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 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 POSTE RESTANTE
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 PAUL ROMER 
 
 Price 6s.
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 BY 
 
 C. Y. HARGREAVES 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' PAUL ROMER ' 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 
 
 1894
 
 v,/- 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 DEDICATED 
 TO MY DEAR MOTHER 
 
 <^
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. A Link in the Chain. 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 2. The Letter 
 
 
 
 
 14 
 
 3. An Unseemly Fracas . 
 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 4. En Route for Monaco 
 
 
 
 
 • 33 
 
 5. A Mistaken Identity . 
 
 
 
 
 • 43 
 
 6. The Plot Thickens . 
 
 
 
 
 • 51 
 
 7. A Fatal Recognition. 
 
 
 
 
 • 13 
 
 8. Out of Pity 
 
 
 
 
 Si 
 
 9. Into the New World 
 
 
 
 
 100 
 
 10. Good-bye 
 
 
 
 
 108 
 
 II. Leonie . 
 
 
 
 
 121 
 
 12. A Heedless Pair 
 
 
 
 
 148 
 
 13. Good News 
 
 
 
 
 168 
 
 14. A Troublesome Charge 
 
 
 
 
 180 
 
 15. A Moral Discourse . 
 
 
 
 
 213 
 
 16. In the Wood . 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 231
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 One — two — three — four ! With a resonant 
 boom the big bronze giants on the clock 
 tower hammered out the flight of time : then 
 the echoes died away, and the clatter of feet 
 and the noisy hum of voices rose again in the 
 Piazza San Marco. The afternoon siesta was 
 over, and Venice had awakened. In the 
 grand square, where the heart of the city 
 beats, all was life, — lazy, languid life, if you 
 like ; for it is there in the piazza where 
 Italian, French, Greek, German, English 
 nationalities meet in one common whole, and 
 discuss their caffe, or ices, or aniseed water 
 with cosmopolitan friendliness. 
 
 VOL. I I
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 There was the usual crowd of loiterers 
 thronging the chairs before Florian's caffe ; 
 the usual beggars grouped in the centre 
 of the piazza and before the entrance to 
 the great Cathedral itself; the usual pro- 
 menaders sauntering along under the old and 
 new Procuratie, or wending their way through 
 the narrow entrance of the Merceria. The 
 pigeons were fluttering about — a mass of soft 
 gray feathers — as they chirped and scrambled 
 and hopped inquisitively amongst the idlers. 
 It was the same fifty years ago; it will be 
 the same fifty years hence. Venice, bereft 
 of her Piazza San Marco, would be as the 
 play of Hamlet with the Prince of Denmark 
 left out. 
 
 If you are bored and want amusement, you 
 go to the piazza ; if you are a bird of passage, 
 with only a few hours to spare, you go to the 
 piazza ; if you are a resident, still you go to 
 the piazza. It is here where the soul of 
 Venice has her being, here where her pulse 
 throbs, here where all the fascination of that
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 beautiful city contracts as in a common focus. 
 You may wander to the Mole and gaze 
 interestedly upon the shipping ; you may 
 stroll along the Riva degli Schiavoni finding 
 amusement in its life and chatter, but, as 
 the day draws on, so as surely are you drawn 
 back to the piazza, to linger there in idle 
 content and sip your favourite drink. 
 
 It was just as the clock chimed out the 
 hour of four, one lazy, sunny afternoon in 
 May, that a young man sauntered across the 
 piazza from, amongst one of the groups of 
 idlers, and stood hesitating for a moment at 
 the entrance to the Merceria. It was but a 
 second, to answer a jest from some Italian 
 officer lounging there, and to refuse with a 
 laughing shake of the head the invitation to 
 coffee, which he would have liked to accept ; 
 and then he turned into the Merceria, where 
 his rate of speed was checked or modified by 
 the crowds of people thronging the narrow 
 tortuous street, which is to Venice what 
 Regent Street is to London, or the Corso to
 
 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 Rome, and where all the youth and beauty 
 of this silent city on the sea pursue the 
 avocation dear to the feminine heart, — of 
 shopping. 
 
 A little later and he paused again, this 
 time upon a bridge spanning one of the side 
 canals, and looked down with a sort of absent 
 curiosity at the gondoliers, forcing their craft 
 with such dexterity through the sluggish 
 waters ; then went on more slowly still, not 
 exactly now by reason of the crowd, but 
 rather as if that momentary check had turned 
 his thoughts into a different channel, which 
 culminated in a reverie so profound that 
 more by instinct than actual effort he at last 
 drifted into the Post Office, and made his way 
 to the Poste Restante department. 
 
 This reverie — a pleasant one, to judge by 
 the smile which briorhtened his features — held 
 possession of him even after he had presented 
 his card to the clerk and waited for his letters. 
 
 As he stood there, one hand leaning lightly 
 upon the ledge, an onlooker might have been
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 puzzled to determine which country had given 
 him birth. The eyes, of a bluish gray, soft 
 and dark in some lights, quick and full of 
 mirth in others, were Irish by shape and 
 colour, but the contour of the face, long and 
 inclining to oval, lacked Hibernian breadth 
 and squareness. The shrewd, clear-cut lines 
 of mouth and chin were undeniably English ; 
 but again, as if in direct contradiction to this, 
 the bright brown wavy hair was worn longer 
 than is customary with the young male Briton, 
 and allowed to curl as nature willed it about 
 the head. His dress was artistic, even a 
 little Bohemian, with a gay -coloured sash 
 worn in lieu of a waistcoat, and a slouching 
 gray felt hat overshadowing his features. 
 There was a careless, but by no means un- 
 tidy negligence about the whole get-up, 
 which spoke more of the man of Art than 
 Science — a vivid, even daring blending of 
 colour, foreign to English notions and 
 English tastes. An attractive man, most 
 women would have said, for there was good
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 temper in the mouth, and a cheery brightness 
 in the eyes, which more than a fair share of 
 sensitive pride and unwilHngness to brook 
 control had hitherto failed to mar. 
 
 ' Madonna Santissima ! Then you still 
 linger here ? ' 
 
 Startled from his reverie by the masculine 
 voice at his elbow, and the touch of a hand 
 upon his arm, Connisterre wheeled quickly 
 round. Immediately the absent expression 
 upon his face changed to a smile of welcome 
 — a smile which displayed a row of white even 
 teeth and lay like a ray of sunshine over every 
 feature. 
 
 * Why, yes,' he said, turning back again to 
 pick up his letters, while the officer by whom 
 he had been accosted looked interestedly on, 
 a cigar between his teeth. ' I arranged to 
 leave this morning but was stopped at the 
 last moment. I am off" to Rome to-morrow.' 
 
 * Corpo di Bacco ! that is as Fate wills,' 
 said the Italian, carelessly flicking the ash 
 from his cigar.
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 Connisterre surveyed his letters with some 
 eagerness. One addressed in a pretty femi- 
 nine hand bore the Roman post-mark ; this he 
 conveyed to his pocket with a sudden acces- 
 sion of colour deepening his sunburn ; the 
 second, a card, dated from England, he read 
 over as he stood there, and the third — well, 
 at the third he scarcely glanced, being 
 occupied with parrying the raillery of his 
 companion, whose quick mischievous eyes 
 had noted both the feminine writing upon 
 the first letter and Connisterre's embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 * So sets the wind, amico mio,' he said, 
 linking his arm with easy familiarity in the 
 Englishman's, as they moved away together. 
 * While the earth revolves upon its axis, 
 while the blue sky smiles down upon this 
 gay world of ours, so long shall the God of 
 Love have dominion over us poor weak men. 
 Sapristi ! were it not that the Fates are 
 merciful, I myself should ere now have fallen 
 a victim to the toils of the little wicked one.
 
 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 but the devil take us all ! I am cast in a 
 different mould ; the toys and playthings of 
 the hour make no lasting impression upon 
 me, for, see you, a beautiful woman is plain 
 to-morrow ; eyes which charmed you last 
 night in the whirl of the waltz, or under the 
 stars in our soft beguiling southern heat, 
 have lost their glamour this morning ; the 
 flower which fell from her bosom, and which 
 you pressed perchance a moment to your lips, 
 
 is faded even as her memory .' Bernini 
 
 made a slight graceful gesture with his fingers, 
 was silent a moment, then went on more 
 quickly, an ironical vein of humour underlying 
 the liquid Italian voice. 
 
 ' But you — you are different. Tell me, 
 what is the charm in your cold northern 
 women which holds you constant for a week, 
 a month, a year, possibly even a lifetime, 
 when the brightness of her eyes has faded, 
 when her face has lost its roundness, and her 
 dainty figure spoiled by the cares of matron- 
 hood, its graceful curves ; are they more
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 beautiful than ours, more loving, more 
 tender, more seductive ? I admire your 
 English women — but explain it to me.' 
 
 * It is impossible to explain,' said Connis- 
 terre, rather coldly. A slight frown had 
 come over his face ; some quick lines of that 
 same demon of pride made themselves ap- 
 parent about his mouth. He gave a little 
 impatient movement, as if he would fain 
 have shaken off the touch of his companion's 
 arm, but the signs of disquiet or annoyance 
 vanished ere they had sprung fairly into 
 birth, and the light-hearted young Italian 
 rattled on again. 
 
 'Of your women I know little, signore,' 
 he pursued, casting a devil-me-care, rollick- 
 ing glance over his shoulder at a knot of 
 English girls discussing Italian millinery and 
 Italian fashions before the window of an 
 adjacent shop. ' For see you now, it is not 
 easy to make acquaintance with your country- 
 women, who attract and repel, encourage and 
 condemn, ere my watch has time to count
 
 lo POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 the Space of one half minute. They will 
 favour me, especially the young ones, with a 
 glance of interest, admiration, encourage- 
 ment in their dancing eyes. I am of all 
 things a gallant. I would be ashamed to 
 omit returning that glance, and if per Dio — 
 how can I help it ! for the heart is more 
 inflammable under the military coat than the 
 plain civilian dress — if, as I say, the glance 
 which passes back again to her is warmer in 
 its ardour, if deeming myself half invited, I 
 retrace my steps to render further homage, 
 why then, I am repulsed at once ; eyes which 
 a moment before smiled at me in coquetry 
 are turned away in scorn, lips which I would 
 have sworn were full of laughter are now 
 curved in disdain ; even my southern warmth 
 is not proof against it. I shiver, I tremble, 
 and as it were shape myself into a glacier. 
 Talk not to me of English women, Signore 
 Connisterre. If they would not encourage, 
 they should not glance ; if they would remain 
 unnoticed, they should cease to take notice.'
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN n 
 
 Feeling himself at a disadvantage, and 
 conscious of a great deal of lurking truth in 
 the wily Italian's words, Connisterre returned 
 no answer. They had now reached the 
 piazza, and paused as if by mutual consent 
 at the entrance to the Merceria. 
 
 ' You are going — where ? ' asked Bernini, 
 with childish readiness to accommodate him- 
 self to his companion's plans. ' For myself 
 I have nothing on hand save a coffee with 
 some of our's at Florian's which may well 
 give way to my inclination to see more of 
 you, since to-morrow we must say addio. I 
 have found so much pleasure in your society, 
 signore, I would gladly avail myself of it 
 until the latest moment. That is,' cour- 
 teously, * if by doing so I shall not render 
 myself tiresome, or what you call in English 
 a ** spoil sport." ' 
 
 *Oh no, certainly not; I have no sport 
 on hand,' returned Connisterre, with a laugh. 
 * Suppose we take a gondola to the Gardens 
 and return by the quay to my hotel. I shall
 
 12 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 be glad if you can dine there with me, and 
 afterwards we may strike a Httle amusement ; 
 some music, perhaps, somewhere. We have 
 plenty of time before dinner,' he added, look- 
 ing at his w^atch. 
 
 To. this Bernini gladly assented, and Con- 
 nisterre, nothing loth to have company on 
 this last evening, which had threatened to 
 hang a little heavily upon his hands, felt 
 grateful to the chance which had wafted the 
 gay Italian in his path. True, there was 
 that about Carlo Bernini, as about most of 
 these young, shallow -pated officers, some- 
 thing which jarred upon him — a vein of loose 
 morality, a careless handling of subjects 
 which Connisterre, like most respectable 
 Englishmen, deemed sacred ; but Bernini 
 was a good fellow enough at heart, neither 
 better nor worse than the generality of his 
 class, extravagant perhaps, but generous 
 withal, and possessing traits of courage, 
 daring, candour, and affection, as might in 
 happier circumstances, untainted by the hot
 
 A LINK IN THE CHAIN 
 
 blood and dominant passions of the race which 
 had given him birth, have produced a noble 
 character. He amused Connisterre, even 
 interested him, for the young Italian's vanity, 
 his arrogant opinion of the perfection of his 
 own looks, position, race, and family, his 
 innocent, unassumed surprise if any one 
 doubted it, were an enjoyable study in 
 themselves. There is no doubt the com- 
 plex character of the Italian has much in 
 it to fascinate an Englishman, possessing as 
 it does every characteristic different to his 
 own. The heart of a child, the vanity of a 
 savage, coupled with such quick generosity, 
 strong affections, intense curiosity, gratitude 
 for favours past and present, all mingle so 
 inconsistently with deep-seated treachery, a 
 readiness to take offence even to bloodshed, 
 that it must ever remain an unfathomable 
 problem to the colder- natured, more unde- 
 monstrative northerner, as a something which 
 he cannot hope to understand.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE LETTER 
 
 Pray do not jest ! This is no time for it. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The heat of the day had waned a Httle, and 
 a slight breeze, gentle as that of a zephyr's 
 wing, just stirred the placid waters of the 
 lagoon into baby ripples, when Connisterre 
 and his companion stepped into one of the 
 waiting gondolas and gave themselves 
 up to the full enjoyment of an exquisite 
 afternoon in May. For a while no sound, 
 save the rhythmical splashing of the gon- 
 dolier's oar and the lapping of the waters 
 under the boat's prow broke the perfect 
 stillness. Bernini had sunk into a reverie, 
 and the Englishman, taking advantage of his 
 companion's abstraction, was profiting by it 
 to study the letters he had lately received.
 
 THE LETTER 15 
 
 That the one bearing the Roman post-mark 
 was not altogether to his satisfaction might 
 be judged from a sHght frown which con- 
 tracted his even brows, and a restless twitch- 
 ing at his moustache with one sunburnt 
 hand ; but his face cleared at last, and 
 replacing the note, for its length scarcely 
 justified the appellation of a letter, within 
 his pocket, he drew out a second, raising his 
 eyes a moment to glance towards a passing 
 steamer plying its way to the Lido with a 
 flutter and a dash which in themselves 
 seemed a tacit insult to the dignified waters 
 of the Adriatic, and the silent, once powerful 
 city whose base it washed. Bernini roused 
 himself and muttered an Italian imprecation ; 
 the steamer shot swiftly past, all was quiet- 
 ness again. Connisterre turned his attention 
 to the letter which he held in his hand, and 
 surveyed its address with lazy curiosity. 
 
 Signore G. Connisterre, 
 
 Poste Restante, 
 
 Venezia.
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 The writing, unfamiliar to Geoffrey, was care- 
 less, even untidy, running off here and there 
 into unauthorised curves and twists, with a 
 curious tremor underlying all, as if the hand 
 which had penned the lines trembled from 
 bodily weakness or mental agitation. It bore 
 the stamp of the little Principality of Monaco, 
 dated three days before. Cohnisterre's negli- 
 gence in not applying for his letters earlier 
 had caused the delay in receipt, and trusting 
 the contents were of no importance, he tore 
 the letter open. It was short, concise, and 
 puzzled him. 
 
 Hotel de la Torre, Monte Carlo. 
 Dear Boy — Let bygones be bygones, and come to 
 me at once. I am dying in this cursed hole. — Yours, 
 
 R. Deane. 
 
 In some bewilderment, Geoffrey read and re- 
 read the scribbled note which contained such 
 an imperative summons. Deane ? Deane ? 
 The only man he knew of that name had 
 formerly been a college friend of his own at 
 Merton, rusticated in his second term for
 
 THE LETTER 17 
 
 inveterate gambling and worse, but for whom 
 he had always entertained a warm liking. 
 How this same Deane came to know of his 
 present sojourn in Venice, Connisterre could 
 only conjecture, until he suddenly recollected 
 that a few days earlier he had come across 
 an acquaintance in the Academie Belle Arti, 
 who had been recently in the unfortunate 
 Deanes society, and was intending to join 
 him later on at Nice. He it was who had 
 probably told Deane of Connisterre's where- 
 abouts. 
 
 Unpleasant and inconvenient though the 
 request might be, nobody could for one 
 moment dream of ignoring it. The claims 
 of friendship and humanity demanded instant 
 fulfilment of the dying man's wish, but 
 Geoffrey was human enough to grumble a 
 little at this awkward turn of affairs. 
 
 ' It seems to me that I no sooner over- 
 throw one obstacle which prevents my 
 departure for Rome than another arises,' he 
 said, turning to Bernini, and moodily drag- 
 
 VOL. I 2
 
 l8 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ging his fingers through the water. ' I must 
 be off to Monte Carlo to-night.' 
 
 ' Monte Carlo ! But the season is nearly- 
 over,' said Bernini, in some surprise. * Leave 
 your luck to another year, amico into, and 
 pay your court now to that fair shrine in 
 Rome. By my soul, signore, were I your 
 inamorata I should deem it something less 
 than a compliment if you fled from my 
 embraces to squander gold at the gaming 
 tables of that hell on earth, the Casino.' 
 
 'It is no gambling fever which lures me 
 there, I promise you,' broke in Connisterre, 
 with some heat. ' A deathbed call and the 
 whirr of the roulette ball have little in com- 
 mon. Drop your jesting, Bernini.' 
 
 * A thousand pardons,' exclaimed the 
 Italian, checking his gay badinage instantly, 
 but at Connisterre's tone the haughty blood 
 mounted to his olive-tinted cheeks. ' You 
 can scarcely blame if I failed to guess the 
 grave contents of a letter, and passed instead 
 a senseless gibe at what seemed to me reluct-
 
 THE LETTER 19 
 
 ance to join your fair one. If this is not a 
 sufficient apology, why, indeed, it only re- 
 quires that ' 
 
 But Connisterre, whose knowledge of 
 Italian character and Italian temper was of 
 no elementary nature, interrupted him hur- 
 riedly, laying his hand in a friendly manner 
 upon Bernini's arm. 
 
 'You are right and I am wrong,' he said, 
 with an honest laugh. ' I spoke in momen- 
 tary irritation, annoyed by the upset in my 
 plans ; let it pass.' 
 
 Bernini's brow cleared as if by magic. 
 He inquired interestedly the particulars of 
 the news which had so seriously discomposed 
 his friend. 
 
 * It is a thousand pities I did not call for 
 my letters earlier,' said Connisterre, tugging 
 at his moustache, as he re-read the note for 
 the tenth time. ' The poor devil may be 
 dead and buried now, but I suppose I must go.' 
 
 * And at what time may you start '^. ' 
 
 ' That I must find out. I rather fancy
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 there is a train leaving Venice at ii. 15 to- 
 night for Verona and Milan, or I might go 
 the other route by Bologna. If I am lucky, 
 I daresay I shall get on to Monte Carlo 
 by to-morrow evening, travelling straight 
 through, of course. It is the deuce of a 
 nuisance though.' 
 
 ' So it is,' agreed Bernini sympathetically, 
 and then he launched off into some rollicking 
 story of his own experiences at Monte Carlo, 
 which lasted until they were put ashore at the 
 gardens. It was quiet and peaceful enough 
 there, deserted, save for a few children play- 
 ing by the beds of white and purple iris, and 
 a couple of artisans who lay asleep on one of 
 the rustic benches, their curly black hair and 
 swarthy olive-hued faces forming a picture 
 which only the brush of a Murillo could have 
 conveyed to canvas. 
 
 Connisterre and his companion strolled 
 leisurely along past the gorgeous beds of 
 roses and geranium, the dusky alleys thick 
 with trees, and the groups of laughing chil-
 
 THE LETTER 21 
 
 dren, until they found themselves In a long 
 avenue lined on either side with acacia trees 
 in full bloom, the soft white petals from which, 
 stirred by a gentle breeze, floated down like 
 a shower of fairy scented snow, and lay in 
 frothy heaps on the gravelled road. 
 
 * Italy, Italy, land of sunshine and of 
 flowers, what artist could ever hope to do 
 you justice ! ' exclaimed Connisterre, drawing 
 a long breath, as his beauty-loving eyes drank 
 in every detail of the fair picture before them. 
 ' Sometimes I am almost tempted to lay aside 
 the brush for ever, Bernini, and take to hew- 
 ing stones by the roadside. One's best efforts 
 come so far, so lamentablv far short of one's 
 ideal. Imagine trying to convey this,' sweep- 
 ing his hand towards the flowering acacias and 
 the brilliant peeps of the blue Adriatic at his 
 left, *to canvas. Bah! it is an impossibility, a 
 dream. Come, let us be going. It is late.' 
 
 They turned then, and leaving the avenue 
 behind, walked more quickly on through a 
 rambling, rather dirty street, which led them
 
 22 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 finally over numerous bridges to the quay, 
 at the further end of which lay the Hotel 
 d'Angleterre, where Connisterre was staying, 
 Carlo Bernini, whose spirits had been in- 
 ordinately high for the last half hour, sobered 
 down a little as they came in sight of the 
 quay, and beyond exchanging some humor- 
 ous salutations with his brother officers, 
 behaved for him in a wonderfully rational 
 manner ; but his eyes were roving hither and 
 thither, resting now and then in insolent 
 admiration upon some fair -featured girl, 
 whose suddenly crimsoned cheek, half-fleet- 
 ing smile, or haughty look, testified to the 
 discomposing glance of his bold dark eyes. 
 Connisterre, who found this kind of thing 
 intensely objectionable, was moved to com- 
 ment upon the Italian's behaviour in terms 
 which policy alone ordained should have 
 more raillery than rebuke in them, but 
 Bernini cut his remonstrances short with 
 an easy contemptuous laugh. 
 
 ' To every dog his own collar,' he said
 
 THE LETTER 
 
 23 
 
 carelessly. ' If it suits you to wear it tight, 
 why grumble that choice leads me to 
 select one with more freedom of breath ? 
 You respect the sex ; I admire, but scarcely 
 revere it. Who shall say whether it is most 
 my fault or theirs that I hold the name of 
 woman lightly, or think they receive my 
 attentions with less pleasure than I offer 
 them? It is a question which I have neither 
 interest nor energy to solve, so we will leave 
 it in abeyance,' and casting the subject of 
 conversation as lightly aside as the ash from 
 his half-consumed cigar, Bernini plunged into 
 a string of military anecdotes which lasted 
 until they were fairly within the doors of the 
 Hotel d'Angleterre.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN UNSEEMLY FRACAS 
 He carries anger as the flint bears fire. — Shakespeare. 
 
 The hotel guests had all assembled, and the 
 fish was quickly following upon the first 
 course, when the two young men reappeared, 
 and passing through the first room, which 
 opened into a second and larger one, sat 
 down almost at the end of a long table which 
 formed three sides of a square, giving the 
 guests on one side a comprehensive view of 
 the quay outside, from which a faint clatter 
 of steps, the rippling sound of the steamers 
 puffing through the waters of the grand 
 canal, and a modulated hum of voices floated 
 softly in through the open windows. 
 
 Opposite to Connisterre were two ladies, 
 evidently mother and daughter, whose
 
 AN UNSEEML V FRACAS 25 
 
 fashionable attire, curled and frisetted hair 
 and youthful demeanour, were all called in 
 aid to defy the ravages which time had made 
 upon complexions florid probably in their 
 best days, and figures whose pronounced 
 embonpoint was only kept in check by the 
 style of the costumier. The attention of the 
 elder lady, and indeed that of her daughter 
 also, was riveted upon a dignitary of the 
 Church, whose position at the extreme end 
 of the table enabled him to survey the whole 
 company, and sweep a glance of — one might 
 almost say — clerical insolence over the faces 
 around him. This gentleman was in a harsh, 
 dictatorial voice, advancing his opinion with 
 reference to some subject upon which doubt- 
 less he considered himself the only competent 
 authority present. 
 
 *Oh thank you, thank you so much, for 
 the explanation,' exclaimed Connisterre's vis- 
 a-vis, as the divine concluded his remarks ; 
 ' you always explain things in so very clear 
 and comprehensible a manner that it perhaps
 
 26 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 tempts one to trespass unduly upon your 
 kindness ! ' 
 
 ' Not at all, not at all,' he returned, with a 
 wave of the right hand, thereby displaying a 
 massive signet-ring which adorned his little 
 finger. 'It is a great pleasure to have so 
 intelligent an auditor.' 
 
