitter grief with which the girl was struggling. 
 But she felt a strange presentiment that the 
 nature which lay behind those glorious eyes was 
 too deep for her ever fully to comprehend. 
 
 " What a dear she is ! " exclaimed Nancy, 
 enthusiastically, as the door closed on Miss 
 Prudence ; " but, oh Olive ! how shall we 
 stand that dreadful Aunt Hannah? Is she 
 mad, do you think ? I thought I should 
 have died right off, when she greeted us with 
 the fleas ! "
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 59 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Oh I that with our present knowledge of life 
 we could undo our past impulsive actions ! " 
 
 The words were uttered by Sir Eustace 
 Devereux. He was standing in the long low 
 library at "The White Ladies," gazing absently 
 at a piece of music in front of him. The win- 
 dow was open, and the light breeze caught the 
 pages, and fluttered them gently backwards and 
 forwards. It was the hour when the tired day 
 had begun to wane, and the sun had begun to die 
 grandly under a pall of amber tinted clouds. 
 
 Sir Eustace turned away half impatiently 
 from the music, and walked towards the win- 
 dow. The landscape was bathed in luminous
 
 6o A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 gold, with here and there a deep bronze shadow. 
 The air was so still that every sound appeared 
 emphasized. A cow was lowing gently, and a 
 dog barking some half mile away, and ever and 
 anon the children's voices were borne upon the 
 breeze, and seemed to echo clear and distinct 
 through the almost motionless atmosphere. 
 
 " If only we could undo the impulsive 
 actions of our youth ! " 
 
 Sir Eustace repeated the words. His voice 
 was deep, with a rich vibrating tone. His 
 presence was strikingly handsome; he resem- 
 bled a Velasquez picture, with his aquiline 
 features, dark deep set eyes, and black pointed 
 beard and moustache, and this resemblance was 
 scarcely to be wondered at, as there was 
 Spanish blood in his A^eins. 
 
 " But there is no means," he continued 
 bitterly, " no means of untying those hard, 
 unyielding knots which in our youth and 
 ignorance we wove about ourselves. Oh,
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 6i 
 
 God ! " and he breathed heavily, and leant his 
 head on his arm, " is there no escape from that 
 impulsive step, taken when I was a rash 
 thoughtless boy, with no real cognisance of 
 the awful solemnity of my vows ? Is not six- 
 teen years enough punishment for my folly, or 
 must I go on bearing the penalty till life has 
 slipped away, beggared of all its sweetness by 
 one rash, impulsive action, and by — " he 
 stopped a moment, and a sharp spasm of rage 
 crossed his face — " by the sin of others." 
 
 " They knew she had been mad," he went on 
 in low, hoarse tones, "and yet they never told 
 me ; and afterwards, when I tried to bring that 
 argument forward, they induced the doctor to 
 say it was only excited nerves, and there was 
 no escape. Linked for ever to a mad woman — 
 what a fate ! " and he laughed mockmgly. 
 
 The smi had sunk almost suddenly behind 
 the great rolling downs, leaving the scene 
 dyed in a gorgeous purple haze.
 
 62 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Sir Eustace was silent for a moment, and 
 then he began slowly to pace the room. 
 
 "Wliy should I go on bearing it?" he 
 murmured; "life is unendurable alone." And 
 then a new light seemed to break over his 
 face, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully for 
 a few moments. 
 
 " Why have I been so passive ? Why did J 
 not put the past resolutely from me, as a tale 
 that is told, and begin life afresh? Because," 
 he w^ent on meditatively, " because until I saw 
 her face I never cared to do so. What miser- 
 able fate brought me over in that ship from 
 New York ? What miserable fate drew me 
 toward her ? Was it Grod or devil that made 
 me look into that glorious face, and drink in 
 the light of those grey eyes — eyes which once 
 having seen, there was no forgetting? " 
 
 A fierce, passionate expression gleamed for 
 an instant in his face, and then died away, 
 giving place to unutterable melancholy.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 63 
 
 " Wliat power, divine or otherwise, sent her 
 her to my very door?" he whispered hoarsely, 
 " brought her where my eyes can feast on that 
 adored face, where everyday I may Hsten to 
 the soft tones of her voice, and bask in the 
 heaven of her smiles ? " 
 
 A delirious joy flashed into his eyes, and his 
 countenance was transformed by his dream of 
 happiness, and then suddenly the joy faded, 
 and left his features drawn and withered, and 
 he threw himself into a chair, and buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 The reality had returned. The awful, 
 relentless barrier had risen up again, blotting 
 out the ecstatic vision. But he must see lier 
 again, he must take one last look at that beau- 
 tiful face, and once more feel the trembling 
 lingers in his own. Once more ! only once 
 more, and then — why then he, would go away, 
 and let " The White Ladies " and become a 
 wanderer again on the earth.
 
 64 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 He broke off a spray of tuberose which stood 
 in a vase near him, and crushed the white 
 flowers between his fingers. The perfume from 
 the blossom rose up into the room like incense, 
 and the mutilated petals lay in a little heap on 
 the table, ruined, and broken by his ruthless 
 touch. Again the thought re-asserted itself. 
 Why should he go on paying the penalty of 
 that one rash act of folly ? Why should his 
 life be for ever beggared of all sweetness ? 
 
 "Ah!" he cried, "existence is too hard! 
 Grod expects more than is possible from our 
 weak human natures. I will not — I cannot 
 give her up." 
 
 And the Tempter whispered, " Why should 
 you make this sacrifice ? No one knows that 
 episode in your past life. It was enacted in 
 Australia before you were old enough to be 
 responsible, and even your name was different." 
 
 Sir Eustace started as the subtle insinuations 
 seemed to be closing round his heart. He had
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 65 
 
 forgotten his change of name, but it was true ; 
 he had been there as Bryant, before the death 
 of his cousin, which event had obliged him to 
 take his name for the property. Who was 
 there who could tell the history of that time ? 
 Her family were dead, and she was hopelessly 
 mad, and confined m a small private asylum in 
 Queensland. He had not even confided to the 
 doctor the relationship existing between them, 
 and in all communications concerning her, she 
 was designated by his former name of Bryant. 
 
 As these thoughts wove themselves into a 
 tangible form in Sir Eustace's brain, his face 
 cleared, and he murmured, 
 
 " Why should I not marry her ? I should 
 bring no open scandal upon her, as no soul but 
 myseK would know that the marriage was 
 false, and the knowledge of it will die with me. 
 I shall be true and faithful to her ; more faith- 
 ful perhaps than many are, though bound by 
 the chains of matrimony." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 But the voice of conscience whispered, 
 " Will you make the woman whom you pro- 
 fess to love, commit this deadly sin? Will 
 you ruin her young life as you have mutilated 
 and ruined the blossoms of the tuberose by 
 your harsh touch ? " 
 
 But he answered with dogged sophistry, 
 " I shall not make her sin. How can God 
 hold her guileless soul responsible for what she 
 never knew? How can He visit my sin (if 
 sin it be) on her innocent head ? It is I who 
 will suffer — I, and I alone," and he rose, and 
 once more approached the window, and peered 
 out with a restless dissatisfied gaze upon the 
 rising moon. 
 
 How long Sir Eustace remained in contem- 
 plation of this scene, he did not know ; but 
 he was roused from his reverie by the 
 door opening, and by Mr. Tremaine being 
 announced. 
 
 "I am afraid that I am terribly late? " began
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 67 
 
 Guy, shaking Sir Eustace wannly by the hand, 
 " but I told you not to Avait dinner." 
 
 " It does not the least signify? " replied his 
 host. " You see that is one of the many 
 advantages of a bachelor household, that one 
 can eat when one A\4shes," and he laughed a 
 low and particularly sweet laugh. 
 
 " Wliat an inveterate old bachelor you are, 
 Eustace," remarked his guest ; " I should like 
 to see you really mastered by the tender 
 passion." 
 
 " Pray do not wish me anything so dis- 
 agreeable,'' replied his host with a shiver ; 
 " but tell me," he continued in a lighter tone, 
 as they sat down to their somewhat late repast, 
 " was the rest of your journey successful? and 
 were you properly impressed by Rome and 
 Athens ? " 
 
 " As much as a Goth like me could be ; but 
 I am afraid I v/ent in more for the human, 
 living present of each city, than for the dead,
 
 68 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 crumbling past, for which you know, I never 
 had much partiality." 
 
 They talked for some time about mutual 
 friends, and discussed a month at Florence 
 which they had passed together there in the 
 early spring ; when at last Guy looked up 
 suddenly at his friend, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Wliy, Eustace, what have you done to 
 yourself ? You do not look half the man you 
 did before you went to America. What did 
 those Yankees do to you ? " 
 
 "Nothing," answered Sir Eustace, smiling, 
 " except being very civil, and giving me a great 
 many good dinners at Delmonico's." 
 
 " Then you liked your trip, and you found 
 our American cousms attractive, and not as 
 unrefined as you expected ? Perhaps you are 
 going to be in the fashion, and convert one of 
 them into Lady Devereux ? " questioned Guy, 
 laughing. 
 
 Sir Eustace shook his head, but he said
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 69 
 
 nothing. Guy did not notice his silence, he 
 was engrossed in making himself a strawbeny 
 squash, and did not observe the sudden pain 
 that his words brought into his friend's face. 
 
 " You are coming to me on Saturday," he 
 said, after a moment, pouring more cream into 
 his plate, " my sister is to be with me, and 
 de Yillebois, and Fitzgerald ; besides I have a 
 new attraction to offer you, two lovely girls, 
 half Americans." 
 
 Sir Eustace stai-ted slightly, and drew him- 
 self more into the shadow. 
 
 " They are the nieces," continued Guy, " of 
 the Miss Lavendercombes at Hawthorn Cottage, 
 and, their mother being dead, their father, who 
 is rather a rolling stone, has sent them over 
 here to the care of the old ladies, an honour 
 which Miss Hannah, the eldest, does not 
 entirely appreciate." 
 
 " Guy," said Sii' Eustace, suddenly, his 
 voice gaining deepness from his agitation,
 
 70 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " the Miss Lavendercombes came over in the 
 same ship with me." 
 
 " What ! The nieces ! " cried Guy, jumping 
 up, and in his excitement treading on the toe 
 of Bogie, the dachshund, who set up a dismal 
 howL 
 
 " Yes," continued Sir Eustace, determined 
 now that he had begun, to go through bravely ; 
 " they told me that they were coming to live 
 at Dinglehurst, and — we — " he hesitated, and 
 stumbled over the words, "we made quite 
 friends, we sat next to each other at meals, 
 and you see," he added apologetically, " on 
 board ship there is plenty of time and 
 opportunity to find out people's family history 
 — in fact there is nothing else to do." 
 
 " Tell me what they are like," inquired 
 Gruy, eagerly, " but I suppose that you, with 
 yom' fastidious taste, would not have cultivated 
 their society if they had not been pleasing to 
 the eye."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 71 
 
 Sir Eustace tried to hide his embarrassment 
 by a laugh, and then he replied, 
 
 " They were very pleasing to the eye. 
 Nancy, the youngest, is small and fair, with 
 big blue eyes, which look as if they had been 
 cut from a piece of Italian sky, while the 
 eldest, Olive," and his lips lingered on the 
 name — "Olive, how can I describe her? She 
 is so different from anyone whom I have seen 
 before." 
 
 Guy listened attentively, his eyes fixed on 
 his friend's face, and his fingers toying with 
 Bogie's ears. 
 
 " She is very tall, with a graceful, willow}' 
 figure, and hair the colour of a dead oak 
 leaf, and eyes — " he paused for a moment, 
 forgetful of his friend's presence, and at 
 a loss for a simile, " eyes, like the 
 gi'ey shadows m a blue lake, and 
 with the expression of a Gian Bellini 
 Madonna."
 
 72 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Gruy gave a long, low whistle, and then rose, 
 saying— 
 
 " By Jove ! Nancy is the girl for me ! I 
 conld never attempt to live up to the other. 
 But fancy the exalted feelings of Dingle - 
 hurst when they possess a Gian Bellini 
 Madonna in the flesh, with hair the colour of 
 a faded oak leaf ! Taney the feelings of the 
 Eev. Harold Jones ! His face will become 
 more devotional, and his form more attenuated 
 with adoration, and perhaps a miracle may be 
 worked, and old Shuffleout will come forth 
 from his shell, and occupy himself with the 
 parish once more." 
 
 " Not much fear of that, as long as there is 
 anyone else to do his work," laughed Sir 
 Eustace, glad that his friend had changed the 
 subject of the Miss Lavendercombes, though 
 perhaps, if he could have read Gruy's thought, 
 he would not have been so well satisfied. That 
 young man had noticed Sir Eustace's rapt
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 73 
 
 expression, and passionate intonation as he 
 spoke of Olive, and lie had marked the look of 
 intense tenderness which had crept into his 
 eyes, as if, while he described her, he saw her 
 standing before him. Gruy made a mental 
 note of all this, and drew his own conclusions, 
 but he was studiously careful to give his friend 
 no inkling that his secret had been dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Long after Guy had retired, Sir Eustace 
 sat bui'ied in thought. He should see her 
 on Saturday, spend a week in close proximity 
 to her. For the present he would put away 
 from him those torturing, unrestful thoughts, 
 those memories of the past, and enjoy what 
 the gods had sent him. ^Vliy should he 
 exclude himself entirely from her society ; 
 could they not be friends — the best, the 
 truest of friends if the closer and dearer tie 
 were impossible ? 
 
 Oh, Sir Eustace ! are you so wilfully blind
 
 74 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 at tlie age of thirty -seven, as to imagine that 
 anything could be taken in exchange for loA^e ? 
 That it is possible t > stay near to the woman 
 whom yon worship, and be in no danger of 
 listening to the voice of the tempter ! Fly, 
 while there is yet time ! Fly, even to the 
 uttermost paints of the earth, and what matter 
 if you suffer, aye — even into death, if you keep 
 your soul white, and her tender faith unsullied 
 before God.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 75 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 June ! " Blue June ! " Is there any thing so 
 heaven born, so inspmng as that entrancing 
 month of the year? When everything is 
 young and full of hope, and the trees have 
 donned their fairest green garments, and pure 
 white blossoms. 
 
 Nancy felt the exhilaration of the spring- 
 tide in every fibre of her young being, as she 
 stood in the garden at Hawi-horn Cottage, 
 watching Miss Prudence tending her favourite 
 plants, while she pushed between her lips a 
 few large, luscious strawberries. 
 
 " My dear," said Miss Prudence, looking 
 nervously round, ''you will be careful to throw
 
 76 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 the stalks into the bushes, because Hannah 
 particularly dislikes to see them left on the 
 walks." 
 
 Nancy made a little grimace, but answered 
 sweetly, 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Prudence, I will be careful. 
 There shall not be one stalk to offend Aunt 
 Hannah's eyes." 
 
 " And, Nancy dear," said Miss Prudence, 
 rising from her half recumbent position, and 
 looking at the girl with a slight flush dyeing 
 her cheek, " if you would try and not use so 
 many American expressions, and be a little 
 more careful not to ruckle up the antimacassars, 
 I think, dear, that things would go on more 
 smoothly." 
 
 Nancy shrugged her shoulders as she replied, 
 
 " I am real sorry, Aunt Prudence, to vex 
 you, but Aunt Hannah is so terribly precise, 
 that I guess we'll never pull in the same boat ! 
 The only way will be to write out all the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 77 
 
 things I may not do, and then learn them hy 
 heart, for instance, ' Do not come into the 
 house with muddy hoots ; ' ' Do not make 
 crumbs;' 'Do not ruckle up the antimacassars, 
 or curl up the rugs under your chair ; ' ' Be 
 careful not to leave strawberry stalks on the 
 gravel paths ; ' 'Be very punctual for meals, 
 and especially careful not to make messes on 
 the table cloth,' and above all, ' Do not dress 
 yom- hair to resemble a poodle-dog.' That is 
 all I think," said Nancy, quite out of breath. 
 "It is longer than the House that Jack built, 
 or the Duty to One's Xeighboui-, and now I 
 have forgotten one thing, ' Xot to bring trunks 
 the size of small houses about with you, because 
 they spoil the walls, in getting them upstairs.' " 
 Miss Prudence could not resist the tone and 
 manner with which Nancy rehearsed her lesson. 
 She smiled fondly, shaking her head mean- 
 while at her incorrigible niece, as she walked 
 awav towards the house.
 
 78 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Nancy watched tlie little fairy figure 
 tripping down the walk with its springy tread, 
 and then she turned, and strayed out on to the 
 soft green turf, along the white, wind tossed 
 cliffs, and down into the little sheltered bay, 
 where the sea lay like a blue, transparent 
 mirror. 
 
 Nancy sat down upon a rock, and began to 
 think — an employment in which she did not 
 often indulge. Till now her life had been one 
 long, rather dreary routine in which her mind 
 had had little scope beyond that found in the 
 groove of a young ladies' seminary. As she 
 looked back on the past seven years, they 
 only seemed to contain a jumble of grammars, 
 exercise books, and prayers, with the occasional 
 oasis of a few weeks spent with her aunt and 
 uncle in their smart house in New York, or 
 at Newport, where she had had a glimpse into 
 Paradise. 
 
 How she lono"ed for the enchantments of
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 79 
 
 that life! The balls, the musicals, the 
 picnics ! 
 
 How she envied the gii-ls their lovely 
 " toilettes," their bouquets, &c.,yes — and I am 
 soiTv to make the confession — then- joung men ! 
 
 " I wonder if I shall ever have a young man 
 to bunch me," soliloquised Nancy, digging a 
 little hole in the sand with her parasol, till the 
 water oozed up, " they do not appear to grow 
 romid here," and her eyes wandered out across 
 the dazzling ocean as if she expected to behold 
 a row of enamom-ed swains rising out of the 
 blue waves. 
 
 " To be sure there's the curate," she reflected, 
 " there always is a curate in an English village, 
 who is the one excitement of the neighbour- 
 liood, and for whom the young ladies make 
 carpet slippers and comfoi-ters, visit all the 
 old women, and teach in the Sunday school ; 
 but I should not be anywhere in the race for 
 his smiles, as I am not smart at carpet slippers,
 
 8o A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 or old women ; so the curate must be given 
 up," and she rose from the rock with an 
 air of dejection, and walked to the water's 
 edge, and dabbled the toe of her boot idly 
 in the waves. 
 
 " There is Mr. Tremaine, by the bye," she 
 said, brightening, " Aunt Prue's paragon. 
 But he is sure to be a sort of saint, who 
 probably wears long hair, spectacles, and squeaky 
 square-toed boots, who is great at missionary 
 meetings, and who is quite above minding if 
 his collar is clean," and her face drew itself 
 into a little pout, as she continued hopelessly, 
 
 " There is no other eligible male in the 
 place, so," heaving a deep sigh, " I had better 
 give up all hope of matrimony, and resign 
 myself to the joys of spinsterhood, and to 
 remaining here for the rest of my natural life," 
 and she stopped, " Well, I wonder which of the 
 aunts I shall grow like — Aunt Prudence, I 
 trust," and she burst into a peal of laughter
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 8i 
 
 at the idea of her growing into a second Miss 
 Hannah. 
 
 After having arrived at this conclusion, she 
 discovered that it was inconveniently warm on 
 the shore, and the sight of green, shady glades 
 near at hand lured her away from the salt 
 sea-waves. 
 
 To reach the desired spot she was obliged to 
 mount a rather awkward stile, upon the top 
 rung of which she caught her dress, and found 
 herself a prisoner. She tugged and pulled, 
 but with no effect except the ominous sound of 
 a cracking and rending asunder. 
 
 " What a nuisance the thing is," cried 
 Nancy, almost in tears, a vision of having to 
 darn a long rent rismg before her eyes, and 
 her cheeks flushing painfully, with her efforts 
 to disentangle herself. 
 
 " Can I be of any assistance ? " inquired a 
 sweet, rather deep voice by her side, and a 
 straw hat was lifted, disclosing a head of 
 vol,. I. G
 
 82 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 chestnut curls, and two dark, laughing, blue 
 eyes. 
 
 Nancy blushed a bright crimson, as she 
 stammered, " If you would really be so kind 
 as to disentangle my dress ; I cannot quite 
 reach the nail, and she gave another feeble tug 
 at the refi-actory skirt. 
 
 Guy went to work with a will, but whether 
 it was really a difficult task, or whether he 
 found the contemplation of Nancy's pretty 
 discomfited little countenance so attractive that 
 he wished to prolong the interview, history 
 does not relate ; the fact only remains that it 
 was some few minutes before she was free, and 
 then she tm-ned to him with many protestations 
 of gratitude, looking up at the young man, 
 with her big blue eyes in a way that made 
 Guy's rather susceptible heart beat unpleasantly 
 quick, and he muttered to himself, " Nancy is 
 the girl for me." 
 
 " I am sure, Miss Lavendercombe," he said
 
 A STEP ASIDE, 83 
 
 aloud, " I am proud to have rendered you any 
 service. It was a happy fate that drew me 
 this way." 
 
 " How do you know my name ? " asked 
 the ghi, glancing at the young man with 
 a curious, half-astonished gaze. Could this 
 charming individual be " Gruy Tremaine?" 
 and she almost laughed to herself, as she 
 recalled the picture that she had so recently 
 drawn of him — long hair, squeaking boots, 
 and a dirty collar. A smile would cm'l 
 romid her lips, as her eyes travelled 
 over the handsome, well - dressed figure at 
 her side. 
 
 " I recognised you," returned Gruy, " from a 
 graphic description that a friend of mine gave 
 of you." 
 
 "Aunt Prudence? " questioned Nancy. 
 
 " No," replied Guy, shaking his head, " not 
 Aunt Prue. Try again." 
 
 " But she is not your aunt," cried Nancy, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 with a sudden access of jealousy, " why do 
 you call her by that name ? " 
 
 " Because," answered Gruy, a sudden light 
 darting into his eyes, " because she has been 
 Aunt and even more to me, ever since " — and 
 he looked away dreamily over the dancing 
 waves — " I was quite a little chap. She is 
 really more my aunt than yours," he went on 
 lightly ; " she has belonged to me all my life, 
 and now you have come to take her from me, 
 and I feel rather sad." 
 
 " Then you would rather that we had 
 stayed away," said Nancy, a shade of dis- 
 appointment creeping into her voice. 
 
