L I E) RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLI NOIS 
 
 H55/: 
 
THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER 
 
THE 
 
 SJ^ARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 MRS. ALEXANDER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the WOOING O'T," " THE FRERES," "SECOND LIFE, 
 "MONA'S choice," ETC. ETC. 
 
 In ^f^ut T^olumes. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited 
 
 LONDON, PARIS tt- MELBOURNE. 
 
 1892. 
 
 [all rights reserved.] 
 
823) 
 
 V. "1 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ PAGE 
 
 Matters of Business l 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 ^ An Old Acquaintance 26 
 
 ^ CHAPTER III. 
 
 ^ Taking Possession 50 
 
 ^ CHAPTER IV. 
 
 — 7 
 
 A Visitor 72 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 Tea in a Studio 88 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Master and Pupil Ill 
 
 ^ 
 
viii THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Turn of the Tide 133 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Thin End of the Wedge 156 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 1 
 
 In the Toils ...... . . 180 j 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER X. 1 
 
 Gathering Fears 206 
 
THE 
 
 SNARE OF THE FOWLER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 
 
 Among the passengers who ahghted at Earl's Court 
 from a Mansion House train one fine warm afternoon 
 in July, was a short, dapper, wiry man, of uncertain 
 age. He was exceedingly fresh and spruce in his 
 attire, with light hay- coloured hair, whiskers a shade 
 or two darker, and green-grey twinkling eyes. He 
 carried a tightly rolled umbrella in one hand, and in 
 the other a professional-looking black bag, new and 
 shiny. His air and bearing were almost offensively 
 prosperous and self-satisfied. 
 
 He ran actively up-stairs, apologised effusively to a 
 lady with whom he had almost come into collision, 
 and leaving the station took the first turning on the 
 right, which is that well-known and highly respectable 
 
2 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 street, Melford Road, which debouches on the older 
 thoroughfare called Salisbury Avenue. 
 
 The houses were of the correct " Queen Anne " 
 pattern, in red brick, with bay windows, balconies, 
 porches, and pediments, but on a diminished scale ; a 
 quiet, orderly street, where the curtains usually looked 
 fresh and the brasses were conscientiously polished. 
 Yet not a street suggestive of wealth or luxury — rather 
 of genteel independence and severe self-respect. 
 
 With a certain air of familiarity the spruce way- 
 farer walked straight to the door of a house half-way 
 down on the left side, and rang. 
 
 The door was promptly opened by a grave-looking 
 servant in black, with a beautiful white apron and 
 cap, the latter decorated with black ribbons. 
 
 " Can I see Mrs. Dallas ? " asked the visitor. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; this way, sir," and she preceded him up- 
 stairs, past a small well-kept conservatory, to a door 
 draped with some "greenery-yallery " art stuff; opening 
 which, she ushered him into a pretty, comfortable 
 drawing-room, saying in a subdued tone, '* Mr. D cedes, 
 if you please, 'm." 
 
 A lady who was sitting at a writing-table in the 
 usual smaller back room rose and came forward to 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 3 
 
 meet him — a tall lady, with a remarkably graceful, 
 though rather full, figure. She was dark — very dark, 
 and pale ; but her lips were red — redder than seemed 
 quite natural. She was carefully dressed in fresh 
 widow's Aveeds, and her thick black hair showed in 
 strong contrast to the soft snowy whiteness of her cap. 
 
 " You are very good to come so early," she said, 
 with a smile, while her great lustrous dark eyes looked 
 kindly on him, as she held out her hand — a very 
 small hand, but darker than her face, and glittering 
 with gems ; she spoke low, with some deliberation, 
 and her voice sounded slightly guttural : " I know 
 you are a very busy man." 
 
 " Your aftairs are my business at present," said Mr. 
 Deedes, in a friendly but respectful tone. " I have 
 brought the papers you wished to see." He laid his 
 bag on a small ottoman, and took the chair to which 
 she pointed. 
 
 " I trust you feel more composed — more your- 
 self?" 
 
 " Thank you ! I find work my best help — and I 
 have much to do." 
 
 " Just so ; yet you are spared much trouble and 
 vexation by your late husband's action in settling his 
 B 2 
 
4 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 property on you during his lifetime. It has also 
 saved you a considerable sum." 
 
 The lady sighed. 
 
 " He was always so infinitely thoughtful for me in 
 every way — too thoughtful. The present is unspeak- 
 ably desolate, now that his helping hand is withdrawn 
 from me for ever." She paused abruptly, as though 
 striving to control her feelings. 
 
 Mr. Deedes preserved a sympathetic silence, and 
 seemed to study the pattern of the carpet with much 
 attention. 
 
 " I must not waste your time, my dear sir," she 
 resumed, in a firmer voice. " I have asked you for 
 this information as I must know how I stand exactly 
 before I make any plans ; and I confess I feel anxious 
 for chansfe of air and scene." 
 
 " Very naturally ! I do not think there is much 
 unknown to you in Colonel Dallas's affairs. That 
 sum of five thousand three hundred, which you 
 very wisely induced him to invest in Indian railway 
 shares, is now worth three-eighths per cent, more than 
 he bought in. I have brought you a list of securities, 
 and some notes as to the mortgage." 
 
 He proceeded to unlock his bag and produce 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. ^ 
 
 sundry documents which he and his cHent discussed 
 for the next quarter of an hour with a degree of com- 
 prehension on the lady's part that, if possible, in- 
 creased the respectful admiration with which her 
 legal adviser regarded her. He had begun to return 
 some of the papers to their receptacle, and to lay aside 
 others to be retained by Mrs. Dallas, when she rose 
 and rang the bell. 
 
 " I am forgetting that you must sorely need a cup 
 of tea," she said, with her grave, soft smile. " How 
 selfish sorrow and preoccupation make one ! — Tea 
 at once," she added, when the servant appeared. "It 
 is indeed fortunate that my dear husband's care 
 spared me the cost of proving his will and of succes- 
 sion duty. As it is, I shall have a greatly diminished 
 income — his half-pay and pension are very inade- 
 quately replaced by the small amount left to me. Do 
 not imagine I complain; my tastes and habits are simple 
 enough, but I feel anxious to push my son's fortunes. 
 You know he failed, through ill-health, to pass for 
 the Indian Civil Service, and I succeeded in getting 
 him into Messrs. Overton and Colville's house — they 
 are connections of his father, my first husband. 
 He seems to be doing well, but he has cost me 
 
6 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLEF. 
 
 money. However, I thank Heaven this tie is left to 
 me." 
 
 She rose and went to a small tea-table near the 
 bay window, through which came the scent of flowers. 
 The tea was daintily served, though the equipage was 
 inexpensive, save for a pretty, old-fashioned silver tea- 
 pot ; but the tea itself was fragrant and of the best ; 
 the thin brown bread-and-butter was fresh, and the 
 biscuits were delicate and crisp. Mr. Deedes was evi- 
 dently quite alive to the merits of afternoon tea, and 
 for a few minutes there was silence, while the fair 
 widow's guest imbibed the cheering cup. 
 
 " You were, I think, somewhat uneasy respecting 
 that five thousand," he resumed. " But it is quite 
 safe. It is included in the deed of gift which the 
 colonel executed little more than a year ago. I 
 suppose the late Mr. Frederic Dallas left httle or no 
 property ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas shook her head. " A mere trifle — the 
 remains of his capital, on which he had been living 
 for some years," she replied. "He was indeed a 
 rolling stone, poor fellow ! I never saw him, but my 
 husband was greatly attached to him, though they 
 rarely met after their boyish days. It is from a 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 7 
 
 desire to carry out liis wishes that I have, perhaps 
 imprudently, undertaken the supervision and partial 
 support of Mr. Frederic Dallas's daughter." 
 
 " His daughter ? I thought he died unmarried ? " 
 
 " He did, I am very sorry to say, which makes the 
 case a pecidiarly hard one. Colonel Dallas, when he 
 retired and left India to join me in London, travelled 
 from Brindisi to Munich, where his brother had 
 resided for some time. My husband found him 
 dying of fever, too far gone to speak, but I believe 
 he made some gesture as if he would commit this 
 girl to his brother's care. So Colonel Dallas, who 
 was most generous and impulsive, brought her to 
 me. I confess I thought it extremely imprudent, 
 and I persuaded him to place her at school. She 
 was only fifteen, terribly untrained, and altogether 
 difficult. I have impressed upon her the necessity of 
 fitting herself to earn her own bread." 
 
 " Of course, of course — poor young thing ! " 
 ejaculated Deedes. " It is a painful position." 
 
 " Exceedingly painful," returned Mrs. Dallas. 
 "Justly or unjustly, there is a prejudice against 
 persons so situated, and this girl's conduct is not 
 calculated to remove it. She is headstrong, and 
 
8 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 somewhat inclined to coquetry; indeed, I do not 
 care to have her in the house with my son. It might 
 be well to tell her the truth about herself, but 
 Colonel Dallas was always averse to letting her know. 
 In fact, he was perhaps weakly tender towards her ; 
 but I hardly like to go against his wishes now he is 
 gone." 
 
 " It would do no good to destroy her respect for 
 her parents," said the lawyer gravely. " Such know- 
 ledge might harden as well as mortify her." 
 
 " It is impossible to say," returned Mrs. Dallas 
 coldly, and paused ; then, with a change of tone, she 
 resumed, " I have not found the papers you thought 
 might be amongst my late husband's, but I have not 
 looked through half of them yet ; there are some of 
 his brother's also, and the leases may be among them. 
 The property is of little value, you say ? " 
 
 " Little or none ; merely a couple of tumble-down 
 houses in a country town ; but as these are the only 
 part of his estate not included in the deed of gift 
 to yourself, why, we must hand them over to Captain 
 Forrester, his next-of-kin." 
 
 "He is but a second or third cousin," said the 
 widow, in a res^retful tone. 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 9 
 
 " Even so ; Colonel Dallas had no nearer relative ; 
 the family has dwindled sadly of late years." 
 
 " I imagine it must have almost died out with my 
 husband," she said thoughtfully. " Take another cup 
 of tea, Mr. Deedes ? " 
 
 " Thank you ! I really must exceed my usual 
 allowance ; it is too good." 
 
 After some further talk respecting investments 
 and affairs generally, the lawyer rose to take leave, 
 when a young man entered somewhat abruptly, ex- 
 claiming, " Mother ! " Then, seeing Deedes, he paused, 
 and added, " I did not know you were engaged ! " 
 
 " Good-day, Mr. Ashby," said the la^vyer. " I need 
 not trouble Mrs. Dallas any longer ; I was just wishing 
 her good-morning." 
 
 "You must not let me shorten your visit," re- 
 turned Ashby, politely offering his hand. 
 
 He was Uke his mother, though darker and less 
 good-looking. His eyes especially resembled hers, 
 save that they were sleepy-looking and more watchful. 
 He was scarcely above middle height, slender and 
 gracefully made, but decidedly un-English in aspect ; 
 a very slight jet-black moustache marked his upper 
 lip, and an almost constant caressing half-smile 
 
10 TEE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 showed a range of dazzlingly white teeth. He looked 
 like a mother's darling, and Mrs. Dallas's great dark 
 eyes softened as they rested on him. 
 
 " I met Myra as I came up from the train," he 
 said, addressing her. " She was coming here. Will 
 you see her ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas hesitated half a moment, and then 
 said — 
 
 " Yes, tell her to come up." 
 
 Young Ashby turned, and left the room, and his 
 mother said quickly, in a low voice — 
 
 " TJiis is the girl we spoke of ! You will under- 
 stand my objections when you see her." 
 
 She had hardly uttered the words, when her son 
 returned, and held the door open to permit a young 
 lady in rather rusty black to walk in. 
 
 She was tall and slight, with a white face, and 
 eyes of rare, real dark blue — very sad, nearly tear- 
 ful eyes. A lot of nut-brown hair was turned back 
 from her face, and not too tidily twisted in a roll, which 
 showed below her shabby black straw hat, with its 
 bows and ends of dusty black ribbon. Her skin was 
 delicately but not pinkly fair, and though her nose 
 was of the retrousse order, it seemed more pathetic 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 11 
 
 than saucy ; an expressive mouth, not very small, was 
 trying to smile, and succeeding tremulously, as she 
 approached Mrs. Dallas, who rose and held out her hand. 
 
 " Well, Myra ! " she said. 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Myra, catching the hand in both 
 her o^vn, " I am so awfully sorry for you ! Such a 
 terrible loss as yours must break your heart. Why — 
 why — would you not let me see him once, only once 
 before he died ? He was my best, my only friend." 
 
 " Do not excite yourself," said Mrs. Dallas gently. 
 " The colonel deserved your deepest gratitude, and if 
 you prove it by following my advice, you will find a 
 friend in me." 
 
 Myra let go her hand, and pressing her handker- 
 chief to her eyes, wept silently for a minute or two, 
 while Mr. D cedes, looking on with a keen sense of 
 discomfort, thought that Mrs. Dallas's fear of this 
 interesting, impulsive girl was not unfounded. 
 
 "I must wish you good-morning," he said hur- 
 riedly. " You will let me know when you have com- 
 pleted your search ; or should you wish to see me 
 before ? " 
 
 " Thank you, my dear sir ! I can never forget 
 your ever-ready kindness." 
 
12 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER, 
 
 *' Shrewd, sensible woman ! and deuced hand- 
 some," was the Httle lawyer's reflection as he 
 left the house. " Shouldn't wonder if she found 
 another husband. Sorry for that poor child, but I 
 daresay the aunt — no, not her aunt — her father's 
 sister-in-law — will be a kind, judicious friend to 
 her." 
 
 " I don't want him listening and prying here," 
 thought his client. 
 
 " Take some tea, Myra ! " she said aloud, in a civil 
 tone. " Try not to give way to grief; self-control is a 
 great power to all, but to those who have their bread 
 to win, it is absolutely essential." 
 
 " I am sure I know that ! " returned Myra. " And 
 I beheve I am better than I used to be ! but when I 
 think that I shall never, never see Uncle Edward 
 again, or hear his voice, I can't keep back the tears ! 
 I could scream out ! " 
 
 " Pray do not," said Mrs. Dallas, " or people will 
 think I have a private lunatic asylum!" and she 
 looked rather sternly at her husband's niece. " People 
 have been shut up for such unbridled emotion before 
 this ! My loss is greater than yours, and I do not cry 
 or scream ! " 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 13 
 
 " All ! you have your son ; I have no one ! " said 
 M}Ta, trying to control herself. 
 
 " I wish my mother's son could console you, Myra," 
 said Ashby, with a long look at the weeping girL 
 " Do dry your eyes, and take some tea or a glass of 
 wine!" 
 
 Myra was silent for another moment, evidently 
 struggling to compose herself ; then she said wearily — 
 
 " No, thank you, I do not want anything." 
 
 " Why did you want to see me, then, Myra ? " 
 asked Mrs. Dallas. 
 
 " I had waited so long thinking you would send 
 for me, I grew afraid you would never see me again ; 
 and though I know you do not like me, I do not want 
 to be thro^vn off and — and disowned; then Mrs. 
 Fairchild constantly asks me what I am going to 
 do, and I do not know what to say ! " 
 
 " I daresay," rephed Mrs. Dallas thoughtfully. " No 
 one hkes to be burdened with a girl — a helpless girl. 
 What do you think of doing yourself, Myra ? " 
 
 " I — I don't know. Have I no money at all, 
 aunt ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas shook her head sadly. 
 
 " But," urged Myra, " my father had some ? We 
 
14 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 were not rich, but we had a servant, and everyone was 
 paid somehow ! " 
 
 "Your father was an artist, and, I suppose, sold 
 his pictures." 
 
 " Very few of them ; and latterly he painted very 
 little. He was so unwell for a long time," replied 
 Myra. 
 
 " Then I fear he must have spent his capital ; at 
 any rate, you may be sure your uncle did not rob you. 
 For his sake, Myra, I am going to make 3^ou an 
 allowance — something to help you to work for your- 
 self — for you cannot expect me to support you alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " No, certainly not! I wish I could do without 
 any help from you. I may later. What can I do ? 
 I hate teaching ; and I know nothing well enough — I 
 would rather be a servant ! " 
 
 "Nonsense, Myra! You have had great advan- 
 tages : you speak German, Itahan, and I believe you 
 draw, you play " 
 
 "I do nothing well," ejaculated Myra, with a 
 desponding gesture. 
 
 " More shame for you, then. I hope you are not 
 lazy ! However, I shall have a consultation with Mrs. 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 15 
 
 Fairchild, who is very friendly to you, as soon as I 
 see what allowance I can make you ; and you must 
 remember you are no relation of mine, and you have 
 no claim upon me." 
 
 " I know that very well ! " said Myra, with increas- 
 ing composure ; " it is an act of charity on your part 
 to give me anything ; but I thought, I did think, my 
 dear good uncle would have remembered me — would 
 have " 
 
 She stopped abruptly, struggling to keep back her 
 tears. Ashby shifted his seat nearer to her, and whis- 
 pered in her ear. 
 
 " Well, Myra, I assure you I did not influence him 
 against you," said Mrs. Dallas, with cold composure. 
 
 " I do not say you did. I do not suppose you did," 
 said M}Ta. " I daresay he did not thmk of me ! Why 
 should he ? After all, I had no real claim upon him ! 
 But I told you I only came to ask you what I ought 
 to say to Mrs. Fairchild. This morning she told me 
 she had great difliculty in finding a German governess, 
 and if I would undertake the class for two or three 
 months, she would give me five pounds a quarter." 
 
 " That is a fair offer," replied Mrs. Dallas. " What 
 did you say in reply ? " 
 
16 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 " I said I would ask you. I could teach German 
 pretty well ; and then I might paint a little." 
 
 " You had better ask Mrs. Fairchild to call on me 
 to-morrow afternoon, if she can, and we will arrange 
 something, at all events for the present." 
 
 "I will, aunt; but she is busy; she is going to 
 Ramsgate next week. Still, I know she wants to see 
 you." 
 
 There was a moment's silence; then, with 
 heightened colour, Myra turned to Ashby, and said, 
 abruptly — 
 
 " I wish you would go away, Lionel ! I want to 
 speak to — to your mother." 
 
 " Very well," said the young man, rising slowly. 
 " But you need not mind me." 
 
 As soon as the door closed behind him, Myra drew 
 her chair nearer to Mrs. Dallas, and looking earnestly 
 at her as if seeking for sympathy, she said hesitatingly — 
 
 " I am so sorry to trouble you, but- — but this is 
 my only dress, and all the money I possess is tenpence- 
 halfpenny," 
 
 " I do not imagine you are a good manager," 
 returned Mrs. Dallas, knitting her brows. " However, 
 I am willing to give you some money on account 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 17 
 
 of tke allowance I shall make you ; but pray be 
 prudent." 
 
 She rose and took a note book out of the drawer of 
 her writing-table, from which she extracted a new, 
 clean five-pound note. " There, Myra, make that go 
 as far as you can. I would close with Mrs. Fairchild's 
 offer ; and I may as well say that you may count on 
 five pounds a quarter from me, so long as you con- 
 duct yourself to my satisfaction." 
 
 Myra looked at her with surprise. 
 
 " I did not think you would have been so generous 
 to me, aunt ! " she exclaimed. " I wdsh you liked 
 me better, so that I might feel more warmly grateful 
 to you ; but I am obliged, very much obliged. One 
 day I may earn enough to maintain myself; then I 
 should be glad to relieve you, aunt." 
 
 " I wish to be just, Myra, and I hope that gratitude 
 to me will induce you to discourage my son's foolish 
 fancy for you, which you know annoys me. It is but 
 a passing whim, but- — -" 
 
 " I always do discourage him ! " interrupted Myra 
 somewhat vehemently. " I do not want his whims or 
 his fancies, and I have no fancy for him, as you know 
 very well, aunt." 
 e 
 
18 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 " I know nothing about what you feel or pretend 
 to feel/' said Mrs. Dallas, with an angry flash from 
 her big black eyes. "But I beg you will not call 
 me ' aunt,' now that your uncle is no more ; there is 
 no connection between us." 
 
 " I shall not forget, Mrs. Dallas," returned Myra, 
 the tears gathering in her eyes. " I will not intrude 
 any longer upon you." 
 
 " Stay, Myra ; you must give me an acknowledg- 
 ment for that five pounds. Now you must expect 
 no more for three months." 
 
 She traced a few lines and gave Myra the pen to 
 sign them. 
 
 Then that young lady drew on her much-mended 
 glove, and looking straight into the black eyes so 
 sternly bent upon her, said — 
 
 " I will not offer you my hand, for I do not think 
 you would Hke to take it. But I am thankful that 
 for my dear uncle's sake you are generous to me. 
 Good-bye." She was gone before Mrs. Dallas could 
 reply. 
 
 " That girl is a puzzle to me," she thought, her 
 eyes still fastened on the door by which she had 
 disappeared. " Is she stupidly proud and distrustful ? 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 19 
 
 or is she stupid only ? I never could make her 
 out ! As to her indifterence to Lionel, that is rank 
 affectation, probably to conceal some design upon the 
 foolish boy. It is amazing that any man can care 
 for such a colourless piece of unformed femininity ; 
 and yet how fond the colonel would have been of 
 her ! Well, it is a costly experiment, but I have done 
 well in stopping her mouth. She will not trouble me 
 much more." 
 
 She returned to her seat by the tea-table, and sat 
 for some minutes in deep thought. 
 
 Meanwhile Myra descended the stairs slowly, and 
 was passing through the hall when the dining-room 
 door opened, and Lionel Ashby came out to interrupt 
 her progress. 
 
 " I cannot let you go back alone, Myra, though 
 you will not deign to give me your confidence ! " 
 
 " Oh ! no ! no, Lionel ! You must not come with 
 me ; I really do not want you. I am accustomed to 
 go about alone, and it is quite unnecessary to make 
 any fuss about me." 
 
 " No matter ! If you do not want me, I want you, 
 Myra ! You shall not treat me with such coldness 
 and contempt," he added, his dark cheek mantling, 
 c 2 
 
20 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 '' You are silly and provoking ! I cannot let you 
 
 come — you will only vex your mother and Let 
 
 me pass, Lionel ! " 
 
 " Yes, you may pass," he said, stepping aside, 
 " but I will come with you to St. John's Wood." 
 
 He took his hat from its peg, and followed her 
 down the steps. 
 
 " You only annoy me, Lionel," she exclaimed, as 
 he walked beside her. " And I am not going to St. 
 John's Wood ! " 
 
 " Then where on earth are you going ? " in a tone 
 of great surprise. 
 
 " To my friend Mrs. Keene." 
 
 " What ! To that inn-keeping woman ! I can't 
 say you have very refined taste, Myrsi ; and you know 
 my mother does not like you to go to these low 
 people." 
 
 " I cannot help that ! Your mother has just told 
 me I am not to consider myself her niece any longer, 
 which has vexed me because she was treating me 
 generously at the same time; but Mrs. Keene is 
 perfectly respectable, and her house is a private hotel. 
 I only go to her own room, and see no one but herself 
 and her grand-daughter. She is the only friend I 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 21 
 
 have, and I am not going to give her up to please you 
 or your mother. I wish you would go back ! Mrs. 
 Dallas will be so annoyed ! — not more than I am." 
 
 " Why are you so unkind, so hard, Myra ? Why 
 will 3^ou not love me ? Other girls are ready enough 
 to listen to me. Why are you so proud and dis- 
 dainful ? " 
 
 " I am not disdainful ! I just do not like you — 
 that is, in the way you want — and I never shall. You 
 are too conceited. You had better put me out of 
 your thoughts and amuse yourself with the girls who 
 do appreciate you." 
 
 " It is no question of amusing myself, Myra. It is 
 something too deep for that ! I wonder," he went on, 
 a fierce light coming into his eyes, " I wonder you are 
 not afraid of treating me so scornfully." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! You don't carry a poniard, do 
 you ? " showing a row of small pearly teeth as she 
 laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 " You drive me mad ! And I so seldom have a 
 chance of speaking to you." 
 
 " I wish you would go back ! There — there is my 
 omnibus. What is the use of sitting in a disagreeable 
 crowded omnibus, where you cannot speak a word 
 
22 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 to me ? besides, I think there is only room for one 
 more. There, it has stopped ! Good-bye ! Don't be 
 cross — I do not want to vex you ! " 
 
 A smile, a quick wave of the hand, and she 
 vanished into the capacious vehicle. 
 
 Lionel Ashby stood for a moment looking after it 
 with a curious, angry, longing glance, while the 
 small brown hand with its dark nails, which hung by 
 his side, clenched itself tightly, and he murmured 
 something — not exactly a blessing. Then he turned 
 and walked sharply back to his mother's house. 
 
 Entering with a latch-key, he met the servant 
 carrying down the tea-things, and found Mrs. Dallas 
 still sitting in deep thought in the window. 
 
 She looked up as he entered. 
 
 " You foolish boy ! " she said, with a frown. " You 
 have taken the trouble of escorting Myra to the 
 train, or the omnibus, and you know how these atten- 
 tions annoy me. I would rather follow you to your 
 grave than see you committed to marriage with Myra ! 
 She is no match for you or for any gentleman ! " 
 
 " Well, my dear mother, at present she is the only 
 woman — the only girl — who could induce me to think 
 of marriage, and that is probably because she does not 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 23 
 
 want me. No match for me ! She, I assure you, does 
 not consider me a match for her." 
 
 " Her insolence is intolerable ! I trust you will 
 see no more of her. I am going to give her a hand- 
 some allowance out of my husband's money, and wash 
 my hands of her." 
 
 " An allowance ! " repeated the . young man with 
 immense surprise. " Why, what — what for Heaven's 
 sake induces you to do such a thing ? It is not like 
 you." 
 
 " Because I think it right. Because I have good 
 reasons, you may be sure." 
 
 " I should think you had ! " he ejaculated ; " though 
 I am pretty sure you will not tell me." 
 
 " Not now, Lionel ; but if you are guided by me 
 and give her up, if you will turn your thoughts and 
 fancies elsewhere, I will take you into my confidence 
 and show you all my plans ; and I have great ambi- 
 tions for you, my son." 
 
 " That is more than I have. I only want to be 
 rich and comfortable, and have Myra all to my- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas made a gesture of disgust and con- 
 tempt. 
 
24 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " What ! " she exclaimed, " a creature that treats 
 you with coldness and disdain ! " 
 
 The young man laughed — not a pleasant laugh. 
 
 " That's what gives a sort of zest to it. I should 
 like to have her in spite of all — if it is all real, which 
 I doubt." 
 
 " So do I," echoed his mother dreamily ; and then 
 silence fell upon them. Mrs. Dallas's thoughts were 
 evidently far away. 
 
 Lionel yawned slightly, and rolled himself a 
 cigarette ; then he stretched out his hand to take a 
 weekly society paper which lay on the sofa near him. 
 For a minute or two he glanced carelessly at it, and 
 then asked, in his usual gentle tone — 
 
 " Isn't this the relative I have heard the colonel 
 talk of ? " And he read aloud : " ' The late George 
 Dallas, Esq., of Harley Street and Crown Court, E.C., 
 is reported to have died intestate. Had Colonel 
 Dallas survived his relative he would, therefore, have 
 been heir to the elder gentleman's wealth, which is 
 considerable. Unfortunately that gallant and distin- 
 guished officer predeceased his uncle by a week.' " 
 
 " What ! " cried Mrs. Dallas, starting to her feet, 
 her eyes blazing with excitement. " That man dead 
 
MATTERS OF BUSINESS. 25 
 
 without a will, only a week after my husband ! and 
 all his wealth consequently lost to me — to you ! 
 My God ! it is too cruel, too bitter a disappointment ' 
 Now it all goes to a distant cousin — an overbearing, 
 empty-headed fellow. You must remember his dining 
 here nearly two years ago — Cecil Forrester ? What 
 spell of ill-luck is on me ? " 
 
 She snatched the paper from her son, read the 
 announcement eagerly, then crushing it in her hands 
 flung it from her with vehement despair. 
 
CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 It was an awful blow. For years tlie chance of 
 possessing old George Dallas's wealth was the dream 
 of her life: and to miss it by a week! Had Mrs. 
 Dallas known that fate had entered both in the race 
 for death, she would have fought the King of 
 Terrors even more desperately than she did, and 
 she had done her best ! For on her husband hung 
 all her plans, all her ambition, though he had not 
 proved the lever she had expected. 
 
 When the beautiful, pensive widow of Dan Ashby 
 — a commissariat officer, said to be rather too fond of 
 " sampling " the rum and brandy provided for the 
 division to which he was attached — came to consult 
 Colonel Dallas respecting her husband's affairs, and 
 to ask some smaU concession for her son, her heart 
 swelled within her as she noticed his increasing 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 27 
 
 tenderness of manner, his lingering looks, his devotion 
 to her interests. 
 
 The daughter of an indigo planter and his native 
 Avife, she had been sent to England for her education, 
 and returned to India with a strong determination to 
 marry none but an Enghsh officer, thereby, as she 
 thought, securing the first step on the ladder leading 
 up to social distinction. She found, however, that 
 poor Dan Ashby was but a broken reed as regarded 
 her purposes, while his death left her in poor circum- 
 stances and social insignificance. 
 
 Now Colonel Dallas was a well-known man in 
 India, a distinguished officer, a man of good family, 
 well bred, and not so very much older than herself. 
 Here she had found the right thing at last, and after 
 some judicious angling she landed her prize. They 
 had not been married more than two or three years 
 when Colonel Dallas met with a bad accident out 
 riding, which was followed by a severe illness, and he 
 was invalided home with small chance of ever again 
 going on active service. 
 
 Established in London with moderate though 
 comfortable means, Mrs. Dallas soon found that she 
 and her husband were lost in the crowd from which 
 
28 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 they had not sufficient fortune to be distinguished. 
 Colonel Dallas's family connections were not 
 numerous, and lived chiefly at their country places. 
 So her restless desire to be accepted in society — 
 fashionable society — remained unsatisfied. She was 
 a persevering woman, however, and kept a fair face. 
 She devoted herself to the care of her husband, and 
 to religion of the High Church order, and was slowly 
 creeping into a circle of aristocratic dowagers and spin- 
 sters, when Colonel Dallas died just a week too soon. 
 
 She had often heard of her husband's aged 
 relative, and sighed with almost sickening desire for 
 the wealth he could confer by a stroke of his pen ! 
 She scarcely dared to hope for any portion of it, for 
 the old gentleman kept all relations at arm's length ; 
 and now when that which might have fulfilled her 
 most ardent wishes, his decease intestate, had oc- 
 curred, unkind Death had stepped in to rob her of 
 the riches she pined for! She had gained an im- 
 mense ascendency over her husband by the exercise of 
 strong self-control, and the careful modelling of her 
 conduct on the lines he approved of, so that Colonel 
 Dallas had no hesitation in leaving his brother's 
 daughter and her affairs in his wife's hands. 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 29 
 
 It was some time before Mrs. Dallas could master 
 her emotion. She paced up and down, clasping and 
 unclasping her hands, murmuring unintelligible syl- 
 lables to herself, and seemingly forgetful of her son's 
 presence. At length he exclaimed — 
 
 " It is no use your tearing yourself in this way, 
 mother; the money is gone — you will never get it 
 back; so try not to think about it. Even if you 
 poisoned this man Forrester, who seems to have got 
 the cash, it would not come to us. We might culti- 
 vate the young fellow ; but I fancy he is not the 
 sort of man I should get on with ! By the way, when 
 do you think of going out of town ? " 
 
 " I do not know ! For the moment I can think of 
 nothing but this awful disappointment ! I have still 
 an immense quantity of papers to sort and examine — 
 heaps to destroy. I cannot think of going any- 
 where." 
 
 " Well, I find I am to have my holiday next week, 
 but of course, if you want me " 
 
 "No, I do not want you in the least! Go, by all 
 means. Where do you think of going ? " 
 
 " I am not sure. Two of my chums want me to 
 join them in an expedition to Dieppe." 
 
30 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Dieppe ! You will spend a heap of money. I 
 cannot afford it." 
 
 " No, I don't suppose I shall. Brown and Dobbs, 
 the men I think of joining, are very prudent fellows ; 
 and I only get a fortnight." 
 
 " I suppose you have put by something for this trip ?" 
 
 " Well, no ; I have a miserable salary, as you 
 know; but when old Overton told me I might have 
 from the second to the twentieth of August, he gave 
 me a fi'pun note, and said I had not done badly ! 
 These lordly Englishmen are terrible thickheads at 
 arithmetic, and waste their money awfully without 
 having much to show ! " 
 
 " If I give you five pounds more, will it do ? " 
 
 " No, my dear mother, certainly not ! Make it 
 fifteen. You can do it easily ! " 
 
 " No, Lionel ! I cannot do it easily. I will give 
 you ten, and if you are run aground, a couple more 
 but not unless you are very hard up. I expect you to 
 make the ten do." 
 