 While this little interchange of compli- 
 ments was taking place, Bernini had found 
 amusement in watching the antics of a pinch- 
 faced, shrewish-looking woman opposite to 
 him, whose persistent polishing of her forks, 
 spoons, and glass with a serviette before 
 commencing her dinner, conveyed very little 
 compliment to the waiters. Having finished 
 this to her satisfaction, she craned her head 
 round to stare disapprovingly at two very 
 daintily dressed young girls, who were sit- 
 ting some distance away conversing with an 
 American gentleman, a recent arrival, and 
 then turned back again to snap out a curt 
 ' no ' to one of the waiters who requested 
 her pleasure with reference to the wine carte.
 
 AN UN SEEM L V ERA CA S 27 
 
 Meanwhile, the clergyman and his fair left- 
 hand neighbour continued their discourse 
 with such interludes from the elder lady as 
 ' Do you ; but of course you will ; ' or, ' As I 
 remarked to my daughter this afternoon, 
 we will ask Mr. Golightly if that would be 
 our best plan ; ' or, ' You will be able to set 
 
 us right about^ ' etc. This garnishing of 
 
 the conversation by subtle flattery and scarcely 
 veiled admiration, might well have tickled 
 the self-love of any one less vain than the 
 divine, who apparently revelled in it. There 
 was a lull in the conversation at last while the 
 elder lady, to whom the comfort of others was 
 of small account when compared with her own, 
 requested the head waiter to lower the lights, 
 asserting that the heat was insupportable. 
 
 ' I am sorry, madame, but if I do so it 
 will perhaps be inconvenient to others,' he 
 returned respectfully, smothering a sharp 
 retort which had arisen to his lips, for this 
 lady had been a b^te noire to all the waiters 
 over since her arrival.
 
 28 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 'Then open the windows,' she said with 
 asperity. ' I will not submit to be stifled.' 
 
 The windows, four in number, French 
 in shape, were, with the exception of the 
 one beside her, already open, and after a 
 momentary hesitation the man stepped for- 
 ward and opened one-half of this. 
 
 ' No, not that side, the other,' she said 
 sharply, and then having had the window 
 so arranged that she could feel the benefit 
 of the air, and the other guests, who had 
 not desired it open, the full benefit of the 
 draught, she resumed her conversation with 
 the clergyman. 
 
 This gentleman, whose attention had been 
 attracted to Bernini, then carrying on a low- 
 toned discussion in Italian with Connisterre, 
 commenced to vilify Italians, and especially 
 Italian officers, in no measured terms, trust- 
 ing perhaps, as so many of us are so apt 
 to do, in the inability of the foreigner to 
 understand another language but his own. 
 At first Bernini, who knew sufficient English
 
 AN UNSEEML V ERA CAS 29 
 
 to follow the conversation, paid no attention, 
 until suddenly a chance word, uttered rather 
 more loudly than the rest, caught his ear ; 
 he turned at once, flashing a look upon the 
 clergyman which might well have warned 
 him off dangerous ground ; but Mr. Golightly, 
 oblivious to the gathering storm, proceeded 
 undeterred : 
 
 ' As I was saying, although for pleasure, 
 instruction, or health, we come into this 
 abandoned land, there is every reason why 
 we should avoid too close intercourse with 
 the Italians themselves, who have from 
 time immemorial been addicted to vices of 
 lying, deceit, and treachery. You agree 
 with me, I am sure,' he added, turning to his 
 right-hand neighbour, a benevolent looking old 
 clergyman, who submitted to the patronage 
 of his reverend brother, possibly because he 
 deemed it beneath his dignity to resent it. 
 
 ' Far from that,' he replied, speaking with 
 some gravity. ' I have yet to learn, sir, that 
 they are worse than other men, neither do
 
 30 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 I consider it consistent with our justice, as 
 Englishmen, to revile so many faults in them, 
 when we, as a nation, have a corresponding 
 number of our own for which to answer.' 
 
 ' Such may be your opinion, but it is not 
 mine,' retorted the other, roused now to a show 
 of anger by the very calmness of the rebuke. 
 ' Take their army officers, for instance, whose 
 very attentions to an Englishwoman are an 
 insult rather than a compliment. Profligate, 
 treacherous, dishonourable ' 
 
 ' Gran Dio ! ' thundered Bernini, starting 
 to his feet, with an imprecation which arrested 
 the attention of every one in his vicinity. * I 
 would have you know, signore, that I, as an 
 Italian officer and a gentleman, will not suffer 
 you thus to insult my country and her people 
 with your vile and cowardly calumnies, and 
 I would have you know also that were it not 
 we never war with priests or women, I would 
 spill your blood with as little compunction as 
 I fling this wine in your face.' Bernini, as 
 he spoke, placed his hand upon his glass,
 
 AN UNSEEMLY FRACAS 31 
 
 and crimson to the temples, half- choking 
 with rage, discharged its contents full in the 
 face of the astonished clergyman. There 
 was instant confusion, an outcry of voices, one 
 or two ladies screamed, and for a moment it 
 seemed as if some disgraceful uproar would 
 ensue ; but Bernini, flinging his card upon 
 the table, brought the affair to a summary 
 close by marching out of the room, his dark, 
 passionate eyes sweeping the faces of the 
 startled diners with angry defiance and 
 contempt. 
 
 'And you, sir, do you think it to your 
 credit as an Englishman to suffer an Italian 
 roud to thus insult a countryman in your 
 presence,' shouted Mr. Golightly, wiping the 
 steaming wine from his face, as Connisterre 
 rose to follow his friend. 
 
 * I think it as much to mine, as such a 
 display of insolent and contemptible prejudice 
 is to yours,' retorted Geoffrey, who, if he had 
 an Englishman's natural distaste for a scene, 
 yet had all an Englishman's indignation that
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 a guest of his should receive an insult at the 
 table to which he had bidden him. ' May I 
 recommend you, for the future, to abstain 
 from slanderous statements, and cultivate 
 such graces of charity and consideration as 
 are, I believe, enjoined upon gentlemen of 
 your cloth.' He waited an instant, giving 
 his adversary time to reply, but receiving no 
 answer, continued more courteously — ' On 
 behalf of my friend, who, in cooler moments 
 will regret, equally with myself, that any 
 action of his should seem to imply a dis- 
 regard for the presence of ladies, you will 
 perhaps allow me to apologise.' Then with 
 a bow to the ladies in his vicinity, Connisterre 
 also left the table.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 EN ROUTE FOR MONACO 
 
 It grieves me much to see this quarrel between gentlemen. 
 
 Spajiish Student. 
 
 Passing quickly down the long room between 
 the rows of astonished, amused, or indignant 
 guests, the bewildered waiters, and incensed 
 authorities of the hotel, who, hearing the 
 sudden uproar and hum of voices, had hurried 
 to the spot, Connisterre made his way outside 
 to the quay, and looked about with some 
 anxiety for the hot-tempered Italian. Fortu- 
 nately, only a few seconds had elapsed since 
 he disappeared, and after a little difficulty the 
 Englishman's search was rewarded. He came 
 up with Bernini just as the latter was descend- 
 ing the steps to one of the waiting gondolas. 
 Carlo turned fiercely round. He had flung 
 
 VOL. I ^
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 on the short blue cloak common to the 
 officers, and faced Connlsterre muffled in its 
 protecting folds, one corner thrown over his 
 left shoulder screening his features from view. 
 
 ' I think I have scarcely merited such curt 
 treatment at your hands,' said Geoffrey, speak- 
 ing very quietly. ' Much as I regret this 
 unfortunate fracas and the insult which you 
 have received, yet, since personally I am quite 
 blameless in the matter, it is hardly courteous, 
 signore, to leave so hastily, giving me no oppor- 
 tunity to express my regret, nor say farewell.' 
 
 The even temperate words were not with- 
 out their effect, even upon the hot-tempered 
 Italian. In a half apologetic voice he 
 murmured his regrets for the haste which 
 Connisterre had been obliged to make in 
 following him, but even as he spoke other 
 and darker thoughts were at work within his 
 mind, and it needed but little skill to divine 
 their tenor, even before he broke out into a 
 torrent of vituperative wrath against his late 
 antagonist.
 
 EN ROUTE FOR MONACO 35 
 
 Connisterre listened in silence, and after a 
 time Bernini cooled down, checking his words 
 with a contemptuous laugh. 
 
 * Why do I waste my breath ! You are 
 an Englishman, you do not understand. You 
 deem this unnecessary vehemence, bad form, 
 execrable taste, and everything else by which 
 your nation, too phlegmatic to take fire, 
 crushes itself into the similitude of a log. I 
 will say no more.' 
 
 ' Listen, Signore Bernini,' replied Connis- 
 terre, smothering an angry retort ; ' let us be 
 candid. I admit you have been almost un- 
 bearably insulted ; I admit your right to 
 resent it ; but surely a moment's calm reflec- 
 tion should show you that you are unjust. 
 If my countryman has uttered words to annoy 
 you, think whether your hasty commentary 
 upon the faults and failings of my nation may 
 not be equally annoying to me. I have not 
 actually resented your raillery, — let us term it 
 that for want of a better word, — or endea- 
 voured upon the strength of it to pick a
 
 36 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 quarrel with you, not that I am by any means 
 less prone to see the sarcasm, but because I 
 am fully assured neither you nor I can form 
 a just estimate of the other's faults, and I ask 
 you whether, personally, I have done any- 
 thing to merit your forcing this man's quarrel 
 upon my shoulders ? ' 
 
 ' You say that you have cause to resent 
 my words,' exclaimed Bernini, dropping 
 the corner of his cloak and revealing a 
 face full of hate and passion. ' I am 
 willing to give you satisfaction. Will you 
 fight?' 
 
 ' No,' said Connisterre, steadily ; ' I am 
 neither anxious to lose my life nor take yours. 
 The day has gone by when men, to wipe 
 away a fancied smear upon their honour, 
 stained their hands in each other's blood. I 
 am not deficient in courage, signore, but I 
 will not fight you. Come,' he added, after a 
 short pause, speaking in a friendly voice, 
 ' my pride as a gentleman and self-respect as 
 a man forbid me to say more. Will you not
 
 EN ROUTE FOR MONACO 37 
 
 part as friends ? I am heartily sorry this 
 should have occurred.' 
 
 It would have taken some one far more 
 churlish and resentful than Carlo Bernini to 
 resist the charm of Connlsterre's face and 
 manner, the honest, steady look in his eyes, 
 the genuine cordiality in his voice. 
 
 ' No, no, you are right,' he exclaimed 
 impulsively, gripping Geoffrey's hand ; ' we 
 will Indeed be friends.' 
 
 ' And you will forget the Insult you 
 have received ? ' went on Connlsterre, mind- 
 ful perhaps of the dark side of Italian 
 nature. 
 
 ' Since you wish It, yes ; but he has only 
 your intercession to thank that he does not 
 receive three inches of cold steel In his body 
 to-night. Ah, you look, you are surprised ! 
 but we Italians are too proud to take an 
 injury to court for a gilded salve. It is 
 better to silence a slanderous tongue than 
 bind it temporarily with law cords. But you 
 need not fear for his tender skin, he is quite
 
 38 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 safe, so long as he does not cross my path 
 again with his vile words and viler insinua- 
 tions.' 
 
 Convinced by the sincerity of Bernini's 
 manner that there was no further risk of 
 deadly consequences to the evening's dis- 
 agreement, Connisterre turned the subject of 
 the conversation to his own immediate de- 
 parture, and after a little hesitation Carlo 
 agreed to return with him to the hotel. 
 Connisterre had still his portmanteau to pack 
 and other arrangements to make, which would 
 take up all the intervening time before his 
 train left Venice. 
 
 When an hour later the two men em- 
 barked in a gondola for the station, the 
 beauty and intoxication of a Venetian night 
 were at their height. Silently, sheer out of 
 the water as it seemed, rose stately palaces, 
 where once had dwelt all the pride and 
 beauty of Venetian nobility, and v/hich 
 reveal even now, in their defaced fronts and 
 time -stained walls, a restful dignity they
 
 EN ROUTE FOR MONACO 39 
 
 will never wholly lose. Years may come 
 and go, Empires rise and fall, dynasties 
 change and democracy add day by day to its 
 swelling tide, but neither time nor the hand 
 of man can take away while one stone stands 
 upon another in that silent city, her luring 
 beauty, intoxicating charm, and strange im- 
 perious fascination, which defies the pen of 
 the poet or the brush of the artist to describe. 
 Something of this was perhaps passing 
 through the mind of Geoffrey Connisterre as 
 he sat silently gazing out into the darkness of 
 the grand canal. Here and there the gon- 
 dolas of the singers, bright with coloured 
 lanterns, and gay with cheery voices singing 
 out in a wild refrain, made a brilliant spot in 
 the gloomy shadows, or the steel -pro wed, 
 griffin-headed gondolas clustered together in 
 a dark phalanx, broke up suddenly, moving 
 in and out, sending a flash of light glittering 
 from their prows across the darkness as they 
 crept up in ghostly silence side by side. 
 Then as the gondola shot forward on its way
 
 40 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 the coloured lights of the Chinese lanterns 
 faded into evanescent golden balls, the voices 
 of the minstrels grew faint, — faint but inex- 
 pressibly sweet, until at last all was silence, 
 save the lapping of the water, and the 
 hoarse ' Stali, stali ' of the gondolier as 
 he turned to thread his craft through the 
 grim tortuous side canals which intersect 
 the city. 
 
 Connisterre roused from his reverie as 
 they neared the steps leading to the quay 
 before the station, and after a liberal douceur 
 to the boatmen walked on with his companion 
 into the midst of the roar and confusion con- 
 sequent upon the departure of the Verona 
 train. 
 
 How little he guessed in the midst of his 
 conversation with Bernini, that the threads 
 of an adverse fate were even then imper- 
 ceptibly drawing him further and further 
 away from the old calm life to the unknown 
 world before him ; how little he dreamed of all 
 that was to come and go before he again
 
 EN ROUTE FOR MONACO 41 
 
 Stood upon the platform of the Venice station. 
 And yet, even despite his absorption in the 
 present, he was conscious of an odd moment- 
 ary change in himself, an indefinable instinct 
 which impelled him to pause in the middle of 
 a jest with Bernini, and turn an interested 
 gaze towards a young man at that moment 
 placing his portmanteau upon a truck before 
 them. There was nothing in the careless, 
 unmistakably English face, with its blue eyes 
 and drooping fair moustache to call even for 
 a second glance, but to Connisterre it seemed 
 strangely familiar, as if there lay between 
 them an impalpable link of something un- 
 known, something which was yet to have 
 its influence upon the lives of both himself 
 and this stranger. 
 
 The presentiment lasted but a moment ; 
 with an inward smile at his own childishness, 
 Connisterre resumed his conversation at the 
 precise place where he had broken off, the 
 stranger moved aside with a * pardon mon- 
 sieur' for inadvertently stopping the way.
 
 42 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 and the wheels of destiny forced them again 
 apart, but the clue to all the labyrinth of 
 doubt and perplexity which was henceforth to 
 become part of Geoffrey Connisterre's life, 
 lay in the stranger's hands.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A MISTAKEN IDENTITY 
 Men should be what they seem. — Shakespeare. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon of the following 
 day when Connisterre reached the end of his 
 wearisome journey, and emerged into the 
 light and gaiety of the garden of the 
 Riviera, Monte Carlo. High above him the 
 Casino, a blaze of white and gold and blue, 
 glittered in the powerful rays of a sun which 
 penetrated every corner, flooding the flowers 
 and terraced walks, the blooming myrtle 
 hedges, the palms and giant olives, the 
 climbing roses, and the delicate lavender- 
 tinted westeria with a wonderful glory. 
 Connisterre, tired with incessant travelling, 
 thirsty, hot, and half- choked with dust.
 
 44 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 heaved a little sigh of relief when he had 
 jumped into one of the waiting fiacres, and 
 was driving to Deane's hotel. 
 
 A light, soft breeze, indescribably fragrant, 
 filled with the odours of a thousand fiowers, 
 blew refreshingly across his temples, and he 
 bared his head to meet it, his beauty-loving 
 eyes drinking in the fairness of the scene 
 before him. He would be indeed a churl 
 who could gaze upon Monte Carlo without 
 one quickening pulse or thrill of admiration, 
 or fail to appreciate that peep of Monaco out 
 there which stands out against the blue back- 
 ground of sky, guiltless alike of cloud or 
 darkness, that inimitable stretch of azure 
 water, washing its snowy base, or curling 
 back in foam-clad wavelets over the jutting 
 rocks. Here nature has laid on her choicest 
 colours, decked it with the treasures of a 
 myriad fiowers, given alike the grateful shade 
 of tree-lined duskypaths and brilliant sunshine, 
 and wrapped the blue sea, like the mantle of 
 some dainty woman, about its shoulders. A
 
 A MISTAKEN IDENTITY 45 
 
 paradise, truly paradise, such as the eyes of 
 our first parents may have gazed upon in the 
 birthday of the world ; but a paradise cor- 
 rupted now into a hell, by reason of its 
 crimes and wickedness, and the foot of sinful 
 man. Despite its beauty, its flowers, and 
 sunshine, it reeks with infamy from every 
 pore ; wickedness cries aloud from the garish 
 walls of the Casino, vice stalks rampant 
 through the corridors, despair hides its shame- 
 covered head beneath the myrtle - covered 
 paths, while at its heart a canker eats through 
 the fairest rind, and reveals the hideous decay 
 within. 
 
 When Connisterre reached the hotel and 
 jumped out of the fiacre he paused a moment, 
 looking towards a little group of people 
 loitering upon the steps before the door. 
 The usual group ; he was no stranger to it. 
 A handsome foreign woman, dressed in the 
 height of fashion, who surveyed him boldly 
 through ]\Q.r pince nez ; an effeminate, puling 
 youth, with an incipient moustache, and vice
 
 46 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 written in every lineament ; a tall, sleAder 
 man, with a dissipated look and evil gray 
 eyes ; an older one, carefully dressed, trim 
 and dapper, with a parchment-like skin and 
 beady eyes. Two apparently very bored 
 American girls standing apart from the 
 others ; an Englishman reading his paper 
 with the unemotional air peculiar to the 
 British tourist abroad ; a couple of elderly, 
 play-infected old women — a group such as he 
 had witnessed times out of number during 
 his frequent visits to Monte Carlo. He 
 walked on into the hotel, which felt refresh- 
 ingly cool after the glare outside. 
 
 ' I wish to see M. Deane,' he said in 
 French to one of the waiters. ' I understand 
 that he is staying here ; ' then, as the man 
 instead of replying only darted a curious 
 glance at him, he repeated the request in 
 Italian. 
 
 ' Pardon, monsieur, je parle fran^ais,' said 
 the waiter hurriedly. ' Monsieur Deane il 
 est ' But at that moment a gentlemanly-
 
 A MISTAKEN IDENTITY 47 
 
 looking man, who had overheard the alter- 
 cation, came up to them, and the waiter went 
 forward with the rest to meet the hotel 
 omnibus which had clattered up to the door 
 and was discharging its freight of passengers 
 and luggage. 
 
 * You wish to see Monsieur Deane ? ' said 
 the new-comer civilly ; but he cast a careful 
 glance around him, and drew Geoffrey into a 
 small room, an office apparently, before he 
 spoke again. 
 
 * I very much regret to inform you that 
 Mr. Deane died this morning,' he said in. a 
 low voice. ' Pardon, monsieur, I beg of you 
 to remember we may be overheard ' — this 
 with an accent of keen annoyance, as Geoffrey, 
 startled by the information, repeated the word 
 'dead,' and fell back a step. 
 
 ' Then I am too late } ' 
 
 ' Too late by some hours. Monsieur 
 Deane, I think, expected you yesterday. 
 He died quite suddenly about eleven this 
 morning, and the body has been removed
 
 48 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 to the mortuary. It will be interred early 
 to-morrow morning. 
 
 * And the cause of death ? ' 
 
 'A chill and some long standing heart 
 affection. Madame will be relieved by your 
 arrival.' 
 
 'He was not alone, then — M. Deane ? ' 
 asked Connisterre, turning to leave the room. 
 
 ' Alone ? ' said the other in some surprise. 
 ' Oh no, monsieur ; madame was with him 
 to the last. She is in very great grief. 
 Angelo ' — this to one of the waiters — ' show 
 this gentleman, Monsieur Connisterre, to 
 No. 37. You will find madame there,' he 
 added to Geoffrey. 
 
 ' Madame,' repeated Connisterre under 
 his breath. ' The plot deepens.' His reflec- 
 tions as he followed the waiter up a succession 
 of stairs and along numerous corridors were 
 not of the pleasantest. His natural instincts 
 warred against the idea of being mixed up in 
 anything discreditable, and knowing that the 
 ill-fated Deane possessed neither mother,
 
 A MISTAKEN IDENTITY 49 
 
 sister, nor wife, who could have been with 
 him at this juncture ; the probabiHties pointed 
 to some relationship which the world would 
 be ready to disclaim. However, having come 
 so far, the young man did not feel disposed 
 to turn back now at the eleventh hour. 
 
 ' I must go through with it,' he murmured, 
 when they paused before No. 2>7y and the 
 waiter knocked softly. There was no re- 
 sponse, but a second summons elicited a faint 
 reply in a girlish voice. 
 
 ' Entrez.' 
 
 ' C'est monsieur votre mari, madamq,^ 
 said the waiter opening the door, and he 
 stepped aside to peripit of Connisterre follow- 
 ing him ; ' Monsieur Connisterre.' 
 
 As he uttered the words, a girl, the only 
 occupant of the small room, who was crouch- 
 ing, huddled up on a couch near the window, 
 jumped to her feet with a cry like that of 
 some child which sees in its distress and 
 loneliness the familiar face of one bringing 
 protection with his presence, and before 
 
 VOL. I 4
 
 50 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Connisterre could recollect himself or explain 
 away the mistake, had flung herself into his 
 arms in a passion of hysterical weeping. 
 
 ' Oh, it is you, it is you ! ' she exclaimed in 
 French, between her sobs. 'Why did you 
 not come sooner? he is dead, Gerard, dead.' 
 
 Then the waiter went softly out, closing 
 the door behind him.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 
 I am just going to leap into the dark, — Rabelais. 
 
 CoNNiSTERRE, thus taken by surprise, as- 
 tounded, overwhelmed, confused by the 
 dinging arms and tear-stained cheek pressed 
 against his own, remained for a few moments 
 the passive recipient of caresses which a sense 
 of tingling shame told him were his only by 
 some hideous mistake; but almost immediately 
 his self-possession returned, and with it a 
 friendly wish to do what he could to help the 
 girl in her grief. 
 
 * Pardon, mademoiselle, I — I am truly 
 sorry,' he said, releasing her arms but retain- 
 ing one little hand in kindly clasp ; ' there 
 must be some mistake. I do not think 
 we ' 
 
 \;ST.oniu«o.s
 
 52 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 At the sound of that deep musical voice, 
 the girl, hardly as she seemed at first sight 
 more than a child, flung away his detain- 
 ing hand and retreated to the farther end of 
 the room, gazing at him with amazement 
 and distress in her big dark eyes. She was 
 a slim, pale little thing, with a piquante 
 foreign face, disfigured by tears lately shed 
 and the heavy grief pressing upon her. In 
 the crimsoned eyelids, the weary drop of 
 the lips, Connisterre read signs of a lonely 
 vigil, the long days and nights spent by a 
 dying bed, the awful despair which the end 
 had brought upon her, and his own distress 
 at having increased her perplexities by his 
 advent there grew deeper. 
 
 ' But you — you are not Gerard,' she gasped. 
 ' You have his face, his eyes, but not his 
 
 voice. You are like him, but Oh, 
 
 what shall I do, what shall I do .^ ' She 
 broke off, wringing her hands and shrinking 
 away from him like a frightened child as he 
 approached.
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 53 
 
 ' I confess I do not understand it at all,' 
 he said, fumbling in his pocket for the letter 
 which had been the innocent cause of all the 
 embarrassment. * I received this from Roger 
 Deane only yesterday. I regret that my 
 negligence in failing to apply for letters at 
 the post office in Venice has resulted in my 
 being unable to see my old friend before he 
 died, but I do trust now that I am here you 
 will allow me to be of some use. I assure 
 you it will be a great pleasure to me if I can 
 help you in any way.' 
 
 Insensibly as he spoke the girl had re- 
 gained some measure of self-control, and 
 although the tears were still chasing one 
 another down her cheeks, she made a visible 
 effort to recover herself, putting out an un- 
 steady hand for the letter which he held 
 towards her. 
 