 " I confess that I was not best pleased when 
 I first heard the news," said Guy, flushing a 
 little under the girl's eyes, '' but " — and 
 he looked up half shyly, — "I have quite 
 changed my mind now, since — well — since 
 I had the pleasure of disentangling your 
 dress, and T feel inclined to bless that
 
 ,A STEP ASIDE. 85 
 
 nail for having been the means of our in- 
 troduction." 
 
 Nancy laughed merrily. " It certainly is 
 more amusing than a formal introduction, 
 though," and she hesitated for a minute ; 
 " you know — I do not yet feel certain to 
 whom I am indebted for such a service, but 
 I suppose you are Mr. Tremaine," and again 
 the picture that she had drawn of him re- 
 curred to her mind, and she broke into a low, 
 rippling laugh. 
 
 Gruy looked at her in astonishment, not a 
 little hurt at her behaviour. " Excuse me," he 
 said, with a shade of hauteur in his voice, 
 " but I am at a loss to understand w^here the 
 joke comes in ; perhaps you will enlighten 
 me." 
 
 Kancy looked at him, and strove to stifle 
 her mii-th, and to apologize for her want of 
 manners. " I am so — so — sorry," she gasped, 
 " but — but — I was " — (bursting into a fresh
 
 86 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 peal of laughter) — " just thinking of some- 
 thing," and she covered her face with her 
 hands, and rocked herself backwards and 
 forwards. 
 
 Gruy remained standing before her, utterly 
 mystified, and inclined to be much ruffled at 
 her unseemly amusement. Neither dogs, nor 
 human beings appreciate being laughed at, if 
 they are unaware of the cause. 
 
 " I suppose," he said at last, his temper 
 getting the better of his manners, " I suppose 
 that it is an American custom to laugh at your 
 own thoughts, without inviting the rest of 
 the company to participate in the fun. My 
 nurse used to inform me that this was very 
 rude," and he turned on his heel, and, raising 
 his hat, prepared to walk away, but Nancy 
 sprung up, and, laying her hand detainingly 
 on his arm, exclaimed, 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Tremaine, it was ever so 
 rude of me to go into those gales of laughter ;
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 87 
 
 but if you will come right back, I'll — " 
 (beginning to laugh again) — " I'll explain it 
 to you." 
 
 Guy allowed himself to be mollified. Who 
 could resist those alluring blue eyes ? and he 
 found himself seated beside Nancy on a green 
 shady bank, and caught himself wondering if 
 those golden curls felt as soft as they looked. 
 
 Xancy was silent for a moment. She 
 plucked some long pieces of grass, and began 
 to tie them together, feeling rather embarrassed 
 as to how to begin her confession. 
 
 "Well!" said Guy, watching the little 
 shadows glinting through the trees on to her 
 small fingers. 
 
 " Well I " repeated Guy, " are you going to 
 gladden my heai-t with this excellent joke ? " 
 
 " Do you really want to hear it ? " asked 
 Nancy, picking some more grass, and keeping 
 the white lids demurely dropped over her 
 eyes.
 
 88 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " Of course I do ! " cried Guy, taking off 
 his straw hat, and arranging the Zingari 
 colours that were round it. 
 
 "Well," said Nancy, heaving a sigh, "you 
 see I came out this morning with the intention 
 of having a regular, good 'think.' I do not 
 often indulge m3^self in that luxury," and she 
 raised her eyes for a moment to his face, with 
 a mischievous light playing in their blue 
 depths, " but, you see, I just began to think 
 about the people here, and to wonder what 
 they would be like, and then I pictured them 
 to myself, and I drew a kind of imaginary, 
 mental portrait of each, and yours was so — 
 so — funny, that when I beheld you in the 
 llesh I could not help laughing ; you — 
 you were so very different to what I had 
 imagined ! " 
 
 "And may I have your mental portrait? 
 That is to say if it would not make me too 
 conceited," murmured Guy, and he took the
 
 . A STEP ASIDE. 69 
 
 grass out of her little unresisting hands, and 
 began to twist it round his fingers. 
 
 "Will you promise not to be angry? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I promise," returned Gruy solemnly. 
 
 *' Well, you see, Aunt Prudence told us 
 what a great friend you were of hers, so — so 
 — I thought, of course, — naturally that you 
 must be very pious, that you would hold 
 missionary meetings, and — " 
 
 Guy's lips began to twitch with suppressed 
 laughter. 
 
 "And I pictured you," continued Nancy, 
 turning towards him, and looking a little 
 nervous, " with long hair and spectacles, 
 square-toed squeaky boots, and,'" her voice sank 
 nearly to a whisper, •' with a dirt}' collar." 
 
 Guy burst into a laugh as long and full of 
 merriment as her own had been. " And the 
 origmal of your mental sketch, Miss Lavender- 
 combe," he said as soon as he had recovered.
 
 90 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 "is, I am afraid, lamentably wanting in the 
 good qualities yon generously bestowed upon 
 me. I am afraid I am a terrible sinner, but I 
 hope that a clean collar, non-squeaky boots, 
 and short hair may make up for my other 
 deficiencies. 
 
 Nancy smiled, and then there fell a silence 
 between them, broken only by the cool splash- 
 ing of the waves, as they washed lazily over 
 the rocks. At length Guy exclaimed, 
 
 " You have not guessed who the individual 
 was, from whose graphic description I was 
 able to recognise you." 
 
 Nancy thought for a minute, and then she 
 said " Solomon." 
 
 Guy shook his head, and was about to tell 
 her, when she interrupted him by crying, 
 
 " I know ! Sir Eustace Devereux. How 
 stupid of me ; he crossed the ocean with 
 us, and I had forgotten that he lives near 
 here."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 91 
 
 " Did you like him ? " enquired Guy, a little 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Oh ! yes ! He is a real lovely man ! " 
 exclaimed Nancy, enthusiastically. Gruy smiled 
 at the American expression, but he was sensible 
 of a decided feeling of annoyance at her 
 strongly phrased approbation. 
 
 " But he is appallingly clever," she went on, 
 " he made great friends with Olive (my sister) 
 and they used to talk for hom's, about ai-t, and 
 music, and books, and I used to be rather 
 bored, because," looking up naively into his 
 face, " I am not at all clever ; Olive has all the 
 brains and the beauty of the family." 
 
 " You seem to have stolen a little of the 
 latter commodity," remarked Guy, throwing a 
 world of meaning into his eyes. 
 
 Nancy blushed at the rather too open com- 
 pliment to her charms, and rose, saying, 
 
 " I must be going, for if I am late Aunt 
 Hannah will be so cross." She held out her
 
 92 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 hand, which Guy took, and pressed more than 
 the occasion required, and then, as she was 
 turning to depart, she suddenly stopped, and 
 looking up at him, asked abruptly, 
 
 " Do you love Aunt Hannah, Mr. Tremaine? " 
 The young man shook his head and replied, 
 " I cannot say that at present she has inspired 
 me with a \(j r ancle passion ' " 
 
 '' I am so glad," whispered Nancy, much 
 relieved, " for I think she is a real terror," and 
 before Gruy could reply she was gone.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 93 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 Ctuy's sister, Mrs. Stephen Lopes, was one of 
 those people, who always manage to do the right 
 thing at the right moment, to grasp the oppor- 
 tunity when it presents itself. She had never 
 let slip a chance of gaining an advancement, no 
 matter in what shape it appeared. She was one of 
 those distinctly prosperous people, who impress 
 their prosperity upon you in a disagreable way. 
 She seemed to be always telling you meta- 
 phorically that life had gone smoothly with 
 her, and rather implied that it was your own 
 fault if you had felt the rubs of the seamy side 
 of existence. To a certain extent, no doul)t, 
 prosperity is in our owm hands.
 
 94 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Mrs. Stephen Lopes had come into the world 
 fully determined to do the right thing, and to 
 be a success. She had been a charming, soft, 
 round baby, who never cried, and had taken 
 her food without resistance. She had cut her 
 first tooth at the proper period, and again, at 
 the exact number of months at which the right- 
 minded baby is supposed to walk, she rose to 
 her feet, and took to pedestrian exercise. And 
 so it went on. 
 
 She learnt her alphabet neither too early nor 
 too late, and her pot-hooks were the delight of 
 her teachers. She came out at the usual age 
 at which girls make their dedut, produced the 
 exact amount of sensation at her first ball that 
 was desirable and prudent, and after three or 
 four years of gaiety, she married at the most 
 suitable age, the eldest son of a peer, and after 
 two years of matrimony presented him with a 
 son and heir. 
 
 Could any career have been more eminently
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 95 
 
 successful, and leave less to be desired ? And 
 yet Mrs. Lopes, with all her j^rosperity, could 
 scarcely have claimed the charming Italian 
 epithet of " Sinipatica.'' She was too much en- 
 grossed with her ow^i prosperity to be able to 
 sink her personality sufficiently to enter into 
 the joys or griefs of others. 
 
 It is no doubt a truism that the prosj)erous 
 people of this world are less sympathetic and 
 tender to the woes of others, than those who 
 have experienced the sharp fires of suffering. 
 It is hardly their fault, poor souls, for how is 
 it possible for them, miless they be blessed witli 
 a strongly imaginative nature, to gauge fully 
 the sorrows which they have never experienced? 
 
 Mrs. Lopes was some five or six years older 
 than her brother, and in outward appearance a 
 great contrast to him. She was small and in- 
 clined to be fat, with sparkling brown eyes, 
 and a brunette complexion. 
 
 She had not come down to the Manor solelv
 
 96 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 for the deliglit of seeing lier dear brother, to 
 whom, by-the-bye, she informed her friends, she 
 was much attached, but there were other causes 
 in the background. 
 
 Mr. Lopes had been spending a little too 
 much money on his racehorses, deer forest, 
 &c.; so that it was convenient to miss a part 
 of the London season on the excuse that the 
 children required country air. 
 
 Mr. Lopes had not accompanied his wife to 
 Dinglehurst ; he found the country dull when 
 there was nothing to kill, and, like Boucher, 
 thought nature, " Trop verfp ef mal eclairee," 
 therefore he had betaken himself to Homburg 
 on the excuse of doing a cure. 
 
 " So I hear you have had an importation of 
 two charming American girls at Dinglehurst. 
 What are they like? Very cJiic and well- 
 dressed P " and Mrs. Lopes put up her pi nee nrz, 
 and surveyed her brother across the breakfast 
 table, the morning after her arrival.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 97^ 
 
 " I have only had the good foi-tune at j^re- 
 sent to make the acquaintance of the youngest/' 
 replied Guy, but she is a most attractive, 
 fascinating young lady. Eustace can give you a 
 full description of the sisters, as he had the 
 happiness of crossing the ocean in their com- 
 pany, and six days on board ship will enable 
 you to discover people's vices and virtues pretty 
 accurately." 
 
 Mrs. Lopes turned to Sir Eustace, and 
 begged for mformation concerning the Misses 
 Lavendercombe. 
 
 " Of course they are pretty," she asserted, 
 " all Americans are." 
 
 Sir Eustace looked annoyed at being thus 
 pointedly appealed to, but answered politely. 
 
 " They are exceedingly charming and pretty, 
 and moreover the eldest is a very good 
 musician." 
 
 '' She is like a Gian Bellini Madonna," 
 put in Guy, lookmg mischievously at Eustace, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " with hair the coloui' of an expiring oak- 
 leaf." 
 
 " Ma foi ! " that sounds entrancing," cried 
 little Count de A-^illebois, " does she resemble 
 the Bellini in the Chui'ch of the Eedentore ? 
 Delicious. It brings me to ma chere Yenise," 
 and the little man's face glowed with excite- 
 ment and he began to hum, 
 
 " O Yenezia. beuedetta, non ti posso piu lasciar " 
 
 " My dear Count, " said Sir Eustace coldly, 
 a frown gathering on his brow, " I merely 
 remarked in passing that Miss Olive Lavender- 
 combe was the type of a Gian Bellini." 
 
 " You ^^lll have to paint a miniature of her," 
 suggested ]Mi's. Lopes, tui-ning to her other 
 neighbour, Mr. Fitzgerald. 
 
 The young man who was thus addressed, 
 smiled feebly, as if even that was too much 
 exertion, and continued his breakfast placidly. 
 He was essentially an evening talker ; his ideas
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 99 
 
 were not awake at the barbarous hour of nine 
 o'clock m the morning, and he made no effort 
 to arouse them. 
 
 Cyril Fitzgerald was a young man belong- 
 ing to the genus masher ; he indulged in high 
 collars, and ties that looked as if he had had a 
 bad cold on his chest, and in consequence was 
 obliged to wear many folds of silk which stuck 
 out like a Pouter pigeon. His face resembled 
 a gutta-percha doll, with blue beady eyes, and 
 his straight lank hair was of a faded straw 
 colour. 
 
 He had a pale character, as well as a pale 
 face. I mean by that, that there was nothing 
 fresh and healthy about his mind ; he looked 
 always weary, as if he had been born tired, 
 and had never been able to rest himself. 
 
 In the parlance of spoilsmen he was a ninny, 
 as he had never succeeded in killing anything 
 except time, and that very indifferently ; but 
 in his OT\TL particular line he was decidedly 
 
 H 2
 
 loo A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 clever. He painted miniatures, and trimmed 
 hats to perfection, and lie could design a 
 tea-gown or drape a curtain in a really 
 masterly manner. 
 
 But in spite of these accomplishments he 
 was not popular with his own sex. Perhaps^ 
 they were jealous of his success with women, 
 or secretly envied him his powers of millinery. 
 
 Guy had a particular ahhorrence of him, but 
 as he was a great friend of his sister's, and 
 as he was at the present time engaged in 
 painting her miniature, he had allowed him 
 to be invited. 
 
 Count de Villebois was a thorough type of 
 a smart young Frenchman, who desired to be 
 thought very sporting and vigorous, though in 
 his heart he sighed for the Boulevards in his 
 cker Paris. 
 
 He was a short, dapper little man with 
 coal-black eyes, and a sallow complexion. His 
 hair was a shiny black, and his moustache.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. loi 
 
 whicli was neatly curled^ was tlie despair of his 
 valet Michel, who remarked, with passionate 
 gesticulations, that in this damp climate it was 
 impossible to keep it in the elegant crimj^. 
 
 Guy had met him in Paris some months 
 previously, and had struck up a kind of desultory 
 friendship with him. 
 
 " Mon cher," he said, as they were rising 
 from the breakfast table, " when are we to see 
 this goddess whom you describe ? " 
 
 "To-morrow evening they do me the honour 
 of dining here," replied Gruy, " so you will not 
 have to curb your curiosity for long." 
 
 " Long," cried Comit de Villebois, lifting 
 up his hands, "it is an eternity that you ask 
 me to wait. A\"liy do they not come to-day ? " 
 
 "You forget. Count," remarked Sir Eustace, 
 " that we are in a country where the Sabbath 
 is raised up like the snake in the wilderness, 
 and we fall down and worship." 
 
 "Ah! of course, I did forget!" exclaimed
 
 I02 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 the little Frencliman. '* It is wicked to be 
 joyful, or to laugh on your Sunday. But is 
 there not Mass ? Can I not go and gaze from 
 afar on this divine creature ? " 
 
 Gruy laughed at the Frenchman's extravagant 
 language, but Sir Eustace looked black as 
 thunder as he remarked stiffly, 
 
 "It is not the custom in this country to 
 follow ladies into church and annoy them by 
 such open admiration," and he sauntered 
 slowly out of the window on to the la^ai. 
 
 " I am afraid that I did anger him by my 
 words," said the Count rather anxiously : "but, 
 ma foi, how could I tell that he did love the 
 lady," and he lighted a cigarette, and blew the 
 smoke meditatively into the air. 
 
 Guy smiled at the Frenchman's perception, 
 and suggested a visit to the stables. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "I must beg, Nancy," remarked Miss 
 Hannah, on the afternoon of the same day,
 
 A STEP ASIDE, 103 
 
 " that your beliaviom- at divine worship may- 
 be more decorous." 
 
 " But, Aunt Hannah, if you take me to such 
 a church, and such a clergpnan, you must 
 make allowance for the first time of asking ! " 
 
 " Dear Hannah," put in Miss Prudence, 
 anxious to throw oil on the troubled w^aters, 
 " you know Mr. Shuffleout's delivery is just a 
 little strange at first." 
 
 " Strange ! " laughed Nancy, "it is the 
 fmmiest thing I ever heard. He sends you to 
 sleep at the beginning of the prayers, and then 
 wakes you up with an appalling stai't at the 
 end, with the " Saying after me " shrieked at 
 the top of his voice, and after your nerves have 
 become accustomed to that, he takes to 
 announcing what is coming, like a butler at an 
 afternoon party. For instance " The Litany " 
 (imitating his voice), and you look up expecting 
 to see it come mincing up the aisle, like the 
 wicked man, a little late."
 
 :i04 'A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Hannah's face had become more and more 
 grim dnrmg Nancy's recital. Miss Prudence 
 pretended to be plucking o& the dead leaves 
 from her plants, and so succeeded in hiding her 
 amusement, and Olive was becoming the colour 
 of a peony in her efforts to suppress her laugh- 
 ter. Xancy alone was perfectly composed 
 except for a twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 Miss Hannah opened her mouth once, as if 
 to speak, and then closed it again with a snap, 
 and gave a sniff of displeasure. 
 
 At last she remarked, " I suppose that you 
 consider your description extremely humorous, 
 but there is nothing clever in profanity, and I 
 beg that under this roof you will not indulge 
 in ribald jests upon the clergyman, and our 
 church." 
 
 " But I did not mention the building that 
 you designate by the name of church," replied 
 the incorrigible Nancy. " We Yankees would 
 give you a pile for such a genuine old ruin. I
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 105 
 
 saw an army of slugs making tracks up tlie 
 slimy walls, and the arclies are like a green 
 bower with the moss. And, Amit Hamiah,'' 
 she went on confidentially, "I felt quite nervous 
 as to the bottom of the pews ; there were such 
 holes, and they creaked so mipleasantly, I 
 really began to think that I should be gathered 
 to my Lavendercombe ancestors before my 
 time," and then, without gi^'ing Miss Hamiah 
 a moment to reply, Xancy darted out of the 
 room. 
 
 Miss Hannah arranged the mat that had got 
 rucked up under the chairs, and, seeing a few 
 unwary crumbs straying about, she took the 
 hearth brush and shovel and began to sweep 
 them up, and then turning to Olive, as she 
 prepared to leave the room, she said in harsh, 
 nasal tones — 
 
 " Your mother has not managed to instil 
 much respect or reverence mto her children. 
 It is a pity tliat she failed so signally in the
 
 io6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 education of her daughters, as well as in every- 
 thing else." 
 
 Olive started to her feet, her eyes ablaze 
 with fury. 
 
 " How dare you say things against my 
 mother ? " she cried. " She was an angel of 
 goodness, and far, far better than you are." 
 
 Miss Hannah only deigned to shoot a look 
 of supreme scorn at the flushed, angry face, 
 and then went out, banging the door after her. 
 
 Olive sank down again on the sofa, her eyes 
 filling with tears. 
 
 "My dear," said Miss Prudence kindly, 
 stooping to kiss the hot cheeks, " you must not 
 mind ; dear Hannah does not mean what she 
 says, she has such a kind heart." 
 
 "But it is cruel to speak like that of the 
 dead," cried Olive. " Oh, Aunt Prudence," and 
 the girl leaned her head against the old lady's 
 shoulder, " you would have loved my mother, 
 she was so gentle and patient, and we were all
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 107 
 
 the world to each other. Do you know what 
 it is to feel as if half your life had been 
 wrenched away, and as if you could never pick 
 up the threads of your interest in it again ? " 
 
 "Yes, dear child," replied Miss Prudence 
 thoughtfully, " I have felt it. There are few 
 who escape the sickening despair of seeing 
 their best loved ones taken from them by 
 death, or by circumstances ; " and the old 
 lady looked Tvastfully out at the pink haw- 
 thorn tree, from which the light breeze was 
 wafting through the window a rich, subtle 
 perfume. "But, OHve, time will aid you; it 
 seems almost heartless to say that we forget ; 
 it is not that exactly, but, as the months and 
 years roll in between us and our suffering, the 
 pain becomes dulled and veiled by the new 
 impressions that the business of life forces 
 into our hearts." 
 
 " But that is just what hurts me, Aunt 
 Prudence, the rapidity with which a person's
 
 io8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 place in life is filled. You see one taken who 
 seems an absolute necessity to tlieir loved ones, 
 and yet, after a few weeks or months have 
 passed, those same sorrowing relations and 
 friends take up the old everyday life, and 
 seem to bury the memory of the dear one so 
 deep that one asks oneself, is there any remem- 
 brance left ? " 
 
 "Yes, child, indeed there is," said the old 
 lady, clasping her little hands tightly together ; 
 " there is a remembrance so deep, so intense, 
 that to outward eyes it does not reveal itself ; 
 or life in the presence of that memory would 
 be impossible." 
 
 Olive did not answer ; she felt instinctively 
 that there had been some history in the past to 
 prompt those passionate words; and, as she 
 glanced up at Miss Prudence, she saw that 
 the pale cheeks Avere flushed, and the blue 
 eyes suffused with tears. 
 
 A silence fell between them, broken only
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 109 
 
 by the droning of the insects as they flew by 
 the windows, and the mellow voice of the 
 waves as they lapped over the yellow sand. 
 
 In that silence the old lady and young girl 
 drew very near to each other, and their souls 
 mingled in an unspoken communion.
 
 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 A DINNER party in tlie country. The words 
 impress one with appalling dullness. An 
 entertainment of that kind leaves so little to 
 the imagination ; it is like a second marriage — 
 '' The triumph of hope over experience." 
 
 You know beforehand what everyone will 
 say, and what every one will wear. You feel 
 persuaded that Mrs. Jones, the Squire's lady, 
 will appear in her crimson brocade, of which 
 you know every stitch and crease. The train 
 has a way of turning over helplessly on its 
 side when she walks across the room, and 
 the hooks have a distinctly expostulating 
 expression.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. m 
 
 Dear me ! how many incarnations that dress 
 has passed through ! It was born white — pure, 
 virgin white, trimmed with swansdown ; its 
 next stage was pale blue, with a gentle touch 
 here and there of old gold. It had a very long, 
 quite abnormally long, life in that capacity, so 
 long that it must have become infinitely weary 
 of the many dinners and routs which it 
 attended, and now, after a year's rest, it has 
 re-appeared a brilliant, flaring crimson, T\dth 
 just a soujjQon of blue left to remind one of 
 an old friend. 
 