 " Well, I'll try ! " Then, after a pause, he resumed, 
 " So you are going to make Myra an allowance ? 
 What put that into your head ? " 
 
 " Regard for my own reputation ! As the girl was 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 31 
 
 known to be adopted by my husband in a way, I 
 could not send her adrift unprovided for. Now I 
 need not be troubled with her any more ; she will 
 marry some writing-master or traveller, and keep out 
 of my way. I never could bear her, she is so hope- 
 lessly without tact ; you can never tell when she may 
 break into your squares and scatter your reserves — 
 there is a sort of barbarous indifference about her 
 that enrages me ! It is hard to hurt her." 
 
 " Yet she is what's called sensitive ! " observed 
 Lionel, rising as he spoke. " You never could under- 
 stand Myra. I don't think I can either, but that does 
 not matter much. I think I'll take a stroll round to 
 the tennis ground." 
 
 " It is scarcely seemly to show yourself in public 
 so soon ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I shan't play ! — not such a fool ! but I can sit 
 and smoke and talk to anyone I know, though I don't 
 suppose I'll find anyone there — every soul is away." 
 
 " Be sure you are not late for dinner — 7.30." 
 
 " All right," said the youth, and having lit his 
 cigarette he sauntered out of the room. 
 
 ■^ -Jf ^ -Jf -x- 
 
 Meantime, Myra Dallas carried a heavy heart with 
 
32 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 her on her not too rapid progress towards her only 
 friend's abode. She was in that stage of existence 
 when a certain amount of worldly knowledge begins 
 to force itself on the understanding, and instinctively 
 the soft hands of inexperienced girlhood grope half- 
 blindly for friendship, for support, and at this period 
 of awakening her one stay was taken from her. 
 
 On Uncle Edward she had leaned as on a tower of 
 strength. He had always been kind to her ; there 
 was something pitying in his kindness — he always 
 seemed sorry for her. 
 
 This produced a depressing effect. It made her 
 feel there was some sad circumstance in her life that 
 entitled her to constant compassion. Her strong 
 sympathy with him enabled her to bear up against 
 the ill-concealed enmity of his wife, and even to assist 
 her in hiding it, for Myra soon felt the difference of 
 Mrs. Dallas's voice and manner before the colonel, and 
 when he was not present. She knew it would vex 
 him to perceive the tacit dislike which Myra felt so 
 keenly, so she kept up a friendly aspect and held her 
 tongue. 
 
 That her uncle was vaguely aware his wife and 
 niece did not draw to each other she began to see. 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 33 
 
 For her last birthday — an anniversary rarely noticed 
 — he had, in his wife's absence, given her a diamond 
 and sapphire ring roughly set in soft gold, with which 
 she was highly pleased, and she immediately showed 
 it to Mrs. Dallas. That lady dropped her darkly fringed 
 eyes and said amiably that the stones were good, that 
 the colonel also was very good, but as the mounting 
 was quite barbaric she would have it properly set if 
 Myra would give it to her ; to which Myra replied that 
 she preferred the ring just as it was. 
 
 It was a cruel change for her to a London school 
 after having had the run of her father's studio, and 
 the command of his diminutive menage, where 
 their only servant, a kindly old German who adored 
 her and treated her as her own child, was cook and 
 housekeeper ; and where the artists, her father's 
 friends, who came to talk and smoke with him, 
 treated her with aft'ectionate politeness, and even 
 deigned to discuss books and music with the frank 
 outspoken child, as she was then. To be suddenly 
 transported to a stiff middle -class school — where her 
 ways were considered lamentably unsettled and 
 untidy, and where her general information, though 
 rather beyond the average, was accounted quite useless 
 
 D 
 
34 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 for examination purposes— was indeed a trial. At first 
 the sense of strangeness and isolation was intolerable ; 
 she ahnost fretted herself to death, and was only- 
 saved from utter despair by the friendship of the 
 German governess, who quickly developed a 
 schwd7ineTei for her. 
 
 Time, however, levels all things. Gradually poor 
 Myra hardened into something like indifference, and 
 found friends among her schoolmates, though she 
 never became a general favourite, nor did she ever 
 take a high place in her class. She had a good idea 
 of historical periods, but she could not remember 
 dates, nor could she produce precise pigeon-holed bits 
 of information, though she had a clear bird's-eye 
 view of many things. 
 
 Still the days grew more endurable as time went 
 on ; and as her mind matured, occasional vague doubts 
 as to what was to become of her presented themselves. 
 At nineteen, however, the future does not seem 
 terrible ; good must lurk behind the golden mist that 
 enwraps it, and the unknown may hold heights of 
 joy, as well as depths of sorrow. 
 
 Of late her visits to Melford Road were fewer and 
 farther .between. The presence of Lionel Ashby 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 35 
 
 introduced an element of discomfort, and something 
 indefinable had come between her Uncle Edward and 
 herself. His failing health threw him more and more 
 into his wife's hands, and at length the icy grasp of 
 death closed the scene. 
 
 ■)f -x- -K- ^ -x- 
 
 The second day after the conversation above 
 recorded was dull and sultry, and evening was draw- 
 ing m. Ruby Lodge, Vale Terrace, St. John's Wood, 
 Mrs. Fairchild's establishment for young ladies, was 
 in a very desolate condition. The " breaking-up " 
 festivities were over, and the last pupils had departed 
 that morning. Ends of cord, torn paper, morsels 
 of straw, were freely scattered about. Bolsters, 
 pillows, and folded blankets lay in the middle of the 
 deserted beds. The chalk marks were unobliterated 
 on the big black - board in the schoolroom, and 
 Whiteley's men had already removed the drawing- 
 room curtains. Myra had passed a miserable, unem- 
 ployed day. She had nothing to do and nowhere to 
 go. Mrs. Fairchild, who had been breathlessly busy 
 all the morning, had told her as she was going out 
 that she intended calling on Mrs. Dallas, to ascertain 
 her wishes and intentions. 
 D 2 
 
36 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " I hope she will not want to leave you here, 
 Myra," she said, as she put on her gloves in the hall. 
 '' It would be most inconvenient. I want to have a 
 regular clean-up ; it was not properly done last year. 
 However, we shall see ! " with which vague remark 
 she departed. 
 
 The slow hours had dragged through, MjTa had 
 arranged the books in the schoolroom, and tried to 
 finish a piece of fancy work left to her by one of the 
 departing pupils, an occupation in which she was no 
 proficient, and which she dropped after a while, to sit 
 musing over her past happy days in the years which 
 seemed so- far away back. She vaguely heard the 
 house-bell, and after a considerable time a very dusty 
 liousemaid came to inform her that tea was ready. 
 
 In Mrs. Fairchild's private room Myra found that 
 lady in a comfortable morning-gown, seated at tea, 
 the table being spread with some more soHd comesti- 
 bles than bread-and-butter. 
 
 " Come, Myra, let us have something to eat before 
 we talk. I am thoroughly exhausted, and I must get 
 off to-morrow, for I shall only have a short rest, as 
 there are lots of things to be seen to. You are 
 looking rather dazed ; a cup of tea wiU rouse you." 
 
^.V OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 37 
 
 A period of silence ensued, during which Mrs. 
 Fairchild appHed herself vigorously to supply the 
 waste of the last six or seven hours; while Myra, 
 depressed, and anxious to knoiv what was to become 
 of her, pretended to occupy herself with a slice of 
 bread-and-butter. 
 
 " Another cup of tea, Myra ? Then ring the bell 
 and we will send away the things. I feel greatly re- 
 freshed. Such a day as I have had ! I was quite two 
 hours in Westbourne Grove, and then I had to go all 
 the way over to Melford Road." 
 
 A pause while the tray was removed and the gas lit : 
 then when the door was tinally closed she resumed — 
 
 " Well, Myra, I had a long talk with Mrs. Dallas, 
 and I must say a more charming, right-minded 
 woman I have never met ! I am afraid you have 
 given her a good deal of trouble ! Not that she 
 complained, you know, but one could see it." 
 
 " I never gave her any trouble that I know of," 
 said Myra dejectedly. " As far as I can make out, my 
 chief fault is being in the world at all. I seem in 
 everybody's way. Would it oblige Mrs. Dallas if 1 
 were to jump into the Serpentine ? " 
 
 " That is a most unbecoming and irreligious 
 
38 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER 
 
 speech, Myra, and shows how little the precept and 
 
 example set before you in this house have sunk into 
 
 your mind. However, I really haven't time to dwell 
 
 upon these serious topics ! I had a long conversation 
 
 with your aunt, in which she showed a true interest 
 
 in you, and explained your circumstances to me. I 
 
 am therefore willing that you should remain here 
 
 during the holidays, and fill the place of German 
 
 teacher until I can find a really suitable person. 
 
 You can have the small back room on the top 
 
 floor, and take your meals in the study next the 
 
 kitchen — I mean the garden. I must leave cook — she 
 
 is old, but she can be trusted. Jane is leaving, and I 
 
 take Lizzy with me, and it is perhaps better cook should 
 
 not be quite alone. Can you mend linen neatly ? It 
 
 would be rather a nice occupation to look through the 
 
 linen closet and put it all in order. At any rate, do 
 
 the best you can ; the rest and quiet will do you good ; 
 
 and you can write to me every week, and send me the 
 
 amount of the tradesmen's books, which I trust to 
 
 your keeping down as much as possible. Now, Myra, 
 
 I hope you see that I am stretching a point. There 
 
 is scarcely anyone else in the world would do as 
 
 much for you ! " 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 39 
 
 " Ah, yes ; you are right ; now that Uncle Edward 
 is gone ! " 
 
 "Well, I hope you will prove grateful, and heljj 
 me as much as you can. I am a little uneasy about 
 next quarter ; the two Dixons are leaving, and Clara 
 Dillon, and I am not sure little Carry James will 
 return. These are dreadful gaps. I must fill them 
 up somehow ! Mrs. Dallas is extremely kind in offer- 
 ing to recommend my school. Not that I want any 
 of her aristocratic friends — those sort of people are 
 more costly than remunerative ! No ; I shall just 
 stick to the well-to-do middle class." 
 
 Myra gazed at her as though she hardly under- 
 stood her words. " Yes, you are very good," she 
 murmured. 
 
 " I suppose you have nothing else to propose ? " 
 said Mrs. Fairchild sharply. 
 
 " Me ! No ; of course not. I have no one to go 
 to, and — and I will do what you want as well as I 
 can ; but my darning is no great things. I used to 
 watch poor dear old Hedwig mending things, but T 
 never did much myself." 
 
 " Then the present is a great opportunity for you to 
 improve yourself. And now, Myra, I shall go to my 
 
40 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 room, as I have some writing to do. Get to bed soon, for 
 I shall want you to help me in my packing to-morrow 
 morning, and to take directions; so good-night. I 
 hope that you will study to win Mrs. Dallas's regard. 
 I am afraid you have not been as mindful of her 
 opinion as you ought." 
 
 " I am sure I don't know ! I never heard her 
 express any opinion." 
 
 •' Ah, Myra ! that is the speech of an unchastened 
 and perverse spirit. There ! you had better go to 
 bed, and pray to God to give you a meek spirit and a 
 contrite heart ! I wish you would tell cook as you 
 pass the kitchen-stair that I shall breakfast at half- 
 past eight, and I should like a bloater and some 
 buttered toast." 
 
 Though Myra was by no means attached to Mrs. 
 Fairchild, she did not dislike her. She was a woman 
 with a cool head, a tranquil temper, and a keen sense 
 of her own interest. 
 
 When first Myra was placed with her she had the 
 prestige of being the niece of Colonel Dallas, and a 
 favourite niece into the bargain, so her sins of untidi- 
 ness and irregularity were tolerated, and gradually 
 diminished. After a while her familiarity with foreign 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 41 
 
 languages made her of use conversationally, and Mrs. 
 Fairchild grew more friendly, though she began to 
 perceive clearly that Myra was a mere dependent on 
 her uncle's bounty. 
 
 It was not, however, till this day that she was 
 aware of the poor girl's sad position. The shrewd 
 little woman (she had a small neat figure, prematurely 
 white hair, and sharp, twinkling, dark brown eyes) 
 had too much sense to be unnecessarily cruel, and 
 she advised Mrs. Dallas to leave Myra in ignorance of 
 the stain upon her birth ; for though far from sensitive 
 herself, she felt instinctively what a paralysing effect 
 the knowledge of this misfortune would have upon 
 such a nature. 
 
 The possibihty of filling up the post of German 
 governess so cheaply charmed Mrs. Fairchild ; for 
 Myra was if anything more familiar with German 
 than with English ; nor was she a bad teacher, though 
 by no means fond of teaching. 
 
 'It was with real regret and moist eyes that Myra 
 bid the active little schoolmistress good-bye for five 
 long weeks. They spread out an appalHng vista of 
 loneliness before her, for Myra was a sociable soul. 
 After all, Mrs. Fairchild was far better than no one, and 
 
42 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEE. 
 
 though Myra's early foreign training did not suggest 
 the complete barrier which exists between ladies and 
 servants in England, the cook, who was left in charge 
 of her and of the house, did not suggest companion- 
 ship. 
 
 The last directions were screamed from the de- 
 parting cab, and Myra turned back to the house 
 sadly enough, with a curious unsettled feeling of 
 being unable to begin anything. Mrs. Fairchild had 
 had an early luncheon or dinner, and a long afternoon 
 awaited her. 
 
 " I'm sure, miss, it will be terrible dull for you," 
 said cook, an elderly woman, short and extremely 
 stout, with a masterful nose, and a taste for fine lan- 
 guage. " Suppose you just go and take a nice walk 
 while I put the little study straight, and then you'll 
 be inclined to partake of tea when you come in ; and 
 don't trouble to begin any needlework till to-morrow. 
 Mrs. Fairchild she 'ave mentioned as you were to look 
 through the 'ouse linen." 
 
 "Yes, cook," said Myra dejectedly; "and I am 
 afraid I shall not do it well. I am rather stupid 
 about needlework." 
 
 " Don't be down-hearted, miss ; there's a good bit 
 
. AX OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 43 
 
 to do, and you mil be quite clever at it by the time 
 you get through." 
 
 " I hope so, cook ; I will take your advice and go 
 out to see a friend who lives some way off, and I may 
 stay to tea with her." 
 
 " Very well, miss ! only don't stay till hafter dusk. 
 You'll hexcuse me ! You see, has you are but a 
 young lady, and being left all to yourself, it is an 
 obligation on you to be very careful ; there's as much 
 mischief done through hignorance as through know- 
 ledge of evil. I do hope you'll not think me pre- 
 sumptions, miss." 
 
 " Indeed I do not, cook," said Myra, smiling 
 through her tears. " I am thankful that anyone cares 
 whether I do right or wrong. I shall come back in 
 dayhght ! " 
 
 It was some time before she could set forth. A 
 flood of tears brought her relief, but made her unfit 
 to be seen till after an elaborate process of bathing 
 her eyes with cold water and fanning them. Then a 
 reaction came, as it does happily to youth. She would 
 go and take some books from the schoolroom library 
 — notably some German books — and a map of 
 London to trace her way to Mrs. Keene's. She 
 
44 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 had not seen that valued friend for a long time, as 
 the latter had not been at home on the occasion of 
 her last visit. 
 
 Mrs. Keene would counsel her respecting a new 
 frock and hat, to say nothing of a few important 
 extras. At nineteen there is always comfort in a new 
 dress, and our Myra was by no means of that lofty 
 mental tone which would lift her above trifles. She 
 had been so unaccustomed to buy anything for herself 
 that she was nervously alive to the danger of not 
 using her scanty supply of cash to the best advantage. 
 As to her uncle's widow, she would never willingly 
 see her face again ! What had she, Myra, done to be 
 treated as an outcast ? Well, she would not break 
 her heart about that. She would dress herself and 
 make her way to her good friend Mrs. Keene, who 
 always treated her with respectful kindness, who had 
 kno^vn her sweet mother, the mother Myra had never 
 known, but who must have been infinitely lovable, 
 if the picture painted b}^ her father, which was one of 
 her few treasures, at all resembled her. It was a 
 long walk from Yale Terrace to Gilbert Street, Great 
 Portland Street, but open air and motion were in- 
 vigorating, and when she reached her destination 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 45 
 
 Myra felt rather less fatigued than when she set 
 out. 
 
 Mrs. Keene's interest in the young orphan arose 
 from an incident in bygone times, when she was lady's- 
 maid in a Russian family which occupied a grand suite 
 of apartments at Munich in the same house where 
 Frederic Dallas and his belongings occupied the 
 quatrieme. The Englishwoman was struck down by 
 illness on the eve of starting with her employers for 
 St. Petersburg. They left her in a garret, giving the 
 concierge money to provide her needs. The illness 
 proved to be an infectious fever, and Myra's mother, 
 finding the sufferer was almost deserted, undertook to 
 nurse the poor woman, and by her watchful care pulled 
 her through. This act bound Mrs. Keene to the child 
 of her benefactress. Through many vicissitudes she 
 never lost sight of the artist and his daughter. Not 
 long after her escape from the jaws of death, she mar- 
 ried a courier, and was happy enough for some years. 
 Having no children, she started a kind of private 
 temperance hotel, which succeeded beyond her hopes. 
 It was much frequented by quiet, careful customers 
 of various nationalities, among whom were artists, 
 and couriers, and even stray spinsters of severe 
 
46 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 respectability, recommended by old employers of the 
 courier. The good woman's coni^ection spread, for 
 all those who were once her inmates were ready to 
 return to her comfortable, well-ordered house. 
 
 When Myra reached the door, Mrs. Keene was 
 parleying with a gentleman in the hall — a well-built 
 man above middle height, dressed in an old shooting 
 coat with many pockets. He wore a black silk hand- 
 kerchief negligently knotted round his throat, and 
 was holding a soft, broad-brimmed, brown felt hat in 
 a sinewy, sunburnt hand. The shirt-cuff from which 
 it issued, however, was snowy white, and the whole 
 bearing of the man was high-bred and refined. He 
 was making some inquiries for an inmate who had 
 left the previous day, when Mrs. Keene, turning from 
 him to seek the address which had been left with 
 her, perceived Myra. 
 
 " Oh, dear, miss 1 I did not expect you would be 
 here to-day," she said. 
 
 The stranger moved aside with a bow to let her 
 pass, but she paused, looked earnestly at him, as if 
 she recognised his straight features, dark eyes, and 
 auburn hair, then her pale, sad face lit up, and 
 holding out her hand, she exclaimed — 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 47 
 
 " Jack ! Jack Leyton ! don't you know me ? " 
 
 The gentleman thus addressed looked puzzled, but 
 took the hand she offered. 
 
 " I am ashamed to say my memory plays me false. 
 I cannot exactly recall you," he said. 
 
 " What ! have you quite forgotten ! and you used 
 to be with my father every day in Munich — you .must 
 remember Bar Strasse and your friend Dallas ! " 
 
 " Good God ! then you are httle Myra ! " he ex- 
 claimed, letting his hat fall, and laying his other hand 
 over hers for an instant. " This is an extraordinary 
 rencontre." 
 
 " Pray walk mto my room, miss, if you would like 
 to speak to the gentleman," said Mrs. Keene politely, 
 as she op3ned the door of a small, neatly furnished 
 room at the back, with a ground-glass window. 
 
 " Oh yes, do come in ! I am so very, very glad to 
 see you ! " cried Myra. The man she called Leyton 
 followed her and closed the door. 
 
 " Now I look at you, your face and your blue eyes 
 come back to me 1 I am ashamed of myself for not 
 remembering you at once," he said. " I heard that 
 you had lost your father, and I Avas awfully sorry for 
 you. Then someone said 3^our uncle, Colonel Dallas, 
 
48 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 had adopted you. That was when I was away in 
 Egypt. I trust," looking at her with a keen, swift 
 glance, " you are well and happy." 
 
 " I am quite well," she said, and he noticed that 
 her lips trembled. "But Uncle Edward is dead, 
 too." 
 
 '^h ! " said her new old friend : and he paused. 
 " Where are you staying ? " 
 
 " I am still at school," she returned, with a sad 
 little smile. 
 
 " At school ! Why, you are quite grown up, and a 
 good deal taller than I should have expected ; you 
 used to be quite a little thing — I am almost sorry you 
 are not so still. I like little girls ever so much better 
 than young ladies ! " he added, rather grimly. 
 
 " Oh, Jack ! but you m.iist like me ! " cried Myra, 
 her blue eyes all but brimming over, " for my dear 
 father's sake ; and I have no one in the world to like 
 me now." 
 
 Leyton looked very steadily, almost sternly, at 
 her, and then his face softened as he murmured to 
 himself, " Poor child ! " Then added — 
 
 " I suppose I may come and see you at this school 
 of yours ? " 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 49 
 
 " Yes, certainly ! " 
 
 " Where is it ? for I must leave you now. I have 
 to keep an appointment." 
 
 Myra told him. He wrote the address in his 
 pocket-book. 
 
 " You will be sure to come, Jack ? " she said im- 
 ploringly. 
 
 " Certain ! but not to-morrow or next day." 
 
 " On Saturday then ? " 
 
 " Yes, if I possibly can, and we will have a long 
 talk ! If I can help you, Myra, I will, for your father's 
 sake. Good-bye for the present." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TAKING POSSESSION. 
 
 About the same time that poor Myra was gladdened 
 by the phantom of past happy days, a young man of 
 perhaps seven- or eight-and-twenty was driving a well- 
 appointed dog-cart along the leafy lanes of a district 
 not far distant from the mighty city, yet thoroughly 
 rural and retil'ed. 
 
 Two hours from King's Cross takes the traveller 
 to the park-like scenery which surrounds the old 
 country town of Redworth in Blandfordshire, where 
 for miles he can drive through one fertile well-cared- 
 for domain after another, till the impression of a 
 whole country - side of pleasure - ground becomes 
 stamped upon his imagination. The young man 
 was slight, well-dressed, and soldierly-looking, with 
 clear, cold grey eyes and neat sandy moustache. He 
 handled the ribbons with a practised hand, and seemed 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 51 
 
 on the friendliest terms with the large, powerful 
 chestnut mare in the shafts. 
 
 " I did not know it was so late," he said, turning 
 his head to speak to the natty groom who sat behind, 
 and who appeared to have been melted and run into 
 a mould, so perfectly did his clothes, boots, and hat 
 fit him. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! There's the 5.25 down train," and 
 the man pointed to a distant line of white smoke as 
 they crossed a steep bridge over the railway. 
 
 " Amazon must step out, then," returned his 
 master, touching his steed lightly on the flank ; and 
 they rattled on at a swinging pace, that soon brought 
 them to the station, which was almost half a mile on 
 the near side of Redworth. 
 
 They were just in time to see the passengers 
 descend from the London train, while the porters 
 bustled about with their trucks full of luggage, and 
 great bundles of evening papers were being thrown on 
 to the platform. 
 
 Among the arrivals was a tall, slight, elderly man, 
 
 with dark grizzled hair and whiskers, a nose that the 
 
 irreverent might describe as snub, and a pair of 
 
 twinkling eyes, nondescript in colour, but somewhat 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 II I IMniO I !DO 
 
52 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 too light for his complexion. He was slightly 
 bent, yet moved alertly, and though his garments 
 looked of the rough-and-ready order he seemed 
 thoroughly a gentleman. 
 
 On passing by the ticket - collector he looked 
 sharply round as if in seai*ch of someone, and then 
 perceiving the dog-cart he waved his hand, and called 
 in a loud tone, quite regardless of who might hear — 
 
 " Halloa, Cis ! " 
 
 " All right ! " returned the young man before de- 
 scribed, " here you are ! " 
 
 The new-comer walked quickly to him, and they 
 shook hands cordially as they exchanged greetings. 
 
 " Dobbs," said the driver of the dog-cart to his 
 groom, ''go hurry them up with Mr. Wardlaw's 
 luggage." 
 
 " Don't trouble ; here it comes," said Wardlaw, as 
 a porter was seen approaching with a portmanteau 
 on his shoulder and a gun-case in his hand. 
 
 " Jump up, then ! " cried the younger man. " Dobbs 
 will look after your traps. I never was so glad of 
 anything as I was to find you had come back from 
 Holland, for I have a hundred and one things to 
 consult you about." 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 53 
 
 " Well ! my poor wits are at your service ! By 
 George ! Cis, my bo}^ a change has come o'er the 
 spirit of your dream, and no mistake. No more 
 need to sell the old place or exchange into the 
 Line." 
 
 " No, nor to stay in the service if I do not like 
 it" 
 
 " No ! you are as free as air ! Gad, the country is 
 looking beautiful, and the crops are in first-rate 
 condition. Have you much wheat laid dowTi this 
 year?" 
 
 " I hardly know. I haven't been here more than 
 three or four days, and there has been a heap to look 
 after." 
 
 So, talking on a variety of matters, but alwaj's 
 with reference to some great change, which was to bo 
 discussed more fully afterwards, they drove swiftly 
 along the embowered lanes, across angles of open 
 gorse-grown common, through bits of woodland, and 
 up short sudden hills, from the tops of which wide 
 views over a rich, fair country were to be had. 
 
 At length the entrance to a park appeared, 
 wrought-iron gates, and a pretty ivy-covered lodge. 
 The chestnut mare pricked up her ears and quickened 
 
64 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEE. 
 
 her pace, and a few minutes more of a winding 
 avenue brought them to a solemn-looking red-brick 
 mansion with stone copings and a steep roof of Queen 
 Anne's period. 
 
 A clump of fine old lime-trees sheltered it on the 
 east, while on the south-west the ground fell away in 
 a sudden descent which had been turned into a 
 terraced garden, from which was a grand look-out 
 over wood and plain. A double flight of broad 
 stone steps met in a low arch, from which a third 
 led to the entrance, whence issued a superior- 
 looking servant out of livery, followed by another 
 who apparently was a groom, as the master drew up 
 at the door. 
 
 " Welcome to Wickham Hall, my dear Wardlaw ! " 
 he exclaimed, throwing the reins to one of the men. 
 " It must be ten years since you were here ! " 
 
 " Not quite ! but nearly nine, I imagine ! It was 
 the year before you left Sandhurst, and not long 
 after your father died," replied Wardlaw, looking 
 round. " Well, Cis, I am glad the old home is not to 
 pass away from you ; " and he followed his young host 
 across the hall, which was lofty and spacious, with a 
 parquetry floor, to a handsome dining-room (over- 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 55 
 
 looking the terrace and the wide view beyond), where 
 tea was set out. 
 
 The furniture, the hangings, the carpets all looked 
 faded, worn, and neglected ; the melancholy traces of 
 " Decay's effacing fingers " were perceptible everywhere. 
 The time before dinner was amply occupied by an 
 examination of the stables, out-houses, dairy, and the 
 etceteras of a high-class country gentleman's residence. 
 At that meal many projects of repairs and improvements 
 were discussed while the servants were in the room, 
 but as soon as the friends were left to their wine and 
 oUves, and the door closed, there was a pause, and, 
 having filled his glass, Wardlaw resumed in a diiferent 
 tone — 
 
 " This is a wonderful turn of fortune for you, 
 Cis!" 
 
 " It is," returned Cecil Forrester, the owner of the 
 mansion and domain. " I never had the faintest hope 
 that I should have come in for the money old George 
 Dallas had scraped together. He and my father were 
 second cousins, but had not much love for each other 
 — I don't think I ever saw him but once in my 
 life." 
 
 " When did he die ? " 
 
56 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "Barely a month ago. It seems he had made 
 endless wills, bequeathing his property to all kinds of 
 people and institutions. His solicitor told mine that 
 he tore up his last not more than a week before his 
 death, and was planning another more preposterous 
 than before, when death stepped in and — saved me." 
 
 '' He had nephews. Are both dead ? " 
 
 " Yes^ of course, or I should be nowhere ! The 
 eldest. Colonel Edward Dallas, died only a week before 
 his uncle. He had married a widow out in India — a 
 deuced handsome woman, with a dash of the tar- 
 brush, I fancy. I have met her at Lady Maria 
 Vernon's ghastly parties. She is a fairly well-bred 
 woman. He had no children. Then the younger, 
 Frederic, was a bit of a black sheep — went to smash 
 early ; went off with another man's wife, I believe — 
 an idiotic thing to do. He lived and died abroad ; 
 I don't know if he left any children or not — of course 
 they would not count if he did." 
 
 "I knew Frederic Dallas once," said Wardlaw, 
 Avith a far-away look in his shrewd eyes. "He was 
 always an unlucky dog, but he was a good fellow, a 
 thorough gentleman, and a true artist, though not a 
 successful one ; and I happen to know how he drifted. 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 67 
 
 as he did into most things, into his connection with 
 the poor woman you mentioned. She was English, of 
 a good but decayed family, I fancy ; she was married 
 to an Italian, an a^\^ul brute, well off, but cruel and 
 thoroughly bad. He soon tired of her, and led her the 
 devil's own life. She fled from him, and took refuge 
 with Fred Dallas, the only Englishman within reach. 
 She was poor and friendless, and sought safety rather 
 than love. She was a sweet creature when I saw her 
 — quite twenty years ago. The husband made no at- 
 tempt to pursue or punish her, and so she lived on 
 with Dallas. There could be but one ending to such 
 an affair. I fancy he was fond of her ; their home 
 seemed happy and well ordered enough, but there was 
 always an underlying minor chord of sadness in her 
 look and in her voice. I have quite lost sight of 
 them. I fancy both are dead ; at any rate, I hope she 
 did not survive him ; at that time they had no 
 children." 
 
 " So much the better ! It is amazing what fools 
 people make of themselves," said Forrester, picking 
 himself out a fat olive. Wardlaw cast a curious 
 look at him. 
 
 " Your head was always a trifle older than your 
 
58 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 shoulders, Cis," he said ; " though I am grateful to 
 think you never gave me much trouble while you 
 were my ward ! Pray, were you never guilty of any 
 follies yourself ? " 
 
 " Never of a lasting one ! " returned the young 
 man coolly. " Still, do what I would in the way of 
 prudence, I could not have stayed in the Hussars after 
 we left India if these obliging kinsmen had not died 
 off so opportunely. Frederic Dallas departed this life 
 nearly four years ago, but of his companion I know 
 nothing." 
 
 There was a brief pause ; then Wardlaw, rousing 
 himself with a sigh, asked — 
 
 " Do you intend to remain in the army ? " 
 " Yes, for a year or two ; I should rather like to 
 tack ' colonel ' to my name ; but a year or two won't 
 do that — I am not an enthusiastic soldier. I shall 
 prefer developing this old place. There is room for 
 improvement, but my father left it so loaded with 
 debt that I have never had a shilling to lay out 
 on it." 
 
 " Well, you will very probably marry money now." 
 
 " I should not object ; but not for a good many 
 
 years to come. I don't at all fancy matrimony. 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 59 
 
 Having a woman at home in authority, to whom one 
 must always be civil, is a horrible idea ! " 
 
 " Many men don't recognise the obligation ! " 
 
 " Ah, well 1 I should like to present a decent 
 appearance to society." 
 
 " You are a flinty-hearted young fellow. Are you 
 so unnatural a monster as not to take pleasure in the 
 society of women ? " added Wardlaw, with a good- 
 humoured laugh. 
 
 " Oh ! pleasure enough ! but one can't live on 
 sweets all one's life; such things are about good 
 enough for second course. Now let us go into 
 figures a little, and see what it might cost to repair 
 the stables and repaint the house ! " 
 
 " Very well ! By the way, what a blow it must 
 have been to the widow, this death of Edward Dallas 
 just before his uncle ! Had he lived even twenty-four 
 hours longer than the old man, what a grand ' third ' 
 would have fallen to her share ! " 
 
 " I don't suppose she had any idea of such a 
 chance, nor her husband either. George Dallas had 
 not spoken to his nephews for years, and I suspect 
 if anything could have kept him alive it would be 
 the desire to cut off his kindred from his wealth. 
 
60 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 However, let us hope he knows better now ! " con- 
 cluded Forrester, with a well-satisfied laugh. 
 
 The conversation then turned on the improve- 
 ments he contemplated, and the evening passed 
 swiftly in discussing such an interesting topic. 
 
 *' What leave have you, Cis ? " asked his guest, as 
 they were parting for the night. 
 
 " A couple of months. Not too much for all I 
 have to do ! " 
 
 " No. I dare say not. You might write to those 
 builders to come down at once and make their esti- 
 mates. I should like to know what they will suggest 
 about a billiard-room, which is an absolute necessity. 
 I am due in Yorkshire, at Carrington's, on the 10th. 
 He has asked a small party of real sportsmen for the 
 12th — no women ! and he says the birds are 
 abundant," said Wardlaw. 
 