 ' I do not know how this came into your 
 possession,' she said in a stifled voice, looking 
 down at the superscription. ' It was written 
 to my husband, Gerard Connisterre, by my
 
 54 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 father some days ago, asking him to come to 
 us at once. We expected him all yesterday, 
 and I — I thought it was Gerard when you 
 arrived.' Her tears commenced to fall afresh 
 as she spoke. Geoffrey gazed at her in 
 honest bewilderment ; he could not believe 
 his ears had heard aright. 
 
 'You cannot be Roger Deane's dattghter' 
 he exclaimed desperately. ' Deane ! why, he 
 was a younger man than myself.' 
 
 ' My father's name was Richard, not 
 Roger,' she corrected, striving to check her 
 tears. ' I don't understand why you are 
 here.' 
 
 Connisterre pulled his moustache in much 
 perturbation of spirit. There was only one 
 solution to the mystery, and that seemed 
 almost incredible. If, as her words seemed 
 to imply, there was another Connisterre in 
 Venice, then he, Geoffrey, had unwittingly 
 purloined this man's letters. Something not 
 unlike a curse upon the Poste Restante 
 system rose to his lips. This other Connis-
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 55 
 
 terre, then, who was he ? The name was an 
 uncommon one, he could count his relatives 
 upon the fingers of one hand, and knew 
 also that personally he could not by any 
 chance be mistaken for one of them. That 
 there must be some striking resemblance 
 between this other man, whose letters he had 
 appropriated, and himself, the girl's reception 
 of him had testified. It would be Impossible 
 to conceive a more embarrassing sequence 
 of events. To have introduced himself un- 
 requested into the heart of a domestic drama, 
 to have passed even for a moment amongsfc a 
 crowd of waiters and under the eyes of the 
 hotel proprietor himself as this girl's husband, 
 to have passively received her endearments 
 In the presence of a third person, all these 
 harassing reflections crowded thickly upon 
 Connisterre as he stood there deliberating 
 how best to meet them. 
 
 'It Is most unfortunate,' he exclaimed 
 aloud, with genuine regret both for himself 
 and his distressed companion, whose position
 
 56 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 every moment was rendered more and more 
 equivocal ; 'there is some misconception here. 
 To be brief, Mrs. Connisterre' (how strange 
 it seemed to call her by his own name), ' I 
 was totally unaware of the existence of 
 another man in Venice bearing my own 
 patronymic, and when I applied for my 
 letters at the Poste Restante department 
 yesterday this one from your father was 
 handed to me amongst the rest. The con- 
 tents puzzled me, but knowing that my friend 
 Roger Deane had lately been staying at 
 Monte Carlo, and also that he was in in- 
 different health, I concluded the summons 
 came from him, and at once started in 
 response. Will you, if it is not too painful, 
 explain the situation to me, and failing the 
 presence of your husband, allow me to be 
 of some use. I shall, of course, telegraph 
 and write to Venice at once, as it is quite 
 possible that he may again apply for his 
 letters.' 
 
 ' There is not much to explain,' said the
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 57 
 
 girl, dropping her eyes in some embarrass- 
 ment, while the hot colour surged up into 
 her face. ' I — have not seen my husband 
 for some time, nearly a year, but my father 
 knew that he was in Venice, and so wrote to 
 him to come. He felt that he — was going 
 to die, and it troubled him to know I should 
 be alone.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Connisterre, encouragingly, as 
 she paused, overcome by the sad recollections 
 which swept over her. 
 
 * I — I do not think he will come,' the girl 
 burst out suddenly, her tears drying on h^r 
 flaming cheeks, her hands nervously clasping 
 and unclasping. We have quarrelled — at 
 least — that is he and my father did, and then 
 Gerard left us. He said he would never see 
 me again, so we have lived on alone, my 
 father and I. But I hoped against hope he 
 would come to me now that I am left alone. 
 I do not know where I must go, nor what I 
 ought to do. I have only very little money, 
 and — and they will not believe here that I
 
 58 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Spoke the truth when I said my husband ' 
 
 She broke off again In an agony of sobs. 
 
 Connlsterre, who had seated himself beside 
 her upon the couch, was full of pity and 
 compassion. Gently, with infinite tact, he 
 succeeded, by dint of skilful questioning, in 
 making out amidst the sobs and tears, the 
 Incoherent words and gestures, that her 
 father, who had been evidently an habitue 
 of the gaming tables, had left her, as might 
 be expected, totally unprovided for, save for 
 a small sum of ready money, which the 
 funeral expenses would nearly swallow, and 
 that the proprietor, who had brought In 
 a bill of five hundred francs for damages 
 consequent upon the death, had cast Insult- 
 ing aspersions upon the girl's statement that 
 her husband would come to the rescue, 
 hinting, more or less broadly, that madame 
 might not be able to claim a legal protector. 
 Connlsterre ground his teeth as he listened. 
 There came Into his mind a fragment of a 
 book he had once read —
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 59 
 
 ' What is it to be a woman, my mother ? ' 
 ' It is to be a target for the coward world to shoot 
 its arrows at, with the sure and certain conviction that 
 the victim can seek no redress. It is to have the hand 
 of every man against you, to suffer, to submit, to die 
 quietly, when life becomes impossible. That is what 
 sometimes it is to be a woman, bereft of father and 
 brother, my child.' 
 
 In a moment Connisterre seemed to realise 
 the awful responsibility which now devolved 
 upon himself. As a man of the world, he 
 saw clearly enough the inference which would 
 be drawn should he openly disclaim the re- 
 lationship. His appearance there, his recep- 
 tion, witnessed most unfortunately by the 
 waiter, could bear but one interpretation. 
 Either he was this girl's husband or she had 
 lied, and the connection between them was 
 less respectable. He felt himself colour 
 under all his healthy sunburn as he reflected 
 upon the invidious position in which they 
 were both placed. He must act now with 
 regard to the future, neither forgetting his 
 chivalry nor underestimating the serious
 
 6o POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 results which might possibly follow upon 
 it. To boldly defy all consequences and 
 for the nonce play his part before the world 
 as her husband seemed, if a daring, at least 
 almost the only step to take. There was at 
 all times in Geoffrey Connisterre a certain 
 indifference to the consequences of his own 
 acts, which might spring either from a pro- 
 found faith in his abilities or a careless, 
 quixotic bravado. He was a little prone to 
 acting first and deliberating after, somewhat 
 at the mercy of his generous impulses, 
 seldom considering whether he would or 
 would not eventually become the sufferer by 
 indulging them. In the present circum- 
 stances, however, to do Geoffrey justice, he 
 did bring all his mental energies to bear 
 upon a solution of the difficulty, and it was 
 only at the last he was reluctantly obliged 
 to admit that there seemed but one way, and 
 this the way that had first sprung into his 
 mind. He realised that however plausible a 
 story he might concoct, testifying to the
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 6i 
 
 truth of the girl's statement that she was 
 indeed expecting her husband, and that he, 
 Connisterre, unfortunately bearing the same 
 name and lineaments, had through some 
 extraordinary accident become possessed of 
 the letter of this other man, it would bear 
 a very improbable colour upon the face, and 
 sound incredible in the ears of those to whom 
 the most innocent of circumstances savoured 
 of evil. Besides there was the damning 
 evidence of the girl's reception. It was pos- 
 sible, of course, to fabricate some story as to 
 a previous acquaintance with her, to state 
 that she was his brother's wife ; but Con- 
 nisterre was proud almost to a fault, tenaci- 
 ous of his honour, loathing prevarication in 
 every form, and he could not bring hirhself 
 to the utterance of a deliberate lie. There 
 seemed nothing for it but to quietly acquiesce 
 in the situation, to neither confirm nor deny, 
 to give her his protection for a few hours, 
 and then without delay remove her from 
 Monte Carlo to some temporary home until
 
 62 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 the real husband could be found and forced 
 to take up his responsibilities. Not a very 
 wise decision to come to, perhaps, but it is 
 easy to blame and not so easy to advise. 
 Few even of the wisest of us could have 
 found a satisfactory path out of this labyrinth 
 of perplexity save the narrow and rugged 
 one of truth. This, viewed in every light 
 that Geoffrey could throw upon it, held some 
 risk of smirching the girl's white robe of 
 womanhood. Had it not been for the com- 
 promising nature of his reception, the young 
 man would in all probability have boldly 
 stated the truth, but it seemed impossible 
 now to explain it away with a hope of re- 
 ceiving credence. He grew bewildered, 
 uneasy, more and more embarrassed, as he 
 tried to think the matter over ; he could 
 see but the one way — a mistaken one, 
 truly — but there was nothing else to be done. 
 ' Mrs. Connisterre,' he said at last, and 
 the earnestness of his voice caused her to 
 look up at him with a little start. Their
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 63 
 
 eyes met, hers tearful and questioning, his 
 very grave and friendly. ' I cannot help 
 inferring from your manner that you think 
 you have cause to fear misconception and 
 annoyance through your husband's absence 
 and my unfortunate arrival. That being so, 
 it devolves upon me as a gentleman to save 
 you from it. This strange coupling of 
 names, this similarity of feature, this story 
 
 sounds so — so ' He stumbled for a 
 
 word, slurred it over, then went on more 
 quickly. ' Let the consequences be what 
 they may, I could not put you to the pain of 
 having your word doubted ; in short — I am 
 saying it very badly, but what I wish to 
 suggest, you must not hesitate to say if it is 
 displeasing to you — that since it is entirely 
 my fault you are placed in such an unpleasant 
 position, owing I mean to my having appro- 
 priated your husband's letter, let me for a 
 time assume all his responsibilities. There 
 is no necessity for us to enter into any 
 explanation to the people here.
 
 64 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 The girl's eyes dropped, while a vivid 
 glow of colour crept into her cheek. 
 
 * Believe me, it is the only way,' urged 
 Connisterre. ' It will save you all annoyance 
 while you are here, and to-morrow morning 
 we could leave Monte Carlo for some place 
 where your husband will come to you.' 
 
 She did not answer ; so after a momentary 
 pause, Geoffrey went on again. 
 
 ' I will write to Venice explaining in full 
 how the mistake has arisen and what steps 
 I have taken to help you. I think he will 
 hold me blameless in the matter, and you can 
 best tell whether there is sufficient resem- 
 blance between us to pass current, if later on 
 any of the people who may accidently see me 
 here should meet your husband.' 
 
 The girl was playing nervously with the 
 ribbons of her dress, her face was partially 
 averted from him, but he could see the 
 trembling of lip and chin, which told him 
 how greatly she was moved. 
 
 'You are very kind,' she said at last in a
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 65 
 
 low voice. ' But I don't think you quite 
 — understand all. It might mean ' 
 
 * I think I do,' he said gently. ' You refer 
 to the monetary part of it, do you not ? but, 
 believe me, I am willing — more than willing 
 to offer you substantial help. If you have 
 need of money I will lend it to you. Your 
 husband can repay me at his leisure, or if — 
 if fortune has been unkind to him, and like 
 many others, his good will is deeper than his 
 purse, let us consider the debt cancelled. 
 Our humanity, or Christianity if you like, is 
 worth little if it does not encourage us to hold, 
 out a helping hand to those who may require 
 it ; besides, I also have known what it is to 
 be hard up — let me by the memory of those 
 days make this time a little smoother for you. 
 Come, Mrs. Connisterre, won't you let me 
 help you ? ' 
 
 ' And if my husband should not return — 
 if he has left me for ever, what am I to 
 do then ? ' she asked, wringing her hands. 
 * Where am I to go ? ' 
 
 VOL. I 5
 
 66 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Connisterre was silent. The same idea 
 had occurred to him, but he put it resolutely 
 aside. 
 
 'Well,' he said striving to speak with 
 cheerfulness ; ' sufficient for the day is the 
 evil thereof. When he knows you are alone 
 he will forget the quarrel and come forward 
 to help you, I am sure. The breach must be 
 a very deadly one which could suffer a man 
 to leave his wife in such a strait as you are 
 now. Have you no friends to whom I can 
 send ? ' 
 
 ' Friends ! ' she laughed a little drearily and 
 walked over to the window, leaning her hand 
 upon the ledge as if for support. ' No, I have 
 no friends — we have led a wandering life 
 always — there is nobody to help me.' 
 
 * Yes there is,' said Connisterre, gently. 
 */ am going to help you. Poor child, you 
 are not fit to be alone ; try to trust me, try 
 to believe I will do what is best for you.' 
 He had followed her to the window and 
 stood looking down upon her with eyes full
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 67 
 
 of compassion. What a child she was, what 
 a helpless lonely bit of a thing to be left to 
 face the world and its pitfalls. 
 
 ' I have some money,' she said drearily ; 
 ' a little, not much ; but I think it will be 
 enough to pay for — for to-morrow ; then there 
 is the other, too — the five hundred francs — I 
 must pay that, only if I do, I shall have 
 nothing left.' 
 
 ' You will not pay anything of the kind. 
 I believe that legally he can only claim 
 twenty francs ; I will settle that matter for 
 you.' 
 
 ' But I would rather pay than have any 
 trouble about it,' she said with feverish 
 eagerness. ' I could not, oh ! I could not 
 endure it all to be made public' 
 
 * Set your mind quite at rest. There shall 
 be nothing of that kind. Now, will you listen 
 to the remainder of my plan and say if you 
 have anything better to suggest. I ought, of 
 course, to give you some information as to my 
 position, my credentials to respectability and
 
 68 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 all that ; but it Is just a little difficult, and I 
 don't know if you will care to take only my 
 word — it is asking you to trust me to a great 
 extent.' 
 
 She looked up at him, a long steady look, 
 Connisterre met it unflinchingly. 
 
 * If we were in Rome instead of Monte 
 Carlo everything would be simplified,' he 
 said. ' I have a number of friends there, 
 and could give you plenty of references ; but 
 as we are not, I must ask you to take my 
 word. I am an Englishman as you know, an 
 artist by profession, and can well afford to 
 help you. You must draw upon me if you 
 require more money than you have at present. 
 Now, it seems to me that it would be in every 
 respect better for you to leave here early to- 
 morrow morning and allow me to take you to 
 some friends of mine in Genoa — two old 
 French ladies with whom I have often stayed. 
 They are good, kind-hearted people, and it 
 will be a safe shelter for you while waiting 
 for your husband. If he should have left
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 69 
 
 Venice we will advertise for him. Do you 
 think you can agree to this arrangement ? ' 
 
 ' If you think it is better, yes,' she said 
 with passive submission. ' I cannot stay 
 here. I must trust you.' 
 
 Of the enormous faith she was putting in 
 this man, the girl did not realise until long 
 afterwards. She was too young, too childish 
 to fully appreciate the risk. 
 
 'You shall not repent it,' said Geoffrey, 
 with steady earnestness. * Now I want you 
 to promise that you will not trouble about 
 anything further to-night ; leave all in my 
 hands. Have you had anything to eat to- 
 day? ' 
 
 She shook her head, trying in vain to 
 check the tears which would force themselves 
 down her cheeks. 
 
 * I will see that you have something sent 
 up at once, and you must eat it. Remember, 
 you have a hard day to-morrow. Is there 
 anything to be arranged about that,' he 
 added in a lower tone.
 
 70 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' No, it is all settled. He is to be buried 
 very early at Mentone.' She shuddered a 
 little as if at some distasteful recollection. 
 
 Connisterre glanced towards a clock tick- 
 ing away on the mantel-shelf. It was later 
 than he had thought. 
 
 'Well, I must leave you now,' he said, 
 trying to speak cheerfully. ' Is there any- 
 thing else I can do for you ? ' Any one to 
 whom I can write ? ' 
 
 'There is nobody,' she replied. 'I have 
 not any friends at all.' Then she made 
 a little movement towards him, put out 
 her hands blindly and would have fallen to 
 the ground but for Connisterre's outstretched 
 arms. 
 
 ' At the end of her tether, poor child,' he 
 thought pityingly, as he laid her upon a couch 
 and rang for assistance. * This is a bad 
 business all through, and I don't think we 
 have seen the end of it yet. Madame has 
 fainted,' he added, turning towards the 
 chambermaid who came into the room at
 
 THE PLOT THICKENS 71 
 
 this juncture. ' Fetch some brandy quickly 
 and pass the salts — I think I see some on 
 the table over there. Thank you.' 
 
 In a few minutes Leonie Connisterre re- 
 gained consciousness, and a streak of colour 
 came back into the pale cheeks. She glanced 
 in some bewilderment at Connisterre who 
 was leaning over her and would have risen, 
 but he placed an authoritative hand upon 
 her shoulder, holding a glass of cordial to 
 her lips. 
 
 ' Drink this before you sit up and then keep 
 very quiet. You were a little faint, that is all. 
 I wish you would take my advice and go to 
 bed. I will see to everything for you.' 
 
 'Very well,' she said submissively, evi- 
 dently too worn out in mind and body to 
 demur. ' You are very good to me, monsieur.' 
 She turned and pressed her lips in an impulsive 
 foreign fashion to the strong hand lying on 
 her shoulder. Connisterre withdrew it and 
 coloured hotly. He was half-touched, half- 
 embarrassed by the action.
 
 72 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' It is nothing,' he said hastily in a low 
 voice. * I am very glad to be of service to you 
 in any way.' Then he left the room, pausing 
 a moment outside upon the landing to give a 
 few last directions to the chambermaid who 
 had followed him. 
 
 ' Madame should be kept very quiet ; oh 
 yes. She should want for nothing. Monsieur 
 might depend upon her having every comfort 
 and attention.' So said the white -capped, 
 sharp-featured woman, her zeal quickened by 
 the gold coin which Connisterre slipped into 
 her hand. * Madame was very fatigued by 
 the anxiety of the last few days, but she, 
 Helaire, would take every care of her.' 
 
 Circumstances were now beyond Connis- 
 terre's control. He had acquiesced in the 
 position. He must abide by it.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A FATAL RECOGNITION 
 
 I am one, my liege, 
 Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world 
 Have so incensed that I am reckless what 
 I do to spite the world. — Macbeth^ Act iii. Sc. i. 
 
 With slow gait and thoughtful brow, Con- 
 nlsterre made his way downstairs, mentally 
 revolving certain plans which reflection alone 
 could render feasible. It was no light re- 
 sponsibility which he had undertaken, and 
 already doubt, that most subtle and harassing 
 enemy to one's peace of mind, was assailing 
 him with her insidious whisperings. Had he 
 in order to save his protegee temporary em- 
 barrassment risked a possible scandal? His 
 face grew gloomy as one idea after another 
 crowded disquietingly into his mind. There
 
 74 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 were other people to be considered, others 
 to whom his honour was, or should be dear. 
 If these learned to doubt him — but pooh, 
 why face imaginary complications which 
 might never arise, why trouble himself about 
 the future when he had only to deal with the 
 present ; but despite his sophistry, the young 
 man's hand went involuntarily to the breast 
 pocket of his coat, where lay that letter with 
 the Roman post-mark. If the writer were 
 to hear some garbled version of this day's 
 doings, were to even for a moment give 
 credence to the malicious statement of some 
 third person, then who could answer for the 
 consequences ? Connisterre strangled the 
 idea ere it well had birth, but the sting 
 remained, awaiting but the opportunity to 
 blossom into life. 
 
 The fingers of the hall clock were pointing 
 to half-past six when he reached the foot of 
 the stairs. Letters must be written, both 
 to Genoa and Venice, the hotel proprietor 
 interviewed, a dozen other matters arranged ;
 
 A FATAL RECOGNITION 75 
 
 but as letters were the most important, these 
 should be attended to at once. Geoffrey 
 went off into the library and sat down to 
 write to the other Connisterre in Venice, 
 explaining as fully as he could the urgency of 
 the situation, and enclosing an address where 
 he had determined to remove his charge the 
 following day. Genoa was convenient as a 
 centre, and had this advantage also, that he 
 knew of two old French ladies livine there 
 who would willingly take charge of the help- 
 less girl until her husband could be communi- 
 cated with. His letters finished, Geoffrey- 
 went in search of the proprietor, whom he 
 found immersed in correspondence in the 
 office. The interview was a brief one, Con- 
 nisterre not feeling disposed to waste many 
 words upon the matter. He wished for 
 an account of expenses connected with 
 Mr. Deane's illness, the damages claimed 
 by the hotel on account of death, and all 
 other items for which his daughter was 
 liable.
 
 76 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' My time is very limited, monsieur,' he 
 said, breaking into the elaborate explanation 
 launched forth by Monsieur Delaney as to 
 why his charges had seemed extortionate to 
 madame. * I am perfectly aware that you 
 can make a claim, but I am also aware 
 of the legal extent of that claim. I shall 
 certainly dispute the one you have sent in. 
 Let me have the full account as early as 
 possible ; I am willing to reimburse you 
 generously for any inconvenience to which 
 you may have been put, and I think you will 
 see it is to your advantage to meet me ; if 
 not, I shall have recourse to the law.' This 
 being what Monsieur Delaney wished to 
 avoid at any cost, he hastily murmured his 
 wishes to settle everything amicably. Ready 
 money was preferable to doubtful litigation, 
 which would be in any case more or less 
 damaging to the hotel. ' He was sure 
 monsieur would be perfectly satisfied with 
 the account.* 
 
 * Very well,' said Connisterre, turning
 
 A FATAL RECOGNITION ^7 
 
 away. ' I think that is all. Will you kindly 
 reserve me a room to-night } ' 
 
 ' And monsieur will dine here } ' 
 'No, I think not' The inexpediency of 
 dining at the public table had already struck 
 him. He was by no means anxious to run 
 against any familiar face, or be seen more 
 than was avoidable in the hotel. Leaving 
 the office he strolled across the hall and stood 
 a moment at the open door, the letters in his 
 hand. As he did so a gentleman emerged 
 hastily from the smoke room, and catching a 
 glimpse of the tall figure half a dozen yards 
 away, retreated just as hastily, leaving the 
 door a few inches ajar for the purpose of 
 watching Connlsterre's movements unob- 
 served. 
 
 * Yes it is,' he murmured, leaning forward ; 
 ' I thought I could not be mistaken. I 
 wonder what the devil you are doing here 
 while Claudia is waiting for you in Rome, 
 and eating her heart out with mortification 
 and disappointment at your delay. This
 
 78 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 is no through route from Venice, mon 
 ami.' 
 
 While Connisterre stood there unaware of 
 the surveillance to which he was beins: sub- 
 jected, the head waiter came up to him, but 
 in spite of his strenuous efforts, the watcher 
 by the door could only overhear fragments of 
 the low-toned conversation which ensued. 
 Something about ' madame,' and ' in her 
 room,' then an indistinguishable murmur and 
 ' Send it on to Mentone early to-morrow.' 
 That was all, after which Connisterre went 
 away. The stranger came out of ambush 
 and joined the waiter, who was making some 
 alterations in the case containing the list of 
 visitor's names. 
 
 ' Will you tell me the name of that gentle- 
 man who has just gone out ? ' he said, remov- 
 ing a cigar from his lips. ' His face seems 
 familiar to me.' 
 
 Alphonse looked up, recognising in the 
 speaker a stranger who had come in to dine 
 with one of the guests.
 
 A FATAL RECOGNITION 79 
 
 ' His name ? it is Monsieur Connisterre,' 
 he replied. * He arrive to-day ; he leave the 
 morning to-morrow.' 
 
 * Oh ! ' The stranger ran his eyes down 
 the list of names ; they paused, staring inter- 
 estedly at a card near the bottom — 
 
 Mrs. G. Connisterre. 
 
 * Monsieur Connisterre is not alone then ? ' 
 he said, flicking the ash from his cigar. 
 
 ' Alone ? oh no, monsieur ; he arrive 
 alone, but madame she has been here some 
 time. They will set out to-morrow.' 
 
 * Oh, thanks,' drawled the other. ' I 
 fancied I knew his face. Ah ! ' he muttered 
 when the waiter was out of ear-shot, ' this is 
 what keeps you here, Mr. Geoffrey Connis- 
 terre. So much for virtue and constancy, 
 and all the saintly qualities with which the 
 vivid imagination of my cousin credits you ! 
 but upon my soul the very fiagrancy of the 
 whole liaison is beyond belief; at least you 
 might have had the decency to assume another
 
 8o POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 name, and throw a veil of conventional pro- 
 priety over your little peccadilloes. You, 
 
 you ' he paused as if at a loss for words. 
 
 'Well, it is my turn now, I think, Mr. Con- 
 nisterre — my turn, and it will go hard with me 
 if I cannot use your frailties to shape my own 
 ends. Twenty-four hours must see me in 
 Rome. Ah, Claudia ! who is to come between 
 us now ^ I know your pride, your sensitive 
 dignity. They will not stand the strain which 
 my story will put upon them, and as for your 
 love, I think it will kill it.'
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 OUT OF PITY 
 
 So they sat and played together, 
 All the old men and the young men, 
 Played for dresses, weapons, wampum, 
 Played till midnight, played till morning, 
 Played until the Yenadizze, 
 Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis, 
 Of their treasures had despoiled them. 
 