 The conversation, like the dresses, is also a 
 foregone conclusion. If it is in the winter the 
 men ride a great many runs, and slay a great 
 many pheasants. Squire Jones holds forth 
 upon his pedigree wheat, and shorthorns, and 
 remarks with beaming satisfaction that the 
 County Council is sending the country to the 
 dogs. 
 
 Then the Curate (there always is a curate at
 
 112 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 a country dinner party) chimes in witli a few 
 remarks qnite irrelevant to the snhject, or 
 pours into the ear of the young lady whom he 
 has taken into dinner, his plans and hopes for 
 an entertainment he is organising, a kind of 
 hotch-potch of concert and waxworks, and 
 he has hegged with tender emphasis, that she 
 will act Virginia to his Paul. 
 
 After dinner, things are rather worse. The 
 ladies discuss the Girls' Friendly Society in all 
 its hearings. It is strange how much animosity 
 that Society seems to engender ; half the world 
 tell you that it is the only road to Heaven, 
 and the other half intimate that it leads to a 
 very much warmer atmosphere. When the 
 gentlemen come in, the hostess suggests a 
 little music, and Miss Prim, the young lady 
 who has promised to personate Virginia, is led 
 to the piano, and pressed to sing. She requires 
 a good deal of persuasion and when she hegins 
 you wish sincerely that it had required even
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 113 
 
 more. Slie warbles a pathetic ditty (in a weak 
 sickly voice, in which the high notes sound as 
 if in a fog) about a sunset, and a golden river 
 on the edge of which she waited for the return 
 of her " own true love," who appears, by-the- 
 bye, to have been very untrue, as he never 
 came back to claim her, and inwardly you feel 
 what a very sensible yomig man he must have 
 been. 
 
 But the dinner-party at the Manor to which 
 I am about to introduce you, was a very 
 different entertainment. The company was a 
 little heterogeneous, and the cosmopolitan 
 element added piquancy to the evening. 
 
 Nancy was in a wild state of excitement. 
 She was at that happy age, when a very small 
 incident is magnified into an event. 
 
 Olive was less outwardly perturbed, but 
 
 inwardly her heart beat uncomfortably fast at 
 
 the idea of again meeting Sir Eustace Devereux. 
 
 She had not spoken to her aunts of their 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 ^ S'^EP ASIDE. 
 
 having crossed the ocean in the same steamer. 
 Some feeling which she could not define kept 
 her silent. Those days spent in his company 
 had passed like a happy dream. He seemed 
 to have dropped suddenly into her life at the 
 time when she most needed a warm sympathetic 
 nature, and the girl's soul had gone out to him 
 during those long evenings when they sat 
 together on deck w^atching the huge steamer 
 plough her way through the green Atlantic 
 waves. To-night she was to see him again, 
 and the hot hlood rushed to her face, as she 
 asked herself the question, would he be glad, 
 as glad as she was ? 
 
 Miss Prudence was to accompany her nieces. 
 The little lady was in a flutter of expectation ; 
 a dinner-party was an almost unheard of 
 dissipation for her. She could count the times 
 that she had dined out, during the last twenty 
 years, on the fingers of one hand. She had at 
 first refused, but Guy would take no denial ;
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 115 
 
 he told her laughingly that it was her duty to 
 come and see that he did not flirt too much 
 with her lovely nieces ; so with many qualms as 
 to what Hannah would say, the old lady had 
 accepted. 
 
 " You see," she said to her sister, apologeti- 
 cally, " I thought it would be dreary for the 
 girls to go alone, and perhaps it would not 
 look quite the thing, and — and — Gruy was so 
 pressing." 
 
 " And you A\dshed to go," replied her sister 
 with sharp emphasis, and Miss Hannah sniffed 
 like a war-horse scenting battle. " Wliy 
 cannot you speak the truth. Prudence, in- 
 stead of prevaricating? you always displayed 
 a love for worldly gaieties and fine clothes, 
 and now that you have the excuse of 
 two girls to chaperone you will be able 
 to indulge your tastes to your heart's con- 
 tent." 
 
 Miss Prudence's eyes were misty for a 
 
 I 2
 
 Ii6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 moment with tears, and a flush rose to her 
 cheek at her sister's nnjust reproof. 
 
 " Hannah, I do not care to go for myself," 
 she replied firmly, " but young people want 
 to enjoy themselves, and surely we ought to 
 try and make them happy." 
 
 " Which means," returned her sister fiercely, 
 "turning a decent Christian home upside 
 down, and striding over the country after 
 young men and amusement. I knew what it 
 would lead to ! having two giggling school- 
 girls put upon us, with no ideas in their light, 
 frivolous heads beyond new clothes and 
 lovers." 
 
 Miss Prudence thought it wisest to drop the 
 subject. She sighed, and wished that Hannah 
 would take life more easily. This conversation 
 had spoilt her pleasure in going to the party, 
 and she went upstairs feeling guilty, and 
 rather sore with her sister. 
 
 She took out her only evening dress, a
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 117 
 
 lavender moire, wliicli had seen better days, 
 and smoothed the creases fondly, and pulled 
 out the old Spanish lace with which it was 
 trimmed. She wondered if her sister's words 
 were really true, if she were too fond of dress 
 and of the world. She smiled as she thought 
 how little chance she had had of gratifying 
 either taste ; but perhaps it was wrong to care 
 as much as she did for the soft dove-coloured 
 silk, which she wore on Sundays, and for the 
 old piece of Mechlin lace which mingled so 
 w^ell with her white hair. The old lady took 
 herseK severely to task for her little vanities, 
 and determined she would try not to care 
 for these things in the future ; but to-night 
 she must look nice — yes — for Gruy's sake. 
 
 She was startled from her reverie by the 
 entrance of her nieces and Bridget, who 
 exclaimed, " Law, ma'am, how nice you does 
 look ! I declare I never should have known 
 you," which rather doubtful compliment was
 
 ii8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 intended as a most sincere tribute to Miss 
 Prudence's charms. 
 
 " Aunt Prudence, you are just tlie loveliest 
 woman I have ever seen," cried Nancy enthu- 
 siastically, throwing her arms round the old 
 lady's neck. 
 
 The yellow chariot, with Solomon, was in 
 waiting to convey them to the Manor, and as 
 there was rather a heavy shower of rain. Miss 
 Hannah had grudgingly consented to the 
 carriage driving over the sacred gravel, up to 
 the door. It was but a short distance to their 
 destination, and a few minutes landed our 
 party at the Manor. 
 
 There was nothing particularly attractive 
 about the house. It was built at an ugly 
 period, when people imagined that large square 
 rooms with a paucity of decorations were the 
 acme of gentility. The hall was spacious, 
 and filled with emblems of the chase. Tiger 
 and bear skins jostled each other on the floor.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 119 
 
 and buffalos' and stags' heads ornamented the 
 walls. The room into which our party was 
 ushered was also large and square, with heavy 
 crimson damask curtains, and furniture to 
 match. Ponderous sofas and chairs contem- 
 plated each other in stately magnificence, and 
 a round table entirely prevented any com- 
 munication among the guests, excepting in 
 the most formal and distant manner. 
 
 If people would only comprehend how much 
 chairs and tables influence a party ! You go 
 into a stiff, cold apartment, and feel that all 
 your ideas are frozen up by the ungenial 
 surroundings, and you go into rooms where 
 the furnitui'e appears to beam uj3on you and 
 instantly your brain expands, and your heart 
 overflows ^\ith goodwill. 
 
 The Manor drawing-room was essentially 
 a man's room. It lacked the pleasant trivial 
 litter that proclaims a woman's presence. 
 
 Gruy welcomed his guests with much warmth.
 
 I20 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 He gazed in deep admiration at Olive. The 
 spell of lier beauty struck him forcibly. No 
 wonder, he thought, that Sir Eustace raved 
 about her, and compared her to a Gian Bellini 
 Madonna. 
 
 But he was brought back to his duties by 
 Nancy, exclaiming, " I guess you will leave 
 me right out in the cold, now that you have 
 seen Olive ! " 
 
 Gruy laughed at the frank remark, and 
 looked down reassuringly into the piquant 
 little countenance. 
 
 Olive's heart beat painfully, and a mist 
 seemed to rise before her eyes, and for an 
 instant everything whirled and spim round. 
 How would he greet her? Would his eyes 
 tell her that he was glad, even if his lips were 
 silent ? How long it seemed before her intro- 
 duction to Gruy and Mrs. Stephen Lopes was 
 over, and then the deep tones of Sir Eustace 
 Devereux's voice fell upon her ear, and she
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 121 
 
 felt the warm, firm pressure of liis hand, as he 
 murmured a few words of welcome. Olive 
 raised her eyes for one moment to his, and 
 what she read there sent a wild joy to her 
 heart. 
 
 Count de Yillebois watched the meeting 
 with interest. Since he had roused Sir Eustace's 
 ire with regard to Miss Olive Lavendercombe, 
 he had made up his mind there was something 
 behind. 
 
 " Ma f oi ! " he said to himself, " she is a 
 divine creature ! No wonder that he is amou- 
 reux, but they are both ravissantes," and he 
 stepped back in his enthusiasm, and trod upon 
 Guy's dog Crib, who startled the company 
 by an unearthly howl. 
 
 " Diable ! " muttered the Comit, under his 
 breath, and then aloud " Pauvre bete ! I did 
 not mean to hurt you," but Crib was offended, 
 and walked off in high dudgeon. He hated 
 dinner parties, there was never any room for
 
 122 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 him on the heart li -rug, because the men 
 selfishly monopolised it, and if he ventured 
 into the dining-room the servants trod on his 
 toes. 
 
 Crib was a bull-terrier, with a brown patch 
 over one eye, and sundry scars on his head and 
 ears, which gave him a rakish appearance. 
 He was a dog who had many peculiarities ; he 
 was eccentric, and suffered from antipathies, 
 the most prominent one being an aversion to 
 pigs — the word had but to be mentioned, and 
 he would fly round the room in the wildest 
 excitement. Whether he had any Jewish 
 blood in his veins, or whether in a pre\dous ex- 
 istence he had belonged to the chosen people, 
 appears doubtful ! but he certainly shared 
 their antipathy to pork. 
 
 At dinner Olive found herself placed between 
 Sir Eustace and a neighbouring Squire, who 
 felt rather alarmed at his beautiful neighbour, 
 and allowed Sir Eustace to monopolize her.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 123 
 
 Nancy liad fallen to tlie lot of Count de Yille- 
 bois, to whom slie was cliatting gaily, and 
 Miss Prudence was seated next to Guy. 
 Everyone seemed satisfied, and ready to enjoy 
 themselves, excepting Cyril Fitzgerald, who had 
 taken in to dimier the eldest Miss Shuffleout, 
 a young lady who was most provokingly 
 amiable. She was in a perpetual giggle, and 
 had an exasperating trick of agreeing with 
 whatever you said, and replying, "It is very 
 good of you to say so," a remark that was 
 sHghtly trying to one's gravity, when the 
 context was as follows : — 
 
 Mrs. Lopes remarked, during a pause in the 
 conversation, " Miss Shuffleout, I find your 
 father much aged this year, and looking ill." 
 
 The girl leant forward, and answered in the 
 most gushing, insinuating tone, "It is really 
 very good of you to say so, Mrs. Lopes. He 
 certainly is far from well," and then stopped, 
 and blushed the colour of beetroot, as she
 
 124 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 became sensible of a suppressed titter going 
 round the table. 
 
 Sir Eustace looked at Olive and whispered, 
 " She evidently wishes to send the poor old 
 gentleman to a better land." 
 
 Kancy choked and coughed to hide her mirth, 
 while Count de Villebois gazed blankly round, 
 his English not being good enough to follow 
 the joke. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he said, turning to Nancy, 
 " enlighten me as to why you laugh ; tell me 
 why all the company appear so gay." 
 
 " You did not catch on," replied the young 
 lady. 
 
 " Catch on," repeated the mystified Count, 
 " to what must one catch ? " 
 
 " To the joke, of course," replied ISTancy, 
 bursting into a fresh cascade of laughter at 
 the Frenchman's puzzled expression. 
 
 Cyril Fitzgerald was the only person present 
 who did not indulge in mirth. He sat with an
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 125 
 
 expression of intense disgust overspreading his 
 gutta perclia features. He looked at his 
 neighbour with ill-disguised scorn, the idea of 
 him, Cyril Fitzgerald, the petted darling of a 
 host of smart ladies, being asked to take "that 
 thing," in to dinner (" tiling " being the term 
 he applied to poor Miss Shujffleout) . However 
 he consoled himself with the reflection that he 
 need not address a word to her, and he ate his 
 soup and fish in sullen silence. Cp'il was not 
 a person who ever troubled himself to think 
 whether his actions were polite or not ; in that 
 way he was entirely a young man of the 
 period, quite Ji?i de siecle. He went into 
 society to receive all the amusement, and it 
 never entered into his head that he was bound 
 also to contribute. 
 
 Miss Shuffleout had recovered her equa- 
 nimity, and was patronising Mr. Jones, the 
 curate, wbo sat on her other side. He was a 
 young man who had the appearance of having
 
 126 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 suffered mentally and physically. He was 
 pale and fragile looking ; witli dark expressive 
 eyes, wliieli redeemed his otherwise plain 
 countenance. He rather gave you the impres- 
 sion that he had been created out of odds and 
 ends, which did not exactly fit — just rigged 
 up cheap, late on a Saturday night, 
 when Pro^ddence had not had time to do him 
 justice ! 
 
 But whatever the shortcomings of the casket, 
 the jewel inside was not lacking in brilliance 
 and grace. Mr. Jones was an ideal clergyman, 
 honest, straightforward and earnest, with none 
 of the narrow-mindedness and humbug, which, 
 alas ! too often dims the records of many of his 
 brethren. He was a true-heaiied, vigorous 
 Christian, with one aim and one object in view, 
 " To be about his Master's business." He 
 gave his time and energy willingly to the poor 
 fisher-folk, who nearly worshipped their 
 spiritual guide, for he was as good a fisherman
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 127 
 
 as themselves, and could sail a boat with the 
 best of them. 
 
 Mr. Jones looked rather bored, and tired of 
 Miss Shiiffleout's vapid conversation, which 
 consisted in asking questions, and expatiating 
 on the dulness of Dinglehurst. His eyes 
 would stray across the table to Olive ; he had 
 never seen any countenance which appealed to 
 hun so strongly, not only on account of its 
 beauty, but for the purity of soul of which 
 the face seemed the index. Her cheeks were 
 a little flushed, and there was an almost 
 sublime light in her eyes. As Mr. Jones 
 gazed on that face and matchless form, he felt 
 that he would give up all, sacrifice all, to gain 
 her love. 
 
 Sir Eustace had thrown his good resolutions 
 to the winds ; her presence thrilled him with a 
 wild joy, and he poured into her ears words, 
 which, though commonplace in themselves, 
 were scented and dyed Avith love. Mr. Jones
 
 128 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 watched tliem furtively, and a half sigh of 
 almost envy rose in his heart, as he saw her 
 cheeks flush a deeper shade, and her eyes 
 glisten at Sir Eustace's words. 
 
 Wliat joy, he thought, comes into the lives 
 of some people ! Nothing seemed to prevent Sir 
 Eustace from draining the cup of bliss, while 
 he must ever gaze from afar at such a priceless 
 gift of happiness, like the Peri at the gate of 
 Paradise. Life was indeed very uneven. 
 Never before had he felt it so keenly as now, 
 and as he contemplated their future and his 
 own he felt a pain at his heart as the dull 
 vista of his life spread itself out before him. 
 
 Wlio among us does not crave for happiness? 
 No matter how well we have trained ourselves 
 to live without it, yet there are moments when 
 our human hearts will not be silenced, but cry 
 aloud for that much coveted will-o'-the-wisp. 
 
 Mr. Jones was so lost in the problem of the 
 inequality of existence, that Nancy, who was
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 129 
 
 on his other side, had to ask him twice to pass 
 the salt. 
 
 " I beg a thousand pardons," he stammered, 
 " but I did not hear." 
 
 " So much engrossed with your own 
 thoughts, " replied the girl, laughing. " I 
 never can think deeply enough to get engrossed, 
 though I have tried often, in church for 
 instance ; you know during the — the — " and 
 she stopped, and cried, covering her face with 
 mock shame, "I forgot that you were a clergy- 
 man. I am ever so sorry, but I assure you I 
 shall never be inclmed to be engrossed in this 
 church, because I am so excited in watching 
 the slugs on the wall, and the other curious 
 animals which inhabit the mouldy fabric. 
 Your church strikes me as an excellent place 
 for studying natural history," and Nancy 
 looked up innocently into his face, quite 
 obhvious that she had hopped out of the 
 frying-pan into the fire, and that people did 
 VOL. T. K
 
 I30 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 not generally attend chiirch for the sole object 
 of watching the slugs. 
 
 Mr. Jones looked down into the merry little 
 face beside him with an odd twinkle in his 
 eyes, but he answered quite gravely, " I am 
 afraid that the state of our church rather 
 surprised you." 
 
 " Gruess it made me sit up very straight," 
 answered Nancy. " I had always heard that in 
 England buildings were real old, but I did not 
 imagine that anything quite so antediluvian 
 and dilapidated was still to be found. 
 Pity you don't ship it right off to the 
 States, they would give you a pile;" and, 
 lowering her voice, " if you could arrange 
 to send the Eector with it, why you 
 would become a perfect Vanderbilt, they 
 would pay ever so high for such an old 
 fossil." 
 
 Mr. Jones shook his head reprovingly, and 
 looked nervously over his shoulder at Miss
 
 A STEP ASIDE. .131 
 
 Sliiiffleout, who was gazing rather dejectedly 
 at her plate. 
 
 "She cannot hear," whispered Nancy, deter- 
 mined to have her say out. " I know all 
 about it," she went on, " you and Aunt 
 Prudence do all the work, while the Eector 
 and his family sit comfortably at home, or go 
 out on the spree. You should hear Aunt 
 Hannah on the subject!" 
 
 " Miss Hannah is sometimes a little severe," 
 returned Mr. Jones ; "she has such very strong 
 opinions." 
 
 Nancy laughed, " I should rather think she 
 had, but in this instance she appears to be 
 right. England's an odd country ! Fancy 
 having a Church which allows a person to 
 retain a parish for twenty years in which he 
 never does a stroke of work. I say that there 
 is something radically TSTong in an institution 
 of that kind, and I should disestabhsh it." 
 
 Mr. Jones was much entertained at Nancy's 
 
 K 2
 
 132 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 pronounced views. " I am afraid that you are 
 a terrible radical, Miss Lavendercombe." 
 
 " Why, of course," replied the girl. " What 
 can you expect? I am half American." At 
 that moment Mrs. Lopes made the move, and 
 the ladies sailed out of the room. 
 
 " Have you been taking any more walks by 
 the sad sea waves?" inquired Guy, some 
 quarter of an hour later, sinking into a seat at 
 Nancy's side, and fanning himself with her 
 fan. 
 
 "No," replied the girl laughing, "do you 
 know I received such a sermon from Aunt 
 Hannah, upon the impropriety of talking to an 
 unkno^vn young man. She said that it was 
 immodest and brazen, and that she had never 
 been guilty of such an enormity." 
 
 " I should rather imagine that she had 
 never been tempted," replied Gruy; "the man 
 would have been a marvel of bravery who had 
 dared to address Miss Hannah or to disengage
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 133 
 
 her di'ess from a stile," and tliey both laughed 
 merrily. 
 
 " Do you think Olive very pretty? " Nancy 
 asked, after a minute, looking towards her 
 sister, who was seated on one of the ponderous 
 sofas, talking to Mr. Jones. 
 
 " Jones seems to think so," replied Guy 
 evasively, glancing across at the pair. 
 
 " But you ? " queried the girl. 
 
 " I ? " repeated Guy, slowly. '* Yes, how can 
 I do otherwise ? She is gloriously beautiful, 
 just what Eustace described her, a Gian Bellini 
 Madonna, but — but — I feel that she is a little 
 too exalted for me to aspire to." 
 
 Nancy looked relieved, as she said in rather 
 a hesitating voice, "Do you know that I 
 thought that you would di'op me right off, 
 when you saw Olive ; they generally do," she 
 went on meditatively, "they are always nice 
 and civil at first, till they see Olive, and — 
 well — you see — after that — they are quite
 
 134 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 different — they do not talk about the same 
 kind of things, and they are always looking 
 over my head, and asking if my sister is not 
 coming; and you see that — well — it is not 
 vastly entertaining." 
 
 " And yon thought that I was going to do 
 the same ? " inquired Guy, fixing his eyes 
 with a tender glance on Nancy's downcast 
 face. 
 
 " Yes, I thought you might," she whispered. 
 
 " And would you have been sorry if I 
 had ? " he answered, lowering his voice, and 
 leaning nearer to her. He had only seen this 
 little girl once before,. and yet he longed with 
 an anxiety, which he hardly understood him- 
 self, for the answer. 
 
 " Mon cher Gruy," broke in Count de Ville- 
 bois, making the couple start, and one of them 
 mutter a naughty word. 
 
 " Mon cher," and he threw himseK into a 
 chair next to Nancy, why did you insist on
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 135 
 
 presenting me to that terrible lady? Mon 
 Dieu ! what a time I had ! She tried to 
 speak my language, and she did say the most 
 shocking things. Yraiment, I had to hide 
 my face." The Count went on calmly, quite 
 unconscious of the frown which had gathered 
 on his host's brow, and the little pucker round 
 Nancy's mouth. 
 
 " I am sorry," said Guy rising, " but I 
 thought she would amuse you." 
 
 "Amuse me!" repeated the Frenchman, 
 lifting his hands. " Ma foi ! I do not com- 
 prehend your ladies from the provinces." 
 