 " I shall try what I can find here. I'm afraid the 
 game has been awfidly neglected. But I'll take care 
 of it in future." They then said good-night. 
 
 Cecil Forrester was a very modern young man, 
 with a keen sense of comfort, and no particular 
 enthusiasm about anything. Yet he was not un- 
 popular in his regiment, for he was very straight in 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 61 
 
 all his dealings, and the cool steadiness with which 
 he avoided extravagance and debt — openly declaring 
 his reasons — earned him a certain degree of respect. 
 He attended sufficiently to his duties, but often 
 wished he had been put into some profession in which 
 he could have made money, which in his eyes was all- 
 important. He had been an only son, and adored by 
 his father, who would have done anything for him 
 except to restrain his habitual lavishness. He and 
 his sister, who Avas several years his senior, had 
 been left to the guardianship of Wardlaw. She 
 married early, and had been some years dead, so there 
 was no one to share Cecil's unexpected fortune. 
 
 No father could have made a better choice of a 
 guide and protector for his son than the late squire of 
 Wickham Hall did. Richard Wardlaw was a man of 
 society, well known and well liked. He had been at 
 school with the elder Forrester, and had been called 
 to the bar. His early friends prophesied great things 
 of him, and at first he worked hard. Then he had a 
 severe illness, a nervous fever, after which he was 
 ordered abroad for rest and change, and for years he 
 was unseen. Suddenly he reappeared. Sundry con- 
 tributions from his pen to the high-class periodicals 
 
6^ THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 and literary weeklies, descriptions of out-of-the-way 
 corners he had visited, and strange races he had 
 studied, recalled him to the cognisance of his former 
 acquaintances, and he was cordially welcomed. Then 
 he ceased to write, at least apparently. He established 
 himself in a comfortable flat in the south-west district, 
 and lived moderately, but like a gentleman, no one 
 knew exactly how; for Forrester and other old 
 intimates were well aware that he was a younger son 
 of an impoverished county family. Now, he kept a 
 grave German servant, and a good stout hack, went 
 out a great deal to dinners, and belonged to a well- 
 known club. He was looked upon as a shrewd man 
 of the world, whose opinions were always heard with 
 attention. He had been a careful guardian, and 
 perhaps was the only person towards whom young 
 Forrester felt any affection. 
 
 In truth, Wardlaw, who was a bit of a philosopher, 
 was rather curious to see what effect the sudden 
 accession of wealth would have upon his ex-ward, 
 after the restrictions of his early days ; and it gratified 
 him to see that even in the first flush of emancipation 
 he was by no means carried away by the sense of 
 power money gives. 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 63 
 
 His visit to Wickham interested and amused him ; 
 he had a good many tastes, and building was one of 
 them. To animals he was devoted, and it gave him 
 more satisfaction to provide for the comfort of horses 
 than for that of his fellow-men. 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Edward Dallas found the 
 grief, great or small, caused by her husband's death 
 swallowed up in her passionate indignation at the 
 crass combination of circumstances which robbed her 
 of a share in the wealth which ought to have been her 
 husband's. Circumstances had indeed been cruel to 
 her. However, her only line of conduct was to 
 keep up an air of gentle resignation and excite as 
 much interest in the minds of her acquaintances as 
 possible. 
 
 At present no one was in town to be impressed, so 
 she devoted herself to the regulation of her affairs 
 and the careful and methodical examination of her 
 husband's papers, from which she selected the few 
 she thought it prudent to keep. These papers in^ 
 eluded many belongmg to Frederic Dallas, among 
 them some letters and memoranda relating to the 
 unhappy mother of Myra, over which Mrs. Dallas 
 sneered contemptuously. 
 
64 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 That a woman should allow herself to drift into 
 ruin because a man treated her badly seemed to her 
 pitiably weak She had only to keep her love affairs 
 clear of her business matters, and to manipulate her 
 wrongs skilfully and picturesquely, in order to convert 
 them into a ladder whereby she might climb to a 
 safer position. 
 
 Her days, then, were well spent and agreeably 
 varied by consultations with Mr. Deedes — plans for 
 the future, and estimates of the expenditure to which 
 she intended to limit herself 
 
 " When you have put away those things, Mrs. 
 Dwyer," she said one afternoon, as the woman to 
 whom the house belonged was removing her luncheon- 
 tray, " I wish you would come back ; I wish to speak 
 to you." 
 
 " Certainly, 'm," said Mrs. Dwyer deferentially. 
 
 Mrs. Dwyer had been housekeeper in a gentle- 
 man's family for many years, and had invested her 
 savings in the furniture of a neat house in Melford 
 Road. When it was completed, Mrs. Dallas, looking 
 out for temporary quarters on her arrival from India 
 nearly four years ago, was struck with the idea that 
 it would be well to hire the owner as well as the 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 65 
 
 tenement. It would be an immense saving of trouble, 
 which the handsome widow hated, and possibly of 
 expense. She therefore struck a bargain with the 
 experienced Mrs. Dwyer, w4io undertook to provide 
 servants for a fixed sum ; and an excellent arrange- 
 ment it proved for both parties. 
 
 Now it was somewhat doubtful whether the agree- 
 ment would terminate or not. The landlady was just 
 a little anxious. Not that she liked Mrs. Dallas. 
 There was something overbearing about her lodger, 
 something that half-irritated, half- cowed her; but it 
 had been what she termed " a good let." She had 
 paid off her furniture and even invested a little 
 money, so she hoped nothing would occur to disturb 
 their relations. 
 
 " Well," said that lady, when Mrs. Dwyer re-entered 
 the room, as she laid down the paper she had been 
 reading, and settled herself more comfortably among 
 the sofa-cushions, w^hile she looked searchingly at her 
 landlady through her half-closed lids, " I have a good 
 deal to say to you, Mrs. Dwyer — you had better sit 
 down." 
 
 This was unusual condescension. " She wants me 
 to lower my rent ! " thought Mrs. Dwyer, a tall, thin 
 
 F 
 
66 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 woman, with light-reddish hair, rapidly becoming 
 grey, worn in flat braids secured by a narrow band of 
 black velvet, and surmounted by a bonnet-like cap of 
 good white lace. She had somewhat faded, suspicious, 
 wondering eyes, and long bony hands — rather restless 
 hands, given to playing with whatever was within 
 reach while she talked. She was, as was her wont, 
 neatly dressed in black. 
 
 " Thank you, 'm," said Mrs. Dwyer, taking a chair. 
 " I have been very uncertain as to my plans," 
 resumed Mrs. Dallas, " but I have now made up my 
 mind. How long have we been in your house, Mrs. 
 Dwyer ? " 
 
 "It will be four years the 7th of October since you 
 signed the agreement, ma'am." 
 
 " And we have not been bad tenants ? " 
 " No, ma'am, not by no manner of means." 
 " Then you will not be displeased to find that I 
 have decided to remain here, if you will agree to my 
 terms. Of course I cannot afford to give the rent we 
 used." 
 
 " No, ma'am ? " interrogatively. 
 
 " No ! but then I do not want all your house." 
 
 " I'm sorry for that, ma'am ; of course a double set 
 
TAKIXG POSSESSION, 67 
 
 of lodgers makes a difference. That's wliy I let to 
 you and the poor dear colonel so cheap 1 " 
 
 " Cheap, do you call it ? " cried Mrs. Dallas. 
 
 " Well, it ain't dear ? " 
 
 "N — no, not exactly, Mrs. Dwyer; but, dear or 
 cheap, I cannot afford to pay the same rent now, 
 so I propose to keep the dining-rooms and this floor. 
 Then the two rooms above might let advantageously 
 to a single gentleman, and you could make more of 
 your house, although you let me part of it for thirty 
 pounds less than I pay at present ' " 
 
 " Thirty pounds less 1 that is a come-down, ma'am. 
 I don't think I could give in to that." 
 
 An animated discussion followed, which ended in 
 a sliq'ht surrender on both sides, and some conversa- 
 tion on minor points followed. 
 
 " I should think single gentlemen must be by far 
 the most desirable lodgers," reiterated Mrs. Dallas, 
 with a view to I'^conciling Mrs. Dwyer to the change 
 she suggested. 
 
 " Well, I am not so sure, ma'am ; you see, they are 
 apt to shift about ; a man that is tied matrimonially 
 is more fixed like." 
 
 "■ I am not so sure, Mrs. Dwyer ! There is that 
 F 2 
 
68 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 gentleman at your friend's — at No. 24, 1 mean. Why, 
 he has been five or six years there." 
 
 " I know, ma'am — at Mrs. Sims's. She is no friend 
 of mine ; I don't hold with her conduct to that poor 
 gentleman. It is now three weeks since I've seen him 
 go by in the morning, and he used to be as regular as 
 clockwork. The girl there — Mrs. Sims's servant — is 
 friendly with my Hannah, and she was telling us the 
 other evening that he is as rich as a Jew, but rather 
 near, and grumbles over his weekly bills. Now, more 
 than a fortnight ago he was took rather unwell, and 
 Mrs. Sims doctored him a bit — she was a nurse in a 
 hospital, and they know a lot too much. Well, since 
 that he has been queer and dazed-like, and shaky on 
 his legs, and I can't help thinking it's terribly like a 
 tale I read in the London Messenger, where there was 
 the awfuUest bad woman I ever heard of. She gives a 
 dose of particular poison to a poor gentleman, that 
 makes him lose the use of his legs and the power of 
 speech, and gets his keys and his money and the 
 jewels he intended for his granddaughter, who was 
 stolen away by a dreadful villain, the husband — or, 
 any way, he ought to have been her husband — of the 
 bad woman ! " 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 69 
 
 " But, Mrs. Dwjer," rather contemptuously, " what 
 has all this to do with a respectable householder in 
 Melford Road ? " 
 
 " Well, ma'am, I may be an ignorant woman, but 
 it seems to me that Mrs. Sims is tampering with that 
 poor, defenceless man ! Mark my words, ma'am, 
 many a cruel wrong is done under the mask of 
 respectability. Why, down there at No. 17, just before 
 you come, there was a young lady and her brother 
 Hving ; they rented the house, and it was full of beauti- 
 ful furniture, all their own. Well, one day I heard 
 the awfullest screams, so I ran to see, and there was 
 two of the biggest ruffians, as far as looks went, and 
 her own brother forcing her into a carriage, and she 
 declaring she wasn't mad, and begging for mercy. 
 She was as sensible as you or me, ma'am." 
 
 "Probably more sensible, if you believe such rub- 
 bish," said Mrs. Dallas. 
 
 " Any way, ma'am, the doctor who signed the order, 
 or whatever you call it, for her to be took off shot 
 himself, I was told ; and the brother, who wanted to 
 force her to marry some fellow-scamp of his own, 
 went into an asylum," concluded Mrs. Dwyer in an 
 indignant tone. 
 
70 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Ah ! evidently there was insanity in the 
 family ! " 
 
 " Maybe so, ma'am, but some people would not be 
 convinced though one rose from the dead. I have 
 seen queer things in my time, but of course I haven't 
 the power of expressing myself as I could wish ; but 
 it's no matter! I'll just make a fresh agreement, 
 Mrs. Dallas; and if you'll sign it, why, we can see 
 about changing the furniture, ma'am." 
 
 " Very well," said Mrs. Dallas ; and her landlady 
 departed with wrath in her heart. 
 
 " Thinks she knows better than anyone else," she 
 muttered to herself. " I'm not sure she isn't up to a 
 murder or two herself ! I've seen the devil's own look 
 in those big black eyes of hers. God only knows 
 what she did with the poor colonel. He went off all 
 of a sudden at the last." 
 
 So building up a romance to herself, she went to 
 inspect the washing-up of the luncheon things, and 
 to prepare Mrs. Dallas's small but dainty dinner. 
 
 Though the worthy landlady had taken brevet 
 rank, she was a spinster, of Irish parentage, born and 
 brought up in London — a curious mixture of credu- 
 lity and scepticism — a voracious appetite for the 
 
TAKING POSSESSION. 71 
 
 wildest romance, and the hardest common-sense in 
 everyday matters. She loved scraping money to- 
 gether, yet Avas capable of generosity to the very few 
 she loved — a topsy-turvy nature in which the Celtic 
 element predominated, and, above all, a shrewd, clever 
 woman, whom education and training might have 
 developed into something above the common. 
 
CHAPTER ly. 
 
 A VISITOR. 
 
 The anticipated joy of talking about her beloved past 
 to one who had shared it, who had known her father 
 and all her surroundings, respecting which she had 
 not found a congenial listener for more than three 
 dreary years, was like a draught of some invigorating 
 elixir to Myra Dallas. In the fulness of her heart, she 
 told cook that she had met an old friend of her 
 father's, and that he was coming to see her. 
 
 Cook pictured an elderly, portly, grey-haired 
 gentleman, who might be a useful friend to the soHtary 
 young creature of whom she had been left in charge. 
 
 The idea of Leyton's visit inspired Myra with 
 new energy. She brought down piles of house-linen 
 and darned diligently under the cook's directions; 
 only in the evening she gave herself the indulgence 
 of a book. 
 
 The pianos were all locked and covered with huge 
 
A VI8IT0B. 73 
 
 dusting sheets, so she was cut off from a favourite 
 amusement — i.^., wandering from one musical memory 
 to another, occasionally improvising in waltz time, or 
 in more sad and solemn measure. 
 
 Three or four days passed, and no Ley ton pre- 
 sented himself Myra's hopes began to falter ; perhaps, 
 like everyone else, he had gone away out of town ? 
 At last, on a fine afternoon, she heard cook's voice in 
 the garden, which communicated with the front of the 
 house by a passage at the side. 
 
 " If you'll step this way, sir," it said ; " Miss Dallas 
 is in the study." 
 
 The next moment Mr. Leyton stepped through 
 the door-window, and looked quickly round as he 
 shook hands with the daughter of his old friend. 
 
 It was a bare, shabby room. A large table covered 
 with much-rubbed and scratched leather, deal shelves 
 crowded with shabby school-books, an empty grate 
 unconcealed by any ornament, a square of much-worn 
 carpet under the table, surrounded by a broad border 
 of linoleum, a few coloured prints from the illustrated 
 papers on the wall, a range of much-bespattered ink- 
 bottles on the mantelshelf, and several cane chairs in 
 various stages of dilapidation, comprised the furniture 
 
74 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 and decorations. Myra was as unadorned as her abode. 
 Her old black frock, rubbed shiny in places, was 
 slightly relieved by a large, white, German-looking 
 apron : her hair was brushed back, rising in a sort 
 of Imperatrice style from its own thickness, and 
 roughly coiled round a very common comb, leaving 
 her wide but somewhat low forehead and quiet 
 pathetic face quite unshaded. 
 
 "So, Myra — I may call you Myra, I suppose, 
 though you are grown up — you are left alone evi- 
 dently," said Leyton, when they had exchanged 
 greetings. 
 
 " Yes ! " resuming her seat on the ottoman — really 
 a box to contain odds and ends — having given her 
 visitor the only comfortable chair, a basketwork 
 lounge ; " you see, this is a school. I have lived here 
 ever since — since I left Munich." 
 
 " It is time you left school now, Myra ! " 
 
 " I think so too ; but I have nowhere else to 
 go." 
 
 There was a slightly embarrassed pause. Leyton 
 bethought him of certain rumours that his friend 
 Dallas had never been married to the lady who passed 
 as his wife, and gazed compassionately at the fair, 
 
A VISITOR. 75 
 
 slight young creature whose earnest bhie eyes looked 
 so innocently into his. 
 
 " No ! I think I remember you had no near 
 relations," he said at length. 
 
 "The only relation I ever heard of or knew of 
 was my Uncle Edward — Colonel Dallas. He was 
 very good to me, and I could have loved him very 
 much, but he is dead too," she ended, her voice falling 
 into a sad cadence. 
 
 Leyton saw that her blue eyes were full of tears. 
 
 "I think I met Colonel Dallas in India before 
 I knew your father," he said. 
 
 " What ! were you in India, Jack ? " she said, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " Yes, ages ago. But didn't your uncle marry ? 
 Can't you go and live with his widow ? " 
 
 Myra shook her head. " She does not want me — 
 she does not like me. She told me not to call her 
 aunt any more ! And / do not like her ! I have a 
 curious sort of fear of her ! " 
 
 " Ah I I suppose she is a stern, severe old dame ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! she is ahnost young, and very handsome, 
 and she has been generous — that is, she is going to 
 give me money every quarter." 
 
76 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Indeed ! then you ought to get out of this 
 wretched place." 
 
 " It is not wretched, Jack ! It is rather grand 
 up -stairs. There are blue damask curtains and lace 
 ones, and thick carpets in the drawing-room, and 
 ornaments, and everything is kept desperately clean. 
 But, oh ! everything is ugly ! I suppose you could 
 not come through the hall, because the men are there 
 with their ladders whitewashing." 
 
 " But, my dear child, it is an awfully dreary place 
 for you. I suppose your friends are all out of 
 town ? " 
 
 " I don't think I have any friends," said Myra 
 quietly, thoughtfully. " Oh, Jack, it was more dread- 
 ful than I can tell you, coming away from everything 
 I had ever known to this cold, strange place ! I 
 wanted to die ! but Death only comes when he is not 
 wanted ! Then it was some comfort to speak to my 
 uncle ; but Mrs. Dallas rarely left us alone together. 
 Then I got used to things. Some of the girls are kind ; 
 I think they are fond of me. Mrs. Fairchild — she is 
 the head of the school — is not bad ; she is not dis- 
 agreeable. Now I am to teach German, and so I shall 
 have work — not that I am particularly fond of work 
 
A VISITOR. 77 
 
 but I shall not be able to think so much. It does seem 
 funny to be so different from other girls ; they have 
 uncles, and aunts, and cousins, and heaps of relations, 
 even when they are orphans ! I don't seem to have any 
 at all ! But I will not think of the present when I can 
 talk of the old days to you. Jack. You are the only 
 creature I have seen for nearly four long years that 
 knows anything about me ! " 
 
 " Poor child ! " said Leyton, his quick impatient 
 brown eyes growing tenderly compassionate as he 
 gazed upon her. He was by no means soft-hearted ; 
 indeed, he had been hardened by some bitter ex- 
 periences, some rough passages in his career ; but at 
 that moment he could have taken this delicate-look- 
 ing, lonely child in his arms, and soothed her as a 
 father might. 
 
 " I wish I were a child," said Myra with a sigh. 
 "I wish I could stay a child; but I am nineteen — 
 rather more than nineteen. My birthday is in June." 
 
 " You do not look nineteen," said Leyton. 
 
 " It is rather curious," returned Myra, looking 
 thoughtfully at him, " that you look much younger 
 to me than you did. I used to think you as old as 
 my dear father ; now you seem years younger." 
 
78 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "Your father was comparatively a young man 
 when I knew him." 
 
 " And how sweet and good he was ! " she con- 
 tinued. " My idea of heaven is sitting on his knee 
 and leaning my head against him, while he told me 
 fairy tales — such lovely tales ! Then suddenly every- 
 thing came to an end. It was a terribly hot season, 
 and so much fever." 
 
 She proceeded to recount a few particulars of her 
 father's illness and death, the coming of her uncle, 
 the terrible plunge into the coldness and darkness 
 of her present position — all without tears — with un- 
 complaining, hopeless resignation. 
 
 Then the conversation turned on the details of 
 their old happy life in her father's studio, which 
 Leyton had shared for a time ; of their expeditions 
 to the park of Nymphenburg, their evenings in the 
 Thiergarten, where they enjoyed the open-air con- 
 certs, and the homeward stroll back in the soft warm 
 summer nights, to the supper provided by old Hedwig. 
 
 " Do you remember, Jack, I used to sew the . 
 buttons on your gloves when you were going out ? " 
 
 '' Did you, Myra ? Well, I need not trouble you 
 now. I generally dispense with such superfluities." 
 
A VISITOR. 79 
 
 " Do you ? " said Myra, opening her eyes ; " and 
 you used to wear such beautiful gloves." 
 
 " I have left all that sort of finery far behind ! " 
 said Leyton, with a harsh laugh. 
 
 " I suppose you have grown a great painter ? " 
 said Myra with awe. 
 
 " Indeed I have not, Myra," he returned. " I have 
 done nothing great. But I do paint. I have been 
 away in Egypt for nearly two years, doing sketches 
 for one of the illustrated papers, and letter-press too ; 
 now I am using up some of the material I accumu- 
 lated, and have just finished a couple of pictures." 
 
 " Then you have a studio ! Oh, Jack ! dear Jack ! 
 do let me come and see it ! " cried Myra, clasping her 
 hands ; " do ! " 
 
 " Yes ! of course you can ! When will you 
 come ? " 
 
 " Whenever it suits you." 
 
 " I am going out of town from next Saturday to 
 Wednesday. Come on Thursday." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you ! How delightful it will be to 
 smell the paint, to see the colours, the half-finished 
 things, the bits of drapery and armour ! " 
 
 " My studio is rather bare as yet," said Leyton, 
 
80 TBE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 smiling, " but you are very welcome to inspect it, and 
 you can bring anyone you like — Mrs. Keene, for 
 instance." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, dear Jack ! " 
 
 "Don't you draw yourself, Myra ? I fancy you 
 used to do something in that line ? " 
 
 " Yes, I can draw a little, and I am very fond of 
 it ; but since I came here I could do nothing. They 
 think I work so roughly and coarsely. I cannot 
 please the master. How I wish yow would teach 
 me, Jack ! " 
 
 " Teach you ! " repeated Leyton, a rather grim 
 smile curling his lips. " I am afraid we could not 
 manage that" 
 
 " Ah, yes ; it is unreasonable of me to ask it," cried 
 Myra, blushing vividly as if ashamed of her own 
 presumption. 
 
 Leyton looked at her steadily as he thought — 
 " That girl will charm some fellow out of his reason 
 some day, and so much the worse for her." 
 
 " Tell me," he asked purposely to turn the subject, 
 " did your poor father leave nothing behind him ? — 
 nothing in the way of property for you ? He 
 certainly had an independence ? " 
 
A VISITOR. 81 
 
 " Oh ! / cannot tell ! Mrs. Dallas, my uncle's 
 wife, said I had nothing in the world, but that out 
 of charity she would give me five pounds a 
 quarter." 
 
 " The devil she did ! " cried Jack Leyton. " She 
 
 must be a kind-hearted woman, or " He 
 
 paused. 
 
 " Yes 1 " returned Myra thoughtfully, " that is 
 what I think ; only the ' or ' is very big." 
 
 Leyton looked at her in some surprise. Had this 
 gentle, innocent-looking girl any conception of the 
 world's wiles and wickedness ? 
 
 " Jack," said Myra softly, after a pause, " did you 
 ever know my mother ? " 
 
 " No," he returned. " She was dead some years 
 before I fell in with your father." 
 
 " It is so curious that no one seems to have known 
 her or her people — not a soul ! I have her picture. 
 It is the only thing I brought away with me from 
 Munich ! " 
 
 " I remember seeing the portrait." 
 
 " Ah ! that was a large one 1 My father made 
 quite a small copy for me ; I wiU fetch it." And she 
 left the room. 
 
 G 
 
82 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 Leyton stood with his shoulder against the 
 window-frame, his eyes gazing far away, and his face 
 very grave. 
 
 " The sins of the fathers are indeed visited on the 
 children," he thought. " There is a hard life before 
 that poor child! Even if I had it in my power, I 
 could scarcely venture to help her. I can scarcely 
 help myself ! What a weak, hot-headed fool I have 
 been ! I wonder what has become of the poor father's 
 bit of property ? I must try and see the widow of 
 Colonel Dallas ; not formally, though, or I should never 
 find out anything ; and I have nearly dropped out of 
 society." 
 
 " Here it is," said Myra, re-entering with a small 
 square parcel in her hand, which she proceeded to 
 unfold. " Look ! Is it not a sweet face ? " she said, 
 holding out the miniature. 
 
 Leyton took it silently. It was both sweet and 
 sad — very sad. 
 
 " It is like you," he remarked at last, " especially 
 about the eyes, though yours are darker." 
 
 " How sad she looks ! " continued Myra, thought- 
 fully ; " yet my father loved her dearly ! How can 
 anyone who is fondly loved be unhappy ? " 
 
A VISITOR. 83 
 
 " Many things are needed for happiness," returned 
 Leyton vaguely. 
 
 " / do not think so, Jack ! " Then she paused, 
 looked earnestly at the picture, and kissed it softly 
 before she wrapped it up again. 
 
 Leyton was more touched than he cared to 
 acknowledge even to himself After a moment's 
 silence, he tried to turn his own and her thoughts 
 from the cruel memory of her mother, the full cruelty 
 of which he prayed she might never know. 
 
 " I think I have a sketch of your father among my 
 goods and chattels — rather a daub, I am afraid, for I 
 was but a beginner in those days. I will look for it. 
 If it is not too large, you shall have it." 
 
 " Thank you ! oh, thank you ! I shall prize it 
 dearly." 
 
 Then Leyton drew her into talk about herself — 
 her position, her companions, her hopes. 
 
 It was a dreary picture she unconsciously drew 
 and he wondered at the calmness with which she o-ave 
 
 o 
 
 the details he asked for. 
 
 " How can she face such a life ? " he thought. " Is 
 it courage, or is it the deadness of indifference ? Only 
 the vitality of youth can uphold her ! " 
 G 2 
 
84 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 At lenoftli he rose to end the interview he found 
 so deeply, yet painfully, interesting. 
 
 " I must give you directions how to reach my 
 studio, Myra," he said; "by the way, I ought to 
 treat you more respectfully, and call you Miss 
 Dallas." 
 
 " Why ? Xo ! pray do not. If you do I must 
 call you Mr. Leyton, and that seems to put you so 
 far away." 
 
 " Oh ! ladies may do and say what they like. 
 What is condescension in you is a liberty in me 1 " 
 
 " Fancy me condescending to you ! " cried Myra, 
 laughing a youthful, joyous laugh, which delighted 
 Leyton. 
 
 " There is some life left in her, thank God," he 
 thought, as he smiled back sympathetically. 
 
 " I am by no means the potent, grave, and reverend 
 signior you imagine," he said. "I am quite a Bohemian, 
 Myra, and, indeed, a bit of a failure. However, you 
 will come to see me, will you not ? My studio, which 
 I share with a chum of mine, is at Shelden House, 
 Shelden Gardens, near Swiss Cottage. It is an old- 
 fashioned place, with a side entrance ; in fact, we 
 have rigged up the stables at the back — they don't 
 
A VISITOE. 85 
 
 make a bad studio — and I live vciy near ; you miglit 
 get an omnibus from " 
 
 "I can walk quite well," said Myra. "I know 
 Swiss Cottage ; we often walk up there." 
 
 " You seem too slender and willowy to be much of 
 a walker, Myra," looking scrutinisingly at her. " You 
 are a good deal taller than I expected you would be — 
 you were such a childish little creature when I knew 
 you." 
 
 " But then I was only thirteen or fourteen. Oh ! 
 I have grown a hundred years older, and learned so 
 much — so much since ! " 
 
 " I daresay you have ! What do you do with 
 yourself all alone here ? " 
 
 " I have needlework to do, and a few books, but I 
 have read them all ; and the pianos are locked up." 
 
 " I must send you some books ! You go and see 
 that hotel woman sometimes ? Slie seems an honest, 
 sensible creature." 
 
 " Yes, I love her ; she is so good to me ! Do send 
 me some books, dear Jack." 
 
 " Very w^ell. There is my address ; don't lose it." 
 
 " You may be sure I will not ! And, Jack, though 
 I am grown-up, you icill like me ? " 
 
86 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 " I will try," said Leyton, with kindly good- 
 humour. 
 
 She came out with him to the gate, and waved 
 him good-bye as he turned and raised his hat to her. 
 
 Then she went back to her work, singing over it 
 in the gladness of her heart, for she had found a 
 living link with the golden past, a voice which fell 
 upon her ear as an echo from the only home she had 
 ever known — a friend, a father ; well, no, not exactly 
 a father ! Jack had grown so much younger than 
 her memory had represented, that she must be 
 content to look on him as an elder brother; and 
 come what might, in five or six da3^s she should see 
 him again, and wander round his studio and be at 
 home once more. 
 
 On his part, Jack Leyton walked with a quick 
 firm step down the long straight road in which Ruby 
 Lodge was situated, towards Maida Yale. He had 
 been more moved by this interview than he would 
 have cared to acknowledge. 
 
 "Poor young thing!" he murmured to himself 
 " Yet not a child ! There is character in her brow, 
 and thought in her eyes. She is absolutely without 
 knowledge of the world. What a charm ! yet how 
 
A VISITOR. 87 
 
 cruel to let a girl go clown into the battle so utterly 
 defenceless ! I can be of little or no use to her. I 
 wish she had a wise woman friend ! I have dropped 
 all mine — the only one Avho has looked me up since 
 I came back is Lady Shirland, and I am rather 
 afraid of her schemes ! I'll go and see if she is in 
 toAvn. To think of little, loving Myra having grown 
 up into this pale, pliant, lily-like creature ! Her head 
 and throat would exactly suit that picture I want to 
 do ; and what eyes ! There's an unexplored world in 
 them. But I shall not be the explorer. No ; I have 
 had enouofh of that sort of thino- and I shall be all 
 the more interested if I do not know^ quite everything 
 that lurks under that fair seeming. Have I not 
 kno\vn eyes as holy behind w^hich lurked seven 
 devils at least ? Poor little Myra ! It is hard on a 
 girl to be left as she has been." 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 TEA IN A STUDIO. 
 
 A FEW days after this delightful visit, Myra gave 
 herself another treat. 
 
 It had been a damp, drizzling day, which some- 
 what quenched the brightness that had pervaded her 
 spirits since she had talked with Leyton ; but 
 towards evening the clouds broke, and the sun 
 looked out to say good-night to this side of the 
 world. 
 
 " I will go and see Mrs. Keene," she said to cook, 
 who had come in to ask if she would mind doing 
 with an egg for her supper, " so I shall not want any 
 supper." 
 
 " That's a good bit off, miss, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is in Gilbert Street, Great Portland 
 Street." 
 
 " Dear me, miss ! I wonder if I might trouble you 
 
TEA IX A STUDIO. 89 
 
 to leave my spectacles at Mudge's, in Edgware 
 Road. One of the glasses is loose, and I am that 
 dependent on them I " 
 
 " Oh, I will take them with pleasure, cook. I 
 can walk down there and take the train from 
 Edgware Road." 
 
 " I am afraid, miss, I am taking too great a 
 liberty." 
 
 " Not at all ! I shall go at once, and come back 
 before dark." 
 
 The cook thanked her in choice language, and 
 Myra hastened to put on hat and cloak, and started 
 her expedition. 
 
 On getting into a carriage at Edgware Road her 
 eye was caught by a familiar face, a face that smiled 
 grimly at her. 
 
 *' Ah ! Mrs. Dwyer ! how do you do ? " said Myra, 
 with her usual frank kindliness, glad to recognise 
 anyone. " Are you quite well ? " 
 
 " Pretty middling, Miss Dallas, thank you. I 
 hope you are well. If I may take the liberty of saying 
 so, you are looking a deal better than when I seen 
 you last. You have not been nigh us for a long 
 time, miss." 
 
90 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 *' I have been very busy," said Myra. " I sup- 
 pose Mrs. Dallas is out of town, like everyone 
 else?" 
 
 " No, miss ; she ain't ! I did hear talk of her 
 going on a visit to the Countess of Shirland at 
 Eastbourne, but she still stays on, a-rummaging and 
 a-sorting of papers day and night, in a manner of 
 speaking. I sometimes wonder if some of them 
 might be yours, miss ? " 
 
 " No, I don't think so," returned Myra carelessly. 
 " I suppose Mrs. Dallas would give me anything of 
 mine she happened to find." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope so, miss," said Mrs. Dwyer, with 
 a sniff. "Mr. Ashby, he is still away on the 
 Continent. I heard his ma say to the Reverend 
 Mr. McClure that he had had a few more holidays, 
 as he had been taken unwell, and she didn't 
 want him to hurry back. I don't think there's 
 much the matter with him. Will you be down 
 our way, miss ? I'm sure I was always glad to see 
 you come into the house, and so was the poor 
 dear colonel ! I'm sure if he'd been alive he'd 
 always have had you by him ! Ah ! there's no 
 knowing the mischief and muddles that comes of 
 
TEA IX A STUDIO. 91 
 
 jealousy ! there's no wickedness a jealous woman isn't 
 up to ! " 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Dwyer, you frighten me ! " said Myra, 
 laughing. " I hope we shall never meet such dreadful 
 creatures." 
 
 " I'm sure I hope not ; but there's no knowing ! 
 I'm apt to let my tongue run on when my heart is 
 full, but I am sure I am safe with you, miss." 
 