 The Song of Hiawatha. 
 
 After posting his letters, Geoffrey's next 
 business, and this an important one, was to 
 satisfy the cravings of hunger, which had 
 become unpleasantly arbitrary, and having 
 obtained a fair dinner at one of the other 
 hotels, he went in later on to the Casino, think- 
 ing he might pass a couple of hours listening 
 to the music in the theatre. Crowds of 
 people were flocking up the broad flight of 
 
 VOL. I 6
 
 82 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Steps before the open doorway. Old and 
 young, plain and beautiful, ladies in evening 
 dress, men in concert coats, some passing 
 on Into the gambling salons, others through 
 the curtained doorway into the theatre, 
 where the concert had already commenced. 
 Geoffrey followed the latter, and strolling up 
 one of the side aisles, took a seat near the 
 wall, where he had a good view of the whole 
 room. He was tired with the rush and ex- 
 citement and perplexities of the last few 
 hours, and disinclined for physical effort of 
 any kind. It was restful both to mind and 
 body, sitting there in lazy comfort listening 
 to the intoxicating strains of the Casino band, 
 world-famed for its excellence ; Interesting 
 to watch the ever-changing audience, the 
 cosmopolitan crowd thronging the gorgeous 
 hall, and to note the varied expressions on 
 the faces of those around him as they drifted 
 in and out, sometimes wandering away to 
 try their luck at the tables, and returning 
 flushed with success or dispirited by failure.
 
 OUT OF PITY 83 
 
 But amongst them all, Geoffrey did not see 
 one familiar face, a fact for which he was 
 profoundly thankful. Softly the music rose 
 and fell, now crashing forth in glorious 
 melody, now sinking into an angel's whisper, 
 which seemed to murmur like an exquisite 
 human voice within the curtained alcoves, or 
 rush out in triumphant song. Then the Ger- 
 man love song died into silence, and a wild 
 shriek of Hungarian music rent the air. 
 How it danced, and curveted, and rippled, 
 and jumped, as if a thousand sprites were 
 holding unholy revel in the midnight hours ; 
 how it fascinated, charmed, enthralled, and 
 carried the listeners out of themselves away 
 from the concert room into the wild Hun- 
 garian hills into the very haunts of the pixies 
 themselves. Then there came a hush in 
 the music, a strange and solemn hush, out of 
 which arose the luring voice of a single 
 violin called forth by some master hand to 
 utter its song of melody and love. Like the 
 notes of a bird in the early morning, when
 
 84 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 awaking to life and sunshine, it pours forth a 
 hymn of welcome, so the glad music of the 
 violin danced and rippled over the stillness, 
 until with one long drawn-out note of ex- 
 quisite beauty it paused and all was stillness 
 again. In the midst of the burst of applause 
 which followed, Connisterre left his seat and 
 went out to watch the play. The rooms, of 
 course, were crowded. Not a vacant chair 
 at any of the tables, while rows of people 
 two or three deep screened the players from 
 view. No sound save the whirling of the 
 roulette ball and the hoarse voices of the 
 croupiers 
 
 * Le jeu est fait, messieurs,' or the rake, 
 rake of the gold upon the cloth as fortunes 
 were made or lost, and men and women, 
 steeped to the lips in vice, leaned with 
 hungry, covetous eyes over the tables, lost 
 to everything save the sickening suspense 
 of the moment and the adverse fate which 
 whirled away their gains. Connisterre moved 
 about from place to place as an aimless fancy
 
 OUT OF PITY 85 
 
 dictated to him, occasionally staking some 
 small amount, and winning or losing with 
 equal indifference. The play had small 
 fascination for him, although years ago it 
 had fixed its talon-clutches upon his life for 
 a season, but he could pity the helpless 
 creatures who found themselves enchained 
 like another Andromeda to the rock of play. 
 It was during one of these temporary pauses 
 to watch the result of a small stake of his 
 own, that Connisterre found himself standing 
 behind the chair of a young man who was 
 losing heavily. Accustomed as any fre- 
 quenter of Monte Carlo must be to see large 
 sums lost with impassive indifference, the 
 extreme agitation manifested by this player 
 attracted Geoffrey's attention. The chair 
 upon which he sat vibrated visibly, while his 
 boyish face paled or reddened according as 
 the fluctuations of the game were in his favour 
 or the reverse. 
 
 For a time it seemed as if the luck had 
 turned and was with him, then suddenly Dame
 
 86 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Caprice turned her back and he lost again 
 — lost all which he had won. Nothing re- 
 mained now to the unfortunate player but one 
 solitary louis. This, after a momentary hesi- 
 tation, he changed into two smaller coins, 
 staking one with trembling fingers. The 
 ball spun merrily round. Again he lost. 
 There was but one coin with which to re- 
 trieve his fallen fortunes. 
 
 He staked once more, this time deserting 
 the colour to which he had clung with such 
 odd persistence. Fate was still against him, 
 and he lost. With an imprecation upon lips 
 which had lost every vestige of colour, the 
 unfortunate man jumped up and left the table. 
 Immediately another took his place, eager to 
 run a tilt with fortune. Connisterre's eyes 
 followed the tall young figure with some com- 
 passion until it was lost among the crowd of 
 loiterers. A sickening disgust for the whole 
 scene had taken possession of him ; the 
 heated rooms and scented air seemed over- 
 powering. Five minutes later he was out in
 
 OUT OF PITY Sj 
 
 the Casino garden inhaling the pure night 
 breeze with a sense of reHef and refreshment. 
 For some time he paced up and down the 
 dusky paths, pursuing a train of reflection 
 which, as was natural, had his unfortunate 
 little protegee for its subject. He had by no 
 means yet arrived at any solution of the 
 problem as to what must eventually become 
 of the girl if her husband could not be found. 
 It was while he was strolling about between 
 the myrtle hedges, which exhaled an almost 
 sickly fragrance, that the sound of a long- 
 drawn sigh startled Geoffrey from his revene. 
 He turned his head, making out in the dim 
 light the outline of a man's form crouched 
 upon a bench a couple of yards away, his 
 head buried upon his folded arms, abject 
 misery and despair depicted in every line of 
 the stooping figure. Intuition, rather than 
 knowledge, told Connisterre that he saw before 
 him the man of whose losses he had been a 
 witness half an hour before. Acting upon 
 an impulse which the memory of his own
 
 88 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 fatal experiences years before in this very- 
 place aroused, he turned aside from the 
 path, and, sitting down upon the bench, 
 laid a kindly hand on the young man's 
 arm. 
 
 'Look here,' he said rather bluntly, 'I 
 think you had a facer just now in that cursed 
 hole. Can I help you ? ' ' 
 
 Startled by Connisterre's voice the boy — 
 he was little more — turned round and faced 
 him. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' he said in a thick, 
 dull voice. ' You spoke to me ? ' 
 
 ' I asked if I could be of any service. I 
 was — excuse me — an observer of your losses 
 at the table.' 
 
 'Loss,' echoed the boy bitterly. 'Ruin 
 would be a better word ; ' and then he turned 
 away again, shielding his face from Geoffrey's 
 scrutiny. 
 
 ' Come, my lad,' said the other kindly. 
 'You are very young, too young for the 
 tables, I should have thought ; but what is
 
 OUT OF PITY 89 
 
 done cannot be undone. Let us face the 
 matter. What did you lose ? ' 
 
 '^250.' 
 
 A low whistle from Connisterre. 
 
 * Lost it all to-night ? ' 
 
 ' Every cent.' 
 
 ' Was the money yours ? ' 
 
 ' What the devil does it signify to you 
 whose it was ? ' exclaimed the young man, 
 jumping to his feet as if the chance shot had 
 gone home. * I suppose it was not yours 
 anyway ? Kindly select one path and I will 
 take another. I want neither your company 
 nor your advice.' 
 
 The angry blood mounted to Connisterre's 
 brow. Few men could submit tamely to 
 such an insult. 
 
 ' As you please, of course,' he said 
 haughtily, and picking up the stick which 
 had fallen from his hand, he strode away. 
 But he had not gone many steps before con- 
 science began to argue with him. At first 
 he put the whisper aside. It was no concern
 
 90 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 of his if the young puppy chose to go to 
 ruin. He had offered assistance which had 
 been insolently refused. There was no 
 further call upon him. 
 
 * I am not my brother's keeper,' he said, 
 standing still and striking his stick rather 
 savagely on the well-kept path. * Probably 
 the fool has only received what he well 
 merited. It is not my business, so why 
 should I lay myself open to any further im- 
 pertinence.' 
 
 A pause. The night breeze came to him 
 laden with the fragrance of roses and myrtle. 
 Above him, glittering with light, the Casino 
 looked down on the silent garden. Up there 
 — vice, infamy, ruin, and shame. Down here 
 in the lonely solitude its awful results. Con- 
 nisterre looked back the way he had come. 
 The impulse to return was almost irresistible. 
 He remembered so vividly his own extremity 
 in these very gardens ; could he now cast it 
 aside and leave a fellow-creature to ruin, 
 when perhaps a timely word of counsel, some
 
 OUT OF PITY 91 
 
 material help which he had it in his power to 
 offer would avert it? The battle between 
 pride and conscience was sharp, but it ended 
 as all such battles must end with a man of 
 Connisterre's sensitive calibre. The emo- 
 tional side of his nature came uppermost, 
 and, acting under its influence, he went back 
 to his late companion, who had resumed his 
 former position. 
 
 ' Now,' said Geoffrey frankly, ' I have not 
 the faintest shadow of right to interfere in 
 your affairs, and if I were not actuated by a 
 friendly interest my doing so would be an 
 impertinence. I know what it is to lose 
 money in that hole. I lost heavily myself 
 once some years ago. Come, let me help 
 you.' 
 
 ' I don't see how you can,' said the other 
 sullenly, but there was a wavering in voice 
 and manner which Geoffrey's keen eye de- 
 tected. 
 
 ' Will you let me try ? ' he said, sitting 
 down beside him. 'You have lost, you
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 say, ^250. Well, it is a large sum to fool 
 away on nothing, but not too large to replace. 
 Is that all?' 
 
 ' All ? Yes, and quite enough too con- 
 sidering it was not mine.' The truth was 
 out now, blurted out involuntarily under stress 
 of shame and excitement. 
 
 * You are staying here, I suppose ? ' 
 
 * I arrived this afternoon.' 
 ' From where ? ' 
 
 ' England.' 
 
 His confession did not take long. The 
 facts, as stated by Quentin Lee — this was the 
 name which the unfortunate young man gave 
 to Connisterre — appeared to be simply these. 
 He had, it seemed, been sent out by a London 
 firm of stockbrokers to pay to a lady resident 
 in Turin the sum of ;^2 5o, a half-yearly in- 
 stalment of an annuity due to her. This 
 old lady, full of crotchets and peculiarities, 
 strongly objected to receive her money in 
 any other form than English notes and gold. 
 It was a curious fad, but the firm, to a member
 
 OUT OF PITY 93 
 
 of whom she was related, were wilHng to 
 humour her. Accordingly every half-year 
 the money was sent out to Turin by the 
 hands of a confidential clerk. During the 
 absence through illness of the responsible 
 person usually entrusted with the conveyance 
 of Miss Blumenthal's annuity, Quentin Lee 
 had been sent off on this mission. Now, 
 why Mr. Lee had chosen to come round by 
 Monte Carlo instead of proceeding direct to 
 Turin was best known to himself; but Con- 
 nisterre saw no reason to disbelieve the 
 young man's statement that he had gone 
 there simply to try his luck with a little 
 money of his own, and it was not until in a 
 moment of madness he had staked away that 
 furnished him by the firm for his travelling 
 and hotel expenses, that the horrible tempta- 
 tion to try and retrieve his fortunes by the 
 fraudulent use of Miss Blumenthal's money 
 assailed him. What followed Connisterre 
 already knew. It was useless to blame or 
 make any words about the matter now. Men
 
 94 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 have yielded to sin before, they will do so 
 again, and in Lee's present state of mind lay 
 retribution fierce and strong. 
 
 'Have you any parents, Mr. Lee,' asked 
 Connisterre, after he had listened in silence 
 to the details of this shameful story. 
 
 'No.' 
 
 * Nor brother nor sister ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' Where do you live } ' 
 
 ' In rooms. How is a man to keep straight 
 when nobody in the world cares a hang for 
 him,' said Lee recklessly. ' Of acquaintances 
 I have shoals ; but you know, if you know 
 anything of London life, what that means 
 sometimes and to what it leads.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know something of it. My name 
 is Connisterre, Geoffrey Connisterre.' 
 
 'Not the artist, surely.'^' exclaimed the 
 other, turning round upon him. 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Then I owe you an apology for my 
 bearishness,' said Lee. I had no idea to
 
 OUT OF PITY 95 
 
 whom I was speaking. Thank you for all 
 your kindness, Mr. Connisterre, but I am 
 beyond any help now.' 
 
 As matters then stood he spoke truly. In 
 the Casino bank lay Miss Blumenthars^25o, 
 and before Quentin Lee the grim shadow of 
 social ruin and a felony prosecution. 
 
 ' Not quite so bad as that.' 
 
 ' It could not well be worse. Look here, 
 Mr. Connisterre, I give you my word, I never 
 intended to touch the money.' 
 
 The honest, boyish tone carried conviction 
 with it. Connisterre believed him. 
 
 * I daresay not. How did it begin ^ ' 
 'By staking a five franc piece for luck,' 
 
 he groaned. ' And I won, and won again. 
 Then — I lost.' 
 
 ' The old story ! Well, it is a pity you 
 hadn't the common sense to stop when you 
 had lost only your own money.' 
 
 * And how was I to get to Turin '^ ' re- 
 torted Lee fiercely. ' I had staked the money 
 given me for travelling expenses.'
 
 96 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' You should have had sufficient moral 
 courage to write to your employers and 
 abide by the results. Serious they might 
 have been, but not so serious as this.' 
 
 * But I expected to win.' 
 
 ' Ah yes ; we all do that,' said Connis- 
 terre drily. * Most people fancy that fortunes 
 are easily gained at Monte Carlo. However, 
 it is no use saying any more. " Might 
 have beens " won't help us. You have 
 had a lesson which should be severe enough 
 to teach you something. The question is 
 now — Are you willing to give up the very 
 doubtful pleasures of gaming for the future ? ' 
 
 ' I shall be obliged. They don't give one 
 roulette and rotige et 7ioir at Dartmoor,' said 
 Lee with a hard laugh. 
 
 ' It need not be Dartmoor.' 
 
 ' It must if I return to England.' 
 
 ' I will save you from it, but on this one 
 condition only. Give up gambling, and I 
 lend you money to replace what you have 
 lost.'
 
 OUT OF PITY 97 
 
 ' You will lend vie the money ? ' Then 
 the pent-up emotion had its way. The 
 revulsion of feeling to intense relief from 
 an agony of despair was too much for 
 Quentin Lee. Putting his head upon his 
 arms, he broke down and cried like a 
 child. 
 
 Connisterre looked round apprehensively, 
 afraid they might be observed. 
 
 * Come, come,' he said, laying his hand 
 gently as a brother might have done upon 
 the heaving shoulder. ' Pull yourself together, 
 Mr. Lee. I want you to fully understand 
 the conditions upon which I lend you this 
 money. I say lend, because I cannot afford 
 to give it you.' 
 
 'You may trust me, it shall be paid back,' 
 returned Lee in a voice choked with emotion. 
 * Only lend it to me, and I swear to pay you 
 every farthing in time — but perhaps you 
 cannot wait.' 
 
 'It is not a question of time; that to a 
 certain extent I must leave in your hands. I 
 
 VOL. I 7
 
 98 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 have only the one condition to make. You 
 give up play.' 
 
 ' You need not urge that upon me. I will 
 leave Monte Carlo to-morrow.' 
 
 ' But leaving Monte Carlo is not every- 
 thing, I say,' and Connisterre's voice grew 
 very stern. ' I say, give tip play of every kind ; 
 that is, playing for gain. You are not firm 
 enough yet to dabble with temptation, neither 
 are you rich enough to waste your money if 
 you must pay me back what I am lending 
 you. Besides, remember this ' — tightening 
 his grip on Lee's arm — * you will never go 
 nearer ruin than you have to-night. Let it 
 be a warning to you, and if some time you 
 are tempted to stake even so much as a six- 
 pence upon the throw of a dice, just pause 
 and think for a moment what your future 
 would have been but for my being here 
 to-night. I don't want any thanks. I 
 would rather not have them. Give me your 
 promise.' 
 
 * My word of honour is not worth much
 
 OUT OF PITY 99 
 
 now, but I promise all the same,' said Quentin 
 Lee shamefacedly. Then he struck his hand 
 into Connisterre's, gripping it with almost 
 painful force. 
 
 *As there is a God in heaven,' he went 
 on in a low voice, ' I am yours, body and 
 soul, from this moment. If the day ever 
 comes when I can be of help, you will find 
 that Quentin Lee's friendship is not to be 
 despised.' 
 
 He meant it, meant every word of 
 that hot, impetuous avowal, but how little 
 either of them dreamed of the short time 
 which would elapse before Quentin would 
 be called upon to fulfil his vow, or the 
 awful circumstances which would call it 
 forth.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 INTO THE NEW WORLD 
 
 And God be with you whither you walk or ride ; 
 I must go on whither I have to go. — Chaucer. 
 
 The last services had been rendered to the 
 dead. The old life was over, a new one 
 must begin, and Leonie Connisterre, stand- 
 ing by that new-made grave in the pretty 
 Mentone cemetery, realised with a sudden 
 sickening sense of despair that what had 
 seemed but a hideous nightmare of the last 
 few days was a stern reality now. Alone, 
 friendless, dependent for charity upon a man 
 of whose existence she had been twenty-four 
 hours ago totally ignorant, fearful of every 
 future step, not daring to remain, yet dread- 
 ing to go forward, no wonder that the girlish 
 face, sharpened by anxiety, bore such a look
 
 INTO THE NEW WORLD loi 
 
 of dread, such a look indeed, that all the 
 manly, chivalrous pity in Connisterre's nature 
 warmed into sudden life. 
 
 * My poor child,' he exclaimed impetuously 
 as they stood side by side looking down upon 
 the flower-laden coffin at their feet. ' I wish 
 I could say something to comfort you, some- 
 thing to convince you that under my care 
 you are as safe as if you were with your 
 brother. By the memory of the dead lying 
 here — and surely a man can take no more 
 solemn oath than this — I swear no harm 
 shall come to you that I can avert while you'are 
 under my protection. Cannot you trust me ?' 
 
 'I must trust you,' she said drearily; 
 ' only I am afraid of the future — I don't 
 know what to do. I am so lonely, and if 
 Gerard does not come back there is nobody 
 to give me a home.' 
 
 Tears were brimming over in the big 
 dark eyes, but she forced them back with a 
 resolute effort, and turning away from her 
 companion, knelt down by the grave, pressing
 
 I02 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 her lips passionately to a rose, which had 
 fallen from one of the wreaths, and lay upon 
 the freshly turned mould. 
 
 ' Good-bye, good-bye, dear ! ' she mur- 
 mured in a whisper. ' I must leave you now, but 
 I shall never forget you. Do you know how 
 very lonely I am here ? ' 
 
 Connisterre waited a moment, then touched 
 her shoulder gently. 
 
 'Don't think me a brute,' he said, 'but 
 you — must come now, my poor child.' 
 
 Leonie got up obediently. 
 
 ' Yes, I am quite ready,' she said with a 
 little sob, and then they went away together. 
 Later on that same day, when Connisterre 
 and the girl who had been thrown so curiously 
 on his protection had left Monte Carlo, a fiacre 
 drove up to the front of the Hotel de la Torre. 
 Of the two men it contained, one was much 
 younger than the other, a medium height, 
 fair-haired, Saxon type of man, with an 
 average share of good looks, somewhat 
 marred by a sullen expression which pervaded
 
 INTO THE NEW WORLD 103 
 
 the whole face, and lay like a shadow in the 
 blue gray eyes. The other, older and lighter, 
 was essentially Russian in type of counten- 
 ance, but from dress, speech, and manner, 
 might pass anywhere for an Englishman. 
 Only the eyes betrayed something of the 
 undercurrents of passion beneath that calm 
 exterior. Keen, watchful, always on the 
 alert, they seemed to scintillate like diamonds 
 under the level brows. 
 
 ' I suppose if they have left you will go back 
 to Venice,' he was saying to his companion, as 
 the fiacre stopped and two waiters came dlit. 
 
 * Back to Venice and on to Alexandria, I 
 think,' was the surly response. 
 
 'Come to St. Petersburg with me.' 
 
 ' You and St. Petersburg and the whole 
 realm of the Czar be hanged,' returned the 
 fair man explosively, and he jumped out of 
 the carriage. ' Gar^on, is M. Deane still 
 here ? Tell him that M. Connisterre has 
 come, and has only half an hour to spare. 
 Look sharp now, and don't stand gaping
 
 I04 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 there at me like a Chinese idol. Are you 
 coming in, Neudroschky, or going to the 
 Casino,' he added, turning to his companion. 
 
 * Coming in, I think — if I do not em- 
 barrass you by making a third at this pleasant 
 little interview.' 
 
 By this time Monsieur Delaney, summoned 
 to the spot by one of the waiters who, per- 
 haps, preferred to shift the onus of the ex- 
 planation on the shoulders of his superior, had 
 made his appearance. Then arose confusion, 
 bewildered questions, strong language from 
 the fair man, and satirical laughter from his 
 companion. 
 
 ' If you mean this for a joke,' began 
 Gerard Connisterre fiercely ; but Mon- 
 sieur Delaney repeated his statement with 
 unruffled politeness. 
 
 M. Deane was dead, had been buried that 
 morning at Mentone. Madame, his daughter, 
 left immediately afterwards with a gentleman, 
 presumably her husband, who had arrived 
 the previous day, and gave his name as M.
 
 INTO THE NEW WORLD 105 
 
 Connisterre. Also he had paid certain ex- 
 penses connected with the funeral arrange- 
 ments, and taken charge of all madame's 
 affairs. Pressed to describe the stranger, 
 Monsieur Delaney hesitated. 
 
 ' Monsieur, he was not unlike you. A little 
 taller perhaps, but the same eyes, hair, and 
 complexion, possibly a shade darker, but 
 otherwise he would pass for your brother 
 easily.' 
 
 ' But the girl is 77iy wife,' exclaimed the 
 new comer, banging his hand with some 
 violence upon the table. 
 
 Monsieur Delaney shrugged his shoulders. 
 Possibly he thought madame was to be 
 congratulated upon her escape from such a 
 very hot-tempered master. 
 
 ' That is as it may be,' he returned with a 
 little bow. 'The other, he also gave me to 
 understand that he had a legal claim, and I 
 saw no reason to doubt him. Madame is 
 fortunate in that she has so many cavaliers. 
 It is not every '
 
 io6 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Curse your insolence,' exclaimed Gerard 
 Connisterre fiercely. 
 
 ' Mo7i ami, there is nothing gained by 
 such violence,' said the Russian, laying his 
 hand upon the other's arm. ' This marriage 
 it has been hateful to you — free yourself now 
 if you will, only remember,' he dropped his 
 voice to a whisper, and spoke in Russian, 
 ' there is the publicity to fear. Follow the 
 love birds if it so pleases you — but I would 
 suggest ' 
 
 ' Save yourself the trouble of suggesting 
 anything,' returned Gerard sullenly. ' I shall 
 not move one single step after her. She 
 may go to the devil if she likes, and he with 
 her. Damn them both.' 
 
 The young man turned away and went 
 out into the sunshine again. Neudroschky 
 followed him, rolling a cigarette between his 
 fingers. The fiacre was still waiting for them. 
 
 ' I am at your service, mon ami! said the 
 Russian imperturbably. ' Shall we go back 
 to Venice ? '
 
 INTO THE NEW WORLD 107 
 
 ' Go where you like.' Connlsterre jumped 
 In and jammed his hat lower over his brows. 
 Neudroschky got in after him. 
 
 ' It is well,' he said, leaning back. 'You 
 are saved the pain of an interview, and I the 
 boredom of being present at it. Adieu, Monte 
 Carlo ! '
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 GOOD-BYE 
 
 Thus may she perish who once wore that ring ! 
 Thus do I spurn her from me ; do thus trample 
 Her memory in the dust ! 
 
 The Spanish Student. 
 