 Count de Yillebois devoted himself to Nancy 
 for the rest of the evening, much to Guy's 
 disgust, and made himself so agreable that she 
 almost forgot that she had been disappointed 
 at her conversation with Guy being inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Sir Eustace tried to keep his attention 
 ri vetted on what Mrs. Lopes was saying, but
 
 136 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 his eyes would wander towards Olive. How 
 engrossed she seemed in her conversation with 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 " I wonder what there is about a parson that 
 always proves so attractive to a woman," he 
 thought savagely. He watched them for 
 another five minutes, during which time Olive 
 glanced up once, and caught his eyes fixed 
 upon her with a pathetic light in their brown 
 depths. Her heart beat painfully for a minute, 
 and she made some quite irrelevant answer to 
 Mr. Jones' question. What was the subtle 
 power which Sir Eustace possessed? What 
 was that joy which seemed to set all her 
 nerves throbbing, when she met his gaze, or 
 listened to his voice. 
 
 She had felt that thrill of happiness during 
 their long talks on the great rollmg Atlantic, 
 but to-night it seemed to be the A^ery essence 
 of her bemg which was palpitating with this 
 new fomid joy. Was it — could it be — love ?
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 137 
 
 The question trembled in her heart, but she 
 had not time to answer it, ere she was brought 
 back to the present world by Mrs. Lopes 
 asking her to play. 
 
 She rose as m a dream, and walked towards 
 the piano. She played a few notes, and the 
 conversation died away ; there was something 
 about that firm suj^ple touch which commanded 
 silence. Olive was a real artist, and her 
 instinct for music was heaven born. First she 
 wandered through a prelude of Chopin. What 
 delicious melody crept out from the piano — a 
 melody that spoke of Elysian pastures, bab- 
 bling brooks, warbling birds, and springtide 
 with its tender, fluttering leaves, and fragrant 
 blossoms, and then the music changed sud- 
 denly to Grreig, and the tender theme of 
 thought vanishe I, and in its stead rose some- 
 thing weii'd, haK spirit, half fiend. A soul 
 wild with exultant joy, and then weighed 
 dowTi with the bitterness of remorse — remorse
 
 138 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 for a sin which seemed reflected even through 
 the ecstasy. 
 
 Tor a moment Olive paused ; the music had 
 moved two of her listeners strangely — Sir 
 Eustace and Mr. Jones. The former had sat 
 rigid, with his eyes fixed on that fair earnest 
 face, the other with his head bent low and his 
 face shaded by his hands. 
 
 What thoughts did those rich harmonies 
 awaken? Longings perchance for something 
 purer and holier than this world can ever give 
 us. Unsatisfied longings which can never find 
 utterance here excepting when we hear them 
 echoed by some inspired strain of melody. 
 
 Olive paused, but for a moment, and then 
 she broke into that air of all airs " The Legend " 
 out of " Lohengrin." If the other music spoke 
 of happiness and misery, this told of love — 
 love, holy, sorrowful, but undying. What 
 passionate pleading stole out from those notes, 
 what pathetic longings weaved themselves
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 139 
 
 around each trembling cadence, and what un- 
 utterable grief ^^brated through that long, 
 that last farewell. 
 
 As the final strain of that grand motif 
 melted away, you seemed to feel the despairing 
 woe of Elsa as she watched the white swan 
 bear her mystic lover from her sight. There 
 was a subdued murmur of admiration as Olive 
 rose, and two at least of the listeners felt that 
 they had suddenly and painfully been trans- 
 ported back to earth. 
 
 Miss Prudence had sat entranced, she had 
 never heard music so sweet, and yet so thrilling, 
 and the tender face was full of a new, strange 
 emotion. 
 
 "It is a magnificent opera, ' Lohengrin,' " 
 said Count de Yillebois ; " Wagner had the real 
 feu sacre." 
 
 " I always thought Elsa the most irritating 
 young person," exclaimed Nancy, who always 
 took a practical view of life. " Why could she
 
 I40 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 not have been satisfied with the goods that the 
 gods bestowed upon her, without asking incon- 
 venient questions ? " 
 
 " Because," replied Sir Eustace bitterly, 
 looking gloomily at the girl's bright face, 
 " because we are never satisfied, it is always 
 the unattainable that we desire."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 141 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 " Hannah," said Miss Prudence nervously, 
 " are you asleep ? " 
 
 " Asleep indeed ! " came in muffled tones 
 from between the bed-clothes, "is it likely, 
 when you come in at these ungodly hours, 
 making noise enough to wake the Seven 
 Sleepers." 
 
 " I am very sorry," replied Miss Prudence, 
 penitently, smoothing out the lavender moire, 
 as she took it off, and unloosening the still 
 thick plaits of her silver hair, " but I wanted 
 to tell you about our evening." 
 
 There was no response from the bed, only 
 an angry twitch at the bedclothes. Hannah
 
 142 
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 reposing on her coucli was not a very attractive 
 object. Her head was enveloped in a large 
 frilled nightcap, and over that she w^ore a red 
 woolly shawl, from which the stern hatchet- 
 shaped features and beak-like nose protruded 
 with unpleasant obtrusiveness. A few lank 
 shreds of hair escaped, Ophelia-like, from 
 under the capacious night-covering, and one 
 large hand lay extended outside the counter- 
 pane. 
 
 " It was such a charming party," went on 
 Miss Prudence, " the dear girls were so much 
 admired, and Olive played so beautifully. Oh 
 Hannah ! " and the old lady stopped brushing 
 out the grey locks, " you should have heard 
 her play." 
 
 " I am sure I am thankful that I did not," 
 was the ungracious response. 
 
 " But," persisted her sister humbly, " it 
 was quite different to my playing, or Miss 
 Shuffleout's."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 143 
 
 *' It would need to be," put in Hannah. 
 
 Miss Prudence paid no heed ; she went on, 
 " It was like silver trumpets, like what I 
 think the music will be in heaven," and a 
 peaceful expression overspread the tender face. 
 
 "Bah!" sniffed Hannah, "you had better 
 wait till you arrive there before you make any 
 rash surmises ; and perhaps you will have the 
 goodness to blow out one of those candles ; 
 you know that they are the best Greenwich 
 sperm, and cost two shillings a pound." 
 
 Miss Prudence obediently blew out the 
 offending candle, put the old-fashioned diamond 
 brooch (an heirloom in the family) into its 
 ancient leather case, and then knelt down 
 reverently to say her prayers. 
 
 How earnestly she had prayed, night and 
 morning through her life, for patience and 
 strength to conquer the angry answers that 
 would rise to her lips when her sister womided 
 her with her cruel, scathing tongue. And
 
 144 ^ STEP ASIDE. 
 
 now when she was drawing near to the sunset 
 of existence, now when the heat of the day 
 was over, and the long rays were slanting 
 peacefully, into tlie west, she was gaining her 
 victory — a victory far more difficult of attain- 
 ment than those which have been won by 
 many a more trouble-tossed life. For it is 
 truly the " trifles that make uj) the sum 
 of our existence." Before the great heart- 
 rending sorrows we bow our heads, and 
 make a supreme effort to bear them, as the 
 inevitable must be borne. It is not the over- 
 whelming griefs which ruin our spiritual life, 
 and make the once sunny temper morose and 
 irritable ; it is the constant " jar and fret " 
 that eats into our souls like some insidious 
 poison, and which leaves us weaker, sadder 
 men and women. 
 
 " Hannah, I want to tell you something." 
 Miss Prudence had retired to her small chintz- 
 covered bed, and the room was in darkness
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 145 
 
 except for one tremulous shaft of moonlight, 
 which glanced in through a rift in the curtains, 
 and lay in soft luminous patches on the floor. 
 
 *' Hannah ! Sir Eustace Devereux was at 
 the Manor, and he is so handsome and 
 charming." 
 
 There was no response to this seemingly 
 irrelevant remark, so Miss Prudence proceeded, 
 " And I think — in fact — mdeed — I am nearly 
 sure, that he admires dear Olive ; his eyes 
 seemed to watch her every movement, and they 
 are abeady old fi'iends, as he crossed in the 
 same steamer with them from America." 
 
 " Nothing else to do, I suppose on board 
 ship, except eat and make love," replied 
 Hannah maliciously. " If you have nothing 
 more interesting to relate, Prudence, we will 
 compose ourselves to rest," and there was the 
 sound of a hea\y body turning over, and a 
 creaking of the bedstead, as if the couch were 
 expostulating mildly with the unseemly weight. 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 "But think," persisted Miss Prudence, de- 
 termined not to be silenced, " how delightful 
 it would be to have dear Olive Lady Devereux, 
 with such a handsome husband, and a beautiful 
 old place." 
 
 " I wish," snapped Hannah, " that you had 
 a little more sense in your head, Prudence. 
 Because a man casts a few admiring glances 
 at a pretty girl, you fly to the ridiculous con- 
 clusion that he is going to propose ! I tell 
 you that men are not so easily captured. The 
 line must be well baited before they can be 
 induced to swallow the matrimonial fly, which 
 blessed state seems to haunt your mind as 
 much as the cobwebs haunt Bridget's." 
 
 " But it would be a great comfort to see dear 
 Olive settled so happily," persisted Miss 
 Prudence. 
 
 " Happily ! " sneered Hannah, now well 
 awake, and launched upon her favourite 
 topic, " How many happy marriages do you
 
 A STEP ASIDE, 147 
 
 imagine that there are ? The matrimonial 
 state generally brings disappointment, bitter- 
 ness of spirit, and probably in the end the 
 Divorce Coui't." 
 
 " Not when they really love each other," 
 remonstrated Miss Prudence ; " true love is 
 eternal." 
 
 " Eternal humbug I " exclaimed Hannah, 
 sharply. " The latest love in a man's heai-t is 
 always eternal. Those that have been cast 
 aside were simply emotions." 
 
 Miss Prudence sighed, and looked at the 
 moonlight, and felt persuaded in her dear, 
 romantic little soul that, if she had manied her 
 sailor-boy, their love would not have faded 
 away, or been dimmed by disappointment and 
 bitterness. 
 
 " You know, dear Hannah," she said humbly, 
 I am not nearly as clever as you are, so I 
 cannot help believing in love and hapj^y 
 marriages." 
 
 L 2
 
 148 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 A grunt of disapproval was the only 
 response, and then Miss Hannah remarked 
 prophetically, " Marriage is like a jam -tart, 
 all the jam during the engagement, and 
 nothing but the indigestible paste after 
 matrimony," with which bitter simile, she 
 turned round and after a few minutes a 
 loud snore proclaimed her in the arms of 
 Morpheus. 
 
 By the bye, did it ever strike you what 
 
 very catholic affections that amiable god must 
 
 possess ? 
 
 ***** 
 
 Long into the night did Sir Eustace Deve- 
 reux pace his room, with restless, uneven 
 strides. Once he paused, and looked through 
 the open window on to the garden, which lay 
 peacefully basking beneath the moon's glisten- 
 ing rays. 
 
 Olive's beautiful face rose ever before him ; 
 his brain was on fire, his heart throbbed, and
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 149 
 
 his blood seemed rusMng through his veins 
 from the force of his overwhelming passion. 
 
 Must he give \vp all hope of winning her, 
 and go away to the uttermost parts of the 
 earth ? Was it really for her happiness that 
 he should yield her up ? Was it not sacrificing 
 both their hves for a mere shadow? For 
 what was his mad ^\if e but a mere shadow ? 
 Only two months had passed before she had 
 shown symptoms of the fatal malady, and 
 were those two months of wedded misery to 
 curse his Avhole life ? 
 
 Sir Eustace covered his face with his hands, 
 as he recalled the horrors of that tune. At 
 first he had tried to shut his eyes to her odd, 
 queer ways, but each day she grew more and 
 more strange, till at length came the climax — 
 that night of ghastly horror ! Should he 
 ever forget it ? The memory even at this 
 distance of time made him shudder and turn 
 pale. How well he recalled it !
 
 150 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 She had been almost herself during the day, 
 and he had retired to rest feeling less anxiety 
 than he had done for many days, when 
 suddenly he was awoke by hearing a slight 
 rustle close to him. He looked up and beheld 
 a white figure creeping stealthily up to the bed. 
 
 Again he felt the panic-stricken terror of 
 that moment, and cold beads of perspiration 
 broke out upon his forehead. The figure 
 stopped for an instant, and crouched, as if 
 making ready to sprmg. He saw it all — the 
 glittering barrel of the revolver clasped in 
 those poor trembling fingers, and that awful, 
 mad face shining in the shaft of moonlight, 
 with the wild, gleaming eyes dilated with 
 unbridled passion; and the poor distended 
 lips gabbling delirious words. 
 
 In a moment he had caught her arm, ere 
 the bullet had bui'ied itself in his heart. ; but 
 she wrenched herself from his grasp, and, 
 rushing to the window, strove to cast herself
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 151 
 
 out. He was at lier side in a moment, and 
 wound his arms about her, but oh ! would he 
 ever forget in this world or the next' 
 the devilish light that gleamed from those 
 horrible mad eyes, or the shriek of fiendish 
 fury, when she found herseK baffled in her 
 purpose ? 
 
 Was that one awful episode to prevent all 
 other happiness in his life ? Was that fearful 
 mad woman, thousands of miles away, to curse 
 his whole existence? He leant agamst the 
 window, his white, set face traced like a 
 delicate cameo against the dark wall. 
 
 " No, nothing shall keep me from you, 
 Olive," he exclaimed vehemently. " No paltry 
 law of man can sever two souls who were 
 created for each other," and a look of exulta- 
 tion suddenly swept across his face, and then 
 as quickly faded, as he repeated to himself, 
 " My darling, can I do you this evil ? Can I 
 ever look in your eyes knowing that I am
 
 152 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 making you live a life of sin, knowing that 
 the blessed word ' wife ' can never be yours, 
 only — only," and his voice died away, and he 
 covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Sir Eustace was not a religious man, he had 
 no belief in any formula, but he had a certain 
 standard of honour, up to which he had striven 
 to act, and his love for Olive clashed with that 
 standard. 
 
 He must depart. He would beg Guy to 
 excuse him from his visit, and then he would 
 shut up the " AVliite Ladies," and flee away 
 anywhere. What did it matter, provided it 
 was far removed from Dinglehurst. 
 
 But he must wish her good-bye, he had not 
 the strength to depart without one pressure of 
 her hand, one last lingering look into those 
 grey eyes. How he longed to tell her that it 
 was for her sake that he was going ; but that 
 was impossible, his secret should die with him. 
 
 He sat listlessly gazing around him — the
 
 'A STEP ASIDE, 15^ 
 
 clock struck one — two — three ; the moon 
 faded, and at length a sunbeam stole in, and 
 flooded the room, and he awoke with a start 
 from his reverie, and passed his hand wearily 
 over his aching brow. 
 
 " I must see her once more," he w^hispered 
 hoarsely, " just once more, and then, God help 
 me, I w^ill go." 
 
 The day had dawned in its full glory, ere 
 Sir Eustace fell into a troubled slumber. He 
 dreamed that Olive was gazing down upon 
 him, and holding out her arms, as if imploring 
 him to come to her, but between* them rose 
 that hideous mad face, with the ^\ild, distorted 
 eyes glaring into his with savage fury, and he 
 heard the maniacal tones denouncing his 
 perfidy, and utter with blood-curdling distinct- 
 ness — " He that putteth away his wife, and 
 marrieth another committeth adultery." 
 
 7^ y^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 To one other person this night was an era —
 
 154 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 a milestone, the memory of which dwelt in his 
 heart for long years. 
 
 Mr. Jones sat in his poor shabby little room 
 trying to compose a sermon for the coming 
 Sabbath, but the ink on his pen was dry, and 
 the paper in front of him was guiltless of any 
 words traced on its white surface. 
 
 Mr. Jones' thoughts were back in the 
 Manor drawing-room, back with the beautiful 
 Madonna-like face, with its rapt, almost 
 inspired expression, while her fingers pressed 
 out in all its sublimity the Swan music from 
 Lohengrin. 
 
 How the melody haunted him ! It seemed 
 to be floating in the air like mystic singing, 
 and he caught himself humming it softly to 
 himself. Wliat was that chord which had 
 been struck within him, and which made all 
 his being vibrate with a strange new emotion ? 
 
 Was it joy, — exultant, glorious, triumphant ? 
 or was it a sweet, sad melancholy that seemed
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 155 
 
 to possess his soul ? He could not tell, nor 
 knew lie liow it had been engendered. Could 
 it have been the dulcet cadence of the Swan 
 music, or was it the sad, bewitching face of 
 Olive Lavendercombe ? 
 
 Long did Harold Jones kneel that evening, 
 in silent, earnest prayer, and w^hen he rose 
 there was a new strength, and almost beauty 
 in his countenance — the look of a person who 
 has faced, and conquered a great temptation. 
 
 * « Ti* * * 
 
 " I suppose that you will not play tennis, 
 Fitzgerald," inquired Guy, a few days later, 
 when a small party had gathered at the 
 Manor. 
 
 " No, thank you, it is quite too vigorous for 
 me, and I must finish trimming Mrs. Lopes' 
 hat," and the young man seated himself on a 
 wicker chair with a large straw hat on his 
 knee, round which he commenced to twine a 
 dainty garland of flowers.
 
 156 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Guy shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, 
 gave a suspicious lowering of one eyelid at 
 Miss Prudence, who was seated near, as much 
 as to say, " I told you so ! " and walked off to 
 enlist another player. 
 
 " I guess you are real cunning at that 
 business," said Nancy, watching Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald's operations with some interest, " may 
 I take a lesson ? " 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle, impossible ; we want 
 you to play tennis," broke in Comit de 
 Yillebois. 
 
 " ! very well," and the girl walked away, 
 rather unwillingly. 
 
 "How I do dislike the American accent," 
 remarked Cyril in a loud voice. " That girl 
 might be almost bearable without that unfor- 
 tunate intonation." 
 
 " But, my dear Cyril," replied Mrs. Lopes, 
 *' Americans are all the fashion just now. 
 We are all striving to acquu-e the nasal ring.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 157 
 
 though, enire-nous, I rather share your 
 prejudice, and I wish that those girls were not 
 settled down here. Gruy is so impressionable ; 
 he is certain to make a fool of himself with 
 one of them ; in fact, I think he has already 
 begun," and her eyes wandered away uneasily 
 to [N'ancy and Gruy, who were standing a little 
 apart seemingly engrossed in conversation. 
 
 Cyril looked up fi'om his hat for a moment, 
 and noticed how very thin Mrs. Lopes' lips 
 could be when compressed, and then he said 
 quietly, " Is there no other young man in the 
 neighbourhood you could run against your 
 brother in the race to gain Miss Nancy 
 Lavendercombe's smiles? No one — for example 
 (and he turned the hat leisurely round) with a 
 handle to his name ? all Yankees adore a 
 title ! " 
 
 Mrs. Lopes knitted her brows together, and 
 thought for an instant before she answered, 
 " It is a good idea, but males do not grow in
 
 158 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 these parts, there is only Mr. Jones and Sir 
 Eustace, and the latter unfortunately is not a 
 marrying man." 
 
 " Lord Bingley," announced the butler in 
 loud, distinct tones. 
 
 Mrs. Lopes jumped up with alacrity, and 
 shook the new comer warmly by the hand. 
 
 " This is indeed a pleasant surprise ! You 
 do not often honour Downshire with your 
 presence." 
 
 " Excepting when there is such an attraction 
 as yourself," replied the new comer, in a low, 
 peculiarly sweet voice. 
 
 " And are you really here for any time? " 
 inquu'ed Mrs. Lopes, ignoring the compliment. 
 
 " For the summer, I expect ; I have been on 
 the sick-list, and so have come do^Ti to 
 vegetate, and put myself out of temptation ! " 
 
 Gruy and Nancy sauntered up at that 
 moment. The former looked annoyed as he 
 caught sight of Lord Bingley, and he tried to
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 159 
 
 draw the girl away, but Mrs. Lopes intercepted 
 his intentions by saying, " Miss Lavender- 
 combe, allow me to introduce you to another 
 of your neighbours, Lord Bingley/' 
 
 The young man rose and bowed. He was 
 small, but well-made, wiili a handsome, 
 dissipated face. 
 
 Nancy felt an odd sensation pass through 
 her, as she met the indolent, but decidedly 
 admiring glance of the young man's green 
 eyes — yes, they certainly were green, and with 
 a curious, cat-like expression in their glossy 
 depths. They seemed to fascinate her by 
 some mesmeric influence, and Mrs. Lopes 
 smiled complacently to herself, as she watched 
 the two young people, after a few desultory 
 remarks, wander off together. 
 
 Guy turned on his sister rather sharply as 
 soon as they were out of ear-shot, and said, 
 " What on earth induced you to make that 
 introduction ? It is one thing to make a
 
 i6o A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 friend of that man yourself, but another to 
 introduce him to a nice, innocent little girl." ~ 
 
 " I thought they would like each other, 
 dear," returned his sister sweetly ; " and really 
 I do not know why he should not talk to a 
 ' nice innocent little girl,' " repeating his 
 words. 
 
 " Nonsense, Eleanor," he replied, hotly. 
 "You know the reputation Bingley has, as 
 well as I do." 
 
 "No, dear, I really did not know that he 
 was worse than you all are," smiling angeli- 
 cally in his face ; " only perhaps he is not such 
 a good hand at hiding his little peccadilloes. 
 One would really think, Guy, from the interest 
 you take in Miss Nancy Lavendercombe's 
 welfare, that you were a little jealous of Lord 
 Bingley." 
 
 Guy did not answer ; he gnawed his mous- 
 tache savagely for a minute, and a frown 
 gathered on his brow as he moved away to
 
 A STEP ASIDE. i6i 
 
 where Miss Prudence was seated, talkino^ to 
 the Eeverend Theophilus Shuffleout. 
 
 That gentleman allowed himself the mild 
 dissipation of a tennis-party — in fact he en- 
 joyed a social gathering, though he said that 
 he was not strong enough for any exertion in 
 the parish. 
 
 " You have acted upon my advice," re- 
 marked Cyril quietly, holding up the hat, 
 and turning it lazily round. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Lopes, "the ball is 
 set rolling; the only thing now is to keep 
 it in motion ! " 
 
 " And so we are to have the hapjDiness of 
 counting you among our neighbours, Miss 
 Lavendercombe ? " said Lord Bingley, twirhng 
 his long moustache, and noting from under his 
 rather heavy eyelids what a dainty little piece 
 of humanity was tripping beside him. 
 
 " Yes," rejDlied Nancy, rather nervously. 
 For the first time in her life she felt shy and 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 i62 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 awkward, and she could not get farther than 
 the monosyllable. 
 