 " Quite safe, Mrs. Dwyer ! This is my station, so 
 good-bye." 
 
 Though the out-of-season time was often Mrs. 
 Keene's busiest, her caravansary being much frequented 
 by the humbler class of foreigners, the doorway and 
 entrance of the Hotel were this afternoon unoccupied. 
 No one was to be seen for the moment, so Myra walked 
 through to the back parlour, and, tapping gently, 
 ventured to open the door of Mrs. Keene's sanctum 
 Avithout waiting for a reply. She beheld the broad 
 toes of a pair of comfortable house-shoes crossed and 
 upturned as though resting on the heel of one of them ; 
 above, a voluminous black merino skirt, and the lower 
 part of a black silk apron, while all else was hidden 
 by the widespread sheet of the Times, which sloped 
 back against something. It was held at one side by 
 
92 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 some fat fingers, and overtopped by a tuft of lace and 
 bright red ribbons ; a gentle sound, louder than 
 breathing, softer than snoring, broke the silence. 
 
 Myra, smiling, closed the door, and slight as was 
 the noise, it aroused the sleeper, who dropped the 
 paper, and sat up rubbing her eyes. 
 
 " Why ! my goodness gracious, missie ! are you there ? 
 I was just taking forty winks after running about the 
 whole blessed morning ! I'm sure I'm deUghted to 
 see you," rising and setting a chair for her guest. " I 
 was going to write you a line this very afternoon, if I 
 could have got time ; that stupid, tiresome woman 
 brought your frock here this morning, for she had 
 never put down your address, so forgot all about it. 
 I was going to send it up to you by parcel delivery ; 
 now you can try it on and see how it goes." 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Keene ! and I can take it back 
 myself" 
 
 " No, no ! don't you trouble ! Why, it's past five ! 
 you must be famished for want of your tea ! so am I, 
 I'm" sure," and she moved swiftly towards the bell. 
 
 Mrs. Keene was a short, globular woman, with 
 nearly white hair, and bright, beady, black eyes. She 
 had a kindly, rosy, smiling face, and rejoiced in the 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 93 
 
 most gorgeous caps. With all her sunny good- 
 nature, she had a will of her own, and ruled her house 
 firmly in the frequent absence of her husband, a 
 veteran courier, who still continued his vocation, more 
 from love of it than any necessity. 
 
 " How have you been ? " asked Myra kindly, as she 
 removed her hat and took the proffered seat, with 
 cheerful anticipations of tea — for she usually had 
 a natural, healthy appetite, and the meals at Ruby 
 Lodge were not luxurious. 
 
 " Well ! I'm always well, you know. Willie had 
 a cold, so I have sent her down to my sister's for a 
 bit. You are looking brighter, missie ! Any news of 
 Mrs. Dallas ? " 
 
 " No ! she has not asked for me, and I shall not 
 ask for her. I have no claim on her, and I shall just 
 keep out of her way." 
 
 " Why, it's as well ; but I should like to know if 
 your father left a will, or anything in the shape of 
 cash, behind him." 
 
 " I am sure he did not," said Myra, shaking her 
 head. " My uncle would have been sure to tell me, 
 and settle everything." 
 
 " I suppose so," returned Mrs. Keene with a sigh. 
 
91 THE 8NAIt.E OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Bring a slice or two of cold ham," she added to the 
 servant who was setting the tea-tray. " I think there 
 are some macaroons in the cupboard there ; and let 
 us have some brown bread-and-butter. Be sure you 
 cut the ham like a wafer ! Now we'll have a com- 
 fortable chat ; there isn't much doing to-day." 
 
 How delightful it was to sit at tea with this genial, 
 hospitable, humble friend ! to feel so heartily wel- 
 come that her presence was a real pleasure, and to 
 be treated as something decidedly superior! Then 
 Mrs. Keene was the only one left who had known 
 Myra's mother, and always spoke of her as an 
 angel. The chains of her subordinate life seemed 
 to fall from her and leave her free and happy, once 
 Myra found herself within the cosy, comfortable 
 precincts of Mrs. Keene's little parlour. 
 
 " Now, as you won't take anything more, missie, 
 suppose you try on your dress ? Then if there is any 
 alteration, I will see to it before you take it home." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. Keene. If you show 
 me, I can do it myself. I have only too much time 
 and I ought not to impose on your goodness ! " 
 
 " I would do more than that for your mother's 
 child, missie ! Come up to Willie's room." 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 95 
 
 So saying, she opened a door beside the fireplace 
 which Myra thought was a cupboard, and which 
 probably had been, for it led into a short passage 
 four or five feet square, with shelves on the left, at 
 the further side of which was a larger space, though 
 still small, lighted by a pane of glass over a door, 
 which possessed a large key, bolts, and a chain. On 
 the left of this, a narrow steep stair led upwards. 
 
 " I never was through here before," said Myra. 
 
 " No, I dare say not. This is our own bit of a 
 place," returned Mrs. Keene. " We bought a scrap 
 of a house round the corner, and opened a passage 
 through. It just gives us three rooms for ourselves, 
 and a couple of bedrooms for the hotel, but there's 
 an entrance above to them. The street-door there 
 ain't much good, for you may knock and knock, 
 but if Wilhelmina or me ain't in the parlour no one 
 will hear. Just come up-stairs to her room ; I put 
 your dress there." 
 
 It was a neatly kept, neatly furnished and 
 decorated chamber ; and Mjrra, whose love of pretti- 
 ness was ardent though half-starved, looked round 
 with a passing sensation of envy. 
 
 "What a nice room ! " she cried. " It's nicer than 
 
98 TEE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 mine at Munich ! though that was charming ; the 
 view was lovely; and I had flowers and a Schreihe- 
 tisch ! Oh ! the dress looks very nice ! " 
 
 An interesting half-hour was spent in " trying- on " 
 and " pinning " the few necessary alterations. 
 
 " Might I sit down and sew it in your parlour ? " 
 asked Myra. " It would be so pleasant to have you 
 there, and I could try it on once more to see if it 
 was all right." 
 
 " Yes, do, my dear ! I'll be in and out and see 
 that it goes right." 
 
 The work progressed happily, and Mrs. Keene 
 was not called away very frequently. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Keene now ? I hope he is well ? " 
 asked Myra, when her friend settled down to dam 
 some stockings. 
 
 "Well, he is in the Black Forest somewhere, and 
 had a shocking bad cold when he wrote last. I wish 
 he'd make up his mind to stay at home. The hotel 
 ain't doing badly ; but law ! he can't bear to be quiet. 
 He gets that fidgety, when he is a few weeks at home, 
 there is no doing nothing with him. Ah ! a courier's 
 is a fine life. Miss Myra, and a good position. It is 
 just one of the good things a woman never can get." 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 97 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said Myra. " There 
 are courier maids now. I have seen advertisements 
 about them. I think I should hke to be one by- 
 and-by. I wonder could Mr. Keene help me ? " 
 
 " ^lind, missie ! you are taking that in a trifle too 
 much ; don't draw your hand so tight ! Could Keene 
 heljD you to go coury-ing ! Why, gracious goodness 
 me, Miss Myra ! is that fit Avork for a lady ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, and I don't care ! All 
 I Avant is to earn my bread without troubling any- 
 one ; and though I do not wish to be silly, I wish — 
 oh ! how I wish I could do without Mrs. Dallas's 
 money ! You see, now I haven't a friend or a relation 
 in the world except you, and I don't want to trouble 
 you too much." 
 
 " That you never can," said Mrs. Keene in a low and 
 impressive tone. " Your dear blessed mother risked 
 her life for me, and saved mine, and I'll stand by 
 you as long as I have a shilling. I have a few, 
 thank God." 
 
 " It is very sweet to think I owe your great 
 
 goodness to my dear mother," returned Myra softly, 
 
 pausing as she drew out her thread. " Indeed, I do 
 
 not mind about being a lady, but life in a school is 
 
 H 
 
98 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 very dreary. I suppose I am a poor creature, but it 
 is very hard for me to do what I don't hke ; it makes 
 me stupid to try." 
 
 " But, my dear, you might easily find a place as 
 companion to an elderly lady, and be in the right 
 kind of position, and maybe marry some nice 
 gentleman." 
 
 " There are so many nice young ladies, that it is 
 not likely I should be chosen; besides, I have my 
 own fancies. It would be very charming to marry a 
 kind, pleasant artist. That luould be delightful ! I 
 could wash his brushes for him, and understand a 
 little when he talked about art, and help him m 
 many small things. Someone like my dear father! 
 But ah ! that would be too much happiness for me ! " 
 and with a deep sigh Myra resumed her work. 
 
 Mrs. Keene gazed at her with moist eyes. 
 
 " If you please, 'm, there's a gentleman as wants a 
 sitting-room and bed-room for a week," said one of 
 the maids, entering. 
 
 " And couldn't you answer him without worrying 
 me ? " cried Mrs. Keene sharply, rising and rolling out 
 of the room. Her mode of progression suggested well- 
 oiled castors ; she moved with a steady evenness. 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 99 
 
 AVhen she returned and replaced a stocking on 
 her pkimp fist, she changed the subject. 
 
 " Have you seen that gentleman you met here last 
 week since ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; he came to see me — very kindly. 
 He was a great friend and comrade of my father's : 
 he used to work in his studio, and was so good to me 
 when I was a little girl. He taught me to like 
 English books — he gave me the few I have. How 
 he and my father used to talk of art and music 
 and government and politics ! I liked to listen, 
 though 1 did not understand. I Imted to be sent 
 to bed." 
 
 " AVhy, the gentleman doesn't look much over 
 thirty-five now ! " 
 
 " I am sure I do not know ; he seemed about my 
 father's age when 1 knew him ; but things are rather 
 indistinct to me. Jack — Mr. Leyton — must have 
 been more than two years in Munich ; then some- 
 thing or other happened, some trouble, and he went 
 away all in a moment." 
 
 " I hope he did not leave Mr. Dallas to pay his 
 debts," said Mrs. Keene severely. 
 
 " Oh no ! " said Myra, laughing merrily. " I never 
 H 2 
 
100 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 heard of it if he did. He is going to show me his 
 pictures ; I shall be glad to see pictures again." 
 
 " He looked like a gentleman, I must say, though 
 a bit dry and short in his manners." There was a 
 pause. 
 
 " And when will Mr. Keene be back ? " asked 
 Myra, taking off her thimble, and sticking her needle 
 in the case. 
 
 " Late in September. He has been with some 
 old clients of his — Lady Shirland and her daughter, 
 or rather her step-daughter. They travel about a 
 good deal." 
 
 " How nice that must be ! I suppose they are 
 great ladies ? " 
 
 " Well, they are a bit mixed. Her ladyship, you 
 vsee, was very highly connected herself, but she was left 
 early a widow, with little or nothing. Lord Shirland 
 was a poor peer, and married late in life. Then she 
 married a Mr. Brown — a Manchester man, rich as 
 Croesus — a widower with one daughter. Then he died, 
 and left all his money to the daughter. She and 
 her ladyship hit it off very well, though she is a 
 terrible handful. She has delicate health, and if she 
 isn't out every night of her life she must be trying 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 101 
 
 ' cures/ and running from one doctor to another. 
 She is very fond of Keene, and, I must say, generous 
 and open-handed enough. Her ladyship has tried 
 hard to marry her, but it isn't easy ; she takes fancies 
 and all that, and then changes her mind ! " 
 
 " Lady Shirland ! " repeated Myra. " My aunt — 
 I beg her pardon : I mean Mrs. Dallas — used to knoAv 
 a Lady Shirland. Has she a big house in Caterham 
 Gardens ? " 
 
 " That's them ! " exclaimed Mrs. Keene, ungram- 
 matically. 
 
 " I never saw them," said Myra, " but Mrs. Dallas 
 grew rather intimate with them before my dear 
 uncle died." 
 
 " I called there once," continued Mrs. Keene. 
 " with a message from my husband, and saw the 
 young lady — not that she is so very young ! and she 
 just dazed me with questions. Now, my dear, you 
 had better try that dress once more." The " essay '" 
 was most satisfactory. " You'll excuse me, missie, 
 for asking, but have you another hat ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! " rather sadly. " I am afraid to ask 
 about a hat." 
 
 " Well, now is your time to get one cheap — the 
 
102 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 sales are on ! I'll come with you as far as Oxford 
 Street, and find you a nice black straw hat for a 
 couple of shillings ; then a quarter of crape and a 
 yard of ribbon will make it quite smart — leave it to 
 me ! Many and many a hat that no milliner need be 
 ashamed of I've turned out. I'll have it ready by 
 Saturday, if you can come and have a cup of tea." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Keene, how good you are ! That 
 would be too delightful ! I have only eighteenpence 
 with me, but I have nearly three pounds in my money- 
 box at home — at the school, I mean ; then I must 
 pay the dressmaker." 
 
 " You just leave it to me ; I'll let you know what 
 the whole thing comes to, and you can pay it back." 
 
 So the afternoon ended in a satisfactory trans- 
 action at a celebrated emporium, and Myra went on 
 her homeward way almost rejoicing. 
 
 " I shall go to church on Sunday in my nice new 
 things," were her parting Avords. " And I am far 
 happier in church than anywhere ; the music and 
 the quiet, especially when it grows dusk at the 
 evening service, make me forget the life about me ! " 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ -jf . 
 
 Leyton, who was a lover of sport, as well as of 
 
TEA LY A STUDIO. 103 
 
 art, had gone to slioot with an artist friend, who 
 Avas in country quarters at a farm-house in Wales, 
 where the lord of the manor was an old acquaintance, 
 and gave him free range over moor and mountain, 
 as he, the proprietor, was not to be at home that 
 autumn. 
 
 The scenery was grand, the birds were abundant, 
 and in the company of his chum time passed quickly ; 
 yet Ley ton was constantly haunted by the picture 
 left upon his imagination by his old comrade's 
 daughter. The tall, shght, willowy figure, conveying 
 an idea of delicacy and grace that needed protection ; 
 the changeful, expressive face, that seemed too trans- 
 parent for the safety of its owner ; the large, earnest, 
 innocent blue eyes ! Surely this desolate . young- 
 creature was utterly at the mercy of a cruel world. 
 How could any woman forsake her, as her uncle's 
 wife had done ? 
 
 " But I am an idiot to ask that," thought Ley- 
 ton, as he put up his sketching apparatus one 
 evening, when the fading light compelled him to 
 desist. " Who can say what a woman is capable 
 of? They can be exquisitely tender and infinitely 
 cruel, false or faithful, according to the impulse that 
 
]04 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 moves them. Are they responsible for their varia- 
 bility ? God knows ! perhaps the most potent charm 
 the dear devils possess is their uncertainty. Could 
 a strong reasonable woman be attractive ? I doubt 
 it ; at any rate, I have had no chance of trying ! I 
 Avonder if that innocent-looking, soft-eyed darling 
 will break some fellow's heart ? or break her own ? 
 Both, probably, and both will get mended and hide 
 their scars, and pass an apparently flawless life to 
 high fortune, perhaps, or to a pauper's grave ! I 
 should like to secure her a chance of going straight — 
 protection, kindly shelter ! What a splendid model 
 she would be for that picture I am thinking of! 
 But I'll not ask her ; not to insure success and a 
 thundering big price ; no, it would never do ! I 
 must see what's to be done with Lady Shirland 
 and Dorothea. I am about the most useless friend 
 she could have." Arriving at this discouraging con- 
 clusion, Ley ton shouldered his traps and walked 
 off towards his temporary home at a swinging 
 pace. 
 
 The next day he returned to London. Thursday — 
 the much -anticipated Thursday — was a clear, sunny, 
 autumnal day. Myra arrayed herself in her new 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 105 
 
 dress and hat, and heartily endorsed Mrs. Keene's 
 opinion of her own skill in millinery. 
 
 " I really look quite nice ! only I wish my gloves 
 were newer ; but that doesn't matter much." 
 
 It was rather a long walk from Ruby Lodge to the 
 studio ; and Leyton had glanced more than once 
 at an old French clock on the high mantelshelf, the 
 hands of Avhich pointed to 4.10 when he muttered — 
 
 " She is behind time ; she can't have forgotten ! 
 but something newer may have turned up." 
 
 He put down his palette, and went to a table on 
 which stood a motley tea equipage — three cups, one 
 of rare china, the others quite common, all different, 
 a glass cream-jug, a bright but battered tin teapot, 
 and a small brass spirit-kettle, the lamp of which he 
 proceeded to light. Then he gave a touch or two to 
 some flowers in a china bowl — mignonette and big 
 yellow daisies — while a smaller, choicer nosegay oc- 
 cupied a glass vase. The studio was, as he had said, 
 rather bare — a couple of big Japanese screens, some 
 very dusty, worm-eaten, carved oak chairs, a few 
 plain Windsor ones, some broad strips of richly 
 coloured Japanese paper, and one tapestried panel 
 with a few bits of embroidered drapery, were but a 
 
106 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 scanty plenishing, compared to the hixurioiis acces- 
 sories usual in a modern atelier. As Leyton 
 paused to contemplate his dispositions, an exceedingly 
 discordant bell tinkled hysterically. He hastened to 
 open the door, which was hidden behind the biggest 
 of the screens, and admitted Myra : Myra, looking so 
 bright, so fresh, so elegant in her nicely fitting frock 
 and pretty hat, and so flushed by her rapid walk, that 
 she seemed a diiTerent being from the pale, sad child 
 he had talked to last week. 
 
 " I began to be afraid you had forgotten me ! " 
 w^as Leyton's greeting, as he looked behind her in 
 vain for the chaperon he had suggested. " Couldn't 
 Mrs. — what's her name ? — come ? " 
 
 " Forgotten ! " cried Myra, as she followed him into 
 the room. "Why, I thought the day would never 
 come ! As to Mrs. Koene, I did not ask her ; she is 
 always busy, and I did not want her." 
 
 " Well, I am sure / don't want her ! " exclaimed 
 Leyton, yielding to a momentary impulse. " You 
 and I have enough to talk of about the okl days 
 in Munich, without a stranger." 
 
 " Mrs. Keene is not a stranger, though," returned 
 Myra. " She used to be in Munich too, both before and 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 107 
 
 after you, and when I came to London slie found me 
 out, and has been so good. ■ Why, she trimmed this 
 hat for me." 
 
 " Indeed ! it is a Avork of art ! " eyeing it with 
 grave admiration. " Now you must have a cup of tea 
 before you look round." 
 
 " Oh ! I don't care for any tea, Jack " began 
 
 Myra. 
 
 " Well, I do ! Come, you must ' pour out ' for 
 me. I don't know Avhen I had a lady to pour out 
 tea before ! " 
 
 " Oh ! very well ; if you want your tea, that is 
 'different ; " and Myra sat down, drawing a long pin 
 from her hat and putting it aside unasked. 
 
 " You have a nice large studio," was her next 
 remark, " and a very good light." 
 
 " Yes. It will be awfully cold in winter, though." 
 
 " You have not been in it long ? " 
 
 " Only since last April." 
 
 Delightful rambling talk ensued, old German 
 memories moving Myra to tears and smiles. 
 
 It was a long time since Ley ton had enjoyed a 
 talk so much. Myra brought with her an atmo- 
 sphere of innocent youthful candour, of April 
 
108 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 freshness, dashed with tears of tender sorrow, that 
 seemed to melt away the bitterness, the hard indiffer- 
 ence, which had congealed his spirit of later years. 
 But under her temporary lightness was an undertone 
 of profound sadness ; and after laughing sympathetic- 
 ally at some reminiscences of old Hedwig's tyranny, 
 her face would quickly resume its pensive expression, 
 her eyes their far-away look. 
 
 " But I haven't seen your work yet," she said 
 suddenly ; and rising, she began to walk slowly round 
 while Leyton put aside the not-too-steady tea-table. 
 
 "What a quantity of %hting and Oriental sub- 
 jects ! " she said at length. " I do not care for them 
 very much ! That man there, praying against those 
 bars of vivid crimson and yellow light in the sky, is very 
 good — oh ! very ; you feel that he is praying, not 
 merely saying prayers ! And, Jack, this is lovely ! 
 these autumn woods on the bank of the lake or river so 
 still and deep, with the brown and golden leaves that 
 have fallen on the water; one almost feels the air 
 with the scent of the trees upon it. Where is that 
 delightful place. Jack ? " 
 
 " I do not think that exact locality exists, Myra. 
 I have mixed two or three to produce it." 
 
TEA IN A STUDIO. 109 
 
 " I could look at it for hours ! I wish — how I 
 wish I might even draw with you, Jack ! " 
 
 She took up a piece of chalk with a murmured 
 " May I ? " sat downi by a table on which lay a sheet 
 of grey paper, and began to copy a group of trees 
 which stood on a smaller easel. 
 
 Leyton watched her for some minutes. 
 
 " Good ! " he said at last. " You have a good 
 broad style, an expressive touch. I wish I could 
 teach you, Myra ; but it is quite out of the question." 
 
 " I am so sorry ! I only meant now, while the 
 holidays last." 
 
 " Just so," returned Leyton abruptly. 
 
 " Very well," said Myra humbly ; then turning to 
 another newly begun sketch, " This will be pretty." 
 
 " Yes ; it is a bit of Hampstead Heath, quite 
 near." Then with a sudden impulse he exclaimed, 
 •• By the w^ay, if you would care to sketch it, you 
 could join me there of an afternoon. I wdll tell you 
 where we can meet." 
 
 " If I care ! " cried Myra, clasping her hands. " It 
 would be only too delightful." 
 
 " Then to-morrow, about 3.30, meet me at the 
 Loudon Road station, and I'll pilot you. Never 
 
110 THE SXABE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 mind pencil or paper; I'll manage all that. Have 
 you ever tried water-colours ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I have dabbled in everything long 
 ago." 
 
 " Well, try chalk this time, just to get your hand 
 in." 
 
 "It will be hmirnlisch ! " cried Myra. 
 
 " Now look here. This is the sketch of your 
 father I did nearly six years ago." 
 
 " Ah — " a long-drawn " ah," as Myra stood with 
 clasped hands before it ; then she sank into a chair. 
 
 Leyton saw that her eyes were full of tears, and 
 her lips were trembling. 
 
 " I hope to heaven she won't have a fit of crying ! " 
 he thought. But she struggled gallantly for self- 
 mastery. 
 
 " You like it ? " asked Leyton at last. 
 
 " It is a treasure ! " she said. 
 
 " I will copy it on a smaller scale for you ! Now, 
 Myra, I will walk back witli you ! Your visit has 
 given me so much pleasure ! " 
 
 "And to me!" murmured Myra, holding out her 
 hand to him. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MASTER AND PUPIL. 
 
 Summer of the year of grace in which the events here 
 recorded took place was wet, dull, and unseasonable : 
 but wdien August came Nature seemed to be tired of 
 the sulks, and smiled upon her saddened subjects. 
 It was a delicious month, sunny without being sultry ; 
 full of rich colour, with just the faintest crisp touch 
 in the air to make exercise a joy, and the atmosphere 
 light and clear. 
 
 It w^as perfect weather for sketching, and once 
 more, after the long spell of grey cloud and misty 
 sorrow that had shaded her young days, Myra felt 
 that existence was a joy; that to breathe, to look, 
 to hsten were each a blessing. In this expansive 
 mood she felt obliged to show her work to cook, 
 failing any other critic ; for her good friend Mrs. 
 Keene had been suddenly summoned to Dover, 
 where her husband had met with a very inconvenient 
 
112 THE SXABE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 accident. Stepping from the gangway on to the 
 pier, his hands full of parcels, some sudden movement 
 of the boat (for it was a rough day) made him lose 
 his balance. He fell, his right foot catching in the 
 rope which secured the gangway, and sprained his 
 ankle severely. His wife had some difficulty in 
 conveying him to his own home, and Myra felt 
 it was as well to refrain from her accustomed visits. 
 
 Cook admired the sketches immensely, and was 
 of opinion that they were worth money. 
 
 " If you can do the like of that, miss, you might 
 do better than staying on here," said that sage coun- 
 sellor. 
 
 " Oh ! I ought to have a great deal more teaching 
 before I could earn any money. I should not have 
 done half so well if Mr. Leyton had not helped 
 me — the gentleman who came to see me, you 
 know." 
 
 " H'oh ! " said the cook. " Well, it is nice to be 
 taught ; " and she paused abruptly, leaving the im- 
 pression on Myra's mind that, for some mysterious 
 reason, she did not quite approve of these lessons. 
 
 This did not, however, affect her spirits, and she 
 started with her usual alacrity to meet Leyton at 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. • W^ 
 
 their very imromantic trysting-place. From the 
 Hampstead Heath station it was a pleasant walk 
 to the spot Leyton had selected, and the new old 
 friends were sufficiently sympathetic to enjoy each 
 other's companionship even when silent, as they often 
 were. 
 
 They had worked together nearly every day for 
 a week, and Leyton was a good deal struck by the 
 natural taste and ability displayed by his companion. 
 
 " I had a letter from Mrs. Keene the day before 
 yesterday," said Myra suddenly, when, after pointing 
 out some faults in her work, he had resumed his own. 
 
 " What did she write about ? " 
 
 " To tell me that Mr. Keene had met with an 
 accident. He sprained his ankle, and she 1ms gone 
 down to Dover to nurse him." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! By the way, was he not travelling 
 with Lady Shirland and her daughter ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Are they in town ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " I must find out. Lady Shirland is some sort of 
 remote connection of mine. She is very good-naturod." 
 
 " Is she ? " said Myra indifferently. 
 
114 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " I should like you to know her." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Myra. " She would not care to 
 know riiej " 
 
 " How do you know ? " asked Leyton ; and there 
 was a brief silence while he worked-in some shadows, 
 and then contemplated the effect. " The fact is," 
 he resumed, "you ought to know more women — 
 only women can be of use to you." 
 
 " How is that. Jack ? No woman could teach 
 me to draw as well as you do ! That is really being 
 of use ! " 
 
 " I wish I could be of more use to you, Myra ! 
 but — I may not be here — I think of going — some- 
 where in the winter." 
 
 " The winter ! that is a long way off ! so do not 
 talk of it now. Jack, I wish you would not go ! 
 It is cruel to have found just one friend and then 
 to lose him ! " 
 
 " Have I grown such a fatherly old buffer that 
 she talks in this way to me ? " thought Leyton, 
 stealing a glance at the delicately rounded cheek 
 and small ear next to him. " So much the better ! 
 It makes these lessons possible, only they must not 
 go on too long." 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. 115 
 
 " You know," he said aloud, " we brothers of the 
 brush must go after the hght — there is no hght to 
 be had in winter in London." 
 
 " I know that," returned Myra sighing. 
 
 " What I thought of, respecting Lady Shirland, 
 is this : she has a daughter, a step-daughter rather, 
 who is an invaUd and full of Avhims. She plays a 
 little, sings a little, paints a little — does a little of 
 everything. Suppose she took a fancy to you and 
 asked you to be her companion — to play, and draw, 
 and sing with her — it " 
 
 " I should not like it at all," said Myra. 
 
 " It Avould surely be a better and easier life than 
 that of a teacher in a school ? " 
 
 " I am not so sure," reflectively. " My work at 
 school will at least be clearly defined; then, I shall 
 not remain there." 
 
 " Where do you think of going, Myra ? " with sur- 
 prise. " What wild scheme have you in your head ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you yet ; I have only a glimpse 
 of something." 
 
 " Do you not care to confide in me ? " 
 
 " I have nothing to confide yet. I shall tell you 
 when I have, if you are not far away." 
 I 2 
 
116 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 The composure of her tone surprised him. He 
 expected to see her bhie eyes full of tears at the 
 prospect of losing him ; not that Ley ton was a 
 conceited jackanapes, but her manner had been so 
 confiding, her pleasure in his society so frankly dis- 
 played, he had begun to fear that the prospect of his 
 absence would have been a terrible blow. So she 
 had a strain of independent life beneath her soft, 
 innocent seeming ! 
 
 " It is very hard for a girl to carry out any plan 
 unassisted, Myra, and you must not throw away 
 substance for a shadow." 
 
 " I am not easily frightened," she returned Avith 
 a sigh. " You see, I have only myself to think of — 
 I am quite alone," 
 
 " Well, if I can arrange with Lady Shirland to 
 come to my studio, 3^ou will not refuse to meet her 
 and Miss Brown ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! if they are friends of yours and you 
 wish it ! " 
 
 " Yes, I do, particularly ; but I am not sure if 
 they are in town. I must find out." 
 
 " Thank you," said Myra, and a long pause en- 
 sued. 
 
MASTER AXD TVPIL. 117 
 
 Leyton was meditating on the glimpse he had 
 caTight of MjTa's inner self; it made him vaguely 
 uneasy. Independence and individuality were dan- 
 gerous qualities in a girl situated as she was. Self- 
 distrust and timidity would be safer ingredients. 
 
 " Would you like to study seriously ? to try to 
 be an artist ? " he asked presently. 
 
 " It would be enchanting ; but I know enough to 
 know I have no really great gift ; and how could I live 
 while I studied ? " 
 
 " You might do landscape well, and there is a 
 market for landscape." 
 
 Myra did not reply ; she sat looking at her work, 
 and then began to put her pencils in their case. 
 
 " Yes," said Leyton, noticing the movement, 
 " the lisfht has chano^ed ; we had better be s^oin"". 
 How much longer do the holidays last ? " 
 
 " About a fortnight ; at least, mine will be at an end 
 then, for Mrs. Fairchild comes back, and I shall not be 
 able to go out ! " 
 
 "Then we had better make hay while the sun 
 shines ; but I shall be engaged to-morrow. The day 
 after, we might try that clump of trees in the hollow ; 
 I have done nearly all I want to this study. It is 
 
118 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 difficult to get the effect of foliage. I suppose you 
 have never studied the human figure ? " 
 
 " Never. I used to do heads with my father, and 
 I loved them." 
 
 They had put their traps together, and were walk- 
 ing homewards. 
 
 " It is so fine that we might walk all the way if 
 it would not be too much for you." 
 
 " Too much for me ? Oh, I can walk miles ! " 
 
 "You don't look as if you could," said Leyton, 
 letting his eyes dwell upon her with the kindly, 
 compassionate expression she always found there. 
 " I should not say you were strong." 
 
 " I am always well, Jack, but I generally grow 
 very tired when I walk with tiresome people." 
 
 " Thank you," said Leyton Avith a smile. " I am 
 glad you do not consider me a bore." 
 
 " You ! Oh, you are delightful — at least to me ; 
 other people might not think so ; but you only 
 remind me of happy days ; and you are very good." 
 
 " I am afraid your view of this subject is quite 
 original, Myra. Tell me, do you like any of the 
 books I sent you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; the essays are charming, and the stories, 
 
MASTER AND FUPIL. 119 
 
 they make me envious, for every one of them ends so 
 happil}^, and the good people are rewarded ! " 
 
 " Why, you young sceptic, do you think there is 
 no joy, no justice in real life ? Perhaps this time 
 next year may see you radiant with happiness and 
 filled with content." 
 
 " Do you think that likely, Jack ? " 
 
 " Likely ! I cannot say ; but to a young creature 
 like you — how old are you : nineteen ? — all things are 
 possible." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Myra, and stopped, her eyes full of 
 tears, her lips quivering. 
 
 " For God's sake, don't cry ! " exclaimed Leyton 
 abruptly. "You don't know the effect tears — your 
 tears — would have upon me. It is all so cruel." 
 
 " No ; I will not 1 " she returned, startled out of 
 her melting mood by his sudden vehemence. " It is 
 cowardly and foolish ! Does not some English poet 
 say ' To bear is to conquer one's fate ? ' " 
 
 " Yes ; but the advice is seldom acted on." 
 
 There was a pause, then Leyton started another 
 topic, and they found the road back to Ruby Lodge 
 amazingly short. 
 
 The next day Leyton walked across the parks 
 
120 TIfE SXAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 to Caterham Gardens to inquire for Lady Shirland 
 and her daughter. He found they had only rested 
 in London for three days, previous to travelling 
 north, and were not expected back for some time. 
 
 Help in that quarter, therefore, was for the 
 present out of the question. Ley ton was a good 
 deal exercised on the subject of his old friend's 
 daughter. There was not in the world a more 
 desolate creature, and she evidently was afflicted 
 with that almost fatal combination, a loving heart 
 and an independent spirit. He sat long after his 
 solitary dinner in the very commonplace lodging he 
 occupied near his studio, and thought earnestly and 
 painfully of the lonely waif who had so unexpectedly 
 crossed his path. 
 