 Rome, the Eternal City, enthroned upon her 
 seven hills ; Rome, hot, sunshiny, full of 
 noise and glare, bustle, confusion, fiacre 
 drivers, and pretty flower-girls. The foun- 
 tains were splashing merrily away in the 
 piazzas, cooling the air with huge jets of 
 water which spouted from the mouths of re- 
 cumbent lions, and fell with a rhythmical 
 splash and gurgle over the backs of baby 
 Tritons, gambolling in the massive stone 
 basins below. All afternoon the sun had 
 been streaming down on the steps of the
 
 GOOD-BYE 109 
 
 Piazza di Spagna, and over the picturesque 
 beggars In their dirt and rags, lying sleeping 
 there In lazy content, oblivious either of 
 the Intense heat, or the foot passengers 
 climbing painfully up step by step towards 
 the little church of Trinlta del Monti at the 
 summit. The sky, blue as only an Italian 
 sky can be, was almost wearying in Its 
 monotony ; not a cloud, not even a fleck of 
 white to break the azure as It lay like a 
 canopy miles above the sunlit city. Crowds 
 of people, taking advantage of a slight breeze 
 which had sprung up as the afternoon drdW to 
 a close, were streaming towards the PIncIan 
 hill, in the wake of royalty. Dark -eyed 
 Italian officers, tourist Englishmen, pretty 
 women In carriages, all the wealth and 
 beauty and life of Rome mingling together 
 In that fashionable promenade, where the 
 strains of the band floated out Into the per- 
 fumed air, and all was mirth and gaiety. 
 
 Just far enough away from the PIncIan 
 hill to be out of earshot of its music, but not
 
 no POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 of the roar and rattle of the carriages wending 
 their way towards it, two people, a man and 
 a woman, were standing in a private sitting- 
 room of a large hotel. The windows were 
 thrown wide open, and from here one could 
 gaze down into the animated scene below. 
 Little cared either of those two actors in 
 the drama for anything outside. The sun 
 streamed gaily in over the pretty furniture, 
 the flowers and fruit decorating the table, 
 over Geoffrey Connisterre's hot, indignant 
 face, and the graceful figure of the woman 
 opposite to him. She was standing by the 
 table, one hand resting upon its polished 
 surface, the other holding a bunch of roses 
 to the breast of her pretty summer dress, 
 which was so white and delicate that it had 
 almost a bridal effect in its simplicity. A 
 lovely woman some might say, an unapproach- 
 able one would most, but even Claudia Des- 
 borough's slow pulses had been stirred, and 
 her face, usually so passionless, was pale now 
 with outraged pride and dignity.
 
 GOOD-BYE III 
 
 ' You cannot deny it ! ' she said in a quick, 
 excited voice, retreating a step as he came 
 nearer to her. ' You dare not deny it ! and 
 yet you have the audacity to come here and 
 plead as your excuse that — but I will not 
 repeat it — I will not listen to another ' 
 
 ' You shall ! ' thundered Geoffrey, his face 
 crimson with anger. * You shall hear my 
 explanation, and tell me also who has brought 
 this slanderous tale to your ears! In justice 
 to yourself — to me, Claudia, tell me who it is ? ' 
 There was a pleading note in the deep voice, 
 but Claudia flung up her head haughtily. • 
 
 ' I decline to answer. Were you or were 
 you not at Monte Carlo the day upon which 
 you had told me I was to expect you here ? ' 
 
 ' I was unexpectedly summoned there ! ' 
 
 She made a little disdainful movement, 
 letting the bunch of roses fall unheeded to 
 the floor. 
 
 * You were there under circumstances not 
 fit to be mentioned between us.' 
 
 ' I wonder — did you ever care for me,
 
 112 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Claudia ? ' Connisterre asked, leaning heavily 
 against the table. ' If you did, surely the love 
 is not worth much which fails to stand the 
 test of a false story — a hateful slander, and 
 refuses me even a patient hearing or the 
 benefit of a doubt ' 
 
 'And what explanation could you offer 
 which would not lower my self-respect to 
 hear,' she broke in, a quick flash of resent- 
 ment in her blue eyes. 
 
 'You will not allow me to speak,' he said 
 quietly. 
 
 ' I have heard enough. Here is your 
 ring, Mr. Connisterre, I have done with it — 
 and you.' She removed the little diamond 
 circlet from her finger and laid it between 
 them on the table. 
 
 ' Day after day, when surely courtesy 
 alone might have brought you here, you 
 lingered on in Venice, leaving me to endure 
 the wonderment and sarcasm of my friends 
 that you could delay your arrival so long 
 without any adequate reason. And now you
 
 GOOD-BYE 113 
 
 would have me believe that this impromptu 
 journey to Monte Carlo was the outcome of a 
 strange coincidence of names, that you went 
 there under a misapprehension, and were by 
 force of circumstances obliged to assume the 
 responsibilities of another man. I am to credit 
 that she Is a stranger, this girl with whom 
 you were masquerading at Monte Carlo. It Is 
 monstrous, shameful. How dare you expect 
 me to discuss such matters with you.^' 
 
 * I don't ! ' exclaimed Geoffrey, the veins 
 on his forehead standing out like whipcord ; 
 and he dashed his hand with such a fury 'of 
 passion upon the table that Claudia started 
 nervously back, while the ring, displaced by his 
 anger, rolled away and fell upon the carpet 
 at their feet. ' I don't expect you after this 
 revelation of a want of faith to believe 
 a single word I say. The loss of such 
 a love as yours is nothing since you will 
 take before my word, that of some wretched 
 scandalmonger whose only wish is to sow 
 dissension between you and me. Had 
 
 VOL. I 8
 
 114 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 you asked that I should have faith in yotcr 
 truth, and honour, and purity, even if 
 circumstances were against you and it was 
 out of your power to explain, should I ever 
 have doubted yott ? And yet although I 
 come now, with a full and frank explanation 
 upon my lips, anxious to clear away and set 
 right this damning story, you will not listen, 
 you affect to disbelieve me, you return scorn 
 for candour. You are pitiless as a stone.' 
 
 For an instant the girl's dark blue eyes 
 wavered, the hard lines about her mouth 
 softened. Surely so, or else it was fancy 
 upon Geoffrey's part. He went a litde 
 nearer to her, and his voice dropped to a 
 supplicating whisper. 
 
 * Claudia, you do believe me ? ' 
 
 A moment's pause. 
 
 ' No,' she said at last, and she moved away 
 from him. ' I do 7tot.' 
 
 The hot blood swept in scorching tide 
 into Connisterre's face. Outraged pride 
 crushed down with an iron hand what a
 
 GOOD-BYE 115 
 
 moment before had been a whole wealth of 
 love and tender entreaty, his lips tightened 
 into a straight line beneath his fair moustache. 
 'Very well,' he said, drawing a long breath ; 
 'that is your last word ; now listen to mine.' 
 With an angry gesture he stamped his foot 
 upon the ring at his feet — 
 
 ' As there is a heaven above I will never 
 sue to you for love or favour again. From 
 this day let us be strangers to one another. 
 I at least shall not try to overstep the 
 boundary.' 
 
 Without waiting for another word, with- 
 out even a backward glance at the face of 
 the woman who, for a time at all events, had 
 made the brightness of his life, coloured all 
 his future, and gilded the dream of his artistic 
 ambitions, Connisterre left the hotel, hardly 
 conscious what he did or where he went, his 
 heart ablaze with a concentrated passion which, 
 after the first few minutes, startled him by the 
 power it had assumed. Every nerve was 
 quivering, strung up to its highest tension
 
 Ii6 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 from the excitement of the late interview and 
 Claudia's unmerited scorn. Never through- 
 out the whole of his life had Connisterre's 
 hot temper so thoroughly mastered him, and 
 if at this moment the man who had been the 
 cause of this unhappy rupture had come in 
 his path, who can say what the result of that 
 meeting might have been. Walking quickly 
 on, looking neither to the right nor left, 
 Geoffrey found himself at length in the 
 grateful solitude of the grounds of the Villa 
 Borghesi. A few people were strolling 
 about, but so spacious is the park that 
 any one wishful to escape from his fellow- 
 creatures and seek retirement may easily 
 find the opportunity. Here, stretched full 
 length upon the short velvety turf, gazing 
 blankly at the dancing, quivering leaves above 
 his head, and the eternal blue sky peeping 
 down between the interlaced branches of the 
 trees, Connisterre fell into a moody reverie. 
 The first violence of his passion had subsided, 
 lulled insensibly by the soothing voice of
 
 GOOD-BYE 117 
 
 nature speaking to him out of the exquisite 
 tender beauty of the afternoon, and little by 
 little he began to realise what all this meant 
 to him. Life was not by any means over 
 because one woman had played him false, 
 not over, oh no ; but for a time at least it 
 was very dark and gloomy. He had to realise 
 that the chief interest in his life was removed, 
 that his ambitious hopes, which hitherto had 
 centred round Claudia Desborough, must for 
 the future feed upon themselves. That she 
 had — well there was nothing gained by disguis- 
 ing the truth to himself — deliberately thrown 
 him over. A nine days' wonder, that was all. 
 Lying there in his solitude, Connisterre fancied 
 he could hear the remarks of his own particular 
 artistic set when this piece of news was wafted 
 to them, and he ground his teeth as he listened 
 to the fragments of mental conversation carried 
 on within his brain. 
 
 ' It is all off between Connisterre and Miss 
 Desborough ? ' 
 
 * So I suppose. Any one know why } '
 
 il8 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Oh, the old story ! He hadn't enough 
 money.' 
 
 * Not a bit of it. Another woman; and the 
 fair Claudia does not like divided honours.' 
 
 * Early days to try that on. Should have 
 
 waited until the knot was tied ' and so on 
 
 — so on. 
 
 Connisterre leaned his head upon his 
 hand and reviewed the details of this brief 
 engagement of his. He remembered Claudia 
 as he had seen her first the previous May, 
 at one of the gayest of gay London balls ; 
 remembered how his artistic senses had been 
 charmed, and his eyes fascinated by the girl's 
 exquisite face and figure, her almost regal 
 gait, the flowing yellow draperies suiting so 
 well that coronet of curling hair which seemed 
 as If it had been dusted over with bronze, the 
 proud self-controlled lips, the faultless curve 
 of neck and shoulders. 
 
 *She is like a goddess,' he had said to 
 his friend Austin Kavanagh, as they stood 
 beside an open door, looking towards Claudia
 
 GOOD-BYE 119 
 
 Desborough with her Httle court of wor- 
 shippers, and Austin had laughed. 
 
 * True, oh king ! Fair as a goddess and 
 heartless as the marble out of which she is 
 sculptured. Too much of the deity, too 
 little of the woman for love.' 
 
 Had Austin been right ? Connisterre 
 plucked restlessly at the velvety turf. No, 
 he was not prepared to admit that, even if his 
 ardent affection had been powerless to move 
 Claudia to a corresponding warmth. Such 
 love as lay in her nature he believed had 
 been given to him, asking not in return that 
 he should lavish upon her the devotion which 
 it was beyond his power to control. He had 
 loved her, poor fool, from that first moment of 
 introduction, down through the days of their 
 brief engagement to the present, when, for a 
 momentary disbelief which cut at the root of 
 all his honour, and shamed them both, she 
 had flung him back upon himself. But pride 
 counted for an important factor in Connisterre s 
 nature. There would be no wearing of the
 
 I20 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 willow on his part, no effort for reconciliation, 
 no look, nor word, nor sigh to recall the past. 
 He had done with Claudia for ever ; but as 
 he sat there in the glad sunshine, heedless of 
 the carolling birds and the beauty which sur- 
 rounded him, something undoubtedly died in 
 the man's hitherto generous and affectionate 
 nature — a little of his better self, a fragment 
 of the love and faith and charity which had 
 formed so large an element in his disposition. 
 He was the same and yet not quite the 
 same, for sometimes the breaking up of our 
 cherished idols is apt to leave a stamp of the 
 devil upon us.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 LlfiONIE 
 
 Alas ! what wonder is it that she wept, 
 Sent to a strange land and a cloudy fate. 
 
 Catiterbttry Tales. 
 
 ' La pauvre petite ? No, Monsieur Connis- 
 terre. It is that she has gone to the Campo 
 Santo for a Httle promenade — a little change. 
 Ah, she is so triste, the child ; my heart it 
 aches for her.' 
 
 Such was the response given to Connisterre 
 two days later, when upon arriving in Genoa 
 he made his way to the little old-fashioned 
 house where he had left Leonie some days 
 previously, and inquired for her. 
 
 'Then I must try to find her there,' he 
 said, hesitating at the open door. 
 
 ' But not just now — this very moment,'
 
 122 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 urged Madame Reclamier. ' You will take 
 one little cup of coffee with me, monsieur, 
 n'est-ce pas ? ' 
 
 Connisterre looked at his watch. 
 
 'Thank you, yes,' he said, yielding to her 
 solicitations. He knew that it would give 
 the sisters a real pleasure for him to accept 
 their hospitality, to admire their flowers, and 
 their cats, and the queer ill-shapen little 
 house which had been their home for so 
 many years. So he went in and drank 
 the excellent coffee prepared by Madame 
 Reclamier's wrinkled hands, and enjoyed 
 the rest after his dusty journey. He had 
 a great regard for these two old sisters, who 
 were living out what remained of their sinless 
 lives in that once powerful city of Genoa, 
 and practising such charities as their limited 
 resources permitted amongst the poor and 
 fallen in her streets. 
 
 Nobody knew better than Connisterre the 
 kindliness and generosity which Madame 
 Reclamier and her sister were willing to
 
 L&ONIE 123 
 
 offer when any poor creature came to them 
 in distress, and he had felt perfectly con- 
 tented to leave Leonie in their charge. 
 
 * The poor child has not heard from her 
 husband, then ? ' he said, stirring his coffee as 
 he sat in the low window which commanded a 
 view of a busy street leading down to the quay. 
 
 * No ; not even one little note,' returned 
 the vivacious Frenchwoman, shrugging her 
 shoulders. She say to me, ' Mademoiselle 
 Therese, what is it that I must do ? I have 
 no money, no home, no friend. I would 
 work, but I can find no work.' 
 
 ' There is no hurry for it,' interrupted 
 Connisterre. * I will do what I can for her 
 if that scoundrel does not turn up.' 
 
 ' So I tell her. I beseech that she will 
 be at rest. I say, '' Ma petite. Monsieur 
 Connisterre, he has the good heart of an 
 angel. He will help you. He will be 
 decide." ' 
 
 * And yet it is very difficult for a man in 
 my position to do so. If I take charge of
 
 124 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 her future I must be prepared to risk the 
 strictures of a gossiping world,' said Con- 
 nisterre gloomily. ' Mrs. Grundy, as we in 
 England term her, has a tongue like a two- 
 edged sword, madame.' 
 
 * You are right, you are right, monsieur ; it 
 is indeed a sorrowful world. There is but 
 little shelter for the innocent when once the 
 dark bird of scandal drops his feathers over 
 them. May the blessed saints have her under 
 their protection. You do not know where he 
 is, monsieur le mari ? ' 
 
 ' I wish I did,' said Connisterre, with an 
 ugly look. Then he rose and put down his 
 cup. 
 
 ' I will take a stroll round the city until 
 this little wanderer returns, or perhaps I might 
 get so far as the Campo Santo ; I don't know,' 
 he said. 
 
 Outside in the sunlit street, however, 
 Geoffrey turned at once in the direction of 
 the Campo Santo. He knew every foot 
 of Genoa, its ghostly palaces and gilded
 
 LEONIE 
 
 125 
 
 churches ; he was familiar with its crooked 
 street and bye -ways, and every inch of the 
 huge harbour, for he had spent in his boyish 
 days hour after hour watching the mighty 
 ships as they steamed in and out. There 
 was no tourist -Hke curiosity now to draw 
 him on the road of sightseers. Perhaps 
 the best way of spending the afternoon 
 would be to do as he had first proposed 
 and follow Leonie. There was just a chance 
 that he might come across her there, and if 
 so, time and place would be eminently suited 
 for the interview which was to decide so much. 
 He had a great deal to say to her, something 
 also to suggest. Even in the midst of his 
 anxieties of the last few days he had found 
 time to think of Leonie and her position, and 
 had gone even so far as to inquire about a 
 suitable home for her in England should 
 Gerard Connisterre not be forthcoming. 
 
 Advertisements in guarded terms had been 
 inserted in all the leading papers with a view 
 to bringing the wanderer back, but so far no
 
 126 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 success followed their appearance. Geoffrey 
 shrewdly suspected the man was keeping dark, 
 wishful to avoid the responsibilities which Mr. 
 Deane's death had brought upon him, and he 
 admitted a little ruefully that the part of 
 knight-errant under these circumstances was 
 an embarrassing one to play. There was, 
 however, some compensation for all his trouble 
 in Leonie's unfeigned delight when they met 
 in one of the corridors of the Campo Santo. 
 He came up to her unobserved, for the girl, 
 absorbed in contemplation of the exquisitely 
 sculptured figure of a woman lying asleep at 
 the foot of a cross, a bunch of poppy heads 
 in her hand, did not hear his footsteps echoing 
 along the marble pavement. 
 
 ' C'est vous, c'est vous, monsieur,' she ex- 
 claimed ecstatically, seizing both his hands, 
 her queer little face radiant with smiles, 
 ' voulez-vous donnez moi ' 
 
 'Will you speak English,' he said 
 laughing. ' You must learn to be as fluent 
 in your native tongue as you are in your
 
 LJ^ONIE 
 
 127 
 
 adopted one, mademoiselle — madame, I 
 mean.' 
 
 She made a little grimace, but obeyed, 
 rattling on excitedly about Genoa, and the 
 maiden sisters, and her delight at seeing him, 
 while Connisterre stood patiently listening, 
 half- touched, half- amused. Leonie spoke 
 English fairly well, now and then coming to 
 a full stop for want of the requisite word, or 
 turning a sentence in some odd fashion which, 
 however, literally interpreted her meaning. 
 It was a barbarous tongue, a very barbarous 
 tongue, she averred. 
 
 ' I have been trying to make one plan, one 
 little plan,' she said looking up at him rather 
 wistfully. ' You know my husband — he is not 
 returned ' 
 
 ' I also have a plan,' Connisterre inter- 
 rupted ; ' but before we discuss either yours 
 or mine, I think you must treat me quite as 
 a friend. My dear little girl I do not wish to 
 force your confidence — far from that. What 
 you desire to keep secret I will never try to
 
 128 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 learn ; but you see at present I am working in 
 the dark. If I am to advise or help, you on 
 your part must make the way easier.' 
 
 ' You mean ' 
 
 * That if you feel at liberty to tell me any- 
 thing respecting the past, your husband, and 
 his reason for deserting you, it will be a great 
 assistance to me in determining what is best 
 to be done,' Geoffrey said steadily. 
 
 Leonie looked away from him down the 
 lonely corridor. A streak of sunlight had 
 flickered in from the further end and was 
 dancing incongruously over the monuments 
 of death. He watched the proud, sensitive 
 face in silence, and found himself wondering 
 if the girl had any pretensions to beauty. 
 Yes, he decided she had, but where did they 
 lie ? Was it in the bright chestnut hair which 
 she wore in a loose knot at the back of her 
 small head, the dark eyes under their faintly 
 pencilled brows, the small retrottssd nose, 
 the mouth with its white irregular teeth, the 
 firm, not to say, obstinate little chin, slightly
 
 LJ^ONIE 129 
 
 pointing upwards ? No, taking them feature 
 by feature not in any of these, for each more 
 or less defied the laws of feminine beauty, but 
 rather in a sort of gipsyish wilfulness of 
 expression which pervaded all, and would 
 probably become more apparent when grief 
 for the loss of her father had grown less 
 poignant, and permitted her natural dis- 
 position to assert itself She was not an 
 easy girl to manage, Connisterre felt sure of 
 that, not a gentle, clinging, dependent little 
 creature who would be content to take the 
 decision of others as final. There was a vdt-y 
 volcano of passion in those big dark eyes 
 and mutinous lips, nervous excitement and 
 demonstrativeness in the small slender hands. 
 She turned her face towards him at last, a 
 satirical smile just curving her lips. 
 
 * Oh, you are right. But what am I to 
 tell ? Can you not help me without .^ ' 
 
 ' I can,' he said slowly. 
 ' But you do not wish ? ' 
 
 * I would rather not work so much in 
 
 VOL. I Q
 
 I30 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 the dark. Come, Leonie — I may call you 
 Leonie, you are but a child. Don't you 
 think I have earned a partial right to your 
 confidence ? I have shown that I am to be 
 trusted.' 
 
 * You are all that is kind and generous,' 
 she said, with a sudden burst of feeling. * It 
 is I who am wrong and ungrateful. Oh, I 
 wish I could help myself.' 
 
 'Have you always lived abroad?' asked 
 Connisterre, thinking he might possibly gain 
 his end better by dint of skilful questioning. 
 
 ' Always ! ' 
 
 'But your father? He was an English- 
 man ? ' 
 
 'And my mother an Italian. Yes. We 
 were Bohemians, gipsies, what you will, but 
 do not blame my father. It is always that 
 he did what was kind for me, and if some- 
 times we were rich, and sometimes we were 
 poor, it only hurt ourselves.' 
 
 Connisterre began to suspect that the late 
 Mr. Deane had been one of those gambling
 
 L^ONIE 
 
 13] 
 
 spendthrifts who Infest most Continental 
 cities, and eke out a precarious living by 
 more or less dishonourable means. If so, 
 had he used his young daughter as a decoy 
 duck ? The Idea was distinctly unpleaslng. 
 He held his peace, and waited for more. 
 
 ' My mother died when I was quite a 
 little one,' the girl went on, with suddenly 
 softening eyes. ' Ah, la povera madre ! ' 
 
 ' And has she no relations who would give 
 you shelter '^ ' 
 
 ' I do not know. I do not care.' 
 
 ' And your father ? ' 
 
 * He said that he did quarrel with them,' 
 Leonie returned, in a low, rather ashamed 
 tone. 
 
 'Which stops the way there then. And 
 now about this other man, your husband. 
 What of him ; he Is an Englishman } ' 
 
 ' English, yes ; and a little, just a little, 
 like you. 'Can It be,' this very hopefully, 
 ' that he may be your brother, monsieur } ' 
 
 ' I have no brother, and I am sure he
 
 132 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 is not .a cousin. I do not believe that 
 my father had any married brother. The 
 similarity of names is just a coincidence, 
 probably. Had you known your husband 
 some time before you married him, Leonie ? ' 
 
 ' One month and a half.' 
 
 ' One month and — six weeks you mean. 
 Great Heaven ! what was your father think- 
 ing about to let you marry a man of whom 
 you knew so little ? ' 
 
 ' But we saw him at often times,' she 
 protested with a pout. ' He did come to 
 our rooms in Homburg to play cards, and I 
 liked him then. He was kind and intdres- 
 sant, tres intSressant' 
 
 'Yes.' Connisterre's suspicions gathered 
 force. 
 
 ' Then one day he did say, would I marry 
 him? ' 
 
 ' And you cared enough for him to say 
 
 yes ? 
 
 Leonie nodded her head. 
 
 ' Daddie wished it ; he asked that I would
 
 L^ONIE 
 
 133 
 
 marry Monsieur Connlsterre, so I did not see 
 why I must say no. We were married do 
 you say? at Homburg.' 
 
 ' But surely you knew something about 
 him — his family or his Hfe ? ' 
 
 ' I did know nothings she said, brushing 
 her hair back with a tired gesture. ' He 
 said one day that he was quite alone In the 
 world, for his father many many years ago 
 had quarrelled with his family.' 
 
 ' And so you just lived on In Homburg for 
 how long after you were married } ' 
 
 ' Three months.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' 
 
 ' Then he left me.' 
 
 ' Left you. Why ? ' 
 
 A slow fire of anger was gathering In 
 Leonle's expressive eyes. 
 
 'You ask too m.any questions,' she said, 
 flashing back a glance at him. 
 
 ' You must not think It Is Impertinent 
 curiosity,' Connlsterre returned very gently. 
 * I only wish to find out if there Is a proba-
 
 134 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 bility of his return before we decide anything 
 definitely for the future.' 
 
 * Then I tell you this. He will not return. 
 We quarrelled, or I mean that he did with 
 my father, and I heard him say he would not 
 come again. He said — but well, never mind 
 what he did say,' she broke off, with a 
 sudden glow of colour dyeing her cheeks. 
 ' They were insulting words, they were a 
 wicked slander.' 
 
 * And you overheard him ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I did ; but he said to me, and oh ! 
 he was quite white with anger, that he had 
 been deceived, and he would leave me. I 
 said he might leave me if so he wished. I 
 had my father, and I would be happy. But 
 you see I did not think Gerard quite meant 
 it all. I thought he was just angry because 
 that he had lost money at the tables. He 
 has never returned. I do not know where 
 he is. That is a year ago.' 
 