 "It is a dead alive place round here," 
 continued Lord Bingley ; " no festivities. But 
 perhaps you do not care about society, or, like 
 my sisters, you think it wrong ! " 
 
 Nancy opened her big blue eyes very wide 
 in amazement. " Think it wrong ! " she re- 
 peated. " Why I guess that idea would never 
 enter my head ; and I think I should just love 
 balls, and musicals, and picnics ; but I am 
 rather unsophisticated at present, as I am only 
 just seventeen." 
 
 " Sweet seventeen ! " replied Lord Bingley, 
 sentimentally, opening his eyes, and casting 
 a languishing glance at the pretty little 
 piquante face. " Would that I were only 
 sweet seventeen, instead of wicked thirty -three. 
 I am glad that you do not think society 
 wrong. Miss Lavendercombe, because perhaps 
 you will have compassion on a poor beggar
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 163 
 
 like myseK. My family are very old-fasliioned/' 
 lie continued confidentially, " and pious, and 
 look upon me as a black sheep, because I like 
 to be cheerful." 
 
 " What a shame ! " cried Xancy, her cheeks 
 ablaze. " I wonder if they are like my Aunt 
 Hannah. Do they mind you coming in with 
 muddy boots ? and making messes on the 
 tablecloth ? and do they make you shake your 
 clothes when you drive in a fly, in case there 
 are any fleas ? " 
 
 Lord Bingley burst into a low, musical 
 laugh, as he answered, " No, it is not quite 
 so bad as that. My family move on rather 
 a different line ; they ask me suddenly at 
 breakfast, if I am saved. I should not mind 
 in the least if they would postpone the awkward 
 question until dinner, but I always feel chippy 
 in the morning. And then they have a dis- 
 agreeable habit of putting tracts between my 
 handkerchiefs, and in my coat-pocket, and once 
 
 M 2
 
 i64 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 I found one inside my betting-book 1 You will 
 hear all kinds of stories about my sins, Miss 
 Lavendercombe," he went on, " but you will 
 not believe them all, will you ? " and the green 
 eyes darted an imploring glance into hers. 
 " One's family always misunderstand, and see 
 one out of joint." 
 
 " Yes, they are a plague," replied Nancy,, 
 thinking of Miss Hannah. 
 
 " I believe," returned Lord Bingley, con- 
 fidentially, " that they are an invention 
 of the devil 1 and that in hell a man 
 will be haunted ceaselessly by his rela- 
 tions ! " 
 
 " Are you really such a very wicked young 
 man ? " asked Nancy naively, looking up in 
 his face. 
 
 A smile curled round Lord Bingley's mouth 
 at the question. " It depends upon what you 
 call ' very wicked.' I am fond of racing and 
 horses, and I like cheerful companions, and a
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 165 
 
 little baccarat ! of all which tastes my people 
 utterly disapprove." 
 
 " How dreadful," cried Nancy, sympatheti- 
 cally ; " 1 am ever so sorry for you. You must 
 be very unhappy at home." 
 
 " Yes, it is rather hard," he answered, with 
 a sigh, and throwing a weary light into his 
 eyes; " but — but " and he hesitated, and gazed 
 at the gleaming sea, which shone through the 
 fluttering green leaves, " Miss Lavendercombe, 
 I should like to make a request to you, only I 
 am such a stranger that I fear that you might 
 think me impertinent." 
 
 " Let me hear what it is anyway," repHed 
 Nancy, looking up into his face, and again 
 feeling that curious tremor pass through her. 
 
 " Will you allow us to be friends ? " 
 
 " Why, of com'se," replied Nancy, and she 
 laughed a trifle nervously. 
 
 " If you only knew, Miss Lavendercombe," 
 continued Lord Bingley, throwTxig a sudden
 
 i66 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 earnestness into his soft mysterious voice, 
 " how I long to lead a more useful existence ; 
 but it is so hard to break loose from old habits, 
 and no one will stretch out a hand to a 
 repentant sinner. Every one misunderstands 
 me ; you will hear that I am a bad lot, a ro?w, 
 fast, &c., ; but you will not believe all the lies 
 you hear," and he shot an imploring glance at 
 the girl. 
 
 Nancy did not answer. They had been 
 walking round the garden during this conver- 
 sation, and a sudden turn had brought them 
 within range of the merry voices assembled at 
 the al fresco tea-table. 
 
 " Tell me you will be my friend," he 
 whispered, softly. What power was there in 
 the man's voice? What mesmeric influence 
 that seemed to fascinate the girl? She felt 
 herself being drawn away to speak words that 
 in her calmer moments she might have 
 hesitated to utter. Her lips quivered, and a
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 167 
 
 wild desire to flee possessed her, and then a 
 curious longing to meet those green eyes, 
 which she felt instinctively were fastened 
 upon her. 
 
 She turned for an instant, and then she 
 muttered somethmg, what, she hardly knew, 
 but he seemed satisfied. 
 
 Lord Bingley was one of the greatest 
 scoundrels on God's earth. He had played 
 with more women's hearts than one would care 
 to count, and he had gambled away all his 
 owTi, and a large portion of his father's fortune. 
 Absolutely heartless, unprincipled, and false, 
 with no thought but for his own amusement ; 
 there had been dark stories about him with 
 regard to many dishonest practices. But 
 among those dark blots none could be baser or 
 more cruel than the one he was now about to 
 take uj^on his soul — namely, that of winning 
 Nancy Lavendercombe's sweet young heart. 
 
 The moment that his evil eyes had rested
 
 i68 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 upon her dainty little form, lie had made up 
 his mind to teach those sunny blue eyes the 
 language of love, in which art, alas ! he was a 
 professor. 
 
 He knew exactly how much expression to 
 throw into his pale melancholy face, or what 
 tender inflexion to put into his voice. Few 
 women could resist him, and Nancy — bright, 
 confiding, a mere child in years, how could 
 she withstand the flattery, and dangerous 
 love - making of a man like Edward 
 Bingley ? 
 
 As they came up to the table, Mrs. Lopes 
 remarked sweetly, " Well, I thought that you 
 w^ere going to let us eat all the straw- 
 berries." 
 
 Nancy sank into a seat next to Comit de 
 Yillebois, and was sensible that Guy's usually 
 sunny brow wore a frown, and that the little 
 Frenchman was not so cheerful as usual. 
 
 "Mademoiselle, you have been so long
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 169 
 
 away, you must have found the garden very 
 attractive ; we have been so triste here without 
 
 you." 
 
 Nancy's answer was lost in Mrs. Lopes 
 suddenly remarking, " Sir Eustace we are all 
 dying to see the " White Ladies," will you 
 not gratify our curiosity, and invite us to pay 
 you a visit ? You forget that you possess one 
 of the show-houses of the neighbourhood, and 
 therefore you are bound to throw open your 
 hospitable doors." 
 
 Sir Eustace bowed gravely, and rejDhed that 
 nothing would give him greater pleasure than 
 to welcome them under his roof. 
 
 He addressed Mrs. Lopes, but his eyes 
 strayed towards Olive, w^ho was seated beside 
 him, and he whispered in her ear, " will you 
 come and see " The White Ladies ? " 
 
 A bright colour rushed mto her cheeks at 
 the tender emj^hasis on the you, and she 
 answered in the same low tone, " Yes, I should
 
 170 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 like it very much, if you can persuade Aunt 
 Prudence." 
 
 Where were Sir Eustace's good resolutions ? 
 Two days had flown since that night when he 
 had fought against his love ; and to-day he 
 had made up his mind to look for the last 
 time on that beautiful fascinating face. And 
 now, instead of firmly adhering to his purpose, 
 he was asking Olive to come to " The White 
 Ladies," looking at her anxiously, and his 
 voice trembling with agitation like a mere 
 school boy. 
 
 Away from her he could be strong, 
 determined, firm, but one glance at that fair 
 face, and he flung reason, honour, duty to the 
 winds. All was as nothing before that wild 
 overwhelming passion, which seemed to hurl 
 him along like a feather, driven by the relent- 
 less force of the wind, or a frail craft flung 
 ruthlessly on the rocks by the wild, merciless 
 foam.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 171 
 
 You will say tliat Sir Eustace Devereux was 
 utterly weak and unworthy of the love of any 
 good, true woman, but, alas ! is it not human 
 nature to be weak and unworthy ? Some one 
 truly says that "Goodness is often only exemp- 
 tion from temptation." 
 
 It may be a low ^dew to hold, but is there 
 not some truth in the idea ? We denounce a 
 man for committing some heinous sin, or 
 falling a prey to a great temptation, but should 
 we have been strong enough to resist, had that 
 same temptation been presented to us ? " He 
 that is without sin, let him first cast a stone." 
 
 " What's done we pai-tly may compute, 
 But know not what's resisted." 
 
 " You never answered my question the other 
 evening. Miss Lavendercombe," said Gruy, 
 addressing Nancy. They were standing a 
 little apart while the last farewells were being 
 spoken before the party dispersed. 
 
 "Your question? " repeated Nancy, absently.
 
 172 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " Yes, do you not remember that I asked if 
 jou would have objected if I had transferred 
 my allegiance to your sister?" he looked 
 earnestly into the girl's face as he spoke. 
 
 " Wliy of course not," replied Nancy rather 
 carelessly ; " 1 guess she is better looking than 
 me an^nvay." 
 
 The words were spoken a trifle coldly, and 
 the girl looked past him at Lord Bingley. 
 Guy noted the glance, and a pang shot through 
 him as he turned on his heel and joined the 
 rest. The party had departed, and Gruy, call- 
 ing to Crib, strode off across the lawn. 
 
 " Ah ! you Englishmen ! how vigorous you 
 are," remarked Count de A^illebois, contem- 
 plating Gruy's athletic figure, as he threw 
 himself lazily into a wicker chair and lit a 
 cigarette. 
 
 He too had noted with displeasure Lord 
 Bingley' s admiration of Nancy Lavendercombe. 
 The idea evidently provoked his ire, for he
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 173 
 
 muttered, " Diable ! " under his breath, and 
 knitted his brows angrily as he blew a whiff of 
 smoke into the air, "but I will be brave," he 
 exclaimed, " courage mon ami, I will fight him 
 if need be, for she is charmante ! tout-a-fait 
 frangaise, et avec les yeux tendres comme ceux 
 de ma mere." 
 
 " The ball rolls fast," queried Cyril, gazing 
 out of the drawing room window at Guy's 
 white -flannelled figure, which was disappearing 
 among the trees ; " your brother was distinctly 
 annoyed at Lord Bingley's attentions to Miss 
 Lavendercombe . " 
 
 Mrs. Lopes' eyes sparkled with triumph as 
 she remarked, "My dear Cyril, I have to thank 
 you for the idea, it was brilliant ; the only fear 
 is that the ball will roll too quickly down the 
 hill, and not have enough imjDctus to bound up 
 the other side." 
 
 Gruy strode along with his eyes fixed on the 
 ground. He was engrossed in asking himself
 
 174 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 the question why he should object to Lord 
 Bingley paying attention to Nancy Lavender- 
 combe. What business was it of his if the 
 girl chose to favour the advances of a man like 
 Edward Bingley? an utterly unprincipled, 
 disreputable person in every way, but whose 
 status in society went bail for many of his 
 sins. What possible concern was it of his ? 
 
 Gruy lashed angrily with his stick at some 
 long grass as he passed along, and trod savagely 
 on the yellow buttercups under his feet. 
 
 It was no concern of his, and yet — it seemed 
 a great deal to him. He told himself that it 
 was only natural and right that he should take 
 an interest in Miss Prudence's niece, and try 
 to prevent an intimac}^ with a man of Lord 
 Bingley's reputation. It was simply anxiety 
 for the girl's welfare — not love. 
 
 What lies we tell ourselves, imagining in 
 our blindness that we believe them ! 
 
 Guy sat down at length on a fallen tree, and
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 175 
 
 fell to brooding rather moodily over the future. 
 Crib perceived that something had arisen to 
 perturb his master, and came up and rubbed 
 his nose against his hand in token of sympathy. 
 
 Animals, especially dogs, are so quick to 
 note our change of mien when we are sad ; 
 they offer us their little grain of comfort so 
 touchingly. They do not irritate us by sj)eak- 
 ing words, which, though kindly meant, often 
 hm't us more than silence. A dog gazes up at 
 us with pitiful eyes, and nestles lovingly in 
 our aiTQS, as if he would fain share the burden 
 of our sorrow, and identify himself with our 
 grief. 
 
 Guy and Crib sat looking absently out to 
 sea, till the last fishing boat had grated upon 
 the beach, the last ray of sunlight had faded, 
 and the landscape was dyed in delicate violet 
 shades, and then Guy said, " Come along, old 
 boy, Dinglehurst is a deadly hole ; we will go 
 off to Xorway to fish."
 
 176 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 CHAPTEE YIII. 
 
 The days glided gaily away, and the inhabi- 
 tants of Hawthorn Cottage and the Manor 
 drifted into happy, careless intercourse. 
 
 Sir Eustace had given so successful an 
 entertainment at " The White Ladies/' that 
 Mrs. Stephen Lopes had imperatively decreed 
 that it should be repeated upon a larger scale. 
 
 Sir Eustace bowed his head to that lady's 
 command. To see Olive under his roof, to 
 have speech with her, and to look on that fair 
 face was enough happiness for him. 
 
 He had crushed down any remaining qualms 
 of conscience. He told himself that he would 
 only linger for a few weeks longer, and that
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 177 
 
 then he ^voiild depart, and never cross her 
 path again. He never dreamed that he was 
 sowing seeds which would bear a bitter harvest 
 for her who was so dear to him. Sir Eustace 
 was not a vain man, and his thoughtlessness 
 proceeded more from the impossibility of 
 imagining a woman to be in love with him 
 than from mere selfish enjoyment. 
 
 In his blindness he thought that the suffer- 
 ing would fall only upon himself ; he did not 
 realize that solemn truth that no one is a free 
 agent ; that every action of ours is reflected 
 upon those around us, and that our lives do 
 not belong to ourselves. He hardly under- 
 stood the deep, intense nature of Olive 
 Lavendercombe, he did not realize the pas- 
 sionate volcanic fires that lay hidden beneath 
 her calm, almost cold exterior — those smoulder- 
 ing embers which were waiting but for the 
 touch of some strong affection to make them 
 spring forth into flame. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Miss Prudence was a silent, wistful spectator 
 of the little drama, and with a tender light in 
 her eyes, she would gaze out at the old haw- 
 thorn tree, and live again in her own lost 
 love-story. 
 
 Guy Tremaine had, for the present, given 
 up his expedition to Norway. He and Nancy 
 had vowed a friendship that was to be of a 
 most Platonic nature — an easy thing of ac- 
 complishment between a pretty girl and a 
 charming young man ! However, young people 
 will never learn from the experience of others, 
 and these young people were quite as foolish 
 as the generality. 
 
 So they met every day and laughed, and 
 talked, and looked into each other's eyes, 
 imagining no evil would result. 
 
 At least, one imagined so ; the other — 
 Guy, was distinctly conscious of a disagreable 
 sensation when he beheld Nancy talking too 
 long or too eagerly to Count de Yillebois,
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 179 
 
 or, worse still, to Lord Biiigley. He would 
 have had further warnings of the approach of 
 stormy times if he had known of the many 
 meetings — quite accidental of course — which 
 took place between Kancy and Lord Bingley. 
 
 There is no use in denying the fact, Xancy 
 was a flirt. She did not desire to give pain, 
 but she could not resist the thousand little 
 coquetries which came as naturally to her, as 
 eating her dinner or going to bed. 
 
 Her feeling for Lord Bingley, however, was 
 rather more serious ; he had managed to 
 awaken a very strong interest in her heart ; he 
 had appealed to her pity, told her that he was 
 unhappy, misunderstood by his family, &c. ; 
 and few women are quite proof against an 
 appeal for their s^mipathy. There is more 
 truth perhaps, in the old adage than we often 
 admit, " Pity is akin to love/' 
 
 In any case, Nancy felt a curious little 
 flutter of excitement in Lord Bingley's pre- 
 N 2
 
 i8o A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 sence ; lier clieeks glowed, and her hands 
 trembled in his long — yes, rather unnecessarily 
 long — hand - shake . 
 
 But she did not give a thought to the real 
 gravity of the matter. She drifted along, in 
 her happy, light-hearted way, feeling that 
 those walks, through deep shady lanes, or 
 across the yellow sands, were distinctly pleasant, 
 and she gave no thought to that tiresome 
 phantom future, which was mexorably ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 She was not, as I have said, fond of thinking ; 
 it was not an occupation which commended 
 itself to her. For the moment she was quite 
 happy (excepting when some especially stormy 
 interview took place between herself and Miss 
 Hannah) therefore why fret about what next 
 month or next year might bring ? 
 
 Count de Yillebois' admiration for Nancy 
 had grown apace, and, with all his excitable 
 French sentiment, he was longing to lay his
 
 A STEP ASIDE. i8i 
 
 heart and his hand at her feet. In pursnit of 
 her smiles he had even braved Miss Hannah, 
 and had actually entered within the sacred 
 precincts of Hawthorn Cottage. 
 
 True, he had been completely routed on the 
 first occasion. He had left a track of mud on 
 the spotless tiles of the hall, and had actually 
 had the audacity to enter the drawing room 
 with a cigarette in his hand. The offensive 
 article was not lighted, but that made no 
 difference in Miss Hannah's opinion. The 
 emblem of vice had polluted her doors, and she 
 marched the young man off under a scathing 
 fire of vituperation, informing him, with all her 
 British pride, that only a foreigner would have 
 been guilty of such an enormity. 
 
 The second time that he ventured to the 
 Cottage, he took particular care to hide the 
 obnoxious cigarette, but he unluckily forgot 
 to remove the mud from his shoes, in spite 
 of the many hints on the subject which
 
 i82 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 were ranged outside in the shape of scrapers, 
 mats, &c. 
 
 He sat for some time happily and uncon- 
 sciously conversing with Miss Prudence and 
 Nancy ; the former had cast many perturbed, 
 uneasy glances at his boots, and prayed fervently 
 that her sister would not appear; but that 
 prayer, alas ! was not answered. The door 
 opened suddenly, and Hannah stalked into the 
 room. 
 
 A look of black displeasure gathered on her 
 brow as she recognized the visitor, a look 
 which deepened into anger as her glance fell 
 on his unlucky boots. She vouchsafed no 
 word of greeting, her only response to the 
 Frenchman's courteous bow and words, was, 
 " Stay where you are, please," articulated in 
 sharp nasal accents, and then with a sniff the 
 irate lady walked to the table, and tore with 
 angry jerks a sheet from the C/wisfia/i World 
 which she spread carefully upon the floor, and
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 183 
 
 remarked, " Perhaps you will have the good- 
 ness to keep your feet on that, instead of 
 ruining a lady's carpet by your nasty, dirty, 
 foreign ways. 
 
 The little gentleman was dumb with amaze- 
 ment. He gazed open-mouthed, and open- 
 eyed, first at the newspaper, and then at the 
 grim depai-tmg figui'e of the injured lady. 
 
 Nancy burst into a peal of laughter, as she 
 said, " Next time you honour us. Count, 
 remember to remove your shoes at the door, as 
 if you were entering the holy confines of Saint 
 SojDhia." 
 
 Miss Prudence's pale face flushed, as she 
 smoothed her silk apron, and turned the old 
 diamond ring round nervously upon her finger ; 
 and then she tried to murmui' some apology 
 and explanation of her sister's strange be- 
 haviour. 
 
 Count de Villebois threw up his hands when 
 he found himself outside, and exclaimed, " Mon
 
 i84 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Dieu ! Mais comme elles sont clroles, ces 
 
 vieilles fillesli" 
 
 ^ * * « ^ 
 
 It was a grey sullen landscape. The 
 June sunsliine had been blotted out by dark, 
 lowermg clouds, and a high south-west gale 
 bent the trees with rough embrace, and shed 
 the pink and white May blossoms on the 
 ground with reckless hands. 
 
 The sea was a dull green, and the angry 
 waves roared, as they flung themselves with 
 mad fury against the rocks, sendmg on high a 
 shower of white spray. Here and there a 
 small boat plunged and rocked on the bosom of 
 those storm-lashed waters, but most of the 
 fisher folk were too wary to venture forth in 
 what a sailor would term very "dirty weather." 
 
 Olive Lavendercombe struggled along the 
 cliff, fighting every step agamst the violence of 
 the gale, which tore and raged around her. 
 She stopped for a minute to recover her breath,
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 185 
 
 and stood gazing out to sea, lier garments 
 waving and flapping wildly in the wind, and 
 her gold hair damp from the feathery spray. 
 
 Olive loved a storm. She loved the curling 
 crests of the waves, the rustling leaves, and the 
 hurrying jagged clouds w^hich sped across the 
 sky in hot haste, as if pursued by some aveng- 
 ing hand. 
 
 She loved a battle with the elements — 
 — the excitement drove the young life-blood 
 coursing through her veins, with wild delight. 
 To-day she had felt the desire strongly 
 upon her to wrestle with the rain and 
 the wind ; and to be taken for a little time 
 from her own thoughts. 
 
 Olive Lavendercombe had said truly that 
 day in the train that she perhaps hardly under- 
 stood herself. 
 
 Hers was a many-coloured character. She 
 was a cui'ious mixture of w^arm impulsive 
 affections, and cold distant reserve. Few
 
 1 86 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 people possessed the ]3<->wer of moving her, 
 but for those who won her good opinion, 
 her friendship or her love was strong and 
 enduring. 
 
 She had poured out her whole heart's love 
 before her mother, and at her death she was 
 left withered and stunted, like a plant taken 
 suddenly away from the sunlight. The months 
 which followed Mrs. Lavendercombe's death 
 had appeared like a weary dream to Olive. 
 She knew little of her sister, who had been at 
 school for some years, only returning home 
 occasionally for short periods ; and her father's 
 flippant, thoughtless nature grated on the 
 girl's serious, somewhat Puritanical, cast of 
 mmd. 
 
 Such had been her mental state when Sir 
 Eustace Devereux had been thrown by chance 
 — no, say rather by Fate — across her path. 
 
 From the first there seemed some strange 
 afiinity between their natures, some curious.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 187 
 
 sympathetic chord, which was set vibrating by 
 their intercoui'se. 
 