 " I am just the very most useless friend she could 
 have ! " he thought, " and I would give anything to 
 serve her. I haven't a character for steadiness, and 
 I have grown so infernally cross-grained that I am 
 not exactly popular. Would it be wisest and kindest 
 to leave her to her fate ? I might make a horrible 
 hash of it all if I meddle, and do her more harm than 
 good. I'm not old enough to be fatherly, and I am 
 too poor to marry, even if I felt inclined to commit 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. 121 
 
 that folly, which I am not. I don't suppose I can 
 ever feel true ideal sentimental love again ; and yet 
 I am afraid the touch of her dainty hands, the 
 trusting sweetness of her eyes, might stir the 
 electricity that now lies sleeping, in a way I am 
 ashamed to think of; and she, poor child ! friendless 
 as she is, might learn to love even a rugged fellow 
 like myself ; and then — and then, I doubt if I should 
 thank her for it ; we are all inclined to be horribly 
 cruel to women who give us unsought love ! No ! 
 by Heaven ! I'll do the right thing, and do it before 
 it is too hard to be done ! We are drifting already. 
 How long is it since I met her in that unlucky hotel ? 
 Barely a month. I nmst go out once more to that 
 bit of Elysium up on the heath, and then un- 
 flinchingly cut short this pretty idyll. I'll go away 
 and stay away till this infernal school is in full 
 swing; but I will try to interest Lady Shirland in 
 Myra ; she could be a very useful friend to her if she 
 liked. Yes, I must put an end to this platonic affair, 
 or it will solve itself in a different fashion." 
 
 So thinking, he drew over a sketching-block, and 
 began to draw his young pupil in an attitude that 
 was specially stamped upon his mind, standing, her 
 
122 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 face turned from him and showing the graceful 
 throat and ear, and part of the dehcate chin. He 
 had sketched this more than once, though he steadily 
 refrained from putting her features on canvas or 
 paper. Then he sat long in deep thought, resting 
 his head on his hand, while the magic lantern of 
 memory placed picture after picture before his eyes. 
 
 Leyton's life had been rather a failure in many 
 ways, and to himself a profound disappointment. The 
 younger son of a good family, he had gone into the 
 Indian cavalry, and as long as there was anything 
 like active service to be done, he did well. An 
 unemployed season or two, and a tyrannical m^artinet 
 colonel, who was always harassing his officers about 
 petty details, made him thoroughly disgusted with 
 the life he had chosen. About this time a certain 
 officer of artillery chose to retire on account of health, 
 and departed for England with his. fascinating wife, 
 for whom Leyton had formed one of those profound, 
 passionate attachments of which few men or women 
 are capable. He threw up his commission, followed 
 them to London, and took up art as his future 
 calling. He had decided ability, and in order to 
 study he established himself at Munich, a favourite 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. 123 
 
 place with Colonel , who was a bit of a 
 
 connoisseur, a German scholar in a small way, and a 
 soi-disant philosopher of the needles-and-pins kind, 
 who generally managed to scratch whatever hand 
 attempted to stroke him. Since he was blessed with 
 an exalted opinion of himself, and a decided disregard 
 for everyone else, it was not difficult to evade his 
 perception, so the lovers were enabled to enjoy many 
 happy hours with safety and a due regard to ap- 
 pearances. 
 
 This was a halcyon time indeed. Leyton made 
 innnense progress in his art ; it seemed to him that 
 he could conquer the world ! He succeeded in 
 getting a picture admitted to the Salon, and another 
 into the Royal Academy. Though he had been any- 
 thing but careful, some of his capital still remained 
 to him. All was bright, when one day, rather 
 suddenly, his lady-love's husband died, leaving his 
 Avidow fairly well off, but by no means abundantly 
 provided for. This happy event, as Leyton con- 
 sidered it, seemed to have removed the only barrier 
 to his complete happiness. Now they could belong 
 to each other in the face of society. Alas ! before 
 fifteen months were over, Ley ton's adored mistress 
 
124 THE 8NAV1E OF TEE FOWLER. 
 
 was the wife of a wealthy citizen of famous London 
 town. 
 
 She was very tender and touching in her explana- 
 tions. It was impossible for her to face poverty ; 
 she had had a miserably sordid existence, and she 
 must emancipate herself from it ; besides, she did 
 not wish to cripple her dear Jack! Then their 
 charming friendship might be renewed later, and 
 
 To Jack Leyton it seemed as if hell had yawned 
 before him. Moralists might justly shake their heads 
 at his past life ; but to him the woman he loved 
 had degraded herself below the reach of love, beyond 
 the possibility of redemption. Chaos was indeed 
 come again, and for a while despair and disillusion 
 dragged him down to depths he had never before 
 touched. 
 
 Meantime, the woman who had wrecked his life 
 floated triumphantly upwards, secure in her discarded 
 lover's chivalrous silence. 
 
 At last time, and work as the war-correspondent 
 and artist to an illustrated paper, helped him to 
 bridge the gulf that parted the present from the 
 past. Bruised and maimed in heart and mind, travel- 
 stained and torn by the brambles and briers and mud 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. 125 
 
 through which he had dragged himself, he began to 
 struggle back into the ranks he had for a while 
 forsaken. 
 
 For him Myra had a double interest — as the 
 daughter of a man for whom he had had a warm 
 regard, and because she was associated with the 
 glorious days when he dwelt in " The Venusberg " — 
 before he was so unwillingly emanci^Dated from the 
 soul-destroying spell. 
 
 Myra used the " off" day on which Ley ton was 
 engaged, to call at Mrs. Keene's hotel, and found 
 she was expected to return with her invalided hus- 
 band that evening. Mr. Keene was progressing as 
 well as could be expected, the chamber-maid in- 
 formed her. Miss Wilhelmina was still away, and 
 not expected for a day or two. So Myra walked 
 back, cheerfully thinking of to-morrow, and persuading 
 herself to write to Mrs. Fairchild for the key of one 
 of the pianos. She might as well practise to fill up 
 her time. 
 
 The next morning brought a note from Ley ton 
 postponing their appointment to the following day, 
 
126 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 and informing her that inexorable business would 
 probably call him out of town next week. 
 
 Myra grew cold as she read, and yet the terrible 
 announcement did not surprise her. After the severe 
 schooling through which she had passed, it seemed 
 impossible that blue skies and sunshine could ever 
 last. Had this blissful interlude continued longer, it 
 would only have intensified the bitterness of its ending ! 
 Besides, she had no right to trouble Jack Leyton ; 
 she was accustomed to be looked upon as a burden — 
 an unnecessary item for whom there was scarcely 
 a place in this crowded stage. So she must not 
 murmur at the inevitable nor strive to hold what 
 was fated to slip from her grasp. 
 
 But in spite of her philosophy, she wept long and 
 bitterly through the silence of a sleepless night, and 
 looked so pale and wan the following day, that cook 
 improvised a basin of broth in the forenoon, and 
 insisted that Myra should swallow the larger part 
 of it. 
 
 The fates were against her, poor child, for the 
 weather changed, and a week of rain and storm 
 set in, which forbade all plans for sketching, and re- 
 duced her to the profoundest depression. 
 
MASTER AND FUPIL. 127 
 
 Leyton himself did not feel particularly cheerful. 
 He missed Myra's companionship more than he 
 expected, but this sense of loss made him more 
 resolute to resist the temptation of indulging in it. 
 He was rather surprised that she had not answered 
 his note, and he certainly could not leave London 
 without seeing her. So one wild, damp afternoon, 
 when the wind was shaking down the sere and yellow 
 leaves into the puddles and mud, he arrived at Ruby 
 Lodge, and was admitted by the front door. 
 
 Myra was not in the room when he entered, 
 and he felt a little anxious, even nervous, lest she 
 should look miserable, and perhaps shed tears. She 
 certainly looked very white when she did come, but 
 she smiled brightly, and her eyes were clear and 
 calm. 
 
 " It is very good of you to come ! I was afraid 
 you would go away without seeing me," she said, 
 giving him her small cold hand. 
 
 " I could not have gone away without seeing 
 you, Myra! I assure you, I have missed my pupil 
 sorely 1 But the clerk of the weather has shut up 
 the school. I fancy we are having the equinox 
 unusually early." 
 
328 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Perhaps ! At all events, I am glad to see you 
 again to thank you for some happy days. They will 
 be pleasant to think about; for one can always keep 
 a memory to rest one's eyes upon." 
 
 Leyton did not answer directly, but after a 
 brief pause, took up a small parcel he had laid on 
 the table, and handing it to Myra, said — 
 
 " This is the copy of your father's picture which 
 I promised you. I am afraid I have lost the likeness 
 a little." 
 
 Myra's eyes sparkled as she hastily undid the 
 paper in which it was folded, and uttered an ex- 
 clamation of pleasure as they fell upon it. 
 
 " Perhaps it is a shade less like than your original 
 sketch, but oh ! it is good, it is his own dear face ! " 
 She stopped. He could see her teeth pressed upon 
 her under lip in the effort to maintain her com- 
 posure. 
 
 " You have given me a treasure," she said, holding 
 out her hand to him with a gracious yet dignified 
 gesture as soon as she could command her voice. 
 
 Leyton took it in both his own, and obeying an 
 irresistible impulse, kissed it gently. "I wish I 
 could be a more useful friend to you, Myra ! but it is 
 
MASTER AND PUFIL. 129 
 
 not easy for a poor Bohemian artist, like myself, to he 
 of much use to anyone. You want women friends, 
 and no doubt you will make them. Remember, 
 Myra, that whenever you are in any real difficulty 
 you must not hesitate to send for me ! I will do 
 all and everything in my power to help you, and 
 I shall always keep you informed as to where I 
 am to be found. I suppose I may write to you ? 
 — your letters are not opened ? " 
 
 " My letters — oh ! I never have any. No, I do 
 not think anyone would interfere with them. I 
 am a teacher now." 
 
 "True, I had forgotten your dignified position. 
 Then I will let you know what I am about from 
 time to time, and you must answer ! " 
 
 "Of course I shall! But, Jack, you ought to 
 be a great artist. There is something in your pic- 
 tures I cannot quite put into words. Something 
 more than real-looking trees, and water, and distance ; 
 they tell a story — they tell of joy or sorrow, or anger 
 or despair. Oh, I cannot quite say what I want." 
 
 "You say it remarkably well," returned Jack, 
 smiling, " and you rouse my ambition, which has 
 been dead or sleeping." 
 
130 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Do not let it sleep ! Oh ! how delighted I 
 should be to read about you in the papers. I used 
 to see long critiques in the papers at Uncle Edward's 
 about painting and music and theatres." 
 
 " Well, Myra, I will do my best ! I suppose I 
 may come and see you when I return ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ! When will that be ? " 
 
 " I am not sure ; a couple of months. Here is 
 my address for about three weeks. It is on the 
 west coast of Scotland." 
 
 " Thank you ! you have been good to me 1 If I 
 never see you again, I shall always remember you 
 with pleasure," The large dark blue eyes he ad- 
 mired looked yearningly into his, 
 
 " Not see me again ! " exclaimed Leyton. " Why, 
 of course you shall. You shall not get rid of me 
 so easily." 
 
 Myra laughed, "I do not Avant to get rid of you, 
 Jack." 
 
 " And your breathing-space will soon be over ? " 
 
 " Yes ! but I am not sorry ; there will be plenty 
 to do, and on the whole the girls are not unkind ; 
 none of them care much about me, except two of 
 the little ones, but they are merry, and they amuse 
 
MASTER AND PUPIL. 131 
 
 me. I shall be so proud to show theui the sketches 
 I did with you." 
 
 It was on Leyton's lips to say, " Don't mention 
 the matter," but looking in her face he paused, and 
 decided to risk anything rather than suggest the 
 faintest necessity for concealment. 
 
 " I have tied up all the books 3'ou lent me, and 
 was going to leave them at your studio, but the 
 weather has been so bad." 
 
 " Yes — yes, of course ; I will take them with me 
 now, and — I must go, Myra ! " 
 
 " I suppose so ! good-bye ! Be very ambitious, 
 and then you will be very successful. Good-bye ! " 
 
 Leyton held her hand for a moment between 
 his own two ; but he resisted the inchnation to kiss 
 it again. 
 
 " Good-bye, Myra," he said softly, and taking 
 the parcel of books he went away. 
 
 Myra stood for some minutes where he had left 
 her, her hands clasped, her lip quivering ; then she 
 brushed the moisture from her eyes, sat down, and 
 drawing her father's portrait to her, tenderly kissed 
 the dear familiar face. 
 
 Leyton walked rapidly towards his own abode. 
 J 2 
 
132 THE 8NABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "That's well ended," he thought. "But there's more 
 in her than I supposed ! she was calmer and far 
 less moved than I was. I have alarmed myself 
 unnecessarily. I am an old friend to her, and no- 
 thing more. Yet it is wiser and better to get away. 
 There is more strength in her than could be ex- 
 j)ected from that gentle, willowy creature. I think 
 Lady Shirland would take to her ; as to the adorable 
 Dorothea, it is impossible to say what she might 
 do — establish a tyrannical protectorate over the 
 sweet waif, or hate her like poison. Most women 
 are inexplicable. Even Myra may not be the angel 
 she seems 1 I should like to have the chance of 
 studying her character. I fancy there are tangled 
 skeins in it ; but it would be better not — much better 
 not." 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 
 
 The remainder of the holidays was a neutral-tinted 
 blank to Myra. 
 
 The gleam of sunshine that had brightened her 
 dreary path for a moment had faded, and all was 
 leaden-coloured and misty again ; yet she did not 
 absolutely mope. To let herself think — when thought 
 only convinced her that " a smile and a grasp of the 
 hand hastening on" w^as all she could hope for of 
 intercourse with her father's friend, the one creature 
 associated with the dear bygone days — was intolerable. 
 She must be " doing " to keep herself mentally free 
 from pain. Moreover, the lesson her isolated exist- 
 ence had cut deep into her heart was, that she had 
 no claim on an^^one, that she must trust to herself 
 and trouble no one. There were times when this 
 cruel knowledge pressed its sting painfully into her 
 soul ; then the blessed buoyancy of youth floated her 
 
134 ■ THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 up over these depths ; for " there's a time when hope 
 deceives us, and we dream of bright days to come." 
 Persistent, unreheved melancholy can only end in 
 the madhouse. 
 
 The cook found among the keys confided to her 
 care one which unlocked a piano, so Myra found 
 some diversion in trying all the music she could lay 
 her hands on ; also in visiting Mrs. Keene, and con- 
 versing with the disabled courier, who seemed to 
 Myra's inexperience a very well-bred, accomplished 
 person. 
 
 It was pleasant, too, to converse with his grand- 
 daughter, a girl somewhat younger than herself 
 
 Her father had been Keene's only son by his first 
 marriage. She had lost both parents, but they were 
 well replaced by her adoring grandfather and step- 
 grandmother, who had no children of her own. 
 
 These occupations, added to needlework, kept 
 her busy till Mrs. Fairchild's return set the 
 machinery of the establishment going, and made 
 M3rra think at times that the deUghtful interlude 
 of her renewed acquaintance with Leyton was the 
 baseless fabric of a dream. 
 
 Mrs. Fairchild returned in improved health, and 
 
TEE TUBN OF THE TIDE. 135 
 
 consequently in improved temper, though on the 
 whole she was of wonderfully even temperament. 
 The end of the term, however, mis^ht well ruffle the 
 equanimity of a whole angelic choir. Then she Avas 
 to reopen with all her old and three new pupils, and 
 she flattered herself that her arrangement with Myra 
 was not a bad stroke of business. 
 
 It was nearly a week after her return before Mrs. 
 Fairchild had time for any conversation with the 
 young German-teacher on personal matters. 
 
 " You are still looking very pale and thin, Miss 
 Dallas," she said, darting a sharp glance at her as 
 they sat together after their frugal supper. " I trust 
 and hope you are not going to knock up at the 
 beginning of the term ! It would put me out 
 dreadfully." 
 
 " I feel quite strong, I assure you, Mrs. Fairchild 1 
 and I have enjoyed my holidays, for I did some 
 sketching up at Hampstead. May I show you what 
 I have done ? " 
 
 " Yes ! fetch me your work." 
 
 Myra obeyed. 
 
 "It isn't bad for that style," said Mrs. Fairchild 
 carelessly ; " but it doesn't bear close inspection. How 
 
136 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 did you manage ? you did not go and sit on the heath 
 alone ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no. I met a gentleman, an old friend of 
 my father's, an artist whom I used to know long 
 ago, and as lie was making some sketches himself, 
 he let me work beside him." 
 
 "A gentleman? was he an old gentleman?" 
 sharply. 
 
 " No, not old ; younger than my father, and " 
 
 " Why, Miss Dallas, this was rather imprudent," 
 interrupted Mrs. Fairchild. " Pray what sort of man 
 is he ? what's his name ? " 
 
 "He is very nice indeed, and very kind. He 
 knew me when I was a child; his name is Leyton. 
 He is tall and rather dark, and I'm sure I don't know 
 how old he is — perhaps thirty or forty." 
 
 " That is a very vague statement ! I think j'Our 
 own sense of propriety might have suggested the 
 presence of another lady ? " 
 
 " But I never dreamed of wanting anyone else 1 
 AVhat harm could there be in going with Jack 
 Leyton ? " 
 
 " Don't — pray don't, Miss Dallas ! " cried the 
 outraged schoolmistress, with a shiver of horror. 
 
THE TUBN OF TEE TIDE. 137 
 
 " Do not name any man with such appaUing 
 f'amiharity ! You distress me greatly. Imagine 
 any of our neighbours seeing you walk off constantly 
 with a dissipated (they are all dissipated) young 
 man. What a character they would give of you 
 and of my house ! Why, it is enough to injure my 
 establishment, my prospects, my " 
 
 " But, Mrs. Fairchild, how could that be ? " inter- 
 rupted Myra, opening her eyes with astonishment. 
 "Jack — Mr. Leyton is a gentleman, and very good 
 to me, and an old friend. What harm could there be 
 in ? " 
 
 " Myra Dallas," solemnly, " if your own rectitude 
 and sense of propriety do not suggest a true 
 view of the case, no words of mine can enlighten 
 you." 
 
 Myra was silent with astonishment for a minute. 
 
 " Nothing could persuade me that it is wrong to 
 sit and sketch beside an old friend," she said very 
 quietly at length. " But if you disapprove, of course 
 I shall not do it again ; nor is it likely I can, for Mr. 
 Leyton has gone away to Scotland, and I do not 
 know when he will return." 
 
 " So much the better ! " ejaculated Mrs. Fairchild. 
 
138 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Your upbringing has evidently been most defective ; 
 but if you undertake to be guided by me, I shall say 
 no more about this deplorable indiscretion ! You are 
 not a bad girl, Myra, but quite incapable of seeing 
 the true aspect of things. Now I am going to make 
 up my books, so you may go to your room if you 
 like." 
 
 And Myra went, with fresh food for thought, 
 for painful wonder. What strange doctrine was 
 this propounded by Mrs. Fairchild ? It was too 
 ridiculous ; she (Myra) would ask Jack, when they 
 met again, if anyone save Mrs. Fairchild herself 
 could see wrong-doing in so simple an act as a lady 
 and gentleman walking and sketching together. 
 Suddenly she felt her cheeks aflame ; could she ask 
 Jack this question ? No ! she dare not ; the bloom 
 of fresh innocence that thinks no evil had been 
 rudely brushed away; so infinitely more suggestive 
 are the fig-leaves of propriety than the noble 
 nakedness of simple humanity. 
 
 Without distinctly thinking through the un- 
 comfortable puzzle, Myra felt that an impalpable, yet 
 most perceptible barrier had been raised between 
 Ley ton and herself " It is really no matter," was 
 
THE TJJEN OF TEE TIDE. 139 
 
 her final conclusion. " I don't suppose I shall ever 
 see much of him again." 
 
 ■X- -K- -x- ^ ^ 
 
 Rub}^ Lodge was itself again, and the routine of 
 worlv was in full swing. Myra was soon very busy ; 
 for, besides her German class, Mrs. Fairchild found 
 heaps of small services, which were no one's particular 
 duty, for MjTa to perform ; nor did she object. She 
 hoped she was growing more alert and practical ; she 
 was less frequently reproached for " dreaming " and 
 " mooning " than she used to be, and had decidedly 
 increased in popularity with the girls. 
 
 It was a damp, drizzling day at the end of 
 October, and somewhat late in the afternoon. Myra 
 had been directing the practice of a rather backward 
 music pupil in the lower school-room, and thought 
 she had heard the sound of a cab stopping, but took 
 little heed, as she ascended to her own tiny chamber, 
 intending to devote a spare half- hour to some 
 necessary darning, when the parlour-maid almost 
 startled her out of her wits by presenting her with 
 a card. 
 
 " Mrs. Edward Dallas ; will you see the lady, 
 miss ? " 
 
140 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLEE. 
 
 " No ! yes ! perhaps I had better," hesitated 
 Myra. 
 
 " She is in the drawing-room, miss." 
 
 " Myra turned and went somewhat slowly to 
 that state apartment. What fresh stab was her 
 uncle's widow going to inflict ? 
 
 When she entered, she found Mrs. Dallas standing 
 on the hearth-rug, her eyes fixed upon the door. 
 
 " Ah, Myra ! " she exclaimed, coming to meet 
 her, both hands outstretched. " You are no doubt 
 surprised to see me. You will be still more surprised 
 when I tell you why ! " 
 
 Amazed at the change in her aunt's voice, 
 manner, expression, Myra could not speak, but 
 silently gave her hands to those so eagerly ex- 
 tended. 
 
 " I have come to ask your forgiveness, Myra, 
 for what must have seemed my unaccountable 
 harshness ; to explain that I have suspected you 
 wrongfully, and to endeavour to atone for the 
 past." 
 
 "I am greatly surprised! Indeed, I never did 
 anything to deserve your dislike ! " said Myra, gazing 
 at her not without distrust. 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 141 
 
 " I know you did not — I know it now ; but for 
 a long time I believed you had made sad mischief 
 between your uncle and myself. Let me tell you 
 all about it." She sat down on the sofa, and drew 
 Myra to her side, holding her hand while she 
 spoke, her eyes growing moist as if from suppressed 
 feeling. 
 
 " You will remember, no doubt, the sudden change 
 in my manner and conduct towards you about a 
 year and a half ago — the last time you spent any 
 holidays with us ? " 
 
 Myra thought hard, but in vain. Mrs. Dallas 
 had been always much the same. 
 
 " I cannot quite remember," she said hesitatingly, 
 " but I am not very observant." 
 
 " You are a singidarly guileless creature, Myra ! 
 Alas, / remember the time but too well. It was 
 then that I had the only misunderstanding with my 
 dear husband which ever arose between us ! He 
 broke out into reproaches against me one evening, 
 accusing me of unkindness and injustice to you, and 
 much more. I will not dwell upon these cruel details ; 
 enough to say that I believed you had incited him 
 to this outbreak, as he had been to see you that 
 
142 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEIi. 
 
 very day. I confess to being greatly embittered 
 against you, and determined you should never reside 
 under my roof." 
 
 " Of course you did ! but I never said a word," 
 began Myra. 
 
 " I know you did not. Just listen, my dear ! 
 Searching through my dear husband's papers, I dis- 
 covered, only yesterday, two or three letters addressed 
 to him by a bad, cruel woman, now dead, who hated 
 me, and would stop at nothing to injure me and 
 separate me from my husband. In these letters I 
 found all the accusations which your uncle made 
 against me. This was the reason of his attack upon 
 me ; and you, towards whom I have been so harsh, 
 so unjust, are innocent ! " She let go Myra's hand 
 to press her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 " How dreadfully wicked ! " ejaculated her hearer ; 
 " but how covM you believe / would make my 
 poor uncle uncomfortable ? He was so fond of 
 you!" 
 
 " Ah ! he was indeed ! and I have been so unkind 
 to his favourite niece ! Can you forgive me, Myra ? 
 Oh ! can you forgive me ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I can indeed ! I am so glad you have 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. US 
 
 discovered the truth. I never could make out why 
 you did not hke me, and I don't think you did from 
 the first ! " 
 
 '' You are mistaken, Myra ! I used to be hurt 
 by your coldness and shyness — that would have 
 passed away but for the work of the base mischief- 
 maker ! Now, my dear child, my most ardent desire 
 is to atone for my past unkindness ; you must come 
 and live with me, and be my daughter. I am terribly 
 lonely, Myra ! Lionel is so much sought after that I 
 scarcely see him ; and now, when the years grow long 
 and wearisome, you must come and cheer me up — 
 you must return good for evil." 
 
 " Do you really mean it ? " exclaimed Myra, some- 
 what puzzled, and not too ready to accept this offer. 
 A sort of fear that some other discovery might 
 again change the present radiant state of affairs 
 made her less effusively grateful than Mrs. Dallas 
 expected. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, " I see you cannot forgive me ; 
 the sense of my unkindness still rankles." 
 
 " No ! indeed it does not. If you really care for 
 my company, I am sure you are welcome to it ! but 
 I am afraid Mrs. Fairchild will not like me to leave 
 
144 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 till Christmas ; and / should not like to displease her, 
 for she has been kind to me in her way." 
 
 " Till Christmas ! Oh, nonsense ! she must not 
 be selfish. I shall settle about that ! " 
 
 " I know it is not easy to find a German teacher, 
 and " 
 
 " I cannot have you roughing it here to suit Mrs. 
 Fairchild's convenience," interrupted Mrs. Dallas. 
 " Not, indeed, that I have a very luxurious home to 
 offer you, dear Myra — my means are limited since my 
 dear husband's death. Still, you shall have a tiny 
 room all to yourself, and as comfortable as I can 
 make it ; and I shall be so glad to hear you play 
 
 and sing, or read " She talked on in the 
 
 same strain for a few minutes, while Myra felt 
 inclined to pinch herself to test her wakefulness 
 — it all seemed so like a strange contradictory 
 dream. 
 
 " The sooner I see Mrs. Fairchild the better," 
 her aunt was saying, when Myra succeeded in con- 
 vincing herself she was awake. 
 
 " I will go for her, aunt — shall I come back ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you like." 
 
 " You see, I do not want to put her out." 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 145 
 
 " You are very considerate of Mrs. Fairchild, 
 Myra ! perhaps you would prefer staying with 
 her ? " 
 
 " Yesterday I should," returned Myra. " To-day 
 things are changed ; " and she left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas leaned back in the corner of the sofa 
 and heaved a deep sigh ; then a look of quiet con- 
 tented thought stole over her handsome dark face, 
 and she remamed profoundly still, meditating on 
 some deeply interesting subject, till Mrs. Fairchild, 
 followed by Myra, came in. 
 
 A brisk discussion ensued between the two elder 
 ladies, Mrs. Fairchild being very reluctant to let 
 Myra go, and apparently greatly puzzled by Mrs. 
 Dallas's change of mood. 
 
 As to the slight explanation offered by the latter, 
 which of course did not include the particulars 
 related to Myra, Mrs Fairchild scarcely attended 
 to it. She evidently considered the whole a mere 
 whim, and even ventured in very plain terms to 
 call Mrs. Dallas's attention to the fact that in 
 removing Myra from an occupation which would 
 enable her to earn her bread, she incurred the 
 responsibility of j^roviding for her. 
 
146 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "I am quite aware of it," returned Mrs. Dallas 
 loftily. 
 
 Finally, as Myra stuck loyalty to her engagement, 
 it was agreed that Mrs. Fairchild should look out 
 diligently for a German governess, and as soon as 
 one was found Myra should be permitted to take up 
 her abode with her affectionate and penitent aunt. 
 In any case she was to be free at Christmas. 
 
 For the first time in the course of their acquaint- 
 ance Mrs. Dallas kissed Myra at parting. 
 
 " And I may call you aunt now ? " asked the 
 latter, as she accompanied that lady to the door. 
 
 " That is an unkind little speech, Myra. Yes, of 
 course you may ! The reason I wished to break with 
 you is removed, and I am but too glad to have a 
 relative of my dear husband near me. Remember, 
 you are to spend Sunday with me ! Be sure you 
 come early ; we shall discuss all our plans at leisure." 
 
 Myra was almost stunned by this extraordinary 
 change in the face of affairs, and thankful when she 
 could think over the matter in the silence and 
 darkness of her own room. 
 
 Really Mrs. Dallas was very kind. Of course it 
 was but natural that she should be irritated against 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 147 
 
 her (Myra) when she thought her a mean mischief- 
 maker! If Mrs. Dallas continued pleasant and 
 friendly, it would be far nicer to live with her 
 than at school, and Myra resolved to be bright and 
 complaisant, and grateful too. But she rather 
 wished that Lionel was not to be of the party. She 
 did not like Lionel. At one time she had rather 
 liked him, but she felt an odd sort of fear of his eyes, 
 which was, she told herself, very foolish. 
 
 The more Myra thought of this curious turn in 
 the current of her life, the more content she felt. It 
 was quite Hkely that a woman of strong quick feel- 
 ing like Mrs. Dallas, in her anxiety to atone for past 
 injustice, might grow to love where she first disliked, 
 and Myra was quite ready to give affection freely in 
 return for any bestowed on herself. Life might be 
 happy enough with her aunt, as she began again to 
 call her in her own mind, and perhaps a brighter 
 period was about to dawn for her. 
 
 One duty she readily fulfilled, for a duty it 
 seemed, that was to write an account of this im- 
 portant event to Jack Leyton. 
 
 He would be so pleased, for he had been especially 
 anxious she should have women friends, and what 
 K 2 
 
148 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 better position could she find than a home with a 
 female relative — no, connection — like Mrs. Dallas ? 
 
 This letter brought a swift reply. Leyton was 
 delighted, in fact overjoyed, to find his friend and 
 pupil was to be so happily relieved from the diffi- 
 culties of her isolated position. " Mrs. Dallas ought 
 to be a warm friend," he continued, " now she has 
 found out how she has misjudged you, for she cer- 
 tainly was a bitter foe as far as I can gather. Pray 
 let me know where you are to be found, as I should 
 like to see you, and make your aunt's acquaintance 
 when I return to town." 
 
 To her good friend Mrs. Keene Myra explained 
 the new condition of things by word of mouth, and 
 gladly received the congratulations of the worthy 
 couple. 
 
 " It is a pity Mrs. Dallas didn't speak out straight 
 when she began to think: you had made mischief," 
 said Mrs, Keene reflectively. " If she had just given 
 you a piece of her mind you might have cleared 
 yourself, but it's not often her sort goes quite 
 straight." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " cried Myra. " You must 
 not say anything against my aunt now that we are 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 149 
 
 going to be friends, and she wishes to be good to 
 me ! " 
 
 " Well I'm not blaming her, Miss Myra ! only 
 you know it's harder for one of them half-castes to 
 act square than for a real thorough Englishwoman." 
 
 " Half-caste ? was she a half-caste ? " 
 
 " Yes, missee. Her father was an Englishman 
 and her mother a native woman. You may see it in 
 her finger-nails. I've heard her ladyship speak of 
 her when she told me as how the colonel had brought 
 you back from Munich." 
 
 " Oh ! well, I don't want to know anything about 
 her now she is kind. I used to hate her ; but that 
 was because she wounded me. Now I know she 
 thought me an ungrateful wretch I can forgive her, 
 and I feel all the happier." 
 
 " You are right. Miss Myra, only don't otiend liei-, 
 or go too much against her — she might change round 
 again." 
 
 " Pray do not prophesy evil ! " cried Myra. " Of 
 course I shall like her and be nice to her." 
 
 " All I am afraid of is, she will not let you come 
 and see us 1 She is rather high and haughty, and 
 when first I went to ask to see you she spoke to 
 
150 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 me as if I were dirt ; so maybe she won't like you 
 to come." 
 
 " Oh ! but I will — I am not going to be a slave." 
 " I hope not, my dear ! but well see ! " 
 Mrs. Dallas was an energetic woman. She had 
 undertaken to assist Mrs. Fairchild in her search 
 for a governess to fill Myra's place, and she did not 
 let the grass grow under her feet. She haunted 
 scholastic offices, answered advertisements, wrote, and 
 rambled from post to pillar till she discovered the 
 desired article early in December. The question of 
 the Christmas vacation arose, and finally it was 
 arranged that Myra should be emancipated a week 
 before that festival, and her successor come in a week 
 after. So Myra bade adieu to Ruby Lodge, not 
 Avithout kindly regret. 
 
 It was indeed strange to be installed in her aunt's 
 home as a favoured inmate — to be not only warmly 
 received, but to be treated with marked considera- 
 tion. 
 
 '• I have only a tiny bedroom to give you, dear ! " 
 said Mrs. Dallas, as she led the way upstairs, after 
 Myra's one trunk, which was being carried by a 
 sixpenny volunteer, under the inspection of Mrs. 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 151 
 
 Dwyer. " But by-and-bye, when I know better what 
 I can venture to do, you shall have more comfortable 
 quarters." 
 
 "It is quite as good as I want, and it is larger 
 than the one I had at Ruby Lodge." 
 