 'And you have been living at Homburg 
 all the time ? '
 
 LEONIE 135 
 
 ' Not quite. We were often at Baden- 
 Baden, and sometimes Aix. It is six weeks 
 that we are at Monte Carlo when my father 
 was so ill. 1 could not think he must die, 
 but he said yes.' 
 
 Leonie brushed away her tears, speaking 
 with an evident effort to control the rising 
 emotion which threatened to overcome her. 
 
 *Yes,' said Geoffrey softly. 'And then 
 he wrote to your husband. Your father 
 must have known of his whereabouts.' 
 
 ' Whereabouts ? ' she repeated inquiringly. 
 
 * His address. Where he was likely to be 
 found.' 
 
 'Yes I suppose so. One day, when I 
 was working a little beside him, he said that 
 now he was dying there would be no reason 
 why Gerard should not come back home.' 
 
 ' What did he mean ? ' 
 
 ' I do not know. He only said that he 
 would write — and you do know what it is 
 after. I mean what did come when you 
 found the letter.'
 
 136 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' And your father never told you what 
 reason he had for believing your husband to 
 be in Venice ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 There was silence for some time. There 
 is no doubt that to determine the multifarious 
 motives which actuate weak human nature to 
 a deed of evil one must possess the intuition 
 of a God. Connisterre could only make a 
 faint guess now at the circumstances of the 
 case, but he had heard enough to feel assured 
 that Leonie had been both wrongly and 
 unfairly dealt with. Although he had no 
 positive proof it was so, he felt convinced 
 that Gerard Connisterre was keeping wil- 
 fully out of the way and persisting in the 
 desertion of his wife. It was hardly probable 
 that all the advertisements which Geoffrey 
 had inserted in the papers could have failed 
 to come under the other man's notice. That 
 being so, the reason of the rupture must 
 be only conjecture. Very possibly Gerard 
 Connisterre had found his father-in-law out
 
 L^ONIE 
 
 37 
 
 in some malpractices, or, to be quite plain, 
 cardsharping, and had decided to cut him- 
 self free from this undesirable connection. 
 Sooner than allow a discreditable story to 
 come to the surface, Deane had consented to 
 the separation. As to Leonie herself, Con- 
 nisterre's nature revolted at the idea she 
 could be in any way to blame. She was too 
 young, too childish and unsophisticated, to 
 have played the part of decoy duck to any 
 great extent. He preferred to credit her with 
 an innocent compliance rather than duplicity. 
 
 'Well, Leonie,' he said cheerfully, 'I will 
 not ask you any more questions ; perhaps I 
 have asked you too many already. It re- 
 mains now to decide what is best to be done. 
 We need not as yet give up the hope of 
 hearing from your husband, but if in the 
 course of a few days he does not write we 
 must conclude that his return is improbable.' 
 
 ' I do not think he will come back,' Leonie 
 persisted, running her fingers over the marble 
 hand of one of the statues.
 
 138 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Very well. Let us suppose, then, that 
 for a time you have to depend upon your 
 own resources. Have you formed any plan 
 for the future ? What did your father 
 advise ? ' 
 
 * He did not know,' said the girl mourn- 
 fully. ' I think he hoped Gerard would 
 come back. He just kept saying " Ma 
 pauvre enfante, ma pauvre enfante," when 
 he was conscious.' 
 
 ' Is your husband in a position to provide 
 for you ? Has he money, I mean '^ ' 
 
 ' Money ? Why yes some I think. But,' 
 Leonie looked up with a flash of pas- 
 sionate anger in her eyes, ' I do not care 
 how much money he has, or if he is as rich 
 as a duke, I will never take one penny from 
 him or eat his bread again. It would choke 
 me. He may go his own way, and I will 
 work that I may find money for myself.' 
 
 'And yet,' said Connisterre softly, mindful 
 perhaps of his reception that embarrassing 
 afternoon at Monaco, ' you would have been
 
 L^ONIE 139 
 
 glad to see him a little while ago. Is it 
 not so ? ' 
 
 * If he had come when I was lonely, just 
 when my father died, yes. But now I am 
 stronger I will learn to walk alone. Mon- 
 sieur Connisterre, you are good ; you will 
 help me to find some money.' 
 
 ' Shall we go outside ? ' said Connisterre, 
 touchine her shoulder. * You will be tired 
 standing here so long. Also it is chilly, and 
 I have a great deal to say to you.' 
 
 So they left the corridor with all its 
 monuments to the sleeping dead, and went 
 out into the sunshine, where, in default of a 
 better resting-place, they sat down on one of 
 the marble steps of the long flight which led 
 up to the little circular chapel. Here, with 
 the great God's acre stretching away before 
 them, lonely and silent this summer day, 
 Connisterre unfolded his plans. 
 
 ' It is not easy for me to advise you,' he 
 said, poking his stick into one of the crevices 
 of the marble. * You have never taken a
 
 I40 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 dependent position, or worked for your 
 living, and — candidly I do not think you 
 will find it easy. Then another thing — I 
 am ignorant of what qualifications you 
 possess.' 
 
 ' I can dance, and I can sing rather well,* 
 said Leonie proudly. 
 
 ^Yes?' 
 
 ' And win a game of billiards against a 
 good player. I don't play cards at all, father 
 would not let me learn.' 
 
 Connisterre's heart gave a quick throb of 
 relief. 
 
 ' Then I can ride, too. Sometimes when 
 we had more money we would hire horses 
 and travel long rides in the morning. Ah ! ' 
 clasping her hands ecstatically, ' it was beauti- 
 ful. I think, perhaps, I might dance in the 
 opera, monsieur ? I do not know if there is 
 any other way. What do English girls work 
 when they have no money } ' 
 
 ' Upon my soul I don't know what 
 English girls don't do except '*'bus
 
 LEONIE 141 
 
 conduct and collect taxes," ' said Connis- 
 terre rather savagely. ' They are ubiqui- 
 tous, — here, there, and everywhere. No pro- 
 fession, trade, nor amusement is safe from 
 their inroads. They teach and they preach, 
 they lecture and write, they study medicine 
 and science, they pull off university de- 
 grees over the heads of Oxford men ; in fact, 
 as I say, there is no limit to a woman's 
 ambition now. Perhaps it is a happier state 
 for them ; I don't know. The question re- 
 mains — what are you to do ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, I do not know,' said Lecmie, 
 rather bewildered by Connisterre's rapid 
 English. 
 
 ' Would you care for a berth as companion. 
 I know a lady with whom I think you could 
 be very happy.' 
 
 ' Is she a friend of yours ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' In London, where you live ? ' 
 
 ' No, a hundred miles away.' 
 
 'Then I think I would not love it,' re-
 
 142 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 turned this young Bohemian frankly. ' I 
 Hke to be with you, and in that dirty, foggy 
 England I am sure it will be very triste all 
 alone. I will not be the very little piece of 
 trouble to you, monsieur.' 
 
 ' But, my dear child, I don't see that I can 
 take charge of you,' said Connisterre, hardly 
 knowing whether to be most amused or 
 appalled by the extent of his responsibility. 
 ' Of course, if you are not happy another 
 post can be found for you, a companionship, 
 or — or something of that kind. You will 
 not be any worse off than hundreds of other 
 girls who are obliged to face the world.' 
 
 ' But will I know where you are } ' 
 
 'You shall have my address.' 
 
 ' Then I can run to you if I am not happy .'^' 
 
 ' No certainly not.' The vision of Leonie 
 arriving at some inconvenient moment in his 
 old house on Campden Hill startled him. 
 'You must write. Sometimes I am not in 
 London, and it would be risky to come look- 
 ing for me. I told you I was an artist.'
 
 L^ONIE 143 
 
 * Yes. I wish I could see your pictures.' 
 
 ' So you shall some day. Lady Paget, to 
 whom I suggested you should go as com- 
 panion, lives in Derbyshire. It Is beautiful 
 there, and they have a most picturesque old 
 house.' 
 
 * And is It only Lady Paget ? ' 
 
 ' No, she has a husband, and one daughter 
 who takes a great interest In parish work.' 
 
 * What Is parish work ? ' 
 
 *0h, a sort of Lady Bountiful working 
 amongst the poor. I daresay you would have 
 to help her; at least Lady Paget gave meTto 
 understand this. Perhaps just at first you 
 might not like either Miss Paget or Sir John, 
 but we all have our little peculiarities, you 
 know.' 
 
 Leonie made a wry face. 
 
 ' I would like to travel with you,' she said 
 calmly. 
 
 ' But that Is impossible. Lady Paget, who 
 is at present in Rome will I know make you 
 very happy. Her suggestion is that she
 
 144 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 should pick you up here on her way to England 
 next week — that is, of course, if your husband 
 does not come before then. She is willing 
 to give you thirty pounds a year and pay all 
 your travelling expenses. The salary does 
 not seem much, but you are so inexperienced 
 that you might have difficulty in obtaining 
 a higher one.' 
 
 Connisterre did not say that it was only 
 after a great deal of friendly entreaty that he 
 had been able to persuade the baronet's wife 
 into accepting Leonie in lieu of the very 
 worthy and estimable young person with 
 whom she was then in communication for the 
 post. Lady Paget had in fact said very 
 frankly, that she was by no means disposed 
 to receive such a young Bohemian into her 
 house, feeling pretty sure that matters would 
 hardly run smoothly between Leonie and her 
 daughter, who was the essence of decorum 
 and propriety. But Connisterre had over- 
 ruled all her objections, and pleaded so hard 
 his protegee's friendless condition, that Lady
 
 L^ONIE 
 
 AS 
 
 Paget, who, when left to herself, was very 
 charitable, finally consented. Something of 
 her acquiescence was no doubt owing to 
 her wish to please Connisterre. Deep down 
 in the old lady's innocently scheming brain, 
 there lurked a hope that in time he and Monica 
 might become more than the acquaintances 
 they were at present ; surely to refuse him a 
 favour now was to throw an obstacle into her 
 cherished plan. 
 
 ' It is for you to decide,' said Connisterre 
 at last, breaking in upon the reverie Into 
 which Leonie had fallen. ' Will you go ? '* 
 
 She turned a look upon him, such a look as 
 one may see in the startled apprehensive eyes 
 of a bird which beholds the open door of the 
 cage into which it is to be forced. What 
 matter that the bars are gilded and the 
 groundsel fresh ? It is a prison for all that, 
 a dreary prison which knows not the name 
 of freedom. Here was Leonie, a veritable 
 wild bird of nature, asked of her own free 
 will to assume the shackles of restraint, to 
 
 VOL. I lO
 
 146 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 accept a life of which she knew nothing, except 
 that it meant the curtailment of her most 
 precious heritage — liberty ; meant the dreary 
 round of conventional decorum, the farewell 
 to all that happy nomadic Bohemian life which, 
 in spite of its poverty and anxieties, had been, 
 oh, so happy ! Did Connisterre quite realise 
 what he was asking her ? The colour came 
 and went like April sunshine in the vagabond 
 little face, her eyes — but she had averted her 
 eyes from his, and was gazing persistently at 
 a tiny lizard darting about in the sunshine at 
 their feet. 
 
 * I shall — I would have to be very respect- 
 able ? ' she queried at length, with a quiver of 
 amusement in her voice, and a look of some- 
 thing not unlike diablerie in her face. 
 
 ' Yes, I suppose you will,' he assented, 
 rather lamely. 
 
 A long silence. Only the carolling of a 
 bird soaring higher and higher into the 
 heavens, and the whisper of a summer breeze 
 as it hurried by. A butterfly fluttered up-
 
 l£onie 
 
 147 
 
 wards, pausing to rest a moment upon Leonie's 
 sombre draperies, and make a vivid dab of 
 colour there ; the lizard whisked back into his 
 hole. Then came a faint clatter of feet on 
 the marble steps behind. Somebody was 
 coming out of the little chapel. Leonie gave 
 a long, long sigh. Surely in it her heart went 
 nigh to breaking, for even Connisterre could 
 hardly guess what this decision meant to her. 
 *Yes, I will go to England,' she said, 
 putting her slim hand in his. And then 
 together they went back to the queer little 
 house where Mademoiselle Therese was wait- 
 ing for them.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 
 
 Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat, 
 And therefore let's be merry. 
 
 G. Wither. 
 
 The brilliancy of summer had faded some- 
 what, and already dame autumn's chilling 
 finger was laying a warning touch upon the 
 green and golden foliage of the dusky woods. 
 There was a grayness in the sky where it 
 touched the horizon and melted away indis- 
 tinctly into the meadow-land beyond, a whistle 
 in the voice of the wind as rising from its 
 hiding-place, it murmured a dreary song and 
 fled onwards through the forest, carrying 
 away in its grip a whole avalanche of flutter- 
 ing bronze -tinted leaves which a touch of 
 frost had loosened from the parent stem.
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 149 
 
 The bracken, red and gold, was clothing the 
 hill side like some gay tournament cloth 
 spread abroad in gorgeous beauty, while a 
 few late blackberries which had escaped the 
 devastating hand of the pickers hung discon- 
 solately on the hedge sides, or fell unnoticed 
 into the deep dyke below. There was more 
 than a whisper of death and decay in the chill 
 air, more than a whisper of coming winter in 
 the carpet of leaves lining the forest paths 
 and giving back such a crisp rustle to the 
 flying feet of the rabbits as they scuttered to 
 and fro amongst the undergrowth. The sun, 
 glowing like a round scarlet ball, hung low in 
 the heavens, touching with ruddy beams the 
 waving tree tops which raised their heads 
 aloft, and the great purple hills outlined 
 like a shadow against the sky behind them. 
 Leonie Connisterre, nurtured under warm 
 Italian skies, shivered a little as she raced on 
 in the evening shadows, but there was a 
 delicious freshness in the breeze, a keen, sharp 
 sense of exhilaration which set all her blood
 
 ISO POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 tingling with a new enjoyment and sense of 
 health. Ouentin Lee, striding on beside her, 
 his long steps hardly sufficing to keep pace 
 with her flying feet, looked down at the flushed 
 little face admiringly. 
 
 * You have a rattling good colour now,' 
 he said, shifting the gun which he carried to 
 his other arm, that he might help Leonie 
 over a stile which barred their progress. 
 * A day like this, with just a touch of frost in 
 the air, a sharp breeze sweeping over the 
 downs, is better than any cosmetic in the 
 world.' 
 
 'Except that it reddens one's nose,' said 
 Leonie, rubbing the offending member with 
 a vigour which intensified its already glow- 
 ing colour. 'It is only in a novel that a 
 girl's nose does not become red when the 
 wind is in the east.' 
 
 'The wind is not east, it is north,' said 
 Lee, argumentatively. ' I noticed the weather- 
 vane on the church spire as we came past. 
 If it were east you and I would not be enjoy-
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 151 
 
 ing the walk so much. You know the old 
 
 couplet — 
 
 When the wind is in the east 
 It's neither fit for man nor beast. 
 
 ' I never heard that before, and I don't 
 think it is pretty,' retorted Leonie. 
 
 ' Not pretty but forcible. The terms are 
 hardly synonymous.' Ouentin broke off in 
 his remark and dragged down a bunch of 
 scarlet berries adorning the hedge beside 
 them. 'This speaks of winter,' he said, 
 putting it into his companion's hand. ' Oh, 
 but I forgot you don't know what an English 
 winter is yet.' 
 
 ' I know it is jolly cold,' returned the girl 
 absently. 
 
 Lee put up his hand scandalised. 
 
 'You must not say "jolly cold,"' he re- 
 monstrated. ' It is a slang expression.' 
 
 ' But you used it just a little while ago.' 
 
 ' Possibly — but then I am a man.' 
 
 ' And because I am a woman I must be 
 restricted to yes and no, charmingly fine,
 
 152 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 exceedingly cold ? ' said Leonie, whose six 
 months' life in England had so familiarised 
 her with the language, that she was no longer 
 guilty of the extraordinary arrangement of 
 words and sentences which had so distracted 
 Connisterre in his desire to pass her off as 
 ' not a foreigner at all.' 
 
 * My dear girl, you don't expect to use 
 quite the same expressions as escape my lips 
 sometimes ? ' 
 
 ' But why not. When are you going back 
 to London, Mr. Lee ? ' 
 
 ' That is rather a painful question. Your 
 tone suggests that it would be an infinite 
 relief for you to know that an actual period 
 is fixed to my sojourn in Forest Deane.' 
 
 ' Oh dear no ! I like you being here, for 
 it is a change from the quiet. Ah, del!' 
 shrugging her shoulders, as she stripped 
 off a twig of the red berries and put it in 
 the breast of her dark gray coat. 'Your 
 England it is very dull, very Udste ; your 
 skies never smile, as do the skies abroad ;
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 153 
 
 they weep, weep, weep always, and here it 
 is dreadful. I wish I could run away. What 
 is London like ? I mean, what is it to live 
 in London ? ' 
 
 ' Infernally dull sometimes. One long 
 grind, and slave, and grind, fooling round in 
 an office trying to make money, and always 
 failing.' 
 
 ' But every one must work.' 
 
 ' True, oh most juvenile mentor ! but some 
 people like it less than others, don't you see } 
 Even Connisterre plodding along through 
 oils, and turpentine, and paints, grows as dull 
 and as sticky as his own brushes sometimes. 
 Still he's one of the hard-working sort, is 
 Connisterre, and what is more, one of the 
 successful ones too.' 
 
 'Ah, and you live with him now,' said 
 Leonie, growing suddenly interested. ' Why 
 do you ? ' 
 
 Quentin laughed. 
 
 ' He made me. He said, '' Look here, 
 old man, you'll go to ruin with the speed of
 
 154 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 a switchback if there is nobody at hand to 
 pull you up. Pack your traps and bring them 
 round to my place. The old house is big 
 enough to hold us both, and I ought not to 
 forget that I have ;^2 5o locked up in you. 
 It behoves me as a careful man to keep 
 watch over my receipt " — meaning me,' added 
 Quentin, tapping his chest. ' So I went. 
 He is a good sort is the dear old man, only 
 as the Scotch say, "gey quick wi' his temper.'" 
 
 * But I don't quite understand what you 
 mean,' said Leonie, in some perplexity. ' I 
 thought receipts were little bits of paper 
 which people put on a file.' 
 
 Lee threw back his head and laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 ' Exactly ; I am the bit of paper, don't you 
 see, and Connisterre — well Connisterre is the 
 file. He lent me money once when I was 
 up a tree, and so far I haven't been able to 
 pay it all back. May Providence hasten the 
 day,' he added, piously. ' My soul abhors 
 economy.'
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 155 
 
 ' But what tree ? why did you want money 
 there?' persisted Leonie, whose EngHsh 
 vocabulary, although an extensive one, by 
 no means included all Mr. Quentin Lee's 
 slang expressions. 
 
 ' Up a tree ? Why, in queer street, in a 
 hole, a tight place, a distracting fix — oh, 
 don't you see,' as Leonie only looked more 
 and more bewildered. ' Well, in plain English, 
 since abstruse is no use to you, I was in a 
 mess, and wanted money which Connisterre 
 very generously forked out — I mean lent to 
 me, upon the understanding that I must pay 
 it back when convenient. Upon my soul,' 
 Lee wiped his heated face, * if one's native 
 tongue is not as difficult to speak sometimes 
 as double Dutch ! Do you understand now 
 mademoiselle } ' 
 
 'Madame,' corrected the girl in a little 
 dignified manner infinitely amusing to Lee, 
 who could never bring himself to look upon 
 Leonie as other than a child. ' Of course I 
 understand now, but why do you use such
 
 156 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 queer words, why did you not say at once 
 that you were in debt, that is the expression 
 is it not? It is foohsh to have so many 
 words to mean the same thing. Are there 
 many more ? ' 
 
 'Yes, all those which I ran through just 
 now and half a hundred besides. I think I 
 must take your education in hand mademoi- 
 selle — madame, I mean. You can express 
 yourself more forcibly in slang.' 
 
 ' Slang ? What is slang ? 
 
 ' The emphatic language of the child of 
 nature,' returned Lee with apparent gravity. 
 ' When you use slang, you express your 
 meaning in bold and inelegant words ; on 
 the other hand, when you use what is termed 
 *' elegant English," you gain in polish what 
 you lose in brevity. Now, for instance, if 
 you had been riding at a rapid pace, the 
 slang vocabulary would teach you to describe 
 it something like this. "We had a rattling 
 good spin over the field, and, by Jove, didn't 
 I make the brute show a clean pair of heels !'"
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 157 
 
 * And in English it would be ? ' 
 
 ' My horse carried me in an exceedingly 
 rapid and satisfactory manner over the field. 
 His rate of speed left nothing to be desired.' 
 
 ' Then a rattling good spin is the same as 
 a gallop,' said Leonie, knitting her brows 
 thoughtfully. ' I must remember that. A 
 rattling good — did you say spin ? I thought 
 to spin was to use that funny little old wheel 
 which stands in the hall. People used to 
 make wool for stockings on it, I know — at 
 least somebody told me so.' 
 
 ' I don't know much about stockings 
 except that they have a nasty habit of coming 
 in holes after twelve hours' wear,' said Quentin 
 frankly. ' It is almost better to go barefoot 
 — Highland fashion. 
 
 'Highland, that is in Scotland is it not? 
 We were to have gone there this autumn, 
 but ' 
 
 * It did not come off.' 
 ' What come off? ' 
 
 ' The tour. Your plans suffered a material
 
 158 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 alteration, thereby causing you to remain 
 in England. I have put that neatly anyway,' 
 added Lee. 
 
 ' But these Highland men. They wear 
 stockings ? ' 
 
 ' Highlanders we say.' 
 
 'Well Highlanders then.' 
 
 ' No they don't wear stockings.' 
 
 ' How do they dress ? ' 
 
 'Oh in a sort of short toga — Roman 
 fashion,' said Lee, with a twinkle in his 
 eye. ' They wear a petticoat and a three- 
 cornered cap, and carry a sort of kangaroo 
 pouch to hold their dagger and their bawbees.' 
 
 ' I don't believe you,' returned Leonie 
 crushingly ; and Lee shouted until the woods 
 rang again. 
 
 ' But it is true for all that,' he said when 
 he had recovered himself. ' Is not the vicar 
 coming in this afternoon ? Suppose you ask 
 him if the Highlanders don't wear just what 
 I have said. I bet you a pony, if you like, he 
 says yes.'
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 159 
 
 * But I shall not be allowed to keep the 
 pony if I win it,' she said disconsolately. 
 * Lady Paget does not approve of my riding.' 
 
 ' Oh you literal young person,' groaned 
 Quentin. * I don't mean a four-legged quad- 
 ruped. Look here, mademoiselle, otherwise 
 madame, otherwise Mrs. Connisterre, I cer- 
 tainly will draw up a dictionary of selected 
 terms in alphabetical order, so that when 
 you are not quite sure of a term you may 
 consult it.' 
 
 ' But I do not hear others speak as you 
 do,' she objected. 
 
 ' They are not so well educated perhaps.' 
 
 Quentin Lee's eyes were brimming over 
 with fun. He was young enough and mis- 
 chievous enough to enjoy training this little 
 brown-eyed witch in the way she should not 
 go. He had heard a great deal about her 
 from Connisterre who, at the time Leonie 
 came under Lady Paget's guardianship, was 
 unaware that lady possessed the somewhat 
 doubtful privilege of owning Mr. Quentin Lee
 
 i6o POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 as a nephew. It was with no little surprise 
 that Geoffrey learned, from an accidental re- 
 mark after Lee took up residence with him, 
 of this connection with Lady Paget. At 
 present Quentin was spending a few days 
 with Lady Paget in her Derbyshire home, 
 and consequently saw a great deal of Leonie 
 in what she was wont to term her off-duty 
 time. He was wonderfully bright and genial, 
 full of good nature and high spirits, which at 
 times ran away with him altogether, and his 
 coming had been like a ray of sunshine across 
 the girl's quiet life. He was a link, too, be- 
 tween herself and Connisterre. She had seen 
 nothing of the latter since they parted nearly 
 five months ago in Genoa, but she enter- 
 tained for him a romantic devotion and grati- 
 tude which Geoffrey had very wisely decided 
 to check in the bud. He had lost a good deal 
 already through this act of quixotic chivalry, 
 and he was by no means minded to add to 
 his perplexities by assuming the sole control 
 of Leonie's future. It was better, he argued
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR i6i 
 
 to himself, when the softer side of his nature 
 cried out against leaving her so entirely 
 amongst strangers to a life whose conventional 
 decorum must war against every instinct of 
 her Bohemian nature — better that she should 
 learn to accept her position at once and 
 depend upon herself, than assume that he 
 would be always at her beck and call and a 
 constant referee in the little trials of temper, 
 despair, and loneliness which must inevitably 
 ensue. There had been, however, something 
 in Leonie's big brown eyes when he left her 
 at Genoa with Lady Paget, which haunted him 
 unpleasantly, something of the mute anguish 
 and entreaty which had looked out at him from 
 the liquid orbs of a favourite old dog whom he 
 had reluctantly ordered to be destroyed some 
 years before. He remembered how the bright 
 light faded from Saladin's eyes, drowned in 
 a mist of actual tears, remembered the dash 
 forward as he had left the room, the howl of 
 entreaty which had never before been left 
 unanswered, and insensibly the little affair 
 
 VOL. I II
 
 1 62 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 connected itself with Leonie. In justice to 
 her and to himself, he had left her to fight 
 the battle alone, acting no doubt wisely 
 by so doing, but Leonie, who knew nothing 
 of his motives, thought him just a little 
 unkind. 
 