 He seemed to possess the power of com- 
 pellmg the best and strongest part of her 
 nature to come forth. The cord that bound 
 her heart appeared unloosened, her reserve 
 seemed to vanish, and with him she poured 
 forth her desires and aspirations, as if for long 
 years they had been friends — perhaps they had 
 in another existence — and the sympathy was 
 simply being continued here. Might not this 
 account for some friendships which seemingly 
 grow up almost in a night, though in reality 
 they may have been carried on through many 
 incarnations ? 
 
 Olive's gaze was rivetted on a long line of 
 surf which resembled a patch of snow lying on 
 that seething ocean. It stretched several 
 yards along, and w^as some mile or two from 
 the shore. Now and again as the waves 
 combed over, they disclosed a dark, jagged
 
 i88 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 line of rocks, romid which the green sea 
 churned and hissed with wild tumultuous 
 voice. 
 
 The girl shivered slightly, as she looked on 
 the white breakers, lapping and wreathing 
 over the hidden reefs, and she wondered how 
 many gallant ships had met their doom on 
 those cruel black rocks. 
 
 She was startled from her reverie by Mr. 
 Jones' voice, saying, " This is rough weather 
 for you to be out." 
 
 The roar of the storm prevented her from 
 hearing his approach and the wind seemed to 
 catch his voice, and carry it away like a 
 mischievous elf. 
 
 He went on more loudly, " Can you tell me 
 if Miss Prudence is at home and disengaged ? 
 I was on my way to the Cottage to ask her to 
 do me a favour. There is a poor woman living 
 in one of the fisher huts on the shore, who is 
 dying, and I w^anted a kind woman's hand to
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 189 
 
 help to soothe the poor thing's last hours, and 
 Miss Prudence is so good — 1 never plead in 
 vain for her help." 
 
 Varying emotions swept over Olive's face 
 as she listened to Mr. Jones' words — pity, 
 apprehension, and then a sudden decision. 
 " Aunt Prudence has a bad headache," she 
 answered, "but, Mr. Jones, I will go with 
 you to see the woman," and the girl's face 
 Hushed slightly, and an eager light shone in 
 the grey eyes. 
 
 '' But it is a very j)oor place," he answered, 
 uncertain whether he ought to accept the offer, 
 " and it is a good mile or so away." 
 
 " That is nothing," answered Olive, " and 
 it is because she is poor and unhappy that I 
 want to go to her. I have been quite 
 accustomed to see suffering," she continued, 
 seeing his hesitation, " I used to go with my 
 mother," and her voice trembled a little on the 
 word, "to many poor families round us."
 
 IQO A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " But," objected Mr. Jones, " this woman 
 has not led a good life. Am I right in taking 
 you near one who has been a sinner ? " 
 
 " Is there not all the more necessity for 
 some tender ministrations to her before she 
 dies ? " persisted Olive ; and then she pleaded 
 softly, " Let me go with you." 
 
 Mr. Jones only bowed his head. He could 
 not refuse that imploring expression, and 
 together they turned and faced the fierce, 
 howling gale. 
 
 They pursued their way in silence, the force 
 of the wind making speech almost impossible. 
 After battling along the cliffs for nearly half 
 a mile, Mr. Jones turned suddenly down a 
 steep, rugged path which led to the beach. 
 Here they were sheltered slightly from the 
 wind, but the spray dashed in their faces, and 
 mingled with the rain, as the huge rollers 
 hurled themselves upon the rocks, and then 
 recoiled, seething and hissing, as they clawed
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 191 
 
 the sliingle and sand in their watery 
 grasp. 
 
 Olive stopped for an instant, it was so awe- 
 inspiring — that struggling, throbbing ocean, 
 and the gigantic waves, with their green 
 cui'ling crests. 
 
 " Is it not magnificent ? " cried Mr. Jones, 
 looking at his companion, with admiration 
 starting into his dark eyes, and a strange 
 tightening of his heart-strings. 
 
 She stood so still, her face tinged by the 
 wind, and her eyes gleaming with some unex- 
 pressed emotion. 
 
 "Yes," she whispered, ''it is magnificent ; 
 but does it not make us feel our own 
 nothingness. How is it possible to doubt 
 God before a scene like this ? " and she 
 stretched out her arms towards the sea. 
 
 " Aye, how is it possible," repeated the 
 young man, " here, before the majesty of a 
 storm like this ? but down there," and he
 
 IQ2 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 pointed to a line of wretched, dilapidated 
 hovels, " down there in all that sqnalor and 
 misery our eyes seem blinded to the Divine 
 Presence, and we almost dare to wonder why, 
 if there is a God, he should allow such 
 sufferings." 
 
 " Then you have thought that too," cried 
 Olive eagerly, turning towards him, " I have 
 so often asked myseK why is life so uneven, 
 why are some so happy, and others so 
 miserable ? " 
 
 " It is an awful question, the inequality of 
 life," answered Mr. Jones gravely ; " why to 
 some are the good things dealt out with so 
 parsimonious a hand, while on others they are 
 so bounteously bestowed?" 
 
 As he spoke his thoughts lied to Sir Eustace. 
 Why should he, through simple accident of 
 birth, have power to stretch forth his hand to 
 Olive Lavendercombe, while he, a poor un- 
 known curate, must bury his affections deeply
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 193 
 
 in liis lieai-t, and pass silently on with 
 tlie aching pain which could never be 
 told. 
 
 He sighed, as he stole a glance at his com- 
 panion. In his solitary life he had so longed 
 for happiness, and for the kindly smile, and 
 tender sympathy of a woman, but Mr. Jones 
 was accustomed to crucify his desires. He 
 had had so much suffering that he almost 
 forgot till he saw Olive Lavendercombe that 
 there could be such a thing as happiness in 
 the world. 
 
 " Do you live here alone? " asked the girl 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Yes, since my mother died," replied the 
 young man ; " she only lived a year after I 
 came here, and then my sister fell into a con- 
 sumption, and lingered but a few months ; and 
 now I am quite alone, I have no one left," he 
 continued sadly ; " but people are very kind. 
 I can never tell what Miss Prudence has been 
 VOL. 1. o
 
 194 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 to me/' and his voice trembled, and his eyes 
 were moist for a moment. 
 
 "I too, have lost my mother," said Olive, 
 very low. " Did yon love her ? was she all 
 the world to yon? " and the gu4's voice 
 qnivered. 
 
 " Did I love her?" repeated the young man 
 dreamily, his eyes fixed on a small fishing craft 
 that was being driven perilously near to the 
 reefs. " I loved her so passionately, that when 
 God took her from me, I doubted even His 
 mercy. I was wild — mad with grief ; I railed 
 at heaven ; I said that God was hard and 
 cruel." 
 
 Contending emotions chased each other 
 across his face as he gave utterance to these 
 vehement words, and then he stopped for an 
 ^nstant, and, turning to Olive, he said, " It was 
 Miss Prudence who helped me, then. She came 
 to me in that dark time, and showed me a ray 
 of light ; it was only a ray at first, like the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 195 
 
 glimmering of a winter morning, but it grew 
 and grew, till it spread all over my sky, and I 
 knew that it was better so — and now — I am — 
 almost content." 
 
 His head sank on his breast as he finished, 
 and there was a silence. Olive sighed, and 
 wondered when she too could say those same 
 words, though in her heart there rose up the 
 feeling that a new joy w^as coming to her — a 
 joy that would almost obliterate the grief. 
 
 They had reached their destination. It was 
 a miserable hovel not fit for human habitation. 
 The windows were broken, and the holes 
 stopped with dirty rags and paper. The door 
 fitted so ill that there was a yawning gap 
 between it and the floor, under which the 
 wind howled and whistled gloomily. 
 
 Mr. Jones entered the cottage, and Olive 
 followed him silently. The interior was even 
 more wretched than the exterior. The floor 
 was mud, studded with a few filthy slabs of 
 
 o 2
 
 196 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 uneven stones. Two or three rickety chairs 
 and a broken table were all the furniture of 
 which the place could boast. 
 
 Upon a hard pallet in a corner lay a woman 
 in the last extremity of illness. Her face was 
 drawn and wrinkled, and bore the traces of sin 
 and suffering. Her cheeks were ashen, and 
 the eyes bright and sunken, while through 
 her parched lips her laboui-ed breath escaped 
 in gasps. She tried to raise herself as Mr. 
 Jones and Olive entered, but she fell back 
 with a groan. 
 
 A neighbour who was tending her, and who 
 had sent for the clergyman, said, " She ain't 
 right in her 'ead, now, sir, she do ramble so, 
 and says as she has something to tell about a 
 man named Bryant, but I'm a'thinking as it is 
 all the deliriimis that takes of her." 
 
 Mr. Jones knelt down by the sick woman, 
 and took the hot hand in his, and said sooth- 
 ingly, " What is it that you wish to say ? "
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 197 
 
 The woman looked at him half wildly, and 
 then tried to speak, but no somid came, 
 through the d^^ng lips. Mr. Jones gave her a 
 little water, and after a minute she whispered 
 hoarsely, " Don't — let — him — Bryant — marry ; 
 he's got — a wife — over in Australia, — but 
 she's mad. I lived with them once, afore I 
 fell in with Jack." 
 
 Between each word the woman gasped 
 painfully, for breath, and at the end sunk 
 down exhausted. 
 
 Olive shuddered, and gazed compassionately 
 on the poor creature. 
 
 After a minute the woman started up again 
 with a delirious light in her eyes, and grasped 
 Mr. Jones' arm with a convulsive grip. " Do 
 you hear what I say, promise to stop him," 
 she cried excitedly, " I am not dreaming, it is 
 true — quite true — his wife was kind to me 
 once, poor thing, afore she went off 'er 'ead, 
 and he shut her up ; if I had only stayed with
 
 igS A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 her instead of a'going arter Jack," and the 
 woman burst into tears, and then wandered 
 off in a maudling manner about her own 
 sin-stained life. 
 
 Her words conveyed nothing to Mr. Jones ; 
 he had only been at Dinglehurst for the last 
 four or five years, and had never heard the 
 name Bryant in connection with Sir Eustace 
 Devereux, or any of his parishioners, and he 
 put down the woman's words simply to the 
 ravings of fever, and never thought that they 
 might save the woman he loved from a life- 
 long misery. 
 
 Olive approached the bed, and whispered a 
 few kind words, but the woman seemed to 
 have sunk mto a stupor, in which she remained 
 for some time. 
 
 At last she opened her eyes and whispered, 
 " Say a prayer for me ; I have been desperate 
 wicked, but perhaps God '11 forgive me. I 
 never had no mother to learn me no better."
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 199 
 
 Mr. Jones and Olive knelt, and tlie curate's 
 voice rose in tender entreaty for the soul that 
 was fast approaching that limitless eternity. 
 A look of peace crept over the dying woman's 
 countenance. 
 
 " I am going," she whispered faintly, 
 " remember what I said. It is true, I tell 
 you it is true, and — and — tell Jack — I loved, 
 I loved him, though he did treat me so bad — 
 and I forgive him — may be Grod will be kinder 
 than man has been, and it wdll be all right 
 where I'm agoing — all right," and the voice 
 died away, a tremor passed over the features, 
 and then all was still. 
 
 The only creature who could have saved 
 Olive Lavendercombe from that fatal future 
 had gone into the dark, silent vaUey of death. 
 
 They knelt on for some minutes, hardly 
 realising that the weary soul had laid down 
 the burden of life, and then Mr. Jones led 
 Olive silently out of the cottage.
 
 200 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 As tliey opened the door, the sound of 
 voices, and a tramping of many feet broke on 
 their ears. A little crowd of fisher-folk were 
 iipproaching, talking excitedly, and pointing 
 across the angry foam-flecked sea, to where 
 the waves were lashing and eddying over the 
 hidden reefs. 
 
 Their eyes instinctively followed those of 
 the fishermen, and there, so near to the white 
 breakers that it seemed almost upon them, 
 floated a fishing craft, its mast carried away, 
 and its rudder gone, while every moment it 
 was being driven nearer to its doom. The 
 women were wailing distressfully, and the 
 men shook their heads, and looked gloomily 
 out over the stormy waters. They were all 
 brave fellows, but they saw how perilous 
 would be the attempt to launch a boat on 
 such a sea. 
 
 Mr. Jones stood for a moment watching the 
 smack tossed in the seething trough of the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 201 
 
 waves. Then he called to one of the men, 
 and inquired whose boat it was. 
 
 "Bill Osborne's, sir; and John Small and 
 his two sons be along with he, beside old 
 Samuel Fincher." 
 
 Five valuable lives in uttermost jeopardy. 
 Mr. Jones realized the danger thoroughly ; he 
 was too good a seaman not to know that it 
 would be almost a miracle for a boat to live in 
 such a sea. But he did not hesitate, he called 
 out, "AMiich of you, my lads, will volunteer to 
 go with me in the lifeboat ? " 
 
 There was a silence ; the men shook their 
 heads, and muttered something about no use 
 sacrificing more lives. At last one sturdy 
 young fisherman stepped out from their midst, 
 and said " I'll go with ye, sir." 
 
 " That's right, Jim ; but we must have at 
 least se^^n or eight more hands. Will no one 
 else help those poor fellows ? " he repeated. 
 
 There was no answer, only a sullen silence.
 
 202 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Mr. Jones thought for a moment, and then 
 he turned to the joung fisherman, and said, 
 " Hun up to the Manor, Jim, as fast as you 
 can, and tell Mr. Gruy, that I want some hands 
 for the lifeboat. There is no time to loose, in 
 another quarter of an hour they will be on the 
 rocks, and then Grod help them." 
 
 As the young man disappeared, he tmiied 
 again to the fishermen and said, " Will you 
 lend a hand to help launch the lifeboat ? " 
 
 They were all ready enough to do that, and 
 the little crowd moved quickly away towards 
 the boat house. 
 
 Olive followed. She felt dazed by the scene 
 that she had just witnessed, and yet she could 
 not leave till she knew the fate of that wrecked 
 craft. 
 
 She strained her eyes to see the black hull, 
 which every moment was plunged in an abyss 
 of boiling foam, and then rose again, a mere 
 speck on the crest of the wild breakers.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 203 
 
 They had reached the lifeboat, and ready 
 help was tendered to launch her. All was 
 prepared, and still they were short of hands. 
 Five more hshermen had volunteered, but the 
 rest remained obdurate. 
 
 Two more hands Mr. Jones must have, or else 
 he could not risk it. At that moment Guy's 
 voice broke on the air. " Hullo, Jones ! I am 
 your man," and then another voice uttered the 
 same Avords — a voice which thrilled Olive, and 
 set her heart beating painfully. She turned 
 quickly, and faced Sir Eustace Devereux — He 
 started at the sight of her. 
 
 For a moment she stood irresolute, and then 
 she forgot all — everything, as she saw him 
 preparing to enter the boat, which in all pro- 
 bability would bear them to their doom. 
 
 The waves danced before her eyes in a 
 blurred, black mass, and the wind roared in 
 her ears. She struggled tlu'ough the crowd, 
 and laid her hand detainingly on his arm, and
 
 204 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 with her white drawn face, she looked beseech- 
 ingly into his. "Do not go," she gasped, " oh ! 
 do not go, you will be drowned. Stay — I 
 implore yon." 
 
 A mighty crash of thunder, interrupted her 
 words, and the rain and spray whirled in her 
 face and blinded her. 
 
 Sir Eustace took her hand for a moment and 
 whispered, " Do not fear, Olive, I will come 
 back to you ; let me go ; let me do one good 
 action." 
 
 He hardly knew what he said, and he dared 
 not look again on that imploring face for fear 
 he should give way. He unwound her fingers 
 from his arm and she staggered back. 
 
 It was almost dark, though only seven 
 o'clock, and she could scarcely see the life- 
 boat. A bright blue fork of lightning shot 
 across the lurid sky, and illumined for an 
 instance the faces of the crew as they bent to 
 their oars. She saw those stern, set faces,
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 205 
 
 and tlie raging sea dashing over them, and 
 then she remembered nothing. All seemed 
 chaos. 
 
 She came to herself after a moment, and 
 heard a kindly man's voice say, " Bear up, my 
 lass ; they be all in the Lord's hands." 
 
 She clung to a rock, and tried to pierce the 
 darkness, but in vain. Now and again a flash 
 of lightning lit up the sea for a moment, and 
 she saw a dark object toiling and struggling 
 among those awful black breakers. Little 
 knots of people stood about on the beach, the 
 women sobbing, and the men shaking their 
 heads ominously. The wdnd rose higher and 
 higher, and shrieked as it hurled itseK against 
 the cliffs, and the waves threshed the shore, 
 and drove the spray high into the air like a 
 pale mist. 
 
 " Ma foi ! " said a voice close to Olive, 
 " c'est vraiment magnifique. Les Anghiis ont 
 un courage fou, mais, pom- moi, I prefer to
 
 2o6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 be on shore. I admire — I exult — but I tell 
 myself that these courageous actions are not 
 for me. I grieve if the fishermen are lost, 
 mais que voulez-vous ? They would go out, 
 n'est-ce-pas. Mademoiselle ? " 
 
 Olive turned disdainfully upon him, "You 
 would be coward enough to let them drown 
 before your very eyes ! " she cried, " and make 
 no effort to save them ! " 
 
 " C'est bien triste, c'est vrai," he returned, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " but do I look like 
 one who could perform heroic actions ? I am 
 not egoist. Mademoiselle, I leave the glory 
 to others, like Sir Devereux, and mon cher 
 Guy. You agree. Milord, n'est-ce-pas ? " 
 
 This was addressed to Lord Bingley, who 
 was standing near. He had chanced to be 
 in Dinglehurst that afternoon. He was often 
 there now ; perhaps the picturesqueness of the 
 village attracted him, or he found wandering 
 along shady lanes in company with Nancy
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 207 
 
 Lavendercombe made the monotony of the 
 country more endurable. He had been at the 
 Manor when Mr. Jones' message to Guy 
 arrived, and had wandered do\\Ti to the shore 
 to see the fun as he expressed it. 
 
 He smiled rather cynically at Count de 
 Yillebois' remarks, and replied, " I have no 
 sympathy. Count, with all this exaggerated 
 dramatic heroism. If people are fools enough 
 to drown themselves it is no affair of mine, 
 so long as they do not ask me to do the same. 
 No doubt it is a good advertisement of your 
 bravery. It makes a thrilling paragraph in 
 the county paper, ' Gallant rescue of a wrecked 
 crew, led by the parson of the parish,' " 
 
 Olive did not catch these satirical words, 
 she had walked down nearer the sea, and 
 peered into the darkness. Her dress clung 
 around her in damp folds, and the wind toyed 
 with her hair. How long those minutes 
 seemed. Surely the measurement of time is
 
 2o8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 something far more subtle than the pendulum 
 of a clock can register. 
 
 In that awful half -hour Olive lived a life- 
 time. She had been brought face to face with 
 her own heart. That moment when she had 
 beheld Sir Eustace enter the life -boat had 
 disclosed the truth to her. 
 
 Till then she had allowed herself to drift 
 carelessly through those sunny June days. 
 She had not dared to ask herself why the 
 brightness of life was returning to her, but 
 now, when she saw that boat disappear from 
 her view among those raging pitiless billows 
 the answer came — she loved him ! 
 
 A shout broke suddenly upon her ears, a 
 shout that cleaved the air with gladness, and 
 rose even above the deafening roar of the 
 storm. She stumbled along the shore back 
 to where the knot of fishermen stood, and 
 there, some hundred yards from the land, she 
 discerned a black object plunging and rocking
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 209 
 
 upon the waves. One moment it rose trium- 
 pliant on the crest of a huge breaker, and then 
 sank in the trough of that hissing body of 
 water. 
 
 She watched with agonised terror, the billows 
 dashing over it, and her heart seemed to stay 
 its beating- Slowly, but surely the dark 
 object approached, ploughing its way through 
 the turbid waters. 
 
 The violence of the storm had abated, and 
 ragged clouds drifted away, and disclosed a 
 fitful moon -beam, which fell in a luminous 
 patch on the angry waters, and on the white 
 faces of the crew, as they made one last effort, 
 and the keel of the life-boat struck upon 
 the beach. 
 
 A cheer broke from the fishermen as they 
 recognised their missing mates, and they 
 rushed into the water to offer their aid in 
 pulling up the boat. 
 
 Olive stood a little apart, watching the 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2IO A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 drenched figures leave the boat one by one, 
 but she had not seen that tall commanding 
 figure, and a thrill of dread shot through her, 
 and then she heard Guy's clear voice ring out, 
 " Give a hand, my lads," and then the wind 
 caught his voice, and carried it from her, and 
 the next words made her catch her breath, 
 " Gently, boys, he's rather badly hurt, I am 
 afraid ; a wave washed him from his seat and 
 he struck his head." 
 
 Olive caught a man's sleeve as he passed, 
 and whispered hoarsely, " Who is it that is 
 hurt? Tell me quick," and her voice quivered 
 with agitation. 
 
 "It be the parson. Miss, and I am afraid 
 that he's desperate bad ; he do look so death- 
 like, and they be a'going to take he to ' The 
 White Ladies,' as it's nigher than his own 
 house." 
 
 A thrill of relief shot through the girl. Then 
 it was only Mr. Jones ! not — not — that other.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Mr. Jones was conveyed to " The White 
 Ladies," where he remained for some hours in 
 a precarious condition. The accident had 
 occurred by a heavy sea breaking over the boat, 
 which caused him to be thrown backward, his 
 head striking with great violence against one 
 of the thwarts. The blow had produced a 
 rather severe concussion, and the doctor forbade 
 his being moved for several days. 
 
 Sir Eustace was in no way averse to keeping 
 his guest. During their short acquaintance, 
 which had only extended over some few 
 months in all (owing to the former's long 
 absence from home) he had conceived a sincere 
 
 p 2
 
 212 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 respect and regard for the young man, whom he 
 described as the best specmien of a clergyman 
 he had ever met. 
 
 " No antics in church, and no humbug and 
 cant outside ! just a plain-spoken, honest 
 English gentleman ; not parading his opinions 
 as a porcupine does his quills, but with plenty 
 of stamina and steadfastness when the occasion 
 warranted." 
 
 Sir Eustace sat hour after hour by the young 
 man's bed, pondering deeply over his own life, 
 and upon the temptation which assailed him — 
 a temptation which had grown and widened in 
 the last few days, as the ripples grow and 
 widen over some stone, that we cast into the 
 water. 
 