 " When you unpack your things I shall put aw^ay 
 your box — that will give you more room. Lionel 
 desired me to say he hopes you will excuse him, but 
 he is obliged to dine out to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! of course, he need not mind me. It would 
 never do to stand on ceremony with a member of 
 the family as I am to be." 
 
 "It is very nice and sensible of you, dear, to say 
 so. I always thought you a sensible girl. I hope 
 now that you are with me Lionel will stay more 
 at home. He is too fond of society ; perhaps as he 
 is out, we might do with tea and eggs — we women 
 care so little what we eat." 
 
 " Eggs and tea are delicious," exclaimed Myra 
 joyously, charmed with the warmth and kindness 
 of her aunt's manner. 
 
 " A dinner of herbs where love is is not to be 
 despised," said Mrs. Dallas with a gentle smile. " I 
 will leave you to unpack. You have really very 
 
152 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 pretty hair, Myra," as she removed her hat. " We 
 will have our tea-dinner at six; by-the-way, Lionel 
 is dining with great friends of mine — Lady Shirland 
 and her daughter, or rather, step-daughter — ^Miss 
 Dorothea Browne, a very charming girl, with a large 
 fortune. I think my dear boy is greatly taken with 
 her, nor is she averse to him. I am sure you believe 
 I am not mercenary, but Lionel has no fortune, and 
 if a nice amiable girl with one is willing to marry 
 him, why, it would be a great relief to my mind." 
 
 " I suppose so ! I heard of Lady Shirland some 
 little time ago from a gentleman who knows her 
 very well." 
 
 " A gentleman ! " repeated Mrs. Dallas, a hun- 
 dred notes of admiration and interrogation in her 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, an old friend of my father's," returned 
 Myra with happy unconsciousness, taking off her 
 jacket and laying it on the bed^" Mr. Ley ton. He 
 used to study with my father when I was a little 
 girl of thirteen or fourteen. We met by accident, 
 and he very kindly came to see me, and gave me a 
 lesson or two in sketching. I daresay he will call 
 here when he comes back to town." 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 153 
 
 ' " But, good heavens ! how does he know where 
 to find you ? " 
 
 " I wrote and told him. He was so distressed 
 about my not having any home, that I told him how 
 good you were to me." 
 
 " Ha ! and asked him to call ? " said Mrs. Dallas, 
 looking into her eyes as though she would read her 
 soul. 
 
 "Oh! no. I should not think of troubling him, 
 but he asked one to let him know where I should be." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas looked down for a moment in silence, 
 and then said in a slightly constrained tone — 
 
 " Of course, dear, I shall be pleased to see any 
 friend of yours ; but young ladies rarely make the 
 acquaintance of gentlemen without a proper intro- 
 duction." 
 
 " Well, Jack Leyton was introduced to me by 
 my poor dear father ! " returned Myra, with a sigh 
 and a smile. 
 
 " True ! " said Mrs. Dallas amiably. " You will 
 come down, dear, when you are ready ; " and she 
 left the room. 
 
 The evening passed pleasantly. Mrs. Dallas 
 asked Myra to play, and seemed to enjoy the 
 
154 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 music. She was not in the habit of reading, nor did 
 she care for needlework, unless, indeed, she fabricated 
 a lace fichu, or trimmed a dainty bonnet, and her 
 taste, though tending to brilliant colours, was good. 
 Dress and jewels were her idols ; she also loved 
 luxury in every shape, though quite capable of 
 abstemiousness in all directions were she obliged to 
 pay for the luxury herself She had a certain sense 
 of enjoyment in music, and would sit and dream 
 while Myra's fingers strayed over the keys. 
 
 That first evening Lionel did not appear, and 
 Myra's first interview with him took place at break- 
 fast next morning. Mrs. Dallas always had her 
 coffee in bed, so for half an hour Lionel and Myra 
 were tete-a-tete, and she found him unusually 
 agreeable. He expressed his pleasure at finding 
 that she and his mother had, as he expressed it, 
 " made it up," and hoped that he and his mother's 
 guest would get on together, " in a brotherly and 
 sisterly fashion, eh, Myra ? " he added, in a rather 
 mocking tone. 
 
 " Yes, Lionel ! there is no reason why we should 
 not," returned Myra good-humouredly. " I am sure 
 you could be a very nice brother 1 " 
 
THE TURN OF THE TIDE. 155 
 
 " At any rate I'll try," said Lionel, " to be worthy 
 of my sister." ^ 
 
 So Myra settled down as a member of the 
 family, and the first strangeness soon wore otf. She 
 was quickly conscious that she was of real use to 
 Mrs. Dallas, and was deeply gratified to find it so, 
 while the conviction that her position grew more 
 and more secure lulled the vague uneasiness which 
 at first disturbed her. 
 
CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 
 
 Christmas had come and gone. It had been a very 
 dull season in Melford Road. Mrs. Dallas was much 
 depressed, and went frequently to afternoon service, 
 whither Myra always accompanied her. It was 
 curious how Myra gradually found it impossible 
 to do anything or go anywhere without her aunt, 
 who seemed quite unable to do without her, unless 
 indeed Lionel accompanied Myra anywhere. Then 
 Mrs. Dallas was quite content to stay at home and 
 alone. Lionel stayed at home much more himself 
 than he did at first, and appeared to take great 
 pleasure in singing to Myra's accompaniment. He 
 had a rich tenor voice, and she liked to hear him, 
 while Mrs. Dallas declared that her dear children 
 cheered and sustained her. 
 
 Towards the middle of January Lady Shirland 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 157 
 
 and Miss Browne returned from some country visits 
 and settled themselves in their comfortable, handsome 
 house, where the former hoped her whimsical step- 
 daughter would let her rest for awhile. The weather 
 was bright and frosty, and skaters began to hope that 
 another twenty-four hours would make the ice on 
 the Serpentine strong enough for their exhilarating 
 exercise. Miss Browne had returned from a busy 
 afternoon of shopping and visiting, and Lady Shir- 
 land, w^ho had a slight cold, had prudently kept 
 indoors, and w^as presiding over a tea-table daintily 
 set out with silver and china, scones, and thin 
 bread-and-butter. She was a stately, portly woman of 
 middle height, with white hair and a good complexion, 
 keen grey eyes, and a wide smiling mouth that 
 seemed as if it could appreciate good things. Miss 
 Browne had just taken oft' her hat, showing a goodly 
 supply of light yellow hair, very dry and dull ; a 
 coat trimmed w^ith rich fur had been thrown oft', 
 over a chair near the window. She was very 
 pale, and rather above the average height ; very 
 thin and angular, but admirably dressed, presenting 
 indeed a perfect dressmaker's figure. The grate 
 glowed with a splendid fire. The room was richly 
 
158 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEE. 
 
 and luxuriously furnished, and sweet with the 
 perfume of hothouse flowers. 
 
 " The wind is decidedly north-east," said Miss 
 Browne, in a slow, drawling, but carefully modulated 
 voice, as she stirred her tea. " I was quite frightened 
 as I came out from Howell and James's. The carriage 
 was a little w^ay off, and I felt it piercing my chest 
 like a spear. I trust I may be spared bronchitis this 
 year." 
 
 " Pray don't talk about it," cried Lady Shirland 
 hastily. " It would never do. I fancy we are going 
 to have a rather good season ! There is a note from 
 dear Lady Betty Lorimer ; she is going to give a 
 series of Cinderella dances in February, and quite 
 counts on you. They are to be fancy dress affairs, 
 and I believe they are to end in cotillons or some 
 Russian dance ! " 
 
 " Oh ! indeed ! Those early things are generally 
 good before the season is too crowded. Have you 
 had anyone to-day ? " 
 
 " Only Mrs. Dacre and our vicar, who is in town 
 for a few days. I asked him to dinner to-morrow." 
 
 " How tiresome ! He is wofully stupid, and 
 curiously obstinate ! " 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 159 
 
 " I really don't find him stupid, Dorothea. He 
 has plenty of plain common sense ! " 
 
 " But it is so plain, mamma ! " returned Miss 
 Browne, who was just a little behind the age, and 
 thought " mother " vulgar. Lady Shirland's reply 
 was prevented by the announcement of "Mr. 
 Leyton, my lady ! " 
 
 Dorothea put down her cup and pressed her 
 hand on the spot supposed to cover the human 
 heart, as Leyton entered, in very much the same 
 kind of careless get-up he wore when he met Myra. 
 
 " My dear Jack ! " exclaimed Lad}^ Shirland, who 
 was a genial, easy-going creature, and could never 
 keep strictly between the lines of severely correct 
 manner, as she rose and shook hands with him 
 cordially, " I am delighted to see you ! Where on 
 earth have you been ? It must be two years since 
 you vanished." 
 
 " Just eighteen months, mamma, dear," said Doro- 
 thea, smiling sweetly upon him, " since we met in 
 Paris." 
 
 " Ah ! Miss Browne ! I trust you are all the 
 better for your winter in the south ! You look as 
 you had wrestled successfully with the bronchitis fiend. 
 
160 THE SKAUE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Thank you ! I am better, and you know that 
 a moment's respite is enough for my buoyant spirit 
 to recover itself." 
 
 " Now sit down. Have a cup of tea, and tell me 
 what you are doing." 
 
 " Not much," returned Leyton, drawing his 
 chair near the table. " I am working here — I have 
 a studio up in north-west district, and I am going 
 to exhibit my Egyptian sketches as soon as the days 
 lengthen a little." 
 
 " Oh ! don't wait for that ! they will look as well 
 by gas-light, and in another month there will be 
 such dozens of exhibitions ! And do you mean to 
 say you have been all this time in town and never 
 called ? " 
 
 " I scarcely liked to do so. I have hved so long 
 out of the world, the polite world, that I scarcely 
 dared to present myself ; " and he laughed — a pleasant 
 sensible laugh. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Leyton ! " exclaimed Dorothea with 
 a side-long glance. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " added her step-mother. " Then," 
 she continued, " you have no news ? " 
 
 "Nothing whatevex. I come to you for that 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 161 
 
 commodity. Tell me, have you seen anything of 
 Wardlaw lately ? " 
 
 " No ! " replied Lady Shirland, " not since last 
 season ; but I fancy he must be in town now." 
 
 "I want a talk with him very much," said Ley- 
 ton. " Was he not a friend of Colonel Dallas, and 
 of his brother the artist, who drifted out of 
 society ? " 
 
 " Very likely. Mr. Wardlaw knows everyone. 
 We know the widow of Colonel Dallas — one of the 
 most charming women possible — so soft, so refined. 
 Isn't she, Dorothea ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! with great dark oriental eyes that 
 make you think of Lalla Rookh." 
 
 "You know it was so unlucky poor Colonel 
 Dallas died just a week before that rich old George 
 Dallas. Now, if he had outlived him a week, though 
 there would have been no time to make a will, and 
 the fortune would have gone to Cecil Forrester 
 probably all the same, the widow would have had 
 her thirds, and a very handsome income it would 
 have given her. Now she is comparatively poor." 
 
 " What sort of a fellow is Cecil Forrester ? " asked 
 Leyton. 
 
 L 
 
162 THE 8NABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " An ordinary well-bred young man. I hardly 
 know him. Have you never met him ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Ley ton. " Why I ask about him 
 is this. I knew Frederic Dallas well, and studied 
 with him long ago at Munich, at least, I shared his 
 studio. He was as good a fellow as ever lived — 
 simple as a child. His daughter is utterly unpro- 
 vided for. I wonder, if things were properly repre- 
 sented to Forrester, would he settle some fraction 
 of his wealth upon her ? You know if " 
 
 "Yes — yes," exclaimed Lady Shirland, hastily 
 glancing at Dorothea, who was looking down in a 
 maidenly manner, and feeding a beautiful Persian 
 cat with a silver bell round its neck. " We need not 
 discuss that now ! I don't suppose Captain Forrester 
 would do anything of the kind ; no man ever likes 
 to part with his money! besides, this girl does not 
 want it. Mrs. Dallas has most kindly, though per- 
 haps not too wisely, adopted her." 
 
 " Will that be permanent ? Mrs. Dallas is, you 
 say, not very well off herself. The whole main- 
 tenance of Miss Dallas ought not to be thrown on 
 her ? " 
 
 "Do they call her Miss Dallas ? " asked Lady 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 163 
 
 Shirland. " I am sure, Jack, I should not meddle 
 if I were you." 
 
 " I should like the matter brought to Forrester's 
 notice, however," persisted Leyton. " Isn't Ward- 
 law a great chum of his ? " 
 
 "He was his guardian, I think," said Dorothea. 
 " You might ask him. It would be very unkind of 
 Captain Forrester not to give her an allowance or 
 annuity or something. It must be such a pleasure 
 to help anyone," she continued with girlish good- 
 nature. " I was always sorry for that poor little thing, 
 for I am quite sure she used not to get on with Mrs. 
 Dallas." 
 
 " Well, you know, Mrs. Dallas in one of her letters 
 to me said there had been some misunderstanding", 
 and that she feared she had not been quite kind to 
 her niece," remarked Lady Shirland. 
 
 "Very sweet of her to confess it," added Doro- 
 thea. 
 
 "I am sure," began Leyton, with some hesita- 
 tion, " you will excuse me if I venture to recommend 
 my old friend's daughter to you both. The notice 
 of a young lady like Miss Browne would be of 
 immense advantage to her, for after all Mrs. Dallas 
 L 2 
 
164 THE SNARE OF TRE FOWLER. 
 
 must be rather too much her senior to be a thoroughly 
 sympathetic companion. She was such an idol with 
 her father, such a bright gentle child when I remem- 
 ber her, that I am awfully sorry to think of her 
 helpless condition." 
 
 " Poor child ! " cried Dorothea with enthusiasm. 
 "I shall certainly do all I can for her;" and she 
 clasped her somewhat large bony hands together 
 and looked up into Leyton's eyes in a thrilling 
 manner. 
 
 " I felt sure of your kindness," said Leyton, 
 returning the glance with interest. 
 
 " Of course," resumed Lady Shirland, " we should 
 be most happy to be of use to any friend of yours, 
 Jack, but now that Mrs. Dallas has adopted your 
 3^oung protegee I don't think she is much to be pitied. 
 I should like you to meet Mrs. Dallas. Come and 
 dine with us next week. I will persuade her to fix 
 a day, and " 
 
 "My dear Lady Shirland, I have not dined out 
 for years, and almost forget how to behave myself 
 I am quite useless for social purposes. It is an act 
 of infinite grace that you permit me the entree of 
 your drawing-room. I am hardly fit to appear 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 165 
 
 before Miss Browne, with whom alas! I cannot clahu 
 the privileges of an old friend." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, Mr. Leyton, I am very pleased to 
 see you ! I am so struck by your kindness to Miss 
 Dallas. You really must come, if it were only to 
 induce her to accept me for a friend ! " cried Dorothea 
 bashfully. 
 
 "No one could be so persuasive as yourself," 
 began Leyton, when he was interrupted by the 
 opening of the door and the solemn announcement, 
 " Mrs. Dallas ! " 
 
 The entry of that lady in her best and most 
 dignified style, and her deep mourning, was most 
 effective. Lady Shirland held out both hands, and 
 Dorothea quite ran to meet and embrace her. 
 
 " Now this is really nice and good of you," said 
 the former. " I had despaired of ever seeing you 
 within our walls again." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Dallas, I am so glad you have 
 summoned strength to look on the world once more 1 " 
 whispered Dorothea audibly, as she kissed her. 
 
 "Do sit down near the fire. Dorothea, get a 
 screen and a footstool. How did you come / 
 Walked ? Oh ! you must be very tired." 
 
166 THE SNAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "No, indeed, dear Lady Shirland, Since I have 
 had my niece with me I have walked more than I ever 
 did in my Hfe before ; " and she turned her great 
 lustrous eyes on Leyton. 
 
 "Mr. Leyton, a relative of mine," said Lady 
 Shirland with a wave of her hand. " Mr. Leyton, 
 Mrs. Dallas." 
 
 Mrs. Dallas bowed gracefully, and took a cup of 
 tea presented by Dorothea, while Leyton handed her 
 the scones. 
 
 " This is my first visit," resumed Mrs. Dallas in 
 sugary tones. " I was so vexed to be out when you 
 called that I determined to conquer my own morbid 
 aversion to movement, and indulge myself by a visit 
 to you ! " 
 
 " The first of many, I hope," cried Dorothea, 
 dropping carefully on a footstool at her feet, from 
 whence she could look up with equal effect into 
 Ley ton's eyes, or those of Mrs. Dallas. 
 
 "Do you know we were just talking of you and 
 of your niece ! " resumed the countess. " Mr. 
 Leyton knew her as a child in Munich, and is 
 deeply interested in her." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ! I have heard Myra speak of you. 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 167 
 
 Mr. Ley ton," said Mrs. Dallas with a slow smile. 
 " She is very grateful for your kind notice. She 
 will be sorry not to have been at home when you 
 called just now. She has gone with my son to see 
 if there is any skating on the Serpentine ; her life 
 with me is rather dull, and the young need the 
 young for cheering companionship." 
 
 " She is a fortunate girl to have such a friend in 
 you ! " exclaimed Lady Shirland. " Do you know, 
 Jack, I should like you to tell Mrs. Dallas your idea 
 about Captain Forrester. You have no objection, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Of course not ! " said Leyton. " What the 
 devil made her suggest it ? " he thought, and pro- 
 ceeded Avith a polite apology for interfering in what 
 did not concern him, to explain his views respecting 
 an application to the heir of George Dallas's wealth. 
 
 " How very good of you," said the handsome 
 widow with a melting glance. " To think of under- 
 taking so disagreeable a task is indeed a proof ot 
 friendship ! But, my dear Mr. Leyton, I will not 
 impose it upon you. I cannot agree to any appli- 
 cation being made to Captain Forrester. He has 
 never made the smallest advance to me — never 
 
168 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 acknowledged me in any way. And though he 
 viust know what a loss to me his gain must be, it 
 has never occurred to him to make it up. I am 
 thankful to think I can do without his aid, and I 
 will never stoop to ask it for my dear husband's 
 niece." 
 
 '' Well, Mrs. Dallas, that may be very high- 
 minded," said Jack, " but I doubt if it is wise. You 
 do not know how matters may turn out, and M^Ta 
 may be a drag on you one of these days. However, 
 you know your affairs best ! Now, Lady Shirland, 
 I must say good-bye. I've been paying you a 
 visitation." 
 
 " By no means. Jack. Before you go I want 
 dear Mrs. Dallas to fix a day to dine here and bring 
 her son (she has a charming son) and her newly- 
 adopted daughter and yourself. Not another soul 
 except Dorothea's guardian ! Now do not refuse 
 me, dear. It will do you good, and six months' 
 complete seclusion is enough, I am sure, to prove 
 your respect even for so excellent a man as the 
 poor colonel." 
 
 A good deal of pleading followed. But Mrs. 
 Dallas was gently firm. She would not and could 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 169 
 
 not dine out even with her beloved Lady Shirland 
 and Dorothea yet awhile ! So Jack Leyton took 
 leave of the ladies, and the project fell through. 
 
 " If you will not dine with us," said Miss Browne 
 coquettishly, as she bade him good-bye, " we will go 
 and have tea with you. I do want to see your 
 studio ; I love pictures." 
 
 " You are very good ! " said Leyton. " I shall 
 be delighted and honoured ; but mine is a bare 
 barrack of a place, and horribly out of the way ; but 
 I'll write and ask you to fix a day" — and with a 
 parting bow he vanished. 
 
 " What an interesting face ! " murmured Mrs. 
 Dallas, looking after him. 
 
 " Yes ! hasn't he ? " echoed Dorothea. " We used 
 to see him often when I was a mere school-girl, 
 then he disappeared. I am afraid he has not been 
 very steady." 
 
 " Ah ! poor fellow ! " ejaculated Mrs. Dallas in a 
 reproachful tone. 
 
 " Why do you say so ? " asked Dorothea. 
 
 " Because it is easy to see w^hat has disturbed 
 his life ! You ought not to be too hard upon him, 
 dear Dorothea ! " 
 
170 TEE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Dallas ! do not frighten me with such 
 suggestions," exclaimed Dorothea in the most ap- 
 proved shrinking tone. " I never dreamed of such 
 a thing. I am sure you are quite mistaken ! " 
 
 " Well, my love, I will not persist, but I am not 
 often mistaken, and time Avill show. Pray forgive 
 me, Lady Shirland, I hope I am not indiscreet." 
 
 " Oh ! dear no ! I have given up troubling about 
 indiscretion," returned the countess impatiently. 
 " Jack Leyton used to be a very good fellow, and 
 is still, I believe. Something went wrong with him, 
 and I lost sight of him for some years. We were 
 all awfully vexed when he left the army. His people 
 were distant relations of mine, and friends into the 
 bargain. We must try and get him to come back 
 into society." 
 
 "No one could do more for him than yourself, 
 dear Lady Shirland ! " said Mrs. Dallas in her most 
 caressing manner. " I am sorry I did not ask him 
 to call on me, though an obscure widow like myself 
 can be of little or no use socially." 
 
 "A woman with the power to charm is always 
 of use," returned Lady Shirland. " Shall I tell 
 him you would be happy to see him ? " 
 
THE THIN EXD OF THE WEDGE. 171 
 
 " Pray do ! I should be very pleased." 
 
 " And, dear Mrs. Dallas, do let your niece 
 come and see me. I have never met her, and I 
 should like to be of use to her if I could ! " cried 
 Dorothea. "Young people can get on together so 
 easily." 
 
 " How sweet of you to think of her ! I fear she 
 might bore you, she is a shy, unformed creature, 
 well disposed, but not very bright." 
 
 " How has she grown up as to looks ? I saw her 
 once, about two years ago, when I thought her rather 
 plain," said Lady Shirland. 
 
 " She has improved, but one could not call her 
 pretty." 
 
 " Poor little thing ! I quite long to know her," said 
 Dorothea ardently. "I shall call to-morrow — no, 
 not to-morrow, the day after, before luncheon, if I 
 may, Mrs. Dallas ? " 
 
 " If you may ! If you will be so good, dear ! 
 Now I must leave you. It is late, and those children 
 will be looking for me." 
 
 " Let me send Thomas with you ; it is so unplea- 
 sant to walk in the dusk." 
 
 " You forget, Lady Shirland, that I am — I must 
 
172 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 be— accustomed to take care of myself. I will not 
 trouble Thomas." 
 
 " I will come down with you," said Dorothea. 
 
 "Pray do not trouble " Mrs. Dallas was 
 
 beginning when she caught a glance from the young 
 lady which cut short her remonstrance. 
 
 " Good-bye, dear Lady Shirland. I am so glad 
 I forced myself to come here to-day. You have 
 quite cheered me ! " 
 
 " Then pray come soon again, and you must 
 make up your mind to dine with us. It is high 
 time you came out of your shell. Good-bye ! " 
 
 " I am delighted to have a chance of speaking 
 to you once more ! " said Miss Browne in a half- 
 whisper, as they descended the stairs. " I have a 
 hundred and one things to tell you ; you can advise 
 me, for you are almost the only creature who under- 
 stands me, and my peculiar position." Mrs. Dallas 
 pressed her hand. " You are so observant ! you 
 noticed something peculiar in Mr. Leyton's man- 
 ner ? " 
 
 " I should be blind if I had not," returned Mrs. 
 Dallas, smiling sweetly and significantly. 
 
 " Ah ! " a long drawn " ah." " It is an old, old 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 173 
 
 story ! But I will come and have a nice long talk 
 with you ! " 
 
 " Do, my love ! " They shook hands and parted. 
 The handsome widow went away towards home 
 with her swift-gliding step, murmuring some sacri- 
 legious syllables which sounded like " Tiresome idiot ! " 
 
 WHien Mrs. Dallas reached home she found the 
 lamp in her pretty drawing-room alight and the 
 fire burning brightly. 
 
 Lionel was walking to and fro with a look of 
 annoyance on his dark face, and Myra still in her 
 outdoor attire, holding Leyton's card — a small bit 
 of pasteboard on which he had written his name — 
 and gazing at it with suspiciously moist eyes. 
 
 " I did not expect you would be back so soon," 
 said Mrs. Dallas, taking off her warm cloak and 
 looking from one to the other. 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Dallas ! " cried Myra, who could not 
 all at once get back into her old habit of calling her 
 aunt, "Mr. Leyton has been here. I am so sorry 
 to have missed him ! " 
 
 " I believe you are half crying about it ! " said 
 Lionel with evident pique. " Who on earth is this 
 Leyton ? " 
 
174 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " I have just told you ! " returned Myra im- 
 patiently. " The only old friend I have in the world ; 
 and had you been snatched away from everyone 
 and everything you loved, as I was, you would be 
 as glad to see a friend you knew in the happy days 
 as I am." 
 
 " No doubt," interposed Mrs. Dallas with smiling 
 eyes, " as you will be glad to see Lionel in some 
 future time. However, you have not lost your old 
 friend, Myra. I met him just now at Lady Shir- 
 land's, and I have asked him to call again. He 
 seems an interesting man." 
 
 " Oh, thank you. Aunt Dallas ! He is very nice 
 and good, and such a clever artist. You would like 
 to see his studio ! " 
 
 " No doubt, my dear. Now go and take off your 
 things, dinner will soon be ready." Myra smiled 
 and disappeared. 
 
 "What do you mean by encouraging her whim 
 for this beggarly artist," said Lionel to his mother 
 with savage impatience. 
 
 " Would you be so dense as to fan the incipient 
 flame by opposition ? I am ashamed that a son of 
 mine should be so dull. Pray observe my play 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 175 
 
 and follow suit. I am quite aware this Ley ton 
 is a man to be avoided, but dexterously, not 
 with brutal frank avoidance; whatever the barrier 
 we raise between them, he must seem to be the 
 builder. I thought I had made you understand the 
 importance of patience in this case." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know ! you are clever and cool and 
 tenacious, but you haven't to fight with the fever I 
 have to master. Ever since I first met Myra I have 
 wanted her. First, I liked to tease and anger her ; 
 then when she refused to kiss and be friends, and 
 grew indifferent to my teasing or pleasing, I came 
 partly to dislike and partly to love her. A kind word 
 or two sets me wild with delight. Now, since you 
 have consented to overlook everything for the sake 
 of my happiness, I begrudge the time that is lost 
 in these slow approaches. She does not know I 
 want her for my wife ; she probably thinks I am 
 only amusing myself When she finds I wish to 
 marry her, to give her the permanent protection 
 of my name, she will learn to love me. She must, 
 she shall, and I will have no man come between us." 
 
 " Do you think I will not guard her for you ? " 
 said Mrs. Dallas, with a quick flash of resolution in 
 
176 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 her eyes. "You little know me. But your pre- 
 cipitancy will only delay your happiness ; be guided 
 by me." 
 
 " I will be guided by you if you tell me your motives. 
 You have been a generous mother to me, but I don't 
 think you are disposed to general benevolence." 
 
 He paused. Mother and son stood looking into 
 each other's eyes for a second. 
 
 " Yes, Lionel. I will tell you everything, but not 
 now ; this evening, later, when we are alone. Mean- 
 time be as brotherly as you can. I do not quite 
 understand Myra, but I feel that her nature is cold 
 compared to ours, and the fire you would kindle in 
 her must be most carefully, most judiciously nursed 
 before it will catch alight. There, go ! dinner will 
 be ready directly." 
 
 That meal passed pleasantly. At first Lionel was 
 somewhat silent. Mrs. Dallas talked easily, and he 
 gradually chimed in. His mother gave him an 
 imaginary message from Miss Browne, about going 
 to see some new play, and then added — 
 
 " You might take Myra to see the pantomime. 
 I don't suppose she was ever at one. There is no 
 reason why you should not go." 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 177 
 
 " I shall be very happy," returned Lionel. " But 
 I fancy Myra would enjoy an opera more." 
 
 " I should enjoy an^^thing in a theatre ! " ex- 
 claimed Myra. 
 
 " I have some engagements next week," proceeded 
 Lionel, " but I will see about places, as Myra would 
 like to go." 
 
 " Thank you 1 " said Myra ; and the conversation 
 turned to another channel. 
 
 " I don't feel up to anything to-night," said 
 Lionel, throwing himself into a chair when he joined 
 his mother and Myra after dinner. " I have a curious 
 sense of exhaustion, as if I had been engaged in some 
 struggle and had had the worst of it. Will you 
 soothe my weary spirit by the concord of sweet 
 sounds, Myra ? Sing the Sehlummerlied I like so 
 much." 
 
 " Oh, yes," cried Myra readily ; and for some time 
 she played or sung what Lionel asked, while Mrs. 
 Dallas sat in profound silence working an intermin- 
 able piece of crochet, 
 
 " If you do not want me to-morrow," said Myra, 
 stopping rather abruptly and turning round on the 
 piano-stool, addressing Mrs. Dallas, " I think I shall 
 
 M 
 
178 THE SNAUE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 go and see Mrs. Keene. I have only been able to call 
 there once since I came here, when she was out." 
 
 '' It happens I do want you, Myra ! I had 
 planned to do some shopping in Eegent Street, and 
 ever since my sad loss I am subject to attacks of 
 dizziness, so I do not like being quite alone." 
 
 " Very well," returned Myra, " of course I shall go 
 Avith you." There was a moment's pause, then Myra 
 resumed, " I will write a letter to Mrs. Keene, and 
 say I will come next week, but I stupidly forgot to 
 get any stamps to-day." 
 
 "Do not mind that," said Lionel. "I shall be 
 going out directly to smoke a cheroot, and I'll 
 post it for you." 
 
 " Thank you very much. I will write it at once." 
 
 She left the room for that purpose, and silence 
 reigned till her return, when Lionel took the note, 
 and looking to the supply of his cigar-case, sallied 
 forth. 
 
 Soon after Mrs. Dallas said in her kindest tones — 
 
 " You are very pale, Myra. You had better go to 
 bed early, my love." 
 
 Myra was nothing loth. Mrs. Dallas did not 
 amuse or interest her, so asking leave to take a book, 
 
THE THIN END OF THE WEDGE. 179 
 
 and receiving a smiling injunction not to set the 
 house on fire, she said good-night. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas continued to weave the meshes of her 
 crochet, thinking deeply the while, an expression of 
 satisfaction dwelling on her handsome face. Presently 
 she rose to add a log of wood to the already excellent 
 fire. As she resumed her seat her son re-entered. 
 
 " Gone ? " he asked, looking round. 
 
 " Yes ; I sent her to bed. She is really not 
 difficult to manage." 
 
 " No, so far ! It is a fine clear night, but very 
 cold. I hate winter." 
 
 Lionel took his stand on the hearthrug as he 
 spoke, and drawing Myra's note from his pocket 
 handed it to his mother. 
 
 She very calmly opened and read it. 
 
 " A very harmless production," she said, " and 
 highly complimentary to the dear aunt. Neverthe- 
 less, these communications must be cut off;" and 
 throwing the note on the fire she held it clown with 
 the poker till it was completely consumed. 
 
 M 2 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN THE TOILS. 
 
 Dorothea Browne lost no time in fulfilling her 
 promise to Ley ton. The day but one after his 
 visit she drove up in a hansom before luncheon to 
 Mrs. Dallas's door, and asked if that lady and Miss 
 Dallas were at home. 
 
 The visit was so unexpected at this hour that 
 no instructions had been given, and Mrs. Dallas, 
 lounging over the morning paper in a decidedly 
 grubby, grey dressing-gown, her abundant but 
 straight black hair screwed up with cunningly- 
 devised pins, to produce the " natural " wave which so 
 greatly enhanced its beauty, beat a rapid retreat, when 
 the front door visitors' bell announced an invader. 
 
 Myra was, therefore, left alone to receive the 
 effusive spinster, and for a moment felt rather awed, 
 as Lady Shirland and her step-daughter had always 
 been represented to her as persons of the highest 
 
IN THE TOILS, ISl 
 
 distinction and most refined taste ; but the first few 
 words put her at ease, while she gazed with some 
 surprise at the towy hair, marked eyebrows, and 
 ultra-fashionable morning " get up " of her visitor. 
 
 " I presume you are Miss Dallas," began Dorothea 
 Avith a fascinating smile, her head a little on one 
 side, and holding out a carefully gloved hand. " M}' 
 visit is really more to you than to dear Mrs. Dallas. 
 I am so pleased to make your acquaintance. We 
 have heard so much about you ! " 
 
 " There cannot be much to hear about me ! You 
 are very good," said Myra, as Miss Browne sank 
 on the sofa. 
 