 When she spoke again after Lee's frivolous 
 remarks concerning Highlanders, it was with 
 a change of subject and some resentment in 
 her tone. 
 
 ' I wonder will Mr. Connisterre ever come 
 to see me here.' 
 
 ' Some day, perhaps. When he is taking 
 his Christmas holidays he might drop down 
 for a day or two just to see that you are 
 keeping out of mischief.' 
 
 ' Did he say so ? ' 
 
 ' I never heard him, but he might. Look 
 here, I'll have you a race to the gate which 
 leads into the garden. Now, start fair.' 
 
 ' But you ought to give me half a dozen 
 yards.' 
 
 ' Not a bit of it when I have a gun to
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 163 
 
 carry — well, perhaps, three yards ; now, one, 
 two, three — off.' 
 
 Suiting action to the word, away went the 
 fleet young figures through the gathering 
 shadows, scampering with easy celerity over 
 the thick undergrowth of brush and bramble, 
 or tripping ever so slightly on the interlaced 
 leaves of the golden bracken. Undignified 
 perhaps } Well yes, I daresay, but who can 
 deny the pleasure of a race through some 
 forest on a bright sharp autumn evening, a 
 race which brings the blood surging warmly 
 through one's veins, a race with the fresh cold 
 air cutting like an icy breath across one's face, 
 and the yellow leaves whirling by hundreds 
 overhead ? Leonie's cheeks were glowing 
 like two June roses when, a loser by a couple 
 of lengths, she came at last to a full stop in 
 view of a gate which led into the manor 
 garden, and leaned laughing and out of breath 
 against the gnarled trunk of an old oak which 
 reared its lofty head skyward like a very 
 Titan amongst its fellows.
 
 i64 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' You are too quick for me,' she panted, 
 stooping to recover a truant hair-pin which 
 had fallen amongst the russet leaves at her 
 feet. * I cannot run so fast.' 
 
 ' You mended your pace towards the last 
 though. A sort of final spurt, but you have 
 not learned how to get your second wind or 
 keep your elbows in. Still it is fair running 
 for a girl even if you are a bit pumped. 
 Shall we have another back again.' 
 
 ' No thank you,' she laughed. ' We shall 
 be seen by some one. You do tempt me to 
 go wrong, Mr. Lee.' 
 
 ' I am very sorry.' Ouentin leaned his 
 arms upon the low gate. They were within a 
 stone's throw of the house now but it was 
 impossible to proceed until Leonie had re- 
 gained her breath. It was quiet as death out 
 there under the giant trees, with no sight 
 or sound of life about them now that the 
 birds and scampering rabbits had gone to 
 sleep. The house, long, low, and old-fashioned, 
 had modern French windows opening out into
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 165 
 
 the terraced garden ; these were an innovation 
 of Lady Paget's — one of the few, very few 
 instances during her married Hfe in which her 
 wishes had been yielded to, and were in conse- 
 quence a source of perpetual irritation to Sir 
 John. A perfect wealth of Virginia creeper 
 covered the front of the house from roof to 
 basement, crimson now as a robin's breast. 
 An open porch, reached by three shallow 
 steps, and supported by slender pillars, formed 
 the main entrance, and from this, depending 
 like a scarlet curtain of leaves, the creeper 
 afforded a partial shelter from the breeze. 
 The tennis ground, a little short of full size 
 and rarely used, ran along one end of the 
 house, and a small conservatory jutting out 
 from the drawing-room faced it across the 
 bed of turf which separated them. There 
 was an air of rigid propriety and peace about 
 the whole aspect of Manor House, or the 
 Hall as it had been formerly called. Nothing 
 wild nor picturesque nor romantic in its 
 surroundings save where, right away in the
 
 1 66 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 distance, the wild Derbyshire hills, with all 
 their stores of legendary lore, flanked one 
 another in successive heights of blue and 
 purple. From where these two truants were 
 standing, they could see into the drawing- 
 room, a recently-lighted lamp revealing the 
 inmates with bright distinctness. Its glow 
 threw into bold relief the figure of a man in 
 clerical attire, whose strongly marked features 
 were noticeable even at this distance. There 
 were two other people in the room, an elderly 
 lady in a white cap and shawl knitting by the 
 fire, and a younger one, sharper featured, 
 trim, grave, and observant. This was Monica 
 Paget and Leonie's b^te noire. It was hardly 
 to be wondered at that the conventional 
 propriety of the one should war against the 
 Bohemian lawlessness of the other, and many 
 were the skirmishes, open and concealed, 
 between these two very dissimilar people. 
 
 'Now is your chance to ask about the 
 Highland petticoat,' said Lee, holding open 
 the gate for Leonie to pass through. ' The
 
 A HEEDLESS PAIR 167 
 
 reverend gentleman ought surely to know. 
 He is of Scotch extraction, and I daresay 
 wears a kilt when on his native heath. Ah, 
 the curtain falls ; interval of ten minutes 
 between this and the next act.' 
 
 Taking advantage of the housemaid having 
 come forward to draw the blinds, Leonie fled 
 away across the grass with the speed of a 
 lapwing, and disappeared within the creeper- 
 covered porch, leaving Quentin Lee to follow 
 more slowly.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GOOD NEWS 
 
 Be well aware, quoth then that lady mild, 
 Lest sudden mischief ye too rash provoke. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 Five minutes later Leonie entered the draw- 
 ing-room, a deep tinge in her usually pale 
 cheeks testifying to the recent ramble. Lady 
 Paget greeted her with a pleasant smile, 
 Monica with the shadow of a frown. 
 
 ' I wish you would choose some other time 
 in the day for your walk than this,' she said 
 in a low tone as the girl, having shaken 
 hands with the rector, came towards the little 
 tea table where Monica was sitting. ' You 
 know that I wish you to be always in at five 
 to relieve me from attending to the tea.' 
 
 L6onie bit her lip. The colour had
 
 GOOD NEWS 169 
 
 warmed to a deep crimson on her cheeks, 
 more at Miss Paget's tone than the actual 
 words. Of course she should have been 
 in. None knew that better than Leonie 
 herself. 
 
 ' I did not know it was so late,' she 
 replied. Quentin, who had overheard his 
 cousin's remark, wisely repressed a retort. 
 
 ' You have a watch ? ' 
 
 ^Yes.' 
 
 * Then for the future see that it corre- 
 sponds with the drawing-room clock.' 
 
 This time Leonie did not speak. She 
 knew she was in the wrong, and for a 
 wonder kept her temper. Certain duties 
 fell to her share which were not sufficiently 
 onerous or extensive to excuse her omitting 
 any of them, but Miss Paget's manner of 
 recalling one to a sense of shortcoming was 
 distinctly unpleasant, and almost always 
 roused what was worst in Leonie's nature. 
 Lady Paget, placid, meek, and weak-willed, 
 was content to allow most of the household
 
 I70 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 management to slip into her daughter's hands, 
 but occasionally she would interfere upon 
 Leonie's behalf, giving her unexpected little 
 pleasures, or shielding her from Monica's re- 
 proof The girl filled an anomalous position 
 which it was not easy to define, combining a 
 sort of dual companionship to mother and 
 daughter, the latter of whom was a staunch 
 church worker, and head of nobody could 
 count how many committees, unions, classes, 
 and guilds. Leonie used to wonder a little 
 wearily sometimes why Miss Paget could not 
 distribute more charity at home and less 
 abroad. She disliked Monica almost as 
 much as she disliked Sir John himself, 
 who bullied his household impartially, from 
 his wife down to the smallest hireling upon 
 the premises. 
 
 ' You were not at our conve7^sazione last 
 night,' said the rector, turning round and 
 affably addressing Leonie, who had seated 
 herself by Lady Paget, and was picking 
 up some dropped stitches in the old
 
 GOOD NEV/S 171 
 
 lady's knitting. ' I understood you were 
 coming.' 
 
 ' I asked if I might be excused,' replied 
 the girl frankly, raising her eyes to Mr. 
 Taylor's clever face. * I did not enjoy the 
 last. It was so very dull that I felt triste 
 for a week after.' 
 
 The rector looked nonplussed. These 
 conversaziones were a pet project of 
 his own. Monica's face grew a shade 
 colder. 
 
 * But there were a great many people 
 there,' he demurred after a short pause. 
 ' They appeared to enjoy it.' 
 
 Leonie shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 ' I did not,' she said, her little gipsy face 
 full of mischief.' We went in like — like a 
 flock of sheep, spoke to — no, I did not speak 
 to any one, I think. I sat on a chair near 
 some palms which kept tickling my neck 
 most unpleasantly, and then sometimes we 
 went to the tables to look at pictures and old 
 books. I did not like them, but they were
 
 172 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 valuable. They had some — do you call it 
 cut woods in ? ' 
 
 ' No, woodcuts.' 
 
 ' Ah, well it is all the same. Then there 
 was some music and two little sono^s. I did 
 not mind the songs, only they were not so 
 lively as those you sing, Mr. Lee. I mean 
 that one about a bicycle ' 
 
 ' A bicycle built for two } ' said Lee 
 gravely. 
 
 'Yes, and what is the other. Down by 
 
 the old Suan something river. I don't 
 
 quite remember. Then there was a recita- 
 tion in very bad French, and some more 
 looking at books, after which we came away. 
 I did not like to go to another, Mr. Taylor.' 
 
 The rector's impassive face relaxed into a 
 smile. 
 
 'You are candid, at all events,' he said, 
 putting down his cup. 
 
 * Don't you think, Leonie, that it is rather 
 bad taste to satirise the efforts of others who 
 are exerting themselves to give pleasure }
 
 GOOD NEWS 173 
 
 If you are too clever to enjoy it, at least say 
 nothing in depreciation,' remarked Miss Paget 
 frigidly. 
 
 ' But I meant not to be rude,' returned 
 Leonie plaintively.' Mr. Taylor asked why 
 I did not go, so I told him. Why should 
 one permit one's self to be bored '^. ' 
 
 *Ah why indeed,' said Quentin, slowly 
 stirring his tea. ' There is only this, made- 
 moiselle, if some of us did not permit our- 
 selves to be bored society would be in a 
 state of incandescent war. Two-thirds of the 
 people with whom one meets have no other 
 object in life than to bore the remaining 
 third, and the question arises whether pas- 
 sive boredom or active defiance is the most 
 wearying to the system. It is a monotonous 
 place the world.' 
 
 ' Youth and pessimism do not go well 
 together, Mr. Lee,' said the rector rather 
 stiffly. * It has become fashionable to rail 
 at society and the hollowness of the world, 
 but we do expect the privilege, if indeed it is
 
 174 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 one, to be assumed only by those who have 
 lived long enough to prove that human 
 nature is often disappointing. If you are a 
 pessimist at twenty, you will be an atheist at 
 thirty, which God forbid.' 
 
 ' I am neither one nor the other at present,' 
 retorted Lee equably. ' There are worse 
 evils than being bored, but I may never reach 
 them. Indeed for anything I know or care, 
 Bellamy's Utopia may yet come to pass, and 
 give us all a three years' or more menial train- 
 ing. I daresay it would be a good thing.' 
 
 'You refer to his Looking Backward? 
 That is a far-fetched idea, but the working- 
 classes, socialistic and otherwise, seem to 
 have a craze for it. Mr. Oliver Meredith 
 and I were discussing the pernicious effect of 
 such a book yesterday.' 
 
 ' Meredith ? Let me see, do I know him ? ' 
 
 'You know his brother-in-law, Mr Carter,' 
 said Monica, picking up her work. 
 
 ' Is that insufferable puppy his brother-in- 
 law ? Well, I wish him joy. If there is one
 
 GOOD NEWS 175 
 
 man I cannot stand it is that Carter,' returned 
 Lee. 
 
 * Simply on the ground that his father was 
 a retail tradesman I suppose,' said the rector, 
 who for some reason or other seemed in- 
 clined to have his knife into Quentin Lee this 
 afternoon. 
 
 *I hope I am not quite such a snob,' re- 
 turned the other warmly. ' I don't care a cent 
 what a person does to earn his own living, 
 provided he puts his best energies into it, and 
 takes a pride in his work. I have the very 
 greatest respect for any one who has the 
 capability to rise from the ranks by his own 
 hard labour. For what does it signify whether 
 you are a doctor or a sweep, so long as you 
 work to the best of your ability ? It is when 
 I see a man like that Carter giving himself 
 the airs of a grand duke, behaving as if he 
 had been born in the purple, looking down 
 with lofty contempt upon men who are in 
 trade, while every one knows that his own 
 father made money in business, and that he
 
 176 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 himself not so long ago was at the beck and 
 call of a customer, that I have a contempt for 
 him. I wonder he isn't ashamed of his paltry- 
 pride. Does he suppose other people go 
 about with their eyes closed, that he hides 
 his head like an ostrich in the sand ; besides, 
 he puts a premium on ill-natured remarks. 
 Nobody, unless he were an arrant snob, 
 would cast it up against Carter as something 
 of which to be ashamed, that his father made 
 money by keeping a shop ; but when as I 
 say, he gives himself the airs of a grand 
 duke, then the world, quite as well informed 
 as himself, is always ready to pull him down 
 from such a contemptible pedestal.' 
 
 ' I admit all you say, but the man is rather 
 to be pitied that he cannot get over his false 
 pride,' said the rector.' 
 
 ' Pity ? I don't pity him or any other 
 such insufferable puppy. He comes of a 
 trading family, and why can't he admit it .'^ 
 Every one respected and admired the old 
 man.'
 
 GOOD NEWS 177 
 
 ' You are not in trade, Mr. Lee ? ' 
 
 * No I am not.' 
 
 ' Nor was your father ? ' 
 
 ' No, nor my grandfather, nor even further 
 still, but there is no particular merit in the 
 fact. It is simply an accident of birth, and I 
 don't assume airs in consequence. I like to 
 choose my friends for what they are, and not 
 for what they do. I am sure I have known 
 quite as great cads amongst professional men 
 as business men.' 
 
 * You are a sad radical, Quentin,' said 
 Lady Paget shaking her head. 
 
 ' On the contrary, I have no political 
 views,' he returned laughing. ' If my senti- 
 ments are radical, well, they must be so, they 
 are at least natural.' 
 
 The arrival of the afternoon post effected 
 a diversion. With a word of apology. Lady 
 Paget opened a letter bearing the London 
 post-mark, and gave a little pleasurable 
 exclamation. 
 
 Monica looked up. 
 
 VOL. I J 2
 
 178 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' It is from Geoffrey Connisterre,' said her 
 mother, passing the letter across. ' If he can 
 arrange, he is coming here to-morrow for one 
 night on his way north.' 
 
 ' Oh ! ' exclaimed Leonie, jumping up 
 with the impetuous delight of a child, while 
 the book on her knee fell with a noisy 
 clatter to the floor. ' You mean he is 
 coming here, here ! How delightful, madame. 
 You will ask him to stay a very long time, 
 will you not ? Oh, I shall be so glad to 
 see him.' 
 
 Had a thunderbolt fallen into the centre 
 of Lady Paget's drawing-room, it could hardly 
 have produced more consternation than did 
 Leonie's outburst of unconventional delight 
 as she looked from one to another of the little 
 party for sympathy in her joy. 
 
 ' Now you have put your foot into it,' mur- 
 mured Quentin to himself, as he stooped for 
 the fallen book. 
 
 ' Really, Leonie,' began Miss Paget in a 
 voice portentous of the coming storm, while
 
 GOOD NEWS 179 
 
 Lady Paget, with a stiffness unusual to her, 
 remarked — 
 
 ' It is not customary in England to speak 
 so extravagantly about the visit of a friend. 
 I am glad to see that you are not unmindful 
 of Mr. Connisterre's kindness, but it would 
 be as well to remember that he is after all 
 only a chance acquaintance, and will neither 
 expect nor like such demonstrative gratitude.' 
 
 The rebuke was delivered in so low a tone 
 as to be inaudible to other than Leonie, but 
 Mr. Taylor, who guessed at the girl's embar- 
 rassment, created a diversion in her favour by 
 an abrupt change of subject, and the little 
 passage of arms came to a temporary stop.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 
 
 My fate doth grow 
 So luckless now 
 That — do you know 
 Beyond all telling 
 My life I hate ; 
 Thus desperate, 
 In woeful state 
 
 I still am dwelling. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 L^ONiE awakened the following morning with 
 a thrill of pleasurable expectation warming 
 every fibre of her being. The lecture upon 
 the impropriety of her conduct the preceding 
 evening had fallen very lightly upon her con- 
 science. Miss Paget could not take away 
 the pleasure which Geoffrey Connisterre's 
 visit would bring, could not prevent her 
 seeing him ; besides, who knew, he might
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE i8i 
 
 have news of Gerard, and life with Gerard, 
 providing it were spent in the sunny lands of 
 France or Italy, would be preferable to this 
 monotonous existence, even if she had to 
 sacrifice her pride to obtain it. And yet it 
 was very beautiful here in England some- 
 times, thought Leonie, when she flung open 
 her bedroom window and leaned out to inhale 
 the fresh sweet morning air. It was an un- 
 usually bright October day, fair and sunshiny, 
 with just a touch of frost beautifying the 
 country side. The short grass below her 
 window shone and sparkled like a thousand 
 diamonds in the early sun ; every little twig 
 and every russet leaf had its powdery coat of 
 white also. Dame Frost was laying an early 
 touch upon the autumn foliage. Away in the 
 distance a blue haze lay lovingly over the 
 giant hills and peaceful low-lying valleys, a 
 haze through which the bright rays of the 
 sun cut sharply like a scythe, piling it up in 
 prodigal heaps on the mountain sides and 
 rambling country lanes. By and by a sharp
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 wind might creep up to complete the work, 
 and, scattering the misty curtains, would re- 
 veal the world in all its clear gay beauty. 
 Leonie leaned out a little further. From her 
 point of vantage she could see a silver streak 
 winding its way through a distant meadow 
 towards the copse where she and Quentin 
 Lee had been the preceding evening. This 
 was a tiny arm of the Trent, and for long 
 after Leonie's arrival at Forest Deane had 
 provided her with amusement watching the 
 spreckled trout diving to and fro amongst 
 the stones, their movements distinctly visible 
 in the clear water. The birds were calling 
 to one another from tree to tree, grumbling 
 perhaps at this early approach of winter, 
 while Madoc, the curly-haired spaniel, was 
 lying upon the grass, burrowing excitedly for 
 some hidden treasure. He looked up at 
 Leonie's call, wagged a shaggy tail in re- 
 sponse, then set to work once more upon 
 his researches. Time just then was 
 •precious to Madoc, and retribution in the
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 183 
 
 shape of a gardener might wait upon his 
 steps. 
 
 ' Madoc, Madoc, mon cher, que cherchez- 
 vous ? ' cried the girl, flinging her straw hat 
 down upon his back, which gHnted Hke satin 
 in the sunshine. ' Vous etes un mechant 
 chien. Voyez, ce que vous avez fait dans 
 
 le ' But at this moment Miss Paget, 
 
 armed with a huge pair of scissors and a 
 watering can, made her appearance from the 
 conservatory. Leonie, guessing that a con- 
 versation carried on between herself and 
 Madoc at the distance which separated them 
 would be unpleasing to Miss Paget, drew in 
 her head with some rapidity, but the retreat 
 was too late. A reprimand followed later on. 
 
 ' Leonie, I wish you would cease this un- 
 ladylike habit of flinging open your window 
 and calling to the dog,' Miss Paget said as 
 they sat down to the breakfast table. ' And 
 also will you kindly remember to speak 
 English. You are as yet so very far from 
 perfect in the language that I think it shows
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 a great lack of perseverance to refrain from 
 speaking it at every possible opportunity.' 
 This was rather unjust to Leonie, who both 
 spoke and read English with unusual ease 
 for a girl who had spent all her life on the 
 Continent. 
 
 ' But, indeed, I can speak English very 
 well,' she said, helping herself to marmalade. 
 ' There is nothing I have to learn except 
 some slang.' 
 
 Quentin gave her a warning look, but she 
 proceeded undeterred. 
 
 ' Mr. Lee says that slang is so much more 
 forcible than elegant English. Do you know 
 all the slang, Miss Paget } ' 
 
 ' I am happy to say that I do not know 
 any,' returned Monica stiffly. 
 
 ' Oh, come now, Monica, that is not 
 true,' put in Quentin, who stood in no awe 
 of his cousin, and rather delighted in tramp- 
 ling upon her pet prejudices. ' You were not 
 always cut and dried into flannel petticoats 
 and district work. If you would only get rid
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 185 
 
 of this rabid curatical mania, — curatical, there 
 is a good term for you, Mademoiselle Leonie, 
 — you would be as much a brick of a girl as 
 you were formerly.' 
 
 It was impossible to suppress Ouentin ; 
 Monica dropped the subject. 
 
 ' What time is Connisterre expected to 
 arrive,' asked the young scapegrace after a 
 short pause. His eyes were twinkling with 
 amusement at having, as he would express it, 
 scored off his cousin. ' I might take the dog- 
 cart down to meet him if you are engaged, 
 Monica } ' 
 
 Leonie opened her lips as if about to 
 speak, finally thought better of it, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 ' I think the train is 5.15. Yes, you may 
 have the dogcart, Ouentin. I am going out 
 this afternoon, but I expect to be home before 
 six, and probably Mr. Connisterre will excuse 
 my not being here to meet him.' 
 
 There was mute entreaty in Leonie's big 
 brown eyes as she looked across the table at
 
 i86 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Ouentin Lee, a request which she did not 
 dare to put into words ; but whatever hopes 
 had risen to her heart by reason of Miss 
 Paget's absence from home during the after- 
 noon, were dashed a moment later to the 
 ground. 
 
 ' Leonie you must arrange the flowers and 
 finish what work you have in hand early this 
 morning,' proceeded Miss Paget tranquilly. 
 ' I wish you to help me with the cutting out 
 at the sewing class this afternoon, and later 
 on go to the rectory for an hour or two. I 
 promised Mrs. Taylor you should assist her 
 with those children's pinafores for the Christ- 
 mas treat, and she suggested this evening as 
 being the most convenient to her. You can go 
 straight on from the schoolroom, and I will 
 send Dobson for you about nine or half-past.' 
 
 For one brief moment Leonie meditated 
 open defiance, meditated perhaps hurling her 
 plate to the ground like some spoilt child denied 
 what it ardently covets. But rebellion was 
 useless. There could be no appeal against
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 187 
 
 Miss Paget's commands. Leonie remained 
 silent, but there was a flash of the bright 
 eyes, a mutinous quiver of the red Hps 
 which spoke something of the torrent of 
 anger within. She knew from woeful ex- 
 perience what was meant by this long even- 
 ing spent at the rectory ; an interminable 
 stitch, stitch, stitch at those abominable print 
 pinafores, a patient listening to the insipid 
 conversation of the rector's wife, a vain 
 effort to concentrate her attention and interest 
 upon the details of chicken pox, whooping 
 cough, and the like, just then devastating the 
 parish. And then to think what she would 
 be losing through this enforced evening at 
 the rectory — Mr. Connisterre's society, the 
 bright change which his advent would bring, 
 the pleasure of seeing him again. His visit, 
 too, would be so short. Oh, it was hard, very 
 hard. No wonder Leonie's face grew like a 
 thunder cloud, but it was out of her power to 
 object. Did these people not pay her thirty 
 pounds a year to minister to their wants ?
 
 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 Human nature which does not require a qtnd 
 pro quo is hardly human nature at all. Miss 
 Paget exacted hers to the uttermost farthing ; 
 and the fact of Leonie not wishing to sew 
 pinafores that evening did not weigh with 
 her in the least. Why should it ? Leonie 
 was not engaged to entertain Mr. Connisterre 
 or any other of the Manor House guests. 
 Perhaps the girl might consider herself in 
 some measure as interested in this particular 
 one, but now that she had virtually left his 
 protection for another far more suitable, it 
 was in the interests of propriety better that 
 they should be kept apart. 
 
 ' Am I to remain, then, the whole evening 
 at the rectory .^ ' asked Leonie, lifting her eyes 
 for one moment to Miss Paget's. 
 