 Since the night of the storm when Olive had 
 looked into his face with those grey, steadfast 
 eyes — eyes which were unable to veil the truth, 
 but which spoke the word " love " with clearer 
 emphasis than ever speech could do — since
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 213 
 
 that night Sir Eustace had been bewildered, 
 mazed by the torrent of happiness which that 
 glance had brought to him. He felt his heart 
 throb with an uncontrolled joy as he recalled 
 that moment. 
 
 Her face seemed ever beside him. It had 
 followed him through those black pitiless 
 waves, and now in the darkened room it still 
 looked into his with a beseeching imploring 
 expression, and again he heard her whispered 
 words, " Do not go, you will be drowned." 
 
 And then, in the midst of his joy, mingling 
 with it and treading on the very heels of love, 
 came remorse, horror, hatred of himself and of 
 his own conduct. He had never dreamed of 
 this. He had never meant to make her love 
 him — never intended to give her pain ; he 
 had soothed his conscience by the thought 
 that the suffering would fall only upon himself, 
 but now — now it was too late. Too late to 
 fly, the mischief had been wrought.
 
 214 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 The words seemed to echo with jarring- 
 emphasis in his ears. How could he meet her 
 again without some explanation, some confes- 
 sion of love ? What could he say to her ? 
 What had he to offer ? Nothing — only — only 
 — and the horrible word seemed to dance zig- 
 zag fashion in front of his eyes, to grin at him 
 with exultant elf -like mirth, and then "Wife" 
 for an instant took its place, written in shining, 
 radiant letters ; but only for a moment did 
 that word remain, and then it was jostled away 
 by the first with a demon-like joy. 
 
 Sir Eustace bm-ied his face in his hands, 
 and strove to hide those scathing, relentless 
 characters from crossing his vision. 
 
 He sat gazing at Mr. Jones' pallid face, 
 wondering vaguely if he would have resisted a 
 like temptation had it been presented to him. 
 Would he have had the strength to flee ? To 
 crush down with stern hand those first germs 
 of love ?
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 215 
 
 While Sir Eustace gazed at the sick man he 
 turned uneasily, and muttered a few words in 
 a haK-wild delirious voice, " Bryant, don't let 
 him marry, he's got a wife over in Australia, 
 but — she is — " and then the sentence broke off 
 abruptly, and he wandered away incoherently 
 about the storm and the lifeboat. 
 
 Sir Eustace started like one struck, and then 
 sat rigid as if turned to stone, staring vacantly 
 before him. His blood had leaped up to his 
 brain at the words, and then rushed back, 
 leaving him dazed with horror and apprehen- 
 sion. Was it possible that someone had 
 discovered his secret, and had divulged it to 
 the clergyman ? or was it some other Bryant ? 
 
 A cold sweat broke out on his forehead ; he 
 put his hands up to his collar, and wrenched it 
 away from his throat, striving to relieve the 
 pressure which threatened to choke him. 
 
 He breathed heavily, and then sat listening 
 with terrible intentness to the sick man's
 
 2i6 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 ravings. But he caught nothing more except- 
 ing the words, " I tell you that it is true, 
 what I am saying ahout — ahout — " and then 
 the sentence was again broken off, and the 
 young man fell into a troubled slumber. 
 
 Sir Eustace remained in the same position, 
 a whirl of doubts, desires, resolutions flashing 
 across his mind. 
 
 The door opened once, and the nurse 
 appeared, but he motioned her impatiently 
 away. The sunshine bathed the room, and the 
 little motes of dust danced and spun round, as 
 they floated down the ladders of light. A 
 bee flew in through the open window, and 
 went bumping up against the ceiling, buzzing 
 garrulously as it went, and outside the glad 
 voices of the school-children were wafted in on 
 the sweet scented June air. 
 
 Still Sir Eustace sat silent, paralysed by 
 dread. The world seemed to have fled far 
 from him. He watched the motes of dust as
 
 .4 STEP ASIDE. 217 
 
 they glided down the shafts of sunlight ; he 
 heard the bee droning, and the children's 
 voices. But he saw, and he heard as m a 
 dream. He Avas looking into the depths of 
 his own soul, and what he beheld there terrified 
 him. That gulf of unutterable blackness ! 
 He was facing his own intentions ; he was 
 being brought into contact with the plain 
 unvarnished truth — Truth, with all those 
 absurd trappings with which he had invested 
 it, of fiimsy excuses and apologies, stripped off, 
 and standing out naked and clear on the disc 
 of his conscience. 
 
 He saw that which appalled him, and yet 
 wooed him. He saw that deep down in his 
 heart he had never intended to relinquish Olive 
 Lavendercombe, that in the veriest depths of 
 his soul the thought of going away had never 
 been seriously entertained. 
 
 What had suddenly unveiled the truth, and 
 traced it out in all its terrible distinctness ?
 
 2i8 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 The fear of his frightful secret being discovered. 
 But why should he care if Dinglehurst knew 
 of the existence of that poor mad creature ? 
 Why, because — because — 
 
 He started up as he reached so far in his 
 reflections, and walked to the window and 
 threw it open wdder. The bee bumped against 
 his face as it fled clumsily out into the air, and 
 the children were still calling to each other in 
 mirthful converse. 
 
 He leant out and gazed below on the 
 symmetrical old-world garden laying map -like 
 at his feet, with the trim yew hedges, stately 
 fountains, and broad gravel walks, while, 
 beyond the pleasaunce, a waving park land 
 stretched away, until it lost itself in a soft 
 blue haze of sea. 
 
 All this fair prospect was his, and yet the 
 one thing needful to complete his happiness- 
 was denied to him. 
 
 The tempter whispered, " Why should it be
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 219 
 
 denied to you ; stretch forth thme hand to 
 take her. Before the world she will be your 
 wife. No one will apply that ugly word to the 
 bargain; the past is dead, the present is yours." 
 
 The children's voices had died away. A 
 peacock made a harsh discordant screech 
 below in the garden ; a cloud floated across 
 and dimmed the sunlight, and there was a 
 wail in the wind as it swayed the tree-tops. 
 
 Sir Eustace turned pale, and muttered in 
 low husky tones, "It is true, I will stretch 
 forth my hand to her; ours shall be as faithful 
 a mari'iage as if bound fast by the law of 
 men." 
 
 The cloud stole up higher, and cast a black 
 shadow athwart the garden, and the peacock 
 screeched again in more discordant tones. 
 
 Sir Eustace's face had grown statue-like in 
 its unexpressiveness ; the li23s were compressed 
 with a stern austerity, and the eyes were 
 stony, except for a flickering light which
 
 220 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 betrayed the strong emotion with which the 
 man was battling. 
 
 " I will dally no longer," he muttered in a 
 harsh strained voice ; "conscience, honour, God, 
 what is it all compared to my love. I will 
 compel him to keep my secret," and Sir 
 Eustace looked towards the sleeping man, " I 
 will make her my — my — " 
 
 A low growl of thunder interrupted his 
 words ; a cold shower of rain-drops dashed in 
 his face, and the peacock folded his tail and 
 screeched one last weird desolate cry. 
 
 ^ * * TlJ * 
 
 . "I have to thank you sincerely. Sir Eustace, 
 for your generous hospitality to me, and to 
 apologise for having inflicted my presence 
 uj^on you for so long." 
 
 The speaker was Mr. Jones. A week had 
 elapsed since he lay tossing in delirious dreams, 
 and prating words which had brought dread 
 and apprehension to his host.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 221 
 
 Sir Eustace had lived through those days in 
 miserable suspense and anxiety. He had not 
 gone back from his determination concerning 
 Olive Lavendercombe — nay, rather his decision 
 was strengthened. 
 
 It is curious how quickly we slide down 
 the broad path of sin ; how pleasantly 
 adaptable we become to what is wrong, 
 and how cleverly and insidiously we argue 
 ourselves into imagining that our desires 
 and wishes are the best, and most righteous 
 of actions. " Ce n'est que le premier pas qui 
 coute." 
 
 And so it proved with Sir Eustace. He had 
 fought and struggled against this temptation ; 
 he had never dreamed at first of succumbing to 
 the evil — but slowly, and almost insensibly the 
 idea of burying the past in the recesses of his 
 own heart came to be familiar to him, and with 
 that familiarity the thought which had at first 
 appeared so heinous, so impossible, of marry-
 
 222 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 ing Olive Lavendercombe grew less and less 
 outrageous. 
 
 When it had first assailed liiui he had 
 strenuously thrust it from him, but as again 
 and again it reasserted itself he strove less 
 and less manfully, against it, and at length by 
 the sick man's bed, when the tempter had 
 approached, once more, he had succumbed. 
 He had allowed the god-like, noble part of 
 himself to be overpowered, and he had simk 
 into that Kmitless abyss of evil. 
 
 The devil makes our path to hell very plea- 
 sant, and decks temptation with an aureole of 
 light. 
 
 After Sir Eustace had yielded, no question 
 of conscience troubled him. All was calmness 
 and serenity, except for those words of Mr. 
 Jones', which haunted him day and night with 
 ceaseless persistence. Was his dead past to 
 arise and mock him now when his hand was 
 stretched forth to grasp the bright living
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 223 
 
 future. He shivered as his thoughts dwelt 
 upon these weird spectres ; that horrible mad 
 face seemed to float across his vision, and blurr 
 his sight. 
 
 Mr. Jones was too much engrossed in his 
 own thoughts to notice Sir Eustace's abstrac- 
 tion, or to observe his restless, uneven step as 
 he walked up and down the long room, his 
 figure casting a dark shadow across the lamp 
 as he passed to and fro. 
 
 The two men were in the library, it 
 being the room that Sir Eustace generally 
 occupied. 
 
 It was filled with a rather heterogeneous 
 litter of articles — statues, bronzes and china 
 jostled each other for a place. A grand piano 
 stood open, upon which were strewn in wild 
 confusion scores and music books, while one or 
 two violin cases reposed placidly among the 
 disorder. A writing table stood near to the 
 window heaped up with papers and letters.
 
 224 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 some filed, and some left to run riot at then- 
 own sweet will. 
 
 The walls were lined with books, excepting 
 over the fireplace where the vacant space was 
 covered by several old sporting prints, depict- 
 ing slim young men, mounted on even slimmer 
 horses, and riding at impossible brooks, or 
 swimming rushing rivers. 
 
 Mr. Jones looked absently at the prints, and 
 then his eyes wandered round the room till 
 they rested on Bogie the dachshund curled up 
 on the sofa. 
 
 He was striving to put his thoughts into 
 speech. The window was open, and he could 
 see out on to the shadowy lawn beyond, where 
 the tall yew hedges loomed out giant -like in 
 the gloaming. He could hear the splash of the 
 fountain, and see the moon glint on the water, 
 and then he heard the clock strike the hour. 
 Each stroke seemed so lagging, he counted 
 them slowly till on the tenth the sound died
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 225 
 
 away with a long vibration, and with an effort 
 lie roused himself, and said, in a slightly 
 hesitating voice, 
 
 " Will yon answer me a question, Sir 
 Eustace?" 
 
 His host stopped suddenly and looked at the 
 clergyman with a half fierce, expectant light 
 in his deep-set eyes ; he seemed about to 
 answer, but on second thoughts only bowed 
 his head as a sign of assent. 
 
 Mr. Jones continued, " Will you tell me if 
 in my delirium I mentioned the name of any 
 person ? " 
 
 The thought that had been troubling the 
 young man was that when he had been lying 
 ill and light-headed he might have mentioned 
 Olive Lavendercombe's name. 
 
 Let it not be supposed that he was ashamed 
 of his love for her — nay, rather he would have 
 proclaimed it on the housetops, but he was 
 one of those innately chivalrous people, reverent 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 to all women, and especially to her whom he 
 loved, as only a man with his deep generous 
 nature can love. And he could not tolerate 
 the thought that in his ravings he might have 
 unconsciously pronounced her name in a too 
 familiar manner, and thus have given some 
 wrong impression of their relations. 
 
 For many days he had meditated on this 
 subject in troubled soliloquy, and at length 
 he felt compelled to ask the question. He 
 knew that Olive loved the man before him. 
 On the night of the wreck; in the midst of the 
 storm and confusion, he had noted the girl's 
 quick impulsive movement as she laid her 
 hand on Sir Eustace's arm, and he had seen 
 her blanched, frightened face look into his 
 host's with a beseeching expression. 
 
 He had not caught the whispered words, he 
 had turned away sick at heart, and feeling 
 even in that supreme and desperate moment a 
 sense of despairing desolation.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 227 
 
 In the rescue he had behaved like a hero, 
 risking his hfe recklessly for those of the 
 shipwrecked fishermen ; but it was not all 
 courage. He courted death, for he longed 
 that the great black breakers would suck him 
 under, and that beneath their curling crests 
 he could gain oblivion. 
 
 Mr. Jones looked away as he made his 
 request. A film of trailing white mist was 
 beginning to rise from the green park-land 
 and the young man half shuddered as he 
 watched the weird fantastic forms rise phantom- 
 like from the ground. 
 
 Sir Eustace listened to the question with a 
 thrill of unutterable dread. 
 
 AVas his dead secret coming forth? Did 
 the young man know the history of his past, 
 and was this his way of opening the subject ? 
 
 Sir Eustace took two turns across the room, 
 halting at length near to the window, and then 
 he said in a voice that strove hard to be calm 
 
 q2
 
 228 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 and unconcerned, but which had a sharp 
 metallic ring in it, " You mentioned the name 
 of — Bryant, one day, that was alL" 
 
 He felt impelled to make that answer, 
 though the word choked him ; he must know 
 the worst, even if it killed all his future ; the 
 suspense was wearing him out. Day after day 
 he had longed to ask the awful question, and 
 now the moment had come when he was to 
 know his fate. 
 
 The happiness of two lives lay in Mr. 
 Jones' hands, but, alas ! he knew it not. 
 Wliat would he not have given in the future 
 to have believed Martha Kendal's seemingly 
 wild words ? What would he not have given 
 to have saved the woman he loved from a life 
 of sin, and hopeless irretrievable regret ! 
 
 There was a dead silence after Sir Eustace's 
 words, broken only by a faint rustle of the 
 leaves outside, the splash of the foimtain, and 
 the whirr of a daddy-long-legs, who had
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 229 
 
 fluttered too near to the lamp, and was reaping 
 the penalty of his inconsequence. 
 
 Which suffered most keenly during those 
 pitiless moments ? The insect in the throes of 
 death agony, or the man gauging the magnitude 
 of desolation ? 
 
 He stood statue-like against the dark back- 
 ground, his face drawn and blanched, and his 
 eyes dilated as they stared absently at the 
 last death struggles of the insect. There was 
 a buzz and a thud on the table — a few kicks 
 and daddy's days were over. 
 
 Mr. Jones moved, and then he said dreamily, 
 utterly unconscious of the anguish he was 
 causing by his hesitation, " Bryant I I do not 
 recollect ever to have heard the name, and 
 yet," and he passed his hand across his brow, 
 musingly. 
 
 Sir Eustace started, the muscles of his 
 throat seemed suddenly relaxed, the tension 
 unloosened. Perhaps he had mistaken the
 
 230 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 name, perhaps — but liis joy was dashed by the 
 young man's next words. 
 
 " I have it ! of course Bryant was the man 
 the woman raved about, begged that he should 
 not be allowed to marry again, because — " 
 and again the young man stopped, half con- 
 fused, " because — ah, it w^as something about 
 a mad wife in Australia." 
 
 There was a crash, a splintering of some 
 delicate fabric, and then a wild reckless 
 laugh. 
 
 Mr. Jones sprang up, and looked fearfully 
 from his host to the shattered china which lay 
 scattered on the Hoor. 
 
 v'^It is nothing," said Sir Eustace, scraping 
 away the pieces with his foot, and again burst- 
 ing into that strange, wild laughter, as he 
 remarked satirically, answering Mr. Jones look 
 of consternation, " It does not the least signify, 
 it is only an old Sevres vase, that has been in 
 the family for a century or so ! Pray do not
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 231 
 
 let my carelessness interrupt your interesting 
 story," and he stooped, and began slowly to 
 gather up the broken fragments. 
 
 Mr. Jones gazed at him in astonishment. 
 He was admiring his host's self-conti'ol and 
 placidity over an accident that might well 
 have perturbed the most saint-like of persons. 
 It never occurred to his guileless mind to 
 connect his story and the shattering of that 
 magnificent vase ; he had not noted the sudden 
 spasm of despair that shot across Sir Eustace's 
 face at his words, or the quick frenzied move- 
 ment of his arm, which had caught the art 
 treasure, and sent it recklessly to its doom. 
 
 As the clergyman still remained silent. Sir 
 Eustace half raised himself and repeated, 
 " Pray finish the recital of your tale; it sounds 
 quite melodramatic." 
 
 The words were enunciated with the most 
 careful exactness, and he lingered slightly on 
 the last syllable.
 
 232 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 " There is no story," replied his guest, " it 
 was simply the ravings of a dying woman, by 
 name Martha Kendal." 
 
 Sir Eustace caught his breath painfully, and 
 bent lower over his task. That name seemed 
 to strike him a sharp blow ; it came back to 
 him over a desolate waste of memory, trailing 
 with it a recollection of that stern unrelenting 
 past. 
 
 Mr. Jones continued, " The woman had 
 only lived in the parish for some six months. 
 She came straight from Australia, where if 
 rumour be true, she had been no better than 
 she need be. She was taken ill on landing, 
 and has hardly left her cottage since. I used 
 to go and visit her sometimes, and on the day 
 of the storm I had a summons to go to her 
 quickly as she was dying." 
 
 He did not mention Olive's presence, some- 
 thing compelled him to be silent on that 
 subject.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 233 
 
 Sir Eustace was listening in breathless 
 expectation, a light of joy darted into his eyes, 
 at the last word, and he could scarcely contain 
 his emotion and anxiety. 
 
 He raised himself from his stooping posture, 
 and stepped out through the window. The 
 wind swept over his face, and he drew in a long 
 breath ere he half turned, and said in sharp 
 incisive tones, " And did the woman die ? " 
 
 " Yes, she died, poor soul," replied the 
 young man. " And I never thought again 
 about her ravings till this moment, when 
 you tell me that I spoke of them in my 
 delirium." 
 
 Sir Eustace's brain seemed to reel and throb 
 
 with its pulsations. The stately yew-hedges 
 
 appeared to be pirouetting with the grey stone 
 
 fountain and balustrades ; the relief was so 
 intense, the joy so unutterable. She was 
 
 dead — dead — and there was no one to betray 
 
 the past.
 
 234 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 But again his exultation was turned to 
 cringing fear, and a shiver ran through him, 
 as Mr. Jones exclaimed suddenly, " I suppose 
 that those words of hers could only have been 
 ravings, that there could have been no truth 
 in her wild statements, but even if there were, 
 it could not apply to any one here ; I have 
 never heard the name Bryant at Dinglehurst,"" 
 and he put his hand up to his head as if striv- 
 ing to recollect, and then he said, addressing 
 his host, " You have never heard the name I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 Sir Eustace caught the window-frame to 
 steady himself, his hands felt clammy, and a 
 mist seemed to gather over his eyes. The 
 question had come which he had dreaded ; all 
 through these days of suspense he had felt 
 a strange presentiment that it must come, 
 and he had been ready with the answer, 
 ready to perjure his soul, and that of 
 the woman he loved — ready, aye, eager —
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 235 
 
 and yet now, at the supreme moment lie 
 hung back. 
 
 The noble, generous pai-t of him rebelled at 
 the blackness of the lie. For one moment he 
 hesitated. 
 
 The breeze had ruffled the fountain into 
 little ripples, and wavelets, and far away came 
 the sullen roar of the breakers, and, the long- 
 drawn hiss of the surf on the beach, and, with 
 that sound, a vision of Olive, as she appeared 
 on the night of the storm, swept across his 
 gaze. Give her up, now, when he had gained 
 her love I Xow when this great happiness was 
 so near to him ? What were the laws of man 
 compared to such love as theirs ? And was he 
 not bound in honour to stay with her now that 
 he had taught her to love him ? 
 
 With what subtlety does not Cupid lure 
 us from the narrow path of right, and, 
 beckoning, lead us down the broad road of 
 destruction !
 
 236 A STEP ASIDE, 
 
 A bat flew close to Sir Eustace's face. There 
 was a curious gasping, choking sigh, and 
 then his answer cut the air with sharp 
 intentness. 
 
 " I never heard the name." 
 
 There was a stifling silence ; the breeze had 
 dropped ; the bat flew back again with a sullen 
 whirr, and Bogie moaned in his sleep.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 237 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 "I DO wish that you would be quick, Olive. 
 Solomon is coining up the hill, I saw the 
 yellow chariot shine through that hole in the 
 hedge," and Nancy fidgeted round the room in 
 that tiresome, exasperating manner which 
 punctual people have of parading and impress- 
 ing you wdth their exactness at the precise 
 moment when you would wish to forget it. 
 
 Nancy was distinctly one of that class of 
 persons who seem to bear it inscribed all over 
 them, " I am always ready to the moment.'^ 
 She liked her meals regularly and her pleasures 
 too. 
 
 This afternoon was to be held the pai-ty at
 
 ■238 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 '' The White Ladies " which Mrs. Lopes had 
 decreed was to be on a very magnificent scale. 
 All the county were bidden, and all the county 
 had graciously accepted — No, not all, Lord 
 and Lady Grimsworth and the Ladies Eueful, 
 Lord Bingley's parents and sisters, had signi- 
 fied their disapproval of such worldly enter- 
 tainments by a very emphatic refusal. 
 
 Miss Hannah had also sniffed with greater 
 emphasis, and had not even deigned to reply 
 to Sir Eustace's courteous note. 
 
 " That man's after no good, you may be 
 sure," she remarked tartly to Miss Prudence. 
 " A likely thing, indeed, that a decent Christian 
 woman should be disporting herself at such a 
 frivolous gathering. He's got a dark game 
 behind, you mark my words. He'll turn those 
 girls' heads, poor silly fools (they have no more 
 sense now than a fly when he's in a honey jDot) 
 and what they will be after all this gadding 
 about no sane mortal can say. There'll be a
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 239 
 
 pretty kettle of fish to fry, and no one but 
 yourself to thank." 
 