 " Don't be too sure ! You are Venfant gdtee of 
 this house." Miss Browne largely interlarded her 
 conversation with French phrases, which shall be 
 translated. " Then an old friend of yours and of 
 mine, Mr. Leyton, was talking of you the last day 
 he called. I believe you knew him abroad ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, he was a great friend of my father's, 
 and was so good to me always ! " cried Myra, colouring 
 vividly, she knew not why. " It was very kind of 
 him to mention me." Dorothea looked at her for 
 an instant with half-closed eyes. 
 
182 THE 8NAEE OF TEE FOWLER. 
 
 " He asked my mother and myself to visit his 
 studio. I daresay you would like to come too ? " 
 
 " Yes, very mucli ; but I have seen it He has 
 some delightful pictures ; there is an autumn land- 
 scape, and a group of Orientals in Cairo reading the 
 newspaper, that are quite charming ! " 
 
 " Oh ! indeed ! I suppose you are half an artist 
 yourself ? " 
 
 Myra shook her head. " Barely a quarter," she 
 said smiling. 
 
 " You really ought to study," continued Miss 
 Browne. " There are admirable schools in London. 
 There's the Slade — really wonderful — and so cheap ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " returned Myra somewhat hojDelessly. 
 
 " Now, my dear Miss Dallas," continued Dorothea, 
 " you must help me to persuade your aunt to come 
 to us ; just a quiet little dinner and music — you play ? 
 I so want a friend who will play and sing with me ! 
 for I am rather lonely, though my mother is a 
 charming person; but youth needs youth, doesn't 
 it^ dear ? by-the-way, you must find young Mr. Ashby 
 a nice, companion." 
 
 " Oh yes, very nice," said Myra vaguely. 
 
 " Yes, I should think so. Oh ! dear Mrs. Dallas," 
 
IN THE TOILS. 183 
 
 as that lady, renovated and decorated, entered the 
 room, " we are just talking of jouv son ! Miss Dallas 
 has been telling me what a delightful companion 
 he is." 
 
 At this startling statement Myra, remembering 
 certain snubbings in former days, looked rather 
 uneasily at her aunt. A bland smile, however, over- 
 spread her face. 
 
 " Oh ! Lionel and Myra are very good friends," 
 she said ; " they are like brother and sister." 
 
 " Brother and sister ! like Paul et Yirginie, I 
 imagine," cried Dorothea with a significant nod and 
 smile. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mrs. Dallas, and added with 
 a sigh, " they are both very dear to me ! " 
 
 " You have such a warm, generous heart ! " ex- 
 claimed Miss Browne effusively, " that is why I have so 
 much comfort in confiding my little troubles to you." 
 
 " I feel always flattered by your trust ! Myra, 
 my dear, I left a paper on the dining-room table 
 which I want copied — will you kindly do it for 
 me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, of course," and Myra left the room 
 feeling she was dismissed. 
 
184 TEE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Poor little thing ! " cried Dorothea looking after 
 her. " She is very sweet, but I really thought she 
 was better looking ! she is so colourless and un- 
 fashioned." 
 
 "Yes, a simple child of nature, but I trust she 
 Avill improve." 
 
 " Pray, have you seen Mr. Leyton since ? " asked 
 Miss Browne. 
 
 " Oh no ! He only called here from a sense of 
 duty to his old friend's daughter. I don't suppose 
 he will come again for weeks." 
 
 " Perhaps not ! but do you know, dear Mrs. 
 Dallas, that she has been to his studio ? " 
 
 " She ? who ? " 
 
 " Why, your niece — Myra Dallas, of course. She 
 is a simple child, but I thought I would tell you." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Dorothea. It was slightly 
 imprudent, and I shall see that it does not occur 
 again." 
 
 " It might be better not, and, sympathising as I 
 do with another young creature, I thought I would 
 mention that when I first named him, she blushed 
 celestial rosy red, love's proper hue ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas darted one keen look at her interlo- 
 
ly THE TOILS. 185 
 
 ciitor, then with a frank laugh exclaimed, " Poor 
 child. I trust she does not waste sentiment in that 
 direction. We know it would be wasted ! Neverthe- 
 less, the vanity and impressibility of men is such, 
 that the fewer opportunities Mr. Leyton has of 
 seemg the eftect his presence produces, the better 
 for all concerned. But tell me, how is it that, with 
 the evident attraction Avhich exists between you, you 
 and Mr. Leyton have drifted so far apart ? " 
 
 " Ah ! dearest Mrs. Dallas, it is a long and com- 
 plicated story, and would tr}^ your patience ! " 
 
 " By no means, Dorothea ! Friendship must be 
 cold indeed if it is not interested in a woman's most 
 important story." 
 
 "You know," began Miss Browne, thus en- 
 couraged, " Jack Leyton's mother and mine — I 
 mean Lad}- Shirland — were first cousins ; and before 
 he went to India he used to come to our house. 
 Dearest papa was alive then, and Jack used to play 
 with me and teaze me, and in short I did not 
 understand him. Then some years after he returned 
 from India, and all his people quarrelled with him 
 because he gave up the army and would be an artist. 
 He used to be a good deal at our house, but Lady 
 
186 THB SNARE OF TEE FOWLER. 
 
 Shirland did not encourage him, she thought he was 
 no match for me. I well remember his turning over 
 my music often, and saying in a tone I can never 
 forget, ' Pray sing, " Oh, let me hear that angel- voice 
 once more ! " ' It is a simple ballad, full of feeling ; of 
 course he alluded to the singing lessons I had been 
 taking when he was last in England. Another time, 
 when young Lord de Crespigny was paying me 
 marked attention, he sighed deeply, and observed, 
 * Lucky dog ! I suppose he would not be sent boneless 
 away ! ' alluding, of course, to the canine taste for 
 bones. On one occasion he gave me a beautiful pin 
 for my hat, and most unfortunately I lost it a few 
 days after. I cannot — no, it is impossible to convey 
 the despairing and reproachful expression in his eyes 
 when I confessed the loss ! " 
 
 " Ah ! indeed, poor fellow ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dallas in sympathetic tones. 
 
 " Now that we have met again," resumed Dorothea, 
 "there is the same yearning tenderness in his eyes, 
 the same thrilling pathos in his voice. I know it is 
 the knowledge of my fatal fortune that holds him 
 back, and my mother fears to encourage him ; 
 conventional scruples blind her to my happiness, 
 
IX TEE TOILS. 187 
 
 and so, dear Mrs. Dallas, I drift and drift. If any- 
 brave friend could hint to him the true state of 
 affairs, and give him back life and joy and " 
 
 " Perhaps it might be managed," interrupted Mrs. 
 Dallas. 
 
 "Another reason which prompts me to confide 
 in you, dear," resumed Dorothea Browne, " is regard 
 for your delightful son. He seemed a little, just a 
 little, ^pris — a j^outhful fancy merely," coquettishly, 
 " and I am myself perhaps a little giddy and thought- 
 less, and amused with his artless admiration — but I 
 would not wound him or you for worlds ! You will 
 warn him ; I have no heart to give ; and let me 
 retain your regard, for indeed I feel that I am at a 
 crisis of my life ! " 
 
 " Courage, my dear girl 1 " cried Mrs. Dallas, 
 swallowing a yawn, " and trust to me ; do not waste 
 a thought on poor Lionel, he is too presumptuous ; 
 but take my advice, be prudent how you allow M3rra 
 and Mr. Leyton to meet. Doubtful, perhaps des- 
 pairing about you, there is no knowing how his 
 thirsty spirit might seek to quench its longings." 
 
 " How wise you are ! " cried Dorothea enthusiastic- 
 ally. " I shall be guided by you in all things, and 
 
188 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEF. 
 
 perhaps your delicate tact will suggest some means 
 of giving my naughty difficult old playfellow a 
 useful hint ? " 
 
 " Trust me ! " said Mrs. Dallas significantly. 
 
 " Now, suppose you let Miss Dallas return to 
 luncheon with me. We can have a little music and 
 a drive, and I shall bring her back to tea. My 
 mother is gone to luncheon with the poor old 
 Duchess of Kensington, who has been so ill, so we 
 girls will have the house to ourselves ! " 
 
 " Certainly, as you are so very kind ! I will go 
 and tell her to dress." 
 
 " Yes, if she likes to come." 
 
 " Of course she will like to come." 
 
 With a smile and a nod Mrs. Dallas left the 
 room and sought her niece. 
 
 Myra was sitting by the half-expired fire, looking 
 sad and bored. 
 
 " Oh, aunt ! " she exclaimed, as that lady entered, 
 " I could not find any paper to copy." 
 
 " No, of course not," replied Mrs. Dallas with a 
 laugh. " I only sent you out of the way while Miss 
 Browne told me her secrets." 
 
 " I thought so, and I stayed away ! " 
 
m THE TOILS. 189 
 
 " Wise girl," said her aunt. " Now she wants you 
 to go back to hmch with her, so go and put on your 
 things. She will be a nice acquaintance." 
 
 " I am afraid my gloves are very shabby." 
 
 "Well, dear, buy another pair while you are out 
 with Miss Browne ; it will be something to do. 
 Have you any money ? " 
 
 " Oh, enough for that — " and Myra went off to 
 dress, glad of a little change. She had now been 
 more than two months an inmate of her aunt's 
 house, and she had begun to find that the want of 
 work, or regular occupation, made life terribly dull. 
 
 The change to Miss Browne's company did not, 
 however, prove so exhilarating as she expected. 
 
 That lady talked a good deal in a very lively 
 manner; but her subject never varied, it was 
 always Miss Browne. 
 
 According to her own account, she was a uni- 
 versal genius. She wrote short stories ; composed 
 lovely lyrics, which she set to music ; spoke many 
 tongues, and had a nice taste for art — only not 
 quite so marked as her genius for music. 
 
 Myra found no room for more than mono- 
 syllabic notes of admiration, sincere enough at 
 
190 THE 8NARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 first; but, before the day was over, vague doubts 
 began to form themselves as to the possibility of 
 such gifts being enshrined in the fuzzy-headed, 
 powdered, over- dressed, simpering, self-conscious, 
 elderly young lady who giggled and posed with 
 affected grace before her. Among the many branches 
 of her all-pervading subject — self — Miss Browne 
 enlarged on the impression she had made on the 
 too susceptible heart of that interesting young 
 man Mr. Ashby, whose superb eyes Dorothea 
 thought worthy her notice. "He must have the 
 blood of some Indian prince in his veins, Myra 
 — ^you will let me call you Myra, will you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly, if you wish it, Miss Browne." 
 
 " Thank you, dear — but you agree with me 
 there is something of the oriental prince about 
 Lionel Ashby ? " 
 
 "I never saw an oriental prince," returned Myra 
 thoughtfully. "Lionel can be very nice, but I 
 cannot see anything princely about him." 
 
 " Ah ! that is because you have not much imag- 
 ination, Myra. I have, alas ! too much. That 
 is partly the reason why I suffer so terribly from 
 nerves and neuralgia," etc. etc. etc. A long list 
 
IN THE TOILS. 191 
 
 of maladies and their treatment followed. From 
 these recitals it was a relief to examine the orna- 
 ments, pictures, china, and charming etceteras which 
 embellished Lady Shirland's, or, to be more correct, 
 Miss Browne's residence. 
 
 Myra had never seen* anything finer than her 
 aunt's drawing-room, which, but for some really 
 good oriental hangings and embroideries, were, 
 though effective, of the two-penny-halfpenny order 
 of decoration. She quite revelled in the beautiful 
 things about her. 
 
 " You ought to buy Jack Leyton's Cairo picture, it 
 would just fit in there," pointing to a space on the 
 wall in a delightful room which Miss Browne 
 termed her study. 
 
 " Jack Leyton ! " repeated Dorothea uncertainly. 
 '' I suppose you were very intimate." 
 
 " I never heard him called anything but Jack," 
 said Myra dejectedly. " If it is wrong I shall call 
 nim Mr. Leyton, but I always think of him as Jack." 
 
 " And do you often think of him, dear ? " in- 
 sinuatingly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, very often ; whenever I think of my 
 father, and my home ! " 
 
192 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Well, my dear Myra, / think you are very 
 fortunate to have so happy a home as yours, with 
 so kind and charming a woman as Mrs. Dallas." 
 
 " I am, indeed ! " heartily. 
 
 " Now, I am going to give you a task," coquet- 
 tishly. "Will you try to comfort poor young 
 Ashby for my hard-heartedness ; you might be a 
 sweet little comforter if you liked." 
 
 " Very well 1 " returned Myra laughing ; " but I 
 think he comforts himself by going out a good 
 deal. He is often away in the evening." 
 
 " Indeed ! " returned Dorothea in a sharp tone. 
 What she might have added remained unsaid ; for 
 the "young creatures" had sat long after their 
 lunch, enjoying the feast of reason and the flow 
 of soul ; and Dorothea dearly loved a new listener, 
 so she was greatly surprised by the entrance of 
 her step-mother. 
 
 Lady Shirland greeted Myra with kindly courtesy, 
 and then declared she was so exhausted by her 
 efforts to make the dear duchess hear, that she 
 must have a cup of tea at once. This altered the 
 " young creatures' " plans ; the carriage was counter- 
 manded for an hour; and Dorothea proposed to 
 
IN THE TOILS. 193 
 
 test M3a'a's skill in playing accompaniments, and 
 her victim, though terribly nervous, felt obliged to 
 comply. Then she found that the all-accomplished 
 Dorothea sang wofully out of tune, and Dorothea said 
 her delightful new friend was just a '' leetle " deficient 
 in time. 
 
 " There is certainly something wrong somewhere," 
 said Lady Shirland rather impatiently. " And, now, 
 my dears, if you have no special plan to be frus- 
 trated, I want very much to pay a visit at the 
 other side of Regent's Park ; so perhaps the carriage 
 can set Miss Dallas down at home, and return for 
 you and me, Dorothea. You ought to come with 
 me to see Lady Elizabeth." 
 
 " Very well," agreed Dorothea, who felt, half 
 unconsciously, that Myra was somehow less earnestly 
 admiring than at the beginning of their interview. 
 So Myra put on her hat, and took her leave, ex- 
 pressing her thanks with graceful shyness for a 
 pleasant day. 
 
 "She is really a nice little thing, but quite 
 plain, and rather dull ! What do you think of 
 her mamma ? " 
 
 " Plain ! No I Not at all regularly pretty, but 
 
 N 
 
194 THE SNAR'E OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 most interesting. And her eyes ; did you notice 
 her eyes ? They would redeem any face." 
 
 "No, not particularly; they seem not exactly 
 suited to her hair." 
 
 " Nonsense, Dorothea ! She is a sort of girl an 
 artist would go wild about ! " 
 
 * Do you really think so ? Well, unless Mrs. 
 Dallas intends her son to marry her, she ought 
 not to let them be so much together." 
 
 " Mrs. Dallas knows her own affairs thoroughly, 
 I imagine." 
 
 Next morning was crisp and bright, and Myra 
 looked rather wistfully out into the sunlit street. 
 
 " I know you do not care to go out before 
 luncheon, aunt," she said, as Mrs. Dallas came into 
 the dining-room with a large work-basket in her 
 hand. "But have you no errands I could do for 
 you ? I should enjoy a walk this morning." 
 
 "No, dear, I really have not. It may be an 
 old-fashioned prejudice ; but I do not like the idea 
 of a young lady — especially a pretty, elegant-looking 
 girl — wandering about alone. I was never permitted 
 
IN THE TOILS. 1^)5 
 
 to do it myself, and I will try and take care of 
 you, love." 
 
 " I am sure you are very kind ; but as I shall 
 probably have to go about by myself later, had 
 I not better get accustomed to do so now ? " 
 
 " I hope you shall not be obliged, my dear ; " 
 and Mrs. Dallas began to take numerous socks from 
 her basket, also a skein of darning-cotton ; then 
 she looked at them and sighed. 
 
 " I will darn Lionel's socks for you, aunt," cried 
 Myra. "You always look so dreadfully tired over 
 them." 
 
 " Thank you, Myra, I know you are glad to help 
 me ; really, we must be very careful ! The way 
 in which that tiresome Mrs. Dwyer robs and 
 plunders in petty things is too disgraceful." The 
 complainant was fresh from her daily struggle with 
 the landlady regarding the minor supplies which 
 passed through her hands. For Mrs. Dallas ex- 
 pected the largest amount of comfort for the 
 smallest outlay of money; and had, moreover, a 
 haughty and imperious manner of treating those 
 whom she considered a step below her, which had con- 
 verted her semi-Celtic landlady into a bitter enemy, 
 N 2 
 
196 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEB. 
 
 " It must be very annoying," said Myra — towards 
 whom, by the way, Mrs. Dwyer was always par- 
 ticularly polite and obliging — and she proceeded to 
 thread her needle and draw a sock on her left 
 hand. 
 
 " They will be precious socks to Lionel, if he 
 knows who mended them," resumed Mrs. Dallas. 
 
 " Not so precious as if Miss Browne had done 
 them," returned Myra laughing. 
 
 " Ah ! You are quite mistaken, Myra. Poor 
 Lionel ! Dorothea Browne's attentions turned my 
 boy's head a little, but it is quite different now," 
 and she watched her niece's speaking face, while 
 she thought "A healthy breeze of jealousy has set 
 in." Myra darned on in silence. 
 
 " Did you buy your gloves yesterday, my love ? " 
 asked Mrs. Dallas, after a brief silence. 
 
 " No, aunt ; I had no opportunity. Lady Shir- 
 land wanted the carriage." 
 
 " True ! Well, if it keeps fine, you and I will 
 do some shopping this afternoon. You shall buy 
 your gloves, and I will get you a new hat and 
 jacket, and one or two little things." 
 
 "You are too good and generous!" cried Myra 
 
IN THE TOILS. 197 
 
 with moist eyes. " I can go on quite well till 
 spring with what I have." 
 
 "No, my love. I wish to treat you like my 
 daughter, and that you should look well. Of 
 course, as I now consider myself your mother, I 
 shall not think of making you that allowance. 
 You must just come to me for everything." 
 
 " I ought to be most grateful to you — and I 
 am," said Myra, feeling some self-reproach for the 
 sort of regret with which she thought of being 
 without a penny. 
 
 " Yes, I am sure of it, Myra — ." There was a 
 pause, during which Mrs. Dallas glanced at the 
 " Births, Deaths, and Marriages " in the Daily 
 Telegraph. 
 
 " Shall I tell you how you may help me in- 
 finitely, Myra?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ? Pray do ? " 
 
 " Try to keep Lionel at home of an evening. 
 I am afraid he has fallen among a set of men who 
 tempt him to play. He is really good, and has 
 never occasioned me any anxiety ; but the best of 
 men are weak. Ask him to stay at home to-night. 
 Say we are dull without him." 
 
198 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " Yes, I will if you wish it," began Myra with 
 evident reluctance. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dallas sadly, " would 
 you hesitate ? " 
 
 Myra felt herself a monster. 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed! aunt. Only you see — Lionel 
 may think — that is — I would not mislead him for 
 the world — I " 
 
 "Do not misunderstand him or me. I shall 
 take care, dear, that there shall be no foolish 
 mistakes. Can you not trust me, Myra ? " 
 
 " Of course I can ! " 
 
 " Then do not fail me, dear." 
 
 " No, I will not, aunt. And you — you will let 
 Lionel know you asked me, for you remember 
 he used to be a little silly ; but now he has seen 
 more, and knows nice clever people like Miss Browne, 
 of course, he will not think much of me," con- 
 cluded Myra cheerfully. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas gazed at her a moment so search- 
 ingly that Myra felt as if her great black eyes 
 could extract the inmost secrets of her soul. 
 
 "My son's fancy in that direction was of the 
 most passing description, and though — like most 
 
m THE TOILS. 199 
 
 young men — lie is passionate and imprudent, he is 
 not quite such a fool as to throw away his heart 
 on a woman who is in love with and, I have every 
 reason to believe, engaged to another," continued 
 Mrs. Dallas, a happy thought suggesting itself. 
 " Mr. Leyton and Dorothea Browne have been long 
 attached, but there were difficulties in the way. 
 Now I fancy they are nearly, if not altogether, re- 
 moved." 
 
 Myra was conscious of a sudden, unaccountable 
 thrill of icy pain through her heart as Mrs. Dallas 
 spoke. She could not understand herself. Why 
 should she be vexed or distressed ? Miss Browne 
 was kind, and seemed to like her. If she married 
 Jack Leyton, she (Myra) would have two good 
 friends instead of one. But how could such 
 a funny, restless, unnatural kind of woman please 
 Jack, who was so simple and unaffected, not to 
 say abrupt, himself It seemed in some inex- 
 plicable way positively tragical. 
 
 " Miss Browne has a great deal of money ? " 
 she asked, feeling it imperatively necessary to say 
 something, because Mrs. Dallas was watching her 
 covertly. 
 
200 THE 8NAEE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "Yes, a large fortune." 
 
 "That will be good for Jack. It is very trying 
 to be poor, especially for a man. Then he will 
 have a nice house, and buy lovely things ? " 
 
 Somebody else seemed to be saying this while 
 she herself, her real self, had flown away back to 
 the dear old homely Munich studio, and was busy 
 sewing a button on Jack's glove while he stood 
 beside her in all the glory of evening dress, like 
 none other she had ever seen before or since; 
 and yet, after all, only a tolerably good-looking 
 man with an indescribable, distinguished, soldier- 
 like air. 
 
 It was suddenly borne in upon her that Jack 
 was terribly changed. He was no longer the sort 
 of prince he once seemed ; he had grown rugged 
 and careless ; only his quick, kind eyes, his fine 
 carriage remained. 
 
 While these ideas — not distinct as here put 
 down, but vaguely painful — swept through her mind, 
 Mrs. Dallas was speaking — 
 
 "I am glad, Myra, you have such sensible con- 
 victions. Money is of the last importance. I am 
 far from mercenary, but for those I love I dread 
 
IN THE TOILS. 201 
 
 poverty more than anything. That is why I am 
 so anxious to make reparation to you for the in- 
 justice I have done you. You suffered from 
 poverty too long. Now one of my chief efforts 
 will be to save for you and Lionel ; you will not 
 find yourself forgotten. Now I have some letters 
 to write ; put some coal on, dear, and if you vnll 
 go on Avith your darning it will be a great relief. 
 I am afraid I am a lazy creature." 
 
 "No, indeed, you are not, only you do not care 
 for needlework." 
 
 A long silence ensued, during which Myra did 
 not feel able to think clearly ; an uncomfortable 
 sense of being watched, that her meditations 
 might be divined, confused her mental operations. 
 
 After luncheon Mrs. Dallas sallied forth with Myra, 
 and they spent a cheerful afternoon. Myra was 
 quite alarmed at the readiness with which her aunt 
 spent what seemed to her large sums in replenish- 
 inor her wardrobe. First, however, Mrs. Dallas let 
 her choose and pay for a pair of gloves. 
 
 " What have you left ? " she asked with a smile, 
 as Myra put some change in her purse. 
 
 " Eighteenpence," replied Myra, laughing. 
 
202 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " What, your all ! Well, you will not want 
 much. When you do require a shilling or two, 
 come to me." 
 
 Lionel came in that day punctually at dinner 
 time. As soon as that meal was over, he rose, 
 looked at the clock, and drew out his cigarette- 
 case. Myra remembered her promise. 
 
 "Don't go out, Lionel," she said, placing herself 
 between him and the door. " Your mother and I 
 are quite dull without you. Stay at home this 
 evening. Let us have some music, and " 
 
 " Do you wish me to stay ? " interrupted Lionel, 
 his eyes lighting up, his dark cheek reddening. 
 
 " Yes, of course I do ; don't we, aunt ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dallas did not speak. 
 
 " Ask me to stay for yotir sake, Myra," cried 
 Lionel, drawing nearer and holding out his hand. 
 
 Myra sent an appealing glance to his mother, 
 who, unseen by her son, clasped her hands in 
 silent entreaty. 
 
 " Very well, Lionel," said Myra, with a good- 
 humoured laugh, but disregarding his outstretched 
 hand. " Stay for my sake, and we shall have such 
 a practice." 
 
IN TEE TOILS. 203 
 
 Lionel hesitated a moment, and then in a low 
 voice murmured — 
 
 " I will go or stay, or do whatever you like." 
 
 " Thank you," returned Myra in the same light 
 tone with which she had pressed him to stay, 
 though her heart beat with undefined fear. "I 
 should like you to sing ' Some day ' " — and she 
 left the room, followed by Lionel and her aunt, 
 who whispered a few earnest words to her son as 
 they mounted the stairs side by side. 
 
 Lionel made no further display of feeling which 
 could annoy Myra ; and after many songs, and an 
 attempt at a duet, a game of dummy whist to 
 amuse Mrs. Dallas — who loved cards — finished a 
 quiet, sociable evening. 
 
 Though Myra made haste to bed, having a 
 short bit of candle (Mrs. Dallas objected to gas in 
 bedrooms, as being a temptation to sit up), she lay 
 long awake, thinking — thinking; at last she made 
 out why the idea of Jack Leyton's marriage with 
 Miss Browne had sent her heart down into the 
 depths. She felt that Miss Browne was a person 
 whose presence acted on her spirit like the des- 
 iccating breeze from some desolate, arid region, 
 
204 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER, 
 
 where no rain-drops ever slaked the dry and thirsty 
 soil. It would be impossible to utter a syllable of 
 her own sorrows, memories, or hopes to her; rather 
 would Myra keep them from her knowledge, while 
 the one joy of heart was to open it to her old 
 friend Jack; to tell him every thought, to dwell 
 with him on every sweet or sorrowful memory. 
 If he married Miss Browne, of course, what was 
 told to one would be known by the other; so Jack 
 would be lost as a confidante. Oh, what a loss ! 
 That point settled, a more serious one presented 
 itself She was all but penniless, though she had 
 found an unexpected two-pence-halfpenny in her 
 purse, which raised her capital to one-and-eight- 
 pence halfpenny. That would not go far even 
 in postage stamps and omnibuses; and she did 
 want to go and see Mrs. Keene, who had never 
 answered that last note of hers. When all was 
 gone, could she ever force herself to ask her aunt 
 for any more ? No ! she felt she could not. Was 
 she going to be absolutely helpless ? a kind of re- 
 spectable captive. And Lionel's eyes ! how they 
 had terrified her that eveninsf! Had she fallen 
 into a trap? What a base, ungrateful idea; what 
 
IN THE TOILS. 205 
 
 a low-minded creature slie was growing! Her aunt 
 was so kind and generous. But, oh ! for a little 
 bit of independence ! Eeason as she would, an awful 
 sense of being in the toils pressed upon her; her 
 heart beat as if it would burst. Should she see 
 Jack and ask his help ? No ! If he were the fiance 
 of Dorothea Browne, everything would go to her, 
 and through her to Mrs. Dallas. She was indeed 
 without any help ; and with bitter tears she prayed 
 to God for courage and sense not to imagine horrors 
 groundlessly, foolishly. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 GATHERING FEARS. 
 
 Thanks to bad weather, and his own masterly in- 
 action, Leyton's " tea " in the studio was postponed 
 till the last week in February. 
 
 It was a bright, clear day, and at the early hour 
 of three, in order to secure light enough to see the 
 pictures. Lady Shirland and Miss Browne drove away 
 due north to reach the unfashionable quarter. 
 
 The studio was already occupied by two gentle- 
 men guests, one of whom was a stranger to Dorothea. 
 She was most carefully arrayed in dove-colour and 
 brown, with an elegant little brown and gold bonnet, 
 and a very becoming veil, beaded with gold, drawn 
 effectively over her " pencilled " eyebrows, darkened 
 underlids, and carefully powdered countenance. 
 
 "Very good of you, Lady Shirland, to come all 
 this way for so little," said Leyton, meeting them 
 at the door. "Miss Browne, I shrink from the 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 207 
 
 examination of your critical eyes. I know you are 
 yourself an artist." 
 
 " Ah ! Two of a trade never agree," said Lady 
 Shirland loosening her fur-lined cloak. 
 
 *' That is a libel ! You and I always agree, 
 eh, Miss Browne ? " returned Leyton with a smile. 
 
 " Oh, yes, certainly ! unless you assert very un- 
 orthodox opinions," returned Dorothea in a fluttered, 
 *• sweet seventeen " manner. 
 
 " Here is an old acquaintance of yours. Lady 
 Shirland," resumed Leyton. " Mr. Wardlaw." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! Dehghted to see you, Mr. Wardlaw ; 
 have not seen you for ages ! Where have you 
 been hiding yourself?" 
 
 " Well, I have been to and fro between my 
 friend Forrester's place and town. Now I am here 
 for a couple of months, I shall have the pleasure 
 of calling on you. Let me introduce Captain Cecil 
 Forrester. Lady Shirland, Miss Browne ! " 
 
 " I think we have met before. Captain Forrester," 
 said Lady Shirland, " We were staying together 
 at Glen Houlahan Castle for the Northern Meeting 
 some years ago." 
 
 " Yes, of course, I remember," returned Forrester 
 
208 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER, 
 
 with his usual cool, conventional politeness. "We 
 had better have a look at the pictures while the 
 light lasts ; there are some nice bits here. I'm 
 not much of a judge, I only know what I like. 
 What do you think of this ' Autumn Morning ' ? " 
 
 " It is delightful ! " said Lady Shirland, who 
 had seen many galleries, and liked pictures. " The 
 atmospheric effect is excellent, and those withered 
 leaves lying on the water are so real, one is inclined 
 to pick them up." 
 
 " It is right good," was Wardlaw's brief, hearty 
 commendation. 
 
 "I am glad you think well of it, Lady Shir- 
 land," said Forrester, still looking critically at it, 
 "for I am to be its proud possessor." 
 
 " I did not know you were such a genius, Mr. 
 Leyton," murmured Dorothea softly. " Why do 
 you hide your heart, your aspirations, so persist- 
 ently from your friends, who would gladly sym- 
 pathise with you ? " 
 
 " What, Miss Browne, do you want me to go 
 about telling every one what a deuced clever fellow 
 I am ? " asked Leyton, laughing. 
 
 "Ah, you are too contemptuous of your fellows 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 209 
 
 — too hard. I am afraid of you," returned Doro- 
 thea, in the same low tone. 
 
 " Hard to you ! Impossible ! You might melt 
 a pillar of stone," he returned gallantly. 
 
 Dorothea trembled. 
 
 " But you are going to send this to the 
 Academy, Jack ? " said Lady Shirland. 
 
 "Yes, with Captain Forrester's permission, I am 
 going to try my luck." 
 
 "I was just suggesting to Mr. Leyton — rather 
 audacious of an ignoramus like myself — " said 
 Forrester, " that he should paint, as a companion 
 picture to this, 'A Spring Evening.' There's a 
 nice bit of woodland near my old house that 
 would be the very scene for it. What do you 
 say, Mr. Leyton?" 
 
 " It's a good idea. I'll come down to look at 
 the place, and see what I could make of it." 
 
 Then the examination of Leyton's canvases 
 went on: sunny bits from the banks of the Nile, 
 where one felt the atmosphere palpitating with 
 heat ; shady English nooks ; Highland streams 
 brawling over rocks ; Highlanders holding their 
 hounds in leash ; sheep with their attendant 
 o 
 
210 THE 8NABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 collies ; Egyptians of various classes ; English 
 troopers, Soudanese natives, etc., etc. ; sketches of 
 every description, but few finished pictures. 
 
 " You certainly have not been idle for the last 
 couple of years," said Wardlaw to his host. "Now 
 you must make yourself known ; advertise, my dear 
 fellow — advertising is the only means of suc- 
 cess. Modest merit starves in a garret ; pushing 
 self-assertion builds itself marble halls, and fares 
 sumptuously every day. Organise an exhibition ; 
 feed the critics; give the fine ladies tea; invite 
 the masters ; butter up the big artists. There's a 
 great deal to be done besides good work." 
 
 "Thanks for your words of wisdom," returned 
 Leyton. "Now, Lady Shirland, you must be ex- 
 hausted. The light is changing; let us have tea" 
 — and he placed a couple of his best chairs by the 
 table. " May I trouble you, Miss Browne, to pre- 
 side ? It is revolting to see tea poured out by a 
 man," 
 
 " What a droll idea ! " said Dorothea, taking the 
 chair with a well-pleased smile. "Pray, who takes 
 cream and sugar ? " 
 
 Then the usual chatter flowed freely — art gossip, 
 
GATHERING FEABS. 211 
 
 society, political, racing gossip, in none of which 
 Ley ton took much part, applying himself to pass 
 round bread-and-butter and cakes, or handing a 
 disgracefully black kettle which sang cheerfully on 
 the hob of a not particularly well-kept grate. 
 
 Lady Shirland, hearing that Captain Forrester 
 was looking for a house, entered into the question 
 with great interest and gave him much good 
 counsel, strongly advising a flat as so much better 
 suited to a bachelor. 
 
 " But I may not remain a bachelor," said For- 
 rester, stirring his tea. 
 
 " Oh, I beg you a thousand pardons ! " cried 
 Lady Shirland. " I did not know you were going 
 to be married." 
 
 "Nor am I, Lady Shirland. I only contemplate 
 marriage in the abstract." 
 
 " Then avoid a house until you catch your wife. 
 If you choose it without her, she will probably 
 refuse to live in it." 
 
 " Why should she object, if it is a nice house ? " 
 
 "If it be not nice to she, What will she care 
 how nice it be ? " parodied Wardlaw. " Don't 
 fancy you will have it all your own way when you 
 o 2 
 
212 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 place 'Madame' at the head of your establish- 
 ment." 
 
 " Among all the charming things you have 
 shown us," said Dorothea, aside, to Jack Leyton, 
 " I have not seen your group of Orientals reading 
 the newspaper after one of the Egyptian battles." 
 
 " It is not here ; I have sent it to a provincial 
 exhibition." 
 
 "Is it sold?" 
 
 " No, not as yet, I believe." 
 
 " Ah, I should so much like to see it." 
 
 " How did you hear of it, Miss Browne ? I 
 don't think anyone has ever seen it except an 
 artist or two — rough-and-ready fellows you could 
 know nothing about." 
 
 "A little bird told me — a very sweet little bird, 
 whose name is Myra." 
 
 " Myra Dallas ! " repeated Leyton, looking roused 
 and interested. " Then you have been kind enough 
 to cultivate her. It is very good of you. I haven't 
 seen her for an age." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Leyton, I have not seen as much 
 as I should like of her. Mrs. Dallas always seems 
 to want her to do this, that, or the other, and she 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 213 
 
 had a bad cold lately. She Avas to have dined 
 with us about ten days ago, but her aunt thought 
 it was wiser for her to stay at home." 
 
 " I have called more than once," returned Ley- 
 ton, reflectively, and pulling his moustaches, "but 
 aunt and niece were always out." 
 
 " Indeed ! We thought Mrs. Dallas stayed too 
 much indoors. Have you met young Mr. Ashby, 
 Mrs. Dallas's son ? " 
 
 " No ; what is he like ? " asked Leyton, with 
 continued interest. 
 
 "A most charming young man; graceful, accom- 
 plished, and 60 handsome — in a dark Oriental style. 
 He seems very nice to Miss Dallas ; takes her out 
 to concerts and to walk, quite in a brotherly way ; 
 and yet I should not think him the sort of man 
 who would go in for Platonics." 
 
 " Platonics are all bosh ! " said Jack abruptly. " So 
 I suppose that on the whole Myra has a good time 
 of it." 
 
 "Yes, very good, I should think. Mrs. Dallas 
 is quite like a mother to her ; can't bear her 
 out of her sight, even to be with me. Is she not 
 a charming, handsome creature ? " 
 
214 THE SNABE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " She doesn't cliarm me. I should be afraid 
 of the tiger's claws, which are, I suspect, sheathed 
 in her velvet gloves. Besides, I can't bear dark 
 women. My Venus must always be a blonde." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Mr. Leyton, you ought not to 
 be prejudiced," cried Dorothea with a delighted 
 laugh ; " and I am sorry to hear you speak dis- 
 respectfully of Platonic attachments. I think that 
 kind of pure and perfect sympathy must be so 
 
 delightful, so elevating, so — so- " She stopped 
 
 short for want of an epithet. 
 
 "I don't know anything about it," returned 
 Leyton indifferently. "But I don't fancy it would 
 elevate me. It might probably bore me. Then I 
 am rather a low creature, and of the earth earthy." 
 
 " Perhaps you do not know yourself," said Doro- 
 thea, stealing a melting glance at him. 
 
 " Very likely I do not," returned Jack indifferently. 
 " Then you have not seen much of Myra ?" 
 
 "Very little, indeed. She is such a shy, plain 
 little thing, that I do not suppose society or parties 
 would give her much pleasure." 
 
 " Plain ! Do you mean plain in looks ? " asked 
 Leyton in a surprised tone. „ 
 
GATHEERVG FEARS. 213 
 
 " Yes, so colourless, you know, and so odd, 
 that is, so unconventional — isn't she, mamma ? " to 
 Lady Shirland who had risen to take leave. 
 
 " Who, Miss Dallas ? Oh, I rather admire her : 
 only she is looking dreadfully ill. T called on 
 Mrs. Dallas yesterday, and I was quite troubled 
 about her. Do you know, I think it is rather im- 
 prudent taking her to live in the house with a 
 fascinating young man. They will probably take 
 a fancy to each other ; and, situated as she is, it 
 is not A^ery Hkely that Mrs. Dallas would consent 
 to such a marriage for her son." 
 
 Leyton looked very gravely at the speaker. 
 
 " I can't fancy Mrs. Dallas playing the part of 
 a benevolent, self-sacrificing parent," he said. 
 
 " Ah ! there you are wrong, Jack," cried Lady 
 Shirland. " Mrs. Dallas is really a kind and tender- 
 hearted woman ; more so than I once believed her 
 to be. She nursed poor Colonel Dallas most de- 
 votedly during his short severe illness." 
 
 " Ah ! You are speaking of Colonel Edward 
 Dallas ? " asked Forrester. " Well, I believe he ^vas 
 a very good fellow, and deserved well of fortune; 
 but if he had not been carried off, why my position 
 
216 TEE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 would have been very different — that is, for some 
 years to come, for he had no children to transmit 
 the property to." 
 
 " I don't fancy the widow would let it out of 
 her clutches," said Wardlaw. " She had pretty well 
 the whip-hand of Dallas, who was a capital fellow, 
 but rather soft." 
 
 "Come, Dorothea, we have trespassed too long 
 on our kind host. Be sure you come to see us soon, 
 Jack. I am always at home on Sundays ; don't 
 forget, Mr. Wardlaw. Captain Forrester, if you will 
 look in upon us, we shall be very glad to see 
 you." 
 
 "Perhaps you will let me have that picture of 
 which we spoke, if it is not already sold," whispered 
 Dorothea. 
 
 "You must see it first. Miss Browne." 
 
 The three gentlemen escorted them to their car- 
 riage, returning for a few last words to the studio. 
 
 "Did you ever know anything of Fred Dallas, 
 the Colonel's brother ? " asked Leyton. 
 
 "Nothing. But I have heard he went to the 
 dogs. We were both related in the same degree 
 to old George Dallas: they on the father's, myself 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 217 
 
 on the mother's side. I never saAv anything of 
 them. I did hear that Frederic Dallas formed some 
 disreputable connection, and Uved a queer Hfe." 
 
 " I knew him well," interrupted Leyton ; " a 
 better man and a truer gentleman never lived. He 
 has left one child, a girl, totally unprovided for." 
 
 " Ha ! indeed ! " exclaimed Forrester, and fell 
 into deep thought. 
 
 " I knew him too, years ago," added Wardlaw. 
 " He was an unlucky devil, but everyone liked 
 him. Lady Shirland tells me the widow of Colonel 
 Dallas has adopted the daughter. That looks well." 
 
 " It must be a serious addition to Mrs. Dallas's 
 expenditure," observed Forrester. 
 
 "Well, I suppose she has no daughter of her 
 own, so this girl may be useful to her," said Leyton. 
 " Why, you are not going yet ? " 
 
 " I think we must. You'll dine with me next 
 Wednesday." 
 
 " Thank you, I will. Not necessary to wear 
 swords and ruffles, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, by no means," returned Wardlaw smiling. 
 
 "Is it permitted to call on you in the morn- 
 ing?" asked Forrester. " I should like to have an 
 
218 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 opportunity of speaking to you on one or two 
 points." 
 
 " I shall be very happy to see you any morn- 
 ing," replied Leyton. " I have no model at present, 
 so a visitor is allowable." 
 
 After a few words of adieu, Wardlaw and his 
 ex- ward departed, and Leyton was left alone in the 
 fast-falling shadows of closing day. 
 
 The fire burned low as he paced the room 
 slowly, thinking over the fragments of Myra's 
 present history which had cropped up in the de- 
 sultory talk of his visitors. He was puzzled by 
 the profound uneasiness which had taken pos- 
 session of him. Myra, who for a few short weeks 
 had seemed almost his own property, had been 
 swept away out of his sight ; a great gulf, widen- 
 ing and widening every day, had opened between 
 them. . 
 
 Myra's deep blue eyes seemed to look into his 
 out of the gathering darkness, and his heart 
 thrilled with a nameless, probably a fanciful, sense 
 of some vague difficulty and danger hanging over 
 her. 
 
 But such fancies were weak and womanish. 
 
GATHEIiING FEARS. 219 
 
 The present age, with its commonplace security, 
 its general openness to the light of day, was not 
 likely to witness mysterious wrong done to an 
 unoffending girl, who was further safeguarded 
 by her poverty and insignificance. Only, now as 
 then, in the far-away gloom of mediaeval con- 
 fusion, there is a terrible power which neither 
 laAvs nor police can check or regulate — the tyranny 
 of mind over mind, from which none can deliver 
 the victim. 
 
 Leyton had not been at all favourably im- 
 pressed by Mrs. Dallas. He admired her greatly 
 from an artist's point of view; he would have 
 liked to paint a strong, deeply-coloured scriptural 
 picture with her as a model for one of those 
 grand, fierce Jewish women whose portraits stud 
 the Old Testament at intervals like uncut jewels — 
 Judith, or the wife of Jael, or Rebecca trying to 
 cheat her own son. There was great power in her 
 eyes ; how could a slight, simple creature like 
 Myra stand before her ? Still, Myra had a sound 
 Saxon backbone, and if she were in difficulty she 
 must know that he. Jack Leyton, would help and 
 befriend her. 
 
220 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 " If I could do her any good, it would be worth 
 having lived for through these weary, tasteless 
 years," was his conclusion as he threw himself 
 into a chair and conjured up Myra's face and 
 figure before his mind's eye. That turn of her 
 head and throat, showing the sweet round of her 
 cheek, and the delicate ear — how distinctly he saw 
 it all! And then those blue eyes of hers that 
 used to look so steadily, so kindly, so calmly into 
 his ; how unconscious of evil, and also of the hard 
 realities of life, they were ! 
 
 "Is it possible," mused Leyton, "that I could 
 make a fool of myself a second time ? — that I 
 could put myself on the rack again ? Not if I can 
 help it ; though, if I did her no harm, what 
 matter? I wonder if that woman Keene knows 
 anything of her? She was very kind, I believe, 
 and Myra had great faith in her^ — but I am drivel- 
 ling. Why should I think evil of the widow 
 Dallas ? What possible motive but charity or 
 regard for her late husband could induce her to 
 adopt a helpless young waif like my old play- 
 fellow ? Still " Leaving his meditations un- 
 finished, Leyton rose, raked out the remains of 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 221 
 
 the fire, put on an overcoat, and sallied forth, lock- 
 ing the door behind him. 
 
 At a steady pace which got over the ground 
 rapidly, without seeming hurried, he directed his 
 steps south-east, across Regent's Park and past 
 Portland Road Station, till he reached Keene's 
 Private Hotel. Mrs. Keene was out, but expected 
 in immediately; so, after a moment's hesitation, 
 Leyton asked leave to wait for her. This was 
 immediately granted, and he was shown into her 
 private room, where a girl of seventeen or eighteen 
 was writing at a small table in the window — a 
 short, plump girl with a round, good-humoured 
 face, reddish hair, worn in a thick, curly crop, and 
 grey-green, wondering eyes. She was well dressed 
 — that is, she had on good clothes— a very bright- 
 coloured plaid frock, with a lace frill round her neck, 
 fastened by a wide bow of decided blue ; a fat, 
 freckled hand held the pen, which she dropped in 
 some confusion when Leyton was ushered in with a 
 brief explanation, " A gentleman for your ma, miss." 
 
 " Won't you sit down, sir ? Gran'ma will be 
 in directly," she said hesitatingly, as she began to 
 put her writing things together. 
 
222 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 "Pray do not let me disturb you," returned 
 Ley ton, with a bow ; " I fear I ought not to in- 
 trude, but I was anxious to see Mrs. Keene. I can 
 return in half an hour." 
 
 " Oh, no ; do sit down. It has turned so cold, 
 and gran'ma won't be long," returned the young 
 lady, who was fast recovering her self-possession. 
 " May -be you are the gentleman about the second 
 floor back ? " — and she resumed her seat at the 
 table, smiling amiably on her good-looking visitor. 
 
 " No, I am not. I called, hoping Mrs. Keene 
 might be able to give me some information about 
 a mutual friend." 
 
 " I daresay she can. Gran'ma knows such 
 heaps of people — naturally, you know, in her posi- 
 tion. Gran'pa too ; he knows lots of quite swell 
 people. 
 
 " Very likely," said Ley ton. 
 
 " Gran'pa has been very bad for some time : 
 he slipped coming on the pier from the steamboat 
 at Dover, and twisted his ankle, so he was obliged 
 to keep still. That gave him indigestion, and made 
 him awful cross! But lots of people came to inquire 
 for him — countesses and baronets, and one duke." 
 
GATHEBING FEABS. 223 
 
 "Indeed !" said Leyton, properly astonished. 
 
 "Gran'pa is better now," said the young lady, 
 taking up her parable again. "He is able to travel; 
 and he is going off next week with Lord and Lady 
 Hargrave. They are an elderly couple, and waited 
 quite a month for him rather than take anyone 
 else." 
 
 " Very gratifying," said Leyton, rising to examine 
 a water-colour drawing over the chimney-piece. 
 
 He thought he recognised the subject, and he 
 now saw it Avas the same sketch Myra had taken 
 with him of a corner of Hampstead Heath, only 
 this was coloured — not badly done, by any means. 
 
 " That's a pretty thing, ain't it ? " asked his in- 
 terlocutor. " That was done by a particular friend 
 of gran'ma's — such a sweet young lady. I love to 
 see her come in. She is just like one of the 
 young ladies in the London Journal — so elegant 
 and gentle and distinguished-looking. Oh, here is 
 gran'ma ! " interrupting herself as Mrs. Keene came 
 in, looking the picture of solid respectability in 
 handsome black silk and a velvet bonnet. 
 
 " Eh, Mr. Leyton ! " she exclaimed. " I am very 
 pleased to see you, sir. If you'll excuse me, I'll 
 
224 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 just put off my bonnet and be back in a minute. 
 Wilhelmina, just you go up to No. 36. Miss 
 Heartwell wants to speak to me. You'll do as 
 well. And don't come back till I call you." 
 
 Mrs. Keene passed through the door which 
 led to the private rooms of the family ; and Wil- 
 helmina, with a sweet smile, a nod, and a " Good 
 afternoon, sir ! " disappeared through the other. 
 
 Leyton continued to examine the picture. He 
 could detect many faults ; still, the colouring was 
 wonderfully true, considering that memory must 
 have supplied the tints. 
 
 " I wonder if she is strong enough to become 
 an artist ? In landscape, perhaps. It is not good 
 for any human being to be utterly dependent on 
 another; but it is deuced hard to get bread and 
 butter enough with the brush, even for a man — 
 as / know. Why, that young Forrester has given 
 me the first good price I ever had in my life." 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir," said Mrs. Keene, re-entering. 
 " I hope I haven't kept you too long. Please sit 
 down. Now, it's curious. I have been wondering 
 how I could get to speak with you for some 
 time past. You see, I didn't know your address." 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 225 
 
 " I am glad I came, Mrs. Keene. It was 
 rather a sudden thought. In short, I wanted to 
 ask if you had seen Miss Dallas lately. Her 
 father was a great friend of mine, and you 
 see " 
 
 He paused to choose the words in which he 
 Avould explain the sort of responsibility he felt 
 respecting Myra. 
 
 " Yes ; I know, sir," she interrupted. " Miss 
 Myra has spoken of you often." 
 
 " Have you seen her lately ? " 
 
 " Not very lately, sir. She called about three 
 — it might be four — weeks ago, and her aunt, 
 Mrs. Dallas, came with her." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that," cried Leyton 
 hastily. 
 
 " Well, I don't know," continued Mrs. Keene 
 cautiously. " May-be you are a friend of the aunt's, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " No. I don't know her beyond having been 
 once introduced to her." 
 
 " You see, it was no use her coming here with 
 Mrs. Dallas. We couldn't speak a comfortable 
 word. Indeed, Miss Myra hardly spoke at all. 
 
226 THE SNAEE OP THE FOWLER. 
 
 Mrs. Dallas was sweet as sweet, and made me an 
 elegant bit of a speech about my goodness to her 
 dear niece, for which she would ever feel grateful. 
 Then she said as how missie would never want 
 nothing from anyone again, as she (Mrs, Dallas) 
 had adopted her, and they were going to live 
 happy ever after. ' Unless, indeed/ ses she, ' Miss 
 Myra deserted her aunt for a home of her own.' 
 And with that she smirked as if she knew a 
 thing or two. But my dear young lady, she just 
 looked white and dazed and sad, though she said 
 she was quite well. Then she asked me w^hy I 
 had never answered her note ; so I ses, * I never 
 had a note from her, and often wondered I hadn't.' 
 
 " ' But I did write to you,' ses she. 
 
 " ' There must have been some mistake in the 
 post,' says Mrs. Dallas ; ' for it was posted all right. 
 My son took it to the post, and he would be sure 
 to be careful of any commission from Miss Dallas,' 
 says she. 
 
 " And altogether I felt as if she meant me to 
 understand they were done with one. So she 
 intended. Then they got up to go away, and 
 missie says, in such a low, sad tone — 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 227 
 
 " ' You'll take care of the picture for my sake, 
 dear Mrs. Keene ? ' 
 
 " ' That I will; says I ; ' but I hope you'll let 
 me hear how you are going on now and again, 
 for I love you dearly,' says I. 
 
 " With that she looked at me as if she wanted 
 to tell me something, and her eyes filled with 
 tears. 
 
 " ' Good-bye, dear friend/ says she, and put her 
 arms round me and kissed me twice. 
 
 " When she did that I saw the aunt's eyes 
 glare at me, as if she'd tear out my heart and 
 all it knew or suspected. It was just a moment's 
 glance — like a flash of lightning, showing all sorts 
 of dangers — but it made me shake in my shoes. 
 Then she says, sweeter than ever — 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ; you shall hear of us. We are 
 thinking of going abroad in the spring, and we 
 may meet Mr. Keene in our travels.' 
 
 " With that she just nodded her head, as if to 
 some low creature, and out she went. Miss Myra 
 gave me another look out of her sad eyes, and 
 I'll never forget it. Then she went away, too ; 
 and it's my belief I'll never see her again." 
 p 2 
 
228 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLEIi. 
 
 She stopped abruptly as if she could not com- 
 mand her voice any longer. 
 
 Leyton listened intently without interrupting 
 her by a word, feeling annoyed with himself for 
 being so impressed by the good woman's narrative. 
 
 "You have given me a very graphic picture of 
 what took place," he said. " Pray, was it in con- 
 sequence of this visit that you wished to see 
 me ? " 
 
 " Well, partly, sir. You see I cannot help feeling 
 that Miss Myra is kept at that place against her 
 will." 
 
 " I do not think there is anything to justify 
 such a belief, Mrs. Keene. We must be reasonable. 
 What possible motive could Mrs. Dallas have for 
 detaining her niece against her will ? " 
 
 " God knows, sir. But I felt it borne in upon 
 me when I heard of that letter being posted by 
 Mrs. Dallas's son, that he had just put it behind 
 the fire. I may be wrong, but that's the thought 
 that came to me. If it went wrong in the post, 
 why didn't it come back from the Dead Letter 
 Office?" 
 
 " Of course, a natural question ; but even the 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 229 
 
 Post Office is not infallible, Mrs. Keene ; and as 
 there can be no possible advantage to Mrs. Dallas 
 in undertaking the protection and maintenance of 
 her late husband's niece, we have no right to sup- 
 pose she is actuated by any motive save bene- 
 volence." 
 
 " Yes, that sounds all right and reasonable 
 enough," returned Mrs. Keene ; " but the minute you 
 fetop speaking the same doubts and fears come back 
 to me, and they won't go away." 
 
 " It must be better for Miss Dallas, happier and 
 more comfortable, to reside with her aunt, than 
 to remain in that school ? " said Leyton in an in- 
 terrogative tone. 
 
 " It looks so, but I know the dear young 
 
 lady seemed pounds better and happier when she 
 was at school, even in holiday time, when she was 
 all by herself." 
 
 Ah, that holiday time ! How vividly it came 
 back to Leyton. 
 
 "You knew Miss Dallas and her father in 
 Munich, did you not ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I did, sir ; and her dear mother, who 
 saved my life, at the risk of her own, when Miss 
 
230 THE SNARE OF TEE FOWLER. 
 
 Myra was but a baby. I'll never forget the debt 
 I owe her daughter for her sake. She was the 
 sweetest lady I ever saw, but sad-looking and deli- 
 cate ; she died about a year and a half after I left 
 Munich. I've been there more than once since ; 
 I married Mr. Keene there ; and I always wrote 
 to Mr. DaUas, and then to missie when she grew 
 older. I was grieved to hear of Mr. Dallas's death. 
 Keene had been abroad with Lady Shirland that 
 year, and he told me about Colonel and Mrs. Dallas 
 visiting her ladyship ; that's the way I came to 
 know where Miss Myra was." 
 
 " Yes, I understand," said Leyton absently. " Then 
 Myra's mother — Mrs. Dallas," he resumed, hoping 
 to draw forth some remark, " died while she was 
 quite young ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, while she was a baby. Did you know 
 any of her people ? They might be friendly to 
 her daughter, for they must be real gentry, to 
 judge by her." 
 
 " I know nothing whatever about them, I am 
 sorry to say. Now, Mrs. Keene, I will leave you 
 my address ; don't lose it," giving her his card. 
 " If you want my help in any way respecting Miss 
 
GATHERING FEARS. 231 
 
 Dallas, do not hesitate to send tor me. But I think 
 you — we disturb ourselves unnecessarily. No harm 
 is hkely to come to Myra. We live in the nine- 
 teenth century. I will call and see her. They 
 have been out when I called before, so I must 
 just try again." 
 
 " Yes, so you may, sir," gloomily. 
 
 " Come, come ! don't be too suspicious," replied 
 Leyton laughing. His laugh sounded hollow to 
 himself. " When I do see Miss Dallas I shall report 
 to you. I am very glad she has so kind and true 
 a friend m you." 
 
 He shook hands cordially with the good woman, 
 and walked away westward from Keene's Hotel in 
 deep thought. " I seem to have come back to 
 life and vigour, though my reason is still in abeyance, 
 or I should not be so irritated by that simple 
 soul's ' raw-head and bloody bones ' anticipations," 
 he mused. "They are absurd, of course. Yet I 
 can't throw off the impression she has made. I 
 must see Myra. I can be of little or no use to her 
 if I continue to lead the hfe of an ill-conditioned 
 hermit. I'll go to Lady Shirland and her nymph- 
 like step-daughter. I wonder what the half-caste's 
 
232 THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. 
 
 son is like; a subtle, insinuating, dark- eyed dog, I 
 daresay. I don't fancy Myra plunged into such 
 surroundings ; still, the Dallas widow would nip 
 any tenderness between the boy and girl in the 
 bud. I must not hold back. I must come out of 
 my shell ! And^ by Jove ! I've been such a beggarly 
 beggar for these years past — beggared in love and 
 life and hope — that I must have a new dress suit ! 
 Did I ever think I should go in for such vanities 
 again! Hi! hansom! To Hill Street." 
 
 END OE VOL. I. 
 
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 Our Pretty Pets. 
 
 Our Schoolday Hours. 
 
 Creatures Tame. 
 
 Creatures Wild. 
 
 With 
 
 Picture Album of All Sorts. 
 
 Full-page Illustrations. 
 The Chit-Chat Album. Illustrated 
 
 throughout 
 
Selections from Cassell ^ Company's Publications. 
 
 "Wanted— a King " Series. Illustrated. 3s. 6d. each. 
 Great Grandmamma. By Georgina M. Synge. 
 Kobin's Ride. By Ellinor Davenport Adams. 
 
 Wauted-aKins; or, How Merle set the Nursery Rhymes to Rights. 
 By Maggie Browne. With Original Designs.by Harry Furniss. 
 The World's Workers. A Series of New and Original Volumes. 
 With Portraits printed on a tint as Frontispiece, is. each. 
 
 Charles Haddon Spurgeon. 
 G. HoLDEN Pike. 
 
 By 
 
 Dr. Arnold of Rugby. By Rose 
 E. Selfe. 
 
 The Earl of Shaftesbury. By 
 Henry Frith. 
 
 Sarah Robinson, Agnes Wes- 
 ton, and Mrs. Meredith. By 
 
 E. M. Tomkinson. 
 
 Thomas A. Edison and Samuel 
 
 F. B. Morse. By Dr. Denslow 
 and J. Marsh Parker. 
 
 Mrs. Somerville and Mary Car- 
 penter. By PhyUis Browne. 
 
 General Gordon. By the Rev. 
 S. A. Swaine. 
 
 Charles Dickens. By his Eldest 
 Daughter. 
 
 Sir Titus Salt and George 
 Moore. By J. Burnley. 
 
 David Livingstone 
 
 Florence Nightingale, Catherine 
 Marsh, Frances Ridley Haver- 
 gal, Mrs. Ranyai-d ("L. N. R."). 
 By Lizzie Alldridge. 
 
 Dr. Guthrie, Father Mathew, 
 Elihu Burritt, George Livesey. 
 By John W. Kirton, LL.D. 
 
 Sir Henry Havelock and Colin 
 Campbell Lord Clyde. By E. C. 
 Phillips. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln. By Ernest Foster. 
 
 George Miiller and Andrew Reed. 
 By E. R. Pitman. 
 
 Richard Cobden. By R. Gowing. 
 
 Benjamin Franklin. By E. M. 
 Tomkinson. 
 
 Handel. By Eliza Clarke. [Swaine. 
 
 Turner the Artist. By the Rev. S. A. 
 
 George and Robert Stephenson. 
 By C. L. Mateaux. 
 
 By Robert Smiles. 
 
 •»• The above Pf^'orks (exclicdinsr RICHARD COBDEN attd CHARLES HADDON 
 Spurgeon) can alio re had 7 hree in One Vol., cloth, gill edges, 3.?. 
 Library of Wonders. Illustrated Gift-books for Boys. Paper, is.; 
 cloth, IS. 6d. 
 Wonderful Adventures. I Wonders of Bodily Strength 
 
 Wonderlul Escapes. and Skill. 
 
 Wonderful B^lloon Ascents. | Wonders of Animal Instinct. 
 
 Cassell's Elghteenpenny Story Books. Illustrated. 
 
 Wee Willie Winkie. 
 
 Ups and Downs of a Donkey's 
 
 Life. 
 Three Wee Ulster Lassies. 
 Up the Ladder. 
 
 Dick's Hero; and other Stories. 
 The Chip Boy. 
 Raggles, Baggies, and the 
 
 iimperor. 
 Roses from Thorns. 
 Gift Books for Young People. 
 
 Original Illustrations in each. 
 The Boy Hunters of Kentucky. 
 
 By Edward S. EUis. 
 Red Feather: a Tale of 
 _ AYiierican Frontier. 
 
 Edward S. ElUs. 
 
 the 
 By 
 
 Seeking a City. 
 
 Rhoda's Reward; or, "If 
 Wishes were Horses." 
 
 Jack Marston's Anchor. 
 
 Frank's Life-Battle; or. The 
 Three Friends. 
 
 Fritters. By Sarah Pitt. 
 
 The Two Hardcastles. By Made- 
 line Bonavia Hu 
 
 Cassell's Two-Shilling Story Books. Illustrated 
 
 Faith's Father. 
 
 By Land and Sea. 
 
 The Young Berringtons. 
 
 Jeff and Leff. 
 
 Tom Morris's Error. 
 
 W^orth more than Gold. 
 
 "Through Flood— Through Fire;" 
 
 and other Stories. 
 The Girl with the Golden Locks. 
 Stories of the Olden Time. 
 By Popular Authors. With Four 
 Cloth gilt, IS. 6d. each. 
 
 Major Monk's Motto. By the Rev. 
 
 F. Langbridge. 
 Trixy. By Maggie Symington. 
 Rag^ and Rainbows: A Story of 
 
 Thanksgiving. 
 Uncle William's Charges; or. The 
 
 Broken Trust. 
 Pretty Pink's Purpose; or. The 
 
 Little Street Merchants. 
 Tim Thomson's Trial. By George 
 
 Weatherly. 
 Ursula's S tumbling-Block. ByJuUa 
 
 Goddard. 
 Ruth's Life-Work. By the Rev. 
 
 Josepli Johnson. 
 
 Stories of the Tower. 
 Mr. Burke's Nieces. 
 May Cunningham's Trial. 
 The Top of the Ladder : How to 
 
 Reach it. 
 Little Flotsam. 
 Madge and Her Friends. 
 The Children of the Court. 
 Maid Marjory. 
 Peggy, and other Tales. 
 
 The Four Cats of the Tippertooa. 
 
 Marion's Two Homes. 
 
 Little Folks' Sunday Book 
 
 Two Fourpenny Bits. 
 
 Poor Nelly. 
 
 Tom Heinot. 
 
 Through Peril to Fortune. 
 
 Avmt Tabitha's Waifs. 
 
 In Mischief Again. 
 
 School Girla. 
 
Selections from Cassell ^ Company's Publications 
 
 Bound in 
 
 For Queen and King. 
 Esther West. 
 Three Homes. 
 Working to Win. 
 Perils Afloat and Brigands 
 Ashore. 
 
 Cheap Editions of Popular Volumes for Young People. 
 cloth, gilt edges, 2S. 6d. each. 
 In Quest of Gold; or, Under 
 
 the Whanga Falls. 
 On Board the Esineralda ; or, 
 
 Martin Leigh's Log. 
 The H' manee of Invention : 
 Vignettes from the Annals 
 of Industry and Science. 
 
 The "Deerfoot" Series. By Edward S. Ellis. With Four full-page 
 Illustrations in each Book. Cloth, bevelled boards, 2S. 6d. each. 
 The Hunters ol the Ozark. | The Camp in the Mountains. 
 The Last War Trail. 
 
 The "Log Cabin" Series. By Edward S.Ellis. With Four Full- 
 page Illustrations in each. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 The Lost Trail. . | Camp-Fire and Wigwam. 
 
 Footprints in the Forest. 
 
 Edward S. Ellis. Illustrated. 
 
 The "Great River" Series. By 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloih, bevelled boards, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Down the Mississippi. | Lost in the Wilds. 
 
 Up the Tapaj os ; or, Adventures in Brazil. 
 
 The " Boy Pioneer" Series. By Edward S. Ellis. With Four Full- 
 page Illustrations in each Book. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 Ned in the Woods. A Tale of I Ned on the River. A Tale of Indian 
 Early Days in the West. | River Warfare. 
 
 Ned in the Block House. A Story of Pioneer Life in Kentucky. 
 
 The "World in Pictures." Illustrated throughout. 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 A Ramble Round France. 
 All the Russias. 
 Chats about Germany. 
 The Land of the Pyramids 
 (Egypt). 
 
 Peeps into China. 
 
 The Eastern Wonderland (Japan). 
 Glimpses of South America. 
 Bound Africa. 
 
 The Land of Temples (India). 
 The Isles of the Paciflc. 
 
 Half-Crown Story Books. 
 
 Little Hinges. 
 
 Margaret's Enemy. 
 
 Pen's Perplexities. 
 
 Notable Shipwrecks. 
 
 Golden Days. 
 
 Woi.ders of Common Things. 
 
 Truth will Out. 
 
 Soldier and Patriot (George Wash- 
 ington). 
 
 The Young Man in the Battle of 
 Life. By the Rev. Dr. Landels. 
 
 At the South Pole. 
 
 Books for the Little Ones. 
 
 Rhymes for the Young Folk. 
 By William Allingham. Beautifully 
 Illustrated. 3s. 6d. 
 
 The History Scrap Book. With 
 nearly i.ooo Engravings. 5s.; 
 cloth, 7b. 6d. 
 
 The Pilgrim's Progress. 23. 6d. 
 
 My Diary. With 12 Coloured Plates 
 
 and 366 Woodcuts. Is. 
 The Sunday Scrap Book. With 
 
 Several Hundred Illustrations. Paper 
 
 boards, 3s. 6d. ; cloth, gilt edges, 5s. 
 The Old Fairy Tales. With Original 
 
 Illustrations. Boards, Is.; cloth. 
 
 Is. 6d, 
 
 Cassell & Company's Complete Catalogue will be sent post 
 
 free on application to 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited, Lud^ate Hill, London. 
 
mm^ 
 
 \P\:^im^ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 'LUN0I9-UBBANA 
 
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