 Miss Prudence smiled, and imagined she 
 understood Sir Eustace's game. 
 
 She watched with tender interest and delight 
 the little love drama of her niece. Once again 
 since the dinner party at the Manor she had 
 hinted at the idea to Hannah, but she had 
 been met by a grim smile and the words, "You 
 don't know men. Prudence ; I never met one 
 yet whom you could trust ; they are all 
 buttered on both sides ! No use imagming 
 that you have got all the butter, just turn 
 them over and you will find it quite as thick 
 on the other side. They are as fickle as fleas! 
 If they cannot suck one person's blood, they 
 will another's ! " 
 
 Olive had been silent and preoccupied since 
 the night of the wreck. She had been angry 
 with herself for her impulsiveness. She hardly 
 remembered her words, but she felt that her
 
 24() A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 self-control had deserted her, and that she 
 had hetrayed something more than interest in 
 Sir Eustace. 
 
 Her cheeks glowed with shame, as she 
 recalled those minntes. What must he have 
 thought of her ? How could she have lost all 
 seK restraint, all modesty, she told herself, as 
 to beg him to stay? How could she, a woman 
 with a brave, fearless nature, have entreated 
 him to behave like a coward ? Because — and 
 she half buried her face in her hands, as she 
 whispered the answer — " Because she loved 
 him," and then a few stern lines gathered 
 round her mouth, and an almost cold light 
 glittered in the grey eyes. 
 
 Olive Lavendercombe was an intensely proud 
 woman, and the feeling that in a moment of 
 great mental excitement she had been induced 
 to lay bare the secret of her heart was gall and 
 wormwood to her reserved and sensitive nature. 
 She tortured herself by going over and over in
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 241 
 
 lier mind that scene, and by striving to recollect 
 her hasty passionate words. 
 
 How could she have lost her self-control, and 
 allowed her deep, half -fierce agony to disjDlay 
 itself. She longed with a feverish desire to 
 see Sir Eustace again, and yet she feared that 
 meeting ; it meant all or nothing to her ; and 
 one moment her heart bounded with hope, and 
 the next it sank down like lead. 
 
 As each day of that weary week rolled away, 
 Olive became more restless and miserable. 
 Why did he not come ? She listened eagerly 
 for his step, and each time the shrill door bell 
 rang it sent a thrill through her, a thrill w^hich 
 turned to a shiver of disappointment when she 
 found it was not he. 
 
 To-day they were to meet, and Olive felt 
 an indescribable shyness and fear creeping 
 over her. She lingered long over her toilette, 
 she twisted up those strands of dusky hair 
 with trembling uncertain fingers, and she 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 gazed at the reflection of lier pale face witli 
 mute dissatisfaction. 
 
 Nancy, as I have abeady said, was mean- 
 while fidgetting round the room. 
 
 " I never saw such a dawdle as you are ! " 
 she exclaimed at last. " Eeally, Olive, one 
 would imagine that you expected to meet the 
 Great Mogul himself, instead of the good 
 folks of Downshire, who have no more idea 
 of clothing themselves than," and she hesitated, 
 " let me see — than Bridget ! " 
 
 Nancy, after Ave years in New York City, 
 imagined she was an authority upon the subject 
 of dress. 
 
 Hannah watched them depart with a sour 
 smile, and remarked to Bridget, "I do not 
 understand these new-fangled ways ; when I 
 was young the men came courting the girls, 
 now they have twisted things awry, and the 
 girls go courting the men." 
 
 Bridget only shrugged her shoulders, and
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 243 
 
 replied that she supposed they'd best go with 
 the stream, unless they wished to be left high 
 and dry on the bank ! 
 
 The yellow chariot rolled peacefully away, 
 through deep lanes where blue shadow^s played 
 fantastically on the ferns and purple foxgloves 
 which decked the steep sides. Overhead the 
 trees mingled their broTsm arms and waved 
 iheir green banner of leaves joyfully, allowing 
 here and there a sunbeam to creep in and fleck 
 the road with delicate luminous rays. 
 
 " The White Ladies " had donned its most 
 festive garb. 
 
 The house was Elizabethan, and composed 
 of mellow tinted red brick with grey stone 
 muUion windows. It was built in a square 
 block with curious little round towers at each 
 corner surmounted by extinguisher roofs. 
 Eound the house, girding it in, lay the stately 
 old-world garden ^\4th stone balustrades ; 
 quaint fountains, where gold fishes disported 
 
 R 2
 
 244 ^ ^"^TEP ASIDE. 
 
 tliemselves, and tall dipt yew-liedg-es, which 
 rose in dignified outline, and formed cool, 
 shady alleys, Avhere you almost thought to 
 meet dames in powder and brocade, attended 
 bv devoted cavaliers in velvet coats and 
 pig -tails. 
 
 The very nineteenth century company that 
 were now assembled on those broad gravel paths 
 and emerald turf appeared very incongruous 
 and out of sympathy with the spirit of the 
 place. 
 
 It seemed almost an irreverence to see the 
 modern young lady of the period tearing about 
 at lawn-tennis over that delicate sward which 
 had once been pressed by the feet of those 
 dignified old-world dames. 
 
 I have no intention of describing a garden- 
 party. My readers have doubtless all suffered 
 from those entertainments, and will therefore 
 be thankful to be spared a repetition of their 
 woes. Sufiiceth it to say that there were
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 245 
 
 lawn-tennis nets, croquet, marquees with every 
 Kind of wholesome and unwholesome eatables, 
 and two village bands which played within 
 earshot of each other, and who got their tunes 
 into a hopelessly excruciating tangle. 
 
 Unmusical people certainly have a very 
 great advantage on those occasions. I am not 
 altogether sure that the balance is not more 
 often on their side than on ours. 
 
 '' Mademoiselle, I am overjoyed to perceive 
 you," and Count de Yillebois rushed up to 
 Nancy, his little sallow face drawing itself 
 into puckers of pleasurable delight. " But 
 why are you so much en retard ? " 
 
 *' We generally are," replied Nancy, crossly, 
 '' Olive is always unpunctual. I tell her she 
 will be late for her own funeral ! " and the 
 girl's eyes wandered away wistfully round 
 the crowd of faces near to her, as if in search 
 of some one. 
 
 She gave an impatient sigh as her gaze
 
 246 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 swept, seemingly in vain over the various 
 groups that surrounded them, and a look of 
 disappointment sprang into those laughing 
 blue eyes. 
 
 Nancy was not sure that the day was so 
 lovely as she had thought ; the wind was a 
 trifle chilly, and, after all, garden-parties were 
 rather a bore. As she arrived at this dispirit- 
 ing conclusion Count de Yillebois broke in 
 upon her meditation by again recalling her 
 attention to himself. 
 
 *' You will permit me the honour of walking 
 with you. Mademoiselle, will you not ? just 
 mie petite promenade," and he looked eagerly 
 into the girl's face. 
 
 Nancy acquiesced silently with the air of a 
 martyr. She was asking herself why she 
 minded Lord Bingley's absence so much; what 
 difference could it make to her if he came or 
 not? Yes, the wind certainly was cold, and 
 the sun was so dreadfully scorching.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 247 
 
 They wandered on some way from the rest, 
 Count de Villebois talking vohibly in his little 
 squeaky voice. 
 
 They passed several couples, Mrs. Lopes and 
 Cyril Fitzgerald seated on a bench, the latter 
 reclining in a languishing attitude with that 
 studied bored expression, which is generally 
 adopted by individuals of that type; and after 
 them passed Mr. Jones and Olive, the latter 
 looking distrait and anxious, the former talk- 
 ing with animation, a bright light illumining 
 his pale face. 
 
 Nancy turned and looked after them. She 
 felt a touch of pity for the curate, and then 
 she murmured to herseK, " I wonder if the 
 world always goes as wrong as it is doing 
 to-day ? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you do not listen to what T 
 am relating," cried the poor little count, getting 
 quite red with excitement, " I have asked you 
 trois fois if you would not like to live in mon
 
 248 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 cher Paris ; it is so gay, so brilliant. Tell me 
 if it would not please yon to inhabit that 
 adorable ville ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course I should like it very much," 
 replied Nancy absently, utterly unaware of 
 what she was saying, and then suddenly break- 
 ing off, as she felt that in some abstruse way 
 she had committed herself. " I mean," she 
 stammered, that — that — " 
 
 But Count de Yillebois did not wait for the 
 last hesitating words ; he had launched forth 
 into a torrent of entreaties and professions of 
 eternal love and devotion. The words poured 
 forth in a perfect cascade of French volubility, 
 and he waved his arms wildly like a windmill 
 round his head, as he gesticulated with 
 passionate emphasis. 
 
 Nancy's sense of the ludicrous was sorely 
 tried, and she strove to hide her amusement, 
 and stifle her mirth. 
 
 They had wandered some way from the
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 249 
 
 garden, and were now in a kind of wilderness 
 of shrubs and low undergrowth. White- 
 stemmed birches hung their green tresses of 
 leaves in picturesque disorder over a small 
 pond, which was surrounded by a rustic wooden 
 paling. 
 
 Nancy leant over the rails and looked down 
 contemplatively into the stagnant water, which 
 was a muddy brown. Patches of oily slime 
 floated on the surface, and mingled with dank 
 reeds and green duckweed. 
 
 She tried once or twice to stem the tide of 
 the Count's vociferous protestations, but all in 
 vain ; the Frenchman's excitability was im- 
 possible to repress. 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle, you have no notion 
 of my love ; comme je vous aime ! comme 
 je vous adore ! pour moi vous etes une ange. 
 If you will only grant my prayer, and 
 become ma femme! " and he dropped on his 
 knees in front of her, and caught her hands
 
 250 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 and pressed them with passionate fervour to 
 his lips. 
 
 Nancy drew herself away sharply, as she 
 said, " Please get up, Count de Yillebois, you 
 will get rheumatism, the grass is extremely 
 damp, and — and well — though I am ever so 
 flattered by your professions of affection, it is 
 impossible for me to become your wife." 
 
 " Impossible, Mademoiselle," and the 
 little man started up, his face growing 
 suddenly drawn and ashen, and his hands 
 trembling violently as they grasped the 
 wooden railing. 
 
 Nancy's heart smote her, she could not bear 
 to give pain. 
 
 " I am terribly sorry," she went on softly, 
 " dreadfully sorry to give you pain, but — but 
 I cannot marry you, indeed I camiot, because 
 I do not love you." 
 
 " But I will persuade you, Mademoiselle," 
 he cried ; " only let me make the attempt,"
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 251 
 
 and he clasped liis hands together with im- 
 passioned fervour. 
 
 Nancy shook her head. " No, it is useless. 
 Please, please, go away, and — forget me." 
 
 " Forget you, Mademoiselle ; how can I 
 forget? C'est impossible, you are ma vie, my 
 love is for Tetemite," and the black eyes grew 
 suddenly dim, and then two large tears broke 
 loose, and began to roll slowly down his sallow 
 cheeks. 
 
 Again an irresistible longing to laugh 
 possessed Nancy ; it was so melodramatic, like 
 a scene in a play — this little man with his 
 theatrical attitudes and passionate declara- 
 tions. 
 
 But the tears arrested her laughter; they 
 fascinated her with a mesmeric interest, she 
 could not take her eyes off them. Would they 
 stop at those creases near to his nose ? or would 
 they go on, and trickle off his chin and then 
 fall in nasty, ugly, wet blotches on his light
 
 ,252 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 grey suit, a suit wliicli, by-the-bye, he prided 
 himseK was quite a Vanglaise. 
 
 The tears had nearly reached the creases, 
 Nancy was breathless with excitement — yes, 
 they had stopped ; that little ridge near to his 
 mouth had caught them — No, they were coming 
 on slowly now in little jerks and bounds over 
 the uneven surface of his chin. 
 
 Nancy could bear the suspense no longer ; 
 one tear had reached the very edge, and was 
 preparing forthwith to precipitate itself on to 
 the dove -coloured clothes, when Nancy rushed 
 forward with her handkerchief extended, and 
 quickly and skilfully wiped the stream away. 
 
 " Please don't cry," she said hui-riedly, " it 
 makes me just miserable to see people weep, 
 and it will spoil your clothes. I am ever so 
 sorry about this, but — but — I thought it was 
 all fun, that you were not serious," and Nancy 
 laughed a little nervously. 
 
 " Not serious ! Moi ! " cried the little
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 253 
 
 Frenchman, breaking forth into a fresh 
 paroxysm of excitement. " Ah ! Ma mere ! 
 Ma mere ! that I, your son should live to hear 
 this accusation ! Ah ! Mon Dieu ! " and then, 
 with a frenzied movement, he threw up his 
 arms as if imploring aid from the blue heaven, 
 and staggered back against the rustic paling. 
 
 There was a sound of cracking wood — a faint 
 cry — and then a splash and a gurgle. Nancy 
 was just in tune to behold the grey suit sink 
 tragically beneath the green duckweed in the 
 pond. 
 
 She gave a little scream, and gazed helplessly 
 at the disturbed oily surface of the water. 
 
 An instant later, and there was a spluttering 
 coughing sound, and then a drenched head not 
 unlike a seal appeared above the surface, and a 
 figure resembling the Old Man of the Sea 
 crawled up the bank. 
 
 Nancy made a valiant attempt to control her 
 feelings, but alas ! they were too strong for her.
 
 254 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 and she broke forth into peal after peal of 
 laughter. 
 
 Truly Count de Yillebois' appearance was 
 ludicrous to behold. He stood there a shiver- 
 ing, dripping object, his beautiful grey clothes 
 bespattered with black mud and slime, and the 
 water pouring in streams and rivulets from 
 every part of his person, making small lakes 
 and ponds on the grass, white wound about 
 him, not ungracefully, were long fibrous trails 
 of green weed, which curled round his arms 
 and legs like some weird sea serpent. 
 
 " I am ever so sorry," cried Nancy, between 
 her bursts of merriment, "I do hope that you 
 will not catch cold, do go right off and change 
 your clothes. Forgive me for — for — laughing, 
 but — but — " here her mirth again got the 
 better of her, " you do look so — very — 
 peculiar." 
 
 The Frenchman turned livid with rage, he 
 drew himself up to his full height, fixe feet.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 255 
 
 three inclies, and exclaimed, " Mademoiselle, 
 you do mock at me in my trouble ; you insult 
 me in my misfortune. I renounce you, I put 
 you out of my heart ; you are unworthy of the 
 love of Alexandre de Yillebois," and with a 
 withering look of scorn, he turned and strode 
 away, bristling with fury. 
 
 His back view presented a more ridiculous 
 picture than it is possible to depict ; his 
 drenched clothes clung to his figure in a soaked 
 mass, and long ropes of greasy black slime 
 trailed after him, upon which clung a small 
 army of snails and tadpoles. 
 
 Nancy watched him out of sight, and then 
 
 she threw herself down on the grass and 
 
 laughed till she cried. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Olive left Mr. Jones to entertain Miss 
 Prudence, and wandered away by herself into 
 the house. 
 
 The old lady sighed as she watched that
 
 256 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 slim willowy figm-e depart ; she understood the 
 restless longing that possessed the girl. Had 
 she not felt that longing herself once long, 
 long ago ? but now the years had mellowed 
 the passionate cravings of youth, and the 
 blessed calmness of old age was wrapping her 
 round in a mantle of content. 
 
 How peaceful she looked seated there, with 
 the background of that stately mansion, and 
 the graceful pleasaunce bathed in glistening 
 sunlight. The old lady looked so thoroughly 
 in character with her surroundings. 
 
 She had been talking to Mr. Jones, but he 
 had been called away and she now sat silent 
 and alone. Her eyes wandered over the scene 
 before her with a smile of placid contentment. 
 She listened to the joyous voices of the lawn- 
 tennis players, and her gaze lingered for a 
 moment on a more sober game of croquet, and 
 then turned with wistful delight to a vista of 
 sapphire sea that peeped through a rift in
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 257 
 
 the trees. How lovely it was ! that picture 
 framed by arching boughs and fluttering 
 leaves, and with the sunlight gleaming on the 
 white sails of the fishing-boats, which were 
 skimming away like phantom ships over the 
 glassy surface of that blue ocean. 
 
 Prudence loved the sea, loved it with an 
 almost reverential affection, though it had 
 robbed her of her lover ; still it had been his 
 home, and her eyes gathered a peculiar tender- 
 ness as they rested upon it. 
 
 She did not envy the young, happy people 
 around her, those w^ho still held the grand 
 possibilities of life, who still grasped 
 feverishly at what they deemed its happi- 
 ness to mean. 
 
 Surely the compensation and blessing of age 
 is that those passionate longings and restless 
 desires are over ; and as we watch the rays 
 of life slanting into the peaceful west, we, 
 like Miss Prudence, shall be content to wait 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 for the fulfilment of those joys which God 
 saw fit to withhold from us here. 
 
 * ^' * * * 
 
 Olive walked slowly into the house. She 
 lingered for a moment in the library, and then 
 passed on into the large cool drawing-room 
 where the air was heavy with the scent of 
 white lilac and crimson roses. 
 
 Tlie room had a terribly un-lived-in ap- 
 pearance, with its stiff Louis XIV. furniture. 
 The chairs, with their carved and gilded backs, 
 gave a chilling sensation of august hauteur, 
 but Olive turned away from the forbidding 
 chairs and tables, and looked with relief at 
 the walls, upon which hung a fascinating 
 company of old-world ladies and gentlemen, 
 Sir Joshuas, Gainsboroughs, and Eomneys, 
 with here and there a dark Eembrandt. 
 
 Olive looked at them slowly, one by one, 
 and then stood rivetted before a small picture 
 that hung some way removed from the rest.
 
 A STEP ASIDE, 259 
 
 It was evidently by a modern artist, and 
 its subject was allegorical. It represented a 
 man standing in the foreground, and gazing 
 intently along two roads ; the first was bleak 
 and cold, and stretched away over moorland 
 and storm tossed mountains. The other road 
 wound through sunny groves of palms, with 
 rare blossoms hanging in delicate festoons 
 from stem to stem ; a woman stood under the 
 shadow of the palms and beckoned to him. 
 She had a face of intense wistful beauty, and 
 she held out her arms toward him beseechingly ; 
 but he hesitated; his eyes gazed with wild 
 desire at her fair form, but his feet strove to 
 turn away into the other path. He stood 
 irresolute. 
 
 The picture was marvellous in its expressive- 
 ness ; you saw the battle that was raging 
 within the man's soul, the struggle of 
 right and wrong which were fighting for the 
 mastery.
 
 26o A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 Olive stood spell-bound, so lost in the 
 contemplation of the story that she did not 
 hear a step approaching ; she started as Sir 
 Eustace's voice said, close to her, " Are you 
 interested in that picture ? " 
 
 She turned quickly, a faint blush tinging 
 her face, and a thrill of half fear, half joy 
 trembling through her. It was their first 
 meeting, except for the conventional greeting, 
 and the girl realized all that it meant ; but she 
 controlled her emotions with an effort, and 
 said, pointing to the picture, " Which road 
 did he choose ? " 
 
 " The pleasant path, of course," replied 
 Sir Eustace. " How could he leave the 
 woman he loved ? " he went on passionately, 
 his eyes devouring her face. " Why should 
 he go away alone, and give up love and 
 happiness ? " 
 
 His voice quivered strangely. Olive broke 
 off a spray of white lilac, and toyed with it
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 261 
 
 nervously. How in the bitter future did the 
 perfume recall that scene. 
 
 ''Answer me," cried Sir Eustace, half sternly. 
 " Say, was he not right to give up all, to 
 sacrifice all, for love and happiness ? " 
 
 " Happiness ! Is there any real happiness 
 on earth ? " whispered Olive. " And surely if 
 there is, that ought not to be the only goal of 
 our life." The words seemed to rush forth 
 without her bidding. 
 
 ''^Yh^t have we to live for but that?" 
 exclaimed Sir Eustace, vehemently, coming 
 nearer to her, his eyes flashing a thousand 
 lights and shades, and his brow contracted by 
 the strong emotion. 
 
 " The future life," came again almost un- 
 willingly from Olive's lips, and then she half 
 started, and said earnestly, " Surely this exist- 
 ence is but the prelude to the other, and 
 what matter if in acting rightly the chords 
 we strike here are minors, providing that
 
 262 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 hereafter they resolve themselves into the 
 glorious harmonies of heaven? " 
 
 " But how can you gain heaven without the 
 help of a loving hand? " murmured Sir Eustace, 
 turning and gazing again at the picture, and 
 then he whispered, taking the sprig of lilac 
 out of her fingers, " Olive did you mean those 
 hlessed words which you spoke on the night of 
 the wreck ? Was it true what your eyes told 
 me?" 
 
 They stood there silent, the girl with bent 
 head and throbbmg heart, the man with the 
 intense unutterable longing of a great love 
 working his face. 
 
 He had thrown all scruples to the winds. 
 The overwhelming desire to possess her drove 
 every thought away, and he had lost all control 
 in the wildness of his love. 
 
 The broken spray of lilac lay between them 
 on the carpet, and outside the strains of the 
 band floated in, mellowed by distance.
 
 A STEP ASIDE. 263 
 
 He came a little nearer, and his foot crushed 
 the lilac blossoms, and the scent seemed to 
 spring up more strongly, and suddenly outside, 
 Mrs. Lopes' shrill little voice was heard 
 enunciating with harsh distinctness, " He 
 certainly ought to marry, but young men 
 are so tiresome, they — " and she di'opped 
 her voice discreetly, and then continued 
 louder, " But it is positively wicked 
 that this lovely place should not have a 
 mistress." 
 
 Sir Eustace started, and then he caught 
 Olive's hands in his, and murmured, " Olive, 
 my darling, will you give yom'self to my 
 keeping ? will you become mistress of ' The 
 White Ladies?'" 
 
 The words choked him, and for a moment 
 another scene rose up out of the past, and 
 swept across his gaze. 
 
 A night in Australia, under a verandah 
 shaded with bougainvillea and allamanda, and
 
 264 A STEP ASIDE. 
 
 a girl standing in the soft southern moonlight, 
 her hands clasped in his — and — 
 
 It had gone, vanished, only the living 
 present remained — the stately room, the per- 
 fume of white lilac, and Olive, her eyes 
 answering his question, and her graceful form 
 encircled by his loving embrace. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.