 ' It is of little use going for a shorter time. 
 Dobson shall come for you.' 
 
 ' I think I can bring myself home in safety 
 without the aid of Dobson,' said the girl 
 rather disdainfully. 'It is only a hundred 
 yards away.'
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 189 
 
 ' It is exactly one mile, and you will wait 
 there until Dobson comes. I do not choose 
 to allow either you or any other young girl 
 to wander alone about the lanes at night.' 
 Miss Paget was apt to overlook the fact that 
 Leonie, child though she might be, was a 
 married woman, and as such might have 
 been entitled to a little more liberty. Indeed, 
 it may be questioned whether anybody in 
 the Manor House ever remembered the fact 
 at all. 
 
 Vanquished, but by no means resigned, 
 Leonie dropped the subject. Quentin Lise, 
 not deceived by this apparent acquiescence, 
 watched her in some amusement and with a 
 great deal of sympathy also. He was sorry 
 for her, but to interfere on her behalf was 
 futile and would only make matters worse. 
 Leonie looked after him enviously when 
 later on he picked up the Times and retired 
 to the low window seat to read in comfort. 
 Once it had been her happy lot to possess 
 such freedom ; to take the Fie;aro and skim
 
 iQo POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 its contents in lazy comfort. Now it was all 
 so different. In place of the idle lounge, the 
 canaries were to feed, the poodle to exercise, 
 the flowers to trim, the parish pinafores to 
 sew. Trifles no doubt in themselves, but oh, 
 what a hideous knack have women's trifles of 
 piling themselves into one large ball under 
 which the feminine Sisyphus must stagger up 
 the hill. 
 
 ' It is very nice to be you with nothing 
 to do but amuse yourself,' she said resent- 
 fully to Quentin, when the course of her 
 morning's occupations brought him under 
 her notice. 
 
 'It is, indeed, most sapient counsellor,' he 
 rejoined, puffing lazily at a cigarette while he 
 watched her rearranging a bowl of flowers 
 amongst a mass of Virginia creeper which 
 she had culled for a background to the yellow 
 blossoms. ' There are two luxuries in this 
 life, saith a philosopher. The luxury of work- 
 ing, and the luxury of watching others work. 
 I myself prefer the passive to the active
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 191 
 
 form. There is in it a sense of reflected labour 
 which is infinitely more restful than the 
 actual fact. Life, as our esteemed friend, 
 — was his name Mantanelli ? — remarked, 
 " is one long demnition grind." ' 
 
 * What is a demnition grind ? ' asked 
 Leonie, glancing up from her work. 
 
 'It is not a pretty expression for a 
 young lady. I do not think the reverend 
 Augustus would approve of your choice of 
 language.' 
 
 ' It was not mine — you used it.' 
 
 * So I did, so I did, little wiseacre.' Lee 
 got up with an effort, and propped his broad 
 shoulders against the window. 
 
 'I am growing disgracefully stout,' he 
 said, regarding his stalwart limbs pensively. 
 ' Twelve stone if an ounce. I must train, or 
 the football season will knock me out of 
 time.' 
 
 * Train } oh, that means to grow thinner, 
 so that you can walk about ? The curate, Mr. 
 Sylvester, said to me a day or two ago that
 
 192 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 he must go into training. I could not think 
 at first what he meant.' 
 
 ' He train,' said Lee scornfully. ' His idea 
 of training stops at a cold bath and keeping 
 his bedroom window open half an inch at 
 night. Bless me, he couldn't stand a genuine 
 train, that baby. He would be as thin as a 
 sixpence and as limp as a jelly-fish in a 
 week. Look here, mademoiselle, are you 
 going to play truant this afternoon, and 
 come with me to meet Connisterre ? Never 
 mind the flannel petticoats — upon my soul, the 
 old pauper women of England might wear 
 nothing but flannel petticoats, co'nsidering 
 the time which is devoted to making those 
 wonderful garments by curate-bitten damsels. 
 You steal away. It will be a lovely drive,' 
 but Leonie, who had still a conscience left, 
 put her hands over her ears and ran away to 
 exercise the poodle, who was full of years and 
 scant of breath. 
 
 ' Poor little beggar,' said Quentin com- 
 miseratingly. ' I thank my stars I'm not a
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 193 
 
 girl/ he added a moment after, thus putting 
 into words the voiceless paean of thanks- 
 giving which rises more or less fervently in the 
 hearts of all men. ' Grinding in an office for the 
 almighty dollar may have its disadvantages, 
 but it is a deuced sight more exciting than 
 walking out the poodle, or driving out in a 
 brougham with both the windows closed and 
 smothered in a fur rug.' 
 
 These reflections occurred to him again 
 later on in the day when he was driving 
 Connisterre through Forest Deane in the 
 dogcart. It was a sharp evening, sharp 
 almost to bitterness, for the wind had risen 
 and was singing a croony sort of melody 
 above them in the trees. Now and again a 
 passing shower of rain, wetting and unplea- 
 sant, came drip, drip on to the carpet of leaves 
 lining the county lane, reducing it to a sodden 
 pulpy mass very different from its former 
 crispness. To the two men wrapped up in 
 overcoats and sheltered by a rug, the in- 
 clemency of the afternoon was nothing. 
 
 VOL. I 13
 
 194 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Indeed, Connisterre, after his long warm 
 journey, rather revelled in the biting force of 
 the wind. 
 
 ' It is a lonely bit of country this,' he said, 
 puffing at a cigar as his eyes roamed over the 
 spreading fields and the dusky mountains 
 beyond. ' I like it well enough in the 
 summer, but, by Jove, in winter the wind 
 does sweep round here. Has that mare cast 
 a shoe, Lee.^ She stumbles.' 
 
 ' Not a bit of it — the old humbug. I 
 understand her little tricks. She is full of 
 idleness and oats, and raises as much fuss 
 over a hill the size of a walnut as an old maid 
 would over a stolen kiss. There now, I told 
 you it was all laziness,' as at a sharp cut of 
 the whip the indignant mare plunged forward 
 and fled along the road at a rapid pace, 'just 
 the wiles of her sex, but she doesn't take 
 me in.' 
 
 ' You seem to have formed an adverse 
 opinion of womenkind at an early age,' said 
 Connisterre, lighting another cigar. * Do
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 195 
 
 you base your conclusions on' — puff — 'the 
 
 fact that ' — puff — ' they possess so 
 
 Hang the thing! Give me a match, 
 Quentin. This fool of a cigar won't draw.' 
 
 ' I base it upon personal experience only. 
 You don't know a woman if you live a 
 hundred and fifty years with her,' returned 
 Lee, handing over his match-box, a very 
 chaste affair, with Q. L. engraved on one 
 side. ' Don't drop that, please ; it was a 
 present. How have you been getting along 
 without me all this time ? You missed the 
 fillip of rny society, I suppose, as you are 
 looking me up here.' 
 
 ' Not quite that. I wished to see the 
 Pagets and my small charge before I went 
 north for a fortnight's shooting.' 
 
 ' When are you coming back to London ? ' 
 
 ' Not until the middle or end of January. 
 I suppose you can get along without me,' 
 Geoffrey added, laying his hand on Lee's arm. 
 
 There was some meaning in his tone. 
 Quentin reddened.
 
 196 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' I should be a beast if I couldn't,' he said 
 energetically ; then in a lower tone : ' What 
 you have been to me, Connisterre ! what you 
 have saved me from ! ' 
 
 They were silent. It was only in brief 
 moments like this that Connisterre realised 
 how great an influence he had gained over 
 Quentin Lee. He was thankful, and yet it 
 humbled him. There were pages in his own 
 life which he scarcely dared to turn. Were 
 they quite fitting ones for a self-constituted 
 mentor to possess ? ' 
 
 ' You have seen a good deal of my protegee, 
 I suppose,' he went on after the short pause. 
 
 ' I see that she gets well bullied,' returned 
 Lee frankly. 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 'Just what I say. / call it bullying. 
 They don't, of course, starve or otherwise 
 maltreat her, but she is not the sort of girl to 
 run well in the harness you have put upon 
 her, my dear fellow. Little things which a 
 more phlegmatic temperament would never
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE ic)7 
 
 notice but simply absorb like a sponge, drive 
 her distracted. She cannot settle down into 
 the mindless, nerveless ideal sort of com- 
 panion necessary for this place.' 
 
 ' Suppose you explain what you mean,' said 
 Connisterre rather coldly, manlike resenting 
 the impeachment that his judgment had been 
 at fault. * If you or Leonie expect to find 
 any subordinate position — no matter what it 
 may be — all honey and sweetness, you will 
 very soon find out your mistake.' 
 
 ' Oh, she does not complain to me, but I 
 can see as far through a brick wall as m'ost 
 people. She is not happy, bless her little 
 soul, how could she be under these circum- 
 stances } You know what the coachman said 
 to his mistress : " It isn't 'opping over the 'igh 
 'edges as 'urts the 'orse's 'oofs, but it's the 
 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'igh road 
 as does it." So it is the 'ammer, 'ammer, 
 'ammer on the 'ard 'igh road of daily routine 
 which wears out Mademoiselle Leonie's 
 patience at present'
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Connisterre laughed, but he still looked 
 rather annoyed. 
 
 ' They keep nagging at her, or rather 
 Monica does all day. I wonder what some 
 people's Christianity is worth ! The poor 
 child was wild with delight at the thought of 
 you coming to-day, and if she did express 
 herself a little more fervently than is con- 
 sidered good taste by the cut-and-dried laws 
 of conventional society, what did it signify ? 
 However, Monica has carried her off an 
 unwilling victim to the Juggernaut car of 
 parish work and such like rubbish. You will 
 not see her to-night.' 
 
 ' I shall see her in the morning, then,' said 
 Connisterre outwardly unmoved, but inwardly 
 indignant at the story. ' A little wholesome 
 discipline will be good for her. She is an 
 emotional, highly- strung sort of child, and 
 probably exaggerates her troubles. I must 
 talk it over and see if they cannot be made 
 easier, but one feels afraid to advise.' 
 
 ' For my part, I think it is easier to advise
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 199 
 
 than act,' said Lee, whipping up the mare 
 again. ' Any one can say what otcght to be 
 done, the difficulty lies in the doing. Here 
 we are.' 
 
 Connisterre's welcome was a warm one. 
 Apart from her wish to bring about a match 
 between himself and Monica, Lady Paget 
 had a genuine liking for the artist. It was 
 solely in order to please him that she had 
 consented to receive Leonie into her house, 
 setting aside some natural misgivings as to 
 the result, but the experiment had not 
 worked so badly as might have been feai*isd. 
 There was friction between the girl and 
 Monica, friction which often ended un- 
 pleasantly, but Lady Paget never troubled 
 over trifles. She found Leonie attentive, 
 good natured, and amusing, and what was 
 more important still. Sir John, who usually 
 growled at any new member of the house- 
 hold, had chosen through some freak or 
 other to tolerate her presence with equanimity. 
 Leonie stood in no awe of the baronet. She
 
 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 even dared contradict him openly and stand 
 up for herself when attacked, so that, taking 
 all things into consideration, Lady Paget 
 had not, so far, regretted her act of good 
 nature. 
 
 * I hope you have found my little protegee 
 useful,' Connisterre remarked, after dinner, 
 when he had skilfully brought the conversa- 
 tion round to Leonie. * I thought that after 
 her strangeness had worn off she would 
 prove rather a pleasant addition to your 
 family.' 
 
 'So she has,' said Lady Paget placidly; 
 ' she is very bright and cheerful. A little 
 wilful, perhaps, but time will alter that.' 
 
 * If we required any one with much ability 
 or talent, I think we should have to look 
 elsewhere for her,' remarked Miss Paget, 
 cutting an end of silk from her work with 
 a decided snap. ' Leonie is really — we call 
 her Leonie, it seemed so absurd to address 
 her as Mrs. Connisterre, your own name too 
 — Leonie is lamentably ignorant.'
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 201 
 
 'Is she?' Connisterre pulled his mous- 
 tache, and looked across at Monica. 
 
 ' Most ignorant, and has no desire to 
 improve herself. I suggested her taking a 
 course of painting lessons, but she refused 
 quite brusquely, saying that any attempts of 
 hers would be an insult to nature ; she could 
 not sketch a Cochin China hen correctly. 
 This is a sample of the odd remarks she 
 utters sometimes. She makes me quite 
 nervous when strangers are visiting us. 
 Quite recently, when the dear bishop was 
 over for a confirmation service, and dined 
 here, she asked him the most idiotic and 
 leading questions with reference to ballet 
 girls and stage life. I was quite embar- 
 rassed, and naturally it makes people wonder 
 who or what she is.' 
 
 * He professed ignorance, of course,' said 
 Connisterre, rather amused by Leonie's 
 vagaries ; while Quentin Lee laughed out- 
 right.' 
 
 Miss Paget frowned.
 
 202 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 ' Then you do not think that she is quite 
 suitable for a companion ? ' went on Geoffrey, 
 looking rather perturbed. 
 
 ' She may improve, and in the meantime 
 her duties here are so light that it does not 
 require much capability to perform them. It 
 is better she should be in safe surroundings, 
 rather than exposed to the temptations of a 
 town ; and if this calls for some measure of 
 self-sacrifice upon our part, we ought not to 
 grudge it.' 
 
 Connisterre began to wonder whether 
 Leonie were not, after all, much to be pitied ; 
 whether a quiet home, plenty of food, ortho- 
 dox surroundings, were calculated to satisfy 
 all the wants of this vagrant little soul. 
 
 ' I am sure I am very much obliged to 
 you,' he began lamely. ' I feel in a measure 
 responsible for her welfare and happiness, 
 you see.' 
 
 * You are an unsuitable person to take the 
 responsibility of such a charge,' growled Sir 
 John, whom an incipient attack of gout had
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 203 
 
 rendered more quarrelsome than usual. ' In 
 my young days it was the grandmothers and 
 aunts who were supposed to look after giddy 
 girls, not bachelors of eight-and-twenty. Now 
 then, idiot ! ' This to the footman, who was 
 in the room replenishing the fire, and in so 
 doing had the misfortune to upset the poker, 
 which fell down with a noisy clatter into the 
 hearth. ' It beats creation you cannot see to 
 a fire without all this infernal noise. If it 
 occurs again you may leave — you may leave ; 
 do you understand ? ' 
 
 Thomas, who was new to the house, 
 turned scarlet, and left the room with some 
 precipitation. Familiarity had not yet inured 
 him to the violence of Sir John's temper. 
 
 ' Lor, that's a trifle,' said the butler, when 
 Thomas inveighed against the injustice. 
 * He'd make nothin' of flingin' the poker at 
 your head if he was so inclined.' 
 
 * There goes a born fool, if ever there was 
 one in this world,' growled Sir John, as the 
 door closed upon the unfortunate menial.
 
 204 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Susan, if you cannot find more efficient ser- 
 vants you had better give up housekeeping.' 
 
 ' But, my dear, Thomas came to me with 
 most excellent testimonials,' said Lady Paget 
 meekly. 
 
 * Hang his testimonials. A pretty proof 
 of their worth he is.' 
 
 Lady Paget sighed, and went quietly 
 on with her knitting. She was accustomed 
 to little scenes of this character. If ever 
 there was any love in the baronet's heart 
 for his wife, it had long ago died a natural 
 death. He had married her, so he was 
 fond of saying, to provide an heir for the 
 estate. She, poor soul, having failed to do 
 her duty in this respect. Sir John probably 
 considered that his to her ended ; but as a 
 man of his calibre must have some special 
 vassal to bully, he kept fast hold upon his 
 white slave, nor permitted her to wander 
 beyond his jurisdiction. She was a woman, 
 therefore she could be made to feel ; she was 
 his wife, therefore she must submit. Quite
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 205 
 
 the old canons of civilised married life, but 
 lately there seems to have been an upheaval 
 in society. Women have dared to claim 
 some freedom and some equality, have dared 
 to assert that they may have rights and a 
 soul apart from their marital lords. It is an 
 impertinence, no doubt, an overstepping of 
 the good old boundary which man with his 
 larger intellect and all -seeing wisdom laid 
 down generations ago, but the outworks are 
 giving way, and the stream still runs on, 
 making a new and wider course for itself. 
 Poor Lady Paget rolling up her work pre- 
 paratory to playing backgammon later on, 
 was sadly behind the times. 
 
 ' Shall I play ? ' suggested Connisterre 
 good-naturedly. He loathed the game, but 
 he loathed also to see a woman bullied. 
 
 ' No, thank you ; Lady Paget will play, 
 returned the baronet hastily. He remem- 
 bered — oh, fatal lapse on Geoffrey's part — 
 that once, some months ago, the young man, 
 thinking only of the science of the game, and
 
 2o6 POSTE RE ST ANTE 
 
 blessed by a series of lucky throws, had 
 swept over the board and left him, Sir 
 John, a loser by — let us not say how much. 
 He would not risk a repetition. Lady Paget 
 was shrewd enough to usually let him win, 
 but sometimes, even in spite of her best 
 endeavours, success would persist in dogging 
 her steps, only to bring more pain than 
 pleasure. 
 
 Connisterre resumed his conversation 
 with Monica. He was trying to interest 
 himself in her Utopian schemes for a general 
 reclamation of the Forest Deane sinners. 
 He was a philanthropist, too, in his own small 
 way, but Monica's ideas were so vast and 
 far-reaching that, coupled with her majestic 
 superiority over human weakness, they rather 
 took his breath away. 
 
 'That is so, no doubt,' he agreed, after 
 listening to a fine peroration upon the laxity 
 of the working-classes with regard to church- 
 going ; ' but if we are to reform or regenerate 
 a man, we must first of all make him a
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 207 
 
 reasoning, self-respecting being, don't you 
 see ? ' 
 
 ' I see that they should be compelled to 
 attend divine service, or be punished, as was 
 formerly the case,' said Miss Paget. 
 
 ' I don't agree with you. The perpetual 
 fear of a rod will never serve to keep a man 
 straight, for there is just the chance it may 
 swerve aside, just the chance one may get 
 past in the nick of time. You cannot drive 
 a man to morality and Heaven if he does 
 not chose to go, and it has never been 
 proved yet that compulsory church-going did 
 do any one good. You may hammer the Bible 
 and the devil in side by side if you are not 
 careful. ' 
 
 ' Indeed,' said Monica coldly. ' That is a 
 sweeping statement, Mr. Connisterre.' 
 
 ' Not a bit of it. Until you have made 
 a man see that it is neither consistent with 
 self-respect nor decency, nor, to put it on 
 higher grounds, his reason as an intelligent 
 animal, to wander about the roads drinking,
 
 2o8 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 loafing, cock-fighting, and the worse when he 
 has responsibilities to perform and a standard 
 up to which he should live, you will never 
 make him swallow religion simply because it 
 is religion. You must bring him to see the 
 force and beauty of it first ; later on he will 
 take it as a food. It is no use putting a 
 man into a picture gallery with his eyes 
 bandaged.' 
 
 ' But how are you to unbandage their 
 eyes ? ' asked Monica eagerly. She dis- 
 liked Connisterre's arguments, but was in- 
 terested in her subject. 
 
 ' Ah, there comes the tug of war. I am 
 afraid we must each find that out for our- 
 selves. You can't bring any hard-and-fast 
 rule to bear on individuals. Do your best, 
 argue, preach, exhort, with all the entheastic 
 energy you possess ; only, for Heaven's sake, 
 don't bully.' 
 
 Connisterre had been speaking with some 
 enthusiasm. It was a subject upon which he 
 felt very strongly, but there was something in
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 209 
 
 Monica's face expressive of disapproval. He 
 changed the subject at once, resuming one 
 which had been discussed earlier in the even- 
 ing, that of the possible removal to town 
 during February of the Paget household. 
 
 ' Father thinks that if he puts himself 
 under the hands of Sir James Lockyer, the 
 gout specialist, he may receive benefit,' said 
 Monica, working steadily away at her passion 
 flowers, which were nearing completion. 
 Then she held up the work and surveyed it, 
 evidently more interested in that than Sir 
 John's sufferings. 
 
 * If I can do anything for you with regard to 
 a house you must let me know,' said Geoffrey, 
 diving under a table for a little ball of silk. 
 
 * I don't think we need trouble you, but it 
 is kind of you to offer. We have partially 
 arranged to take a furnished flat at Earl's 
 Court, belonging to some friends of ours who 
 are going abroad in the spring. The situation 
 is a pleasant one and sufficiently central' 
 
 * Then I may hope to see something of you 
 
 VOL. I 14
 
 POSTE REST ANTE 
 
 towards February.' After a pause Connisterre 
 added rather reluctantly, ' I don't feel quite 
 at ease respecting the little girl. If she 
 really does not suit you, and you are keeping 
 her out of pure kindness, please don't hesitate 
 to say, and I will see if I can arrange some- 
 thing else.* 
 
 Tray don't trouble about it, Mr. Connis- 
 terre ; Leonie is sure to improve, and in many 
 ways she is very useful. Her chief fault is a 
 disinclination to take advice.' 
 
 ' She is such a child,' he said as if in 
 extenuation. 
 
 'She is old enough to have been married 
 and assume a woman's responsibilities,' said 
 Monica freezingly. ' Frivolity rather than 
 youthfulness might be laid to her charge. 
 You have heard nothing of her husband, 
 I suppose ? ' 
 
 * Not a vjord fro7n him, but, oddly enough, 
 I have found out something about him, some- 
 thing which authorises me to retain my 
 responsibility in her welfare.
 
 A TROUBLESOME CHARGE 
 
 ' And that is ? ' 
 
 * A distant relationship. Her husband is 
 probably a half cousin of my own.' 
 
 ' But I understood you had no connections 
 who were likely to correspond with this 
 missing man ? ' 
 
 ' I was under that impression also,' said 
 Geoffrey, after a pause during which he was 
 compelled to remain silent under a noisy 
 flow of invective from the baronet, who 
 had been ignominiously beaten off the 
 field. 
 
 ' It was ' began Connisterre. 
 
 'Your confounded luck,' broke in Sir 
 John, sweeping the counters off the board. 
 
 ' I was looking through some papers 
 relating to ' 
 
 * Your stupid inability to master even the 
 rudiments of the game. Any fool can win if 
 he always throws doubles,' went on the 
 baronet in a still louder tone, with an under- 
 current of rumbling thunder. 
 
 Connisterre gave it up and looked across
 
 212 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 at the players with a sHghtly resigned 
 expression. 
 
 Miss Paget rose. 
 
 ' Mother, I will take your place for a little 
 time. And Quentin, Mr. Connisterre would 
 perhaps like to go to the billiard-room. It 
 is not very late.' 
 
 ' Thank you, I should,' said Connisterre, 
 rising with some alacrity. 
 
 Quentin rolled off the sofa. 
 
 'All right,' he said lazily. 'I will give 
 you points and romp home a winner. Come 
 along.'
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 
 
 We must not trust too much to happiness ; — 
 Go, pray to God, that thou mayest love him less ! 
 
 Jasmin. 
 
 'Of all the cantankerous, snarling, evil-minded 
 old sinners that ever sat on a magisterial 
 bench or rode to hounds, that Paget is the 
 worst ! ' exclaimed Quentin Lee when they 
 were safely within the sanctuary of the billiard- 
 room. 
 
 ' He isn't sweet, certainly,' agreed Connis- 
 terre, chalking his cue with some precision. 
 
 'Sweet? He ought to be muzzled, the 
 reprobate. If ever I get into Parliament I 
 shall move a measure for the imprisonment 
 or suppression of such men, the relatives to 
 take out a certificate stating the impossibility
 
 214 POSTE RES TAN TE 
 
 of living with them. Jove ! what a clearance 
 there would be, and how much pleasanter the 
 world ! We could keep the nice, good- 
 tempered, genial old souls to give a little 
 ballast to the young. There, now, wasn't 
 that a pretty piece of play. I told you I 
 would cut you up as Mademoiselle Leonie 
 would say — Sans merci! 
 
 ' By the way, where is she ? ' asked 
 Geoffrey, consulting his watch. ' Surely they 
 do not allow the girl to be out alone so late.' 
 
 ' As I said before — at the Rectory. Some 
 elderly respectable minion will be commis- 
 sioned to fetch her home shortly. You won't 
 see her to-night, for she is sent to bed at 
 ten, as a rule. Last night, however, she stole 
 a march on them, and sneaked down to play 
 billiards with me after the household had 
 retired to bed. She plays a good game, too, 
 for a girl,' added Quentin patronisingly. 
 
 ' Look here, Lee.' Connisterre put down 
 his cue and spoke with some heat. ' I don't 
 know your ideas as to what is, or is not
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 215 
 
 permissible for girls, but it seems to me that 
 you were wanting in common sense, to say 
 nothing else, when you permitted such an 
 escapade.' 
 
 * How the deuce could I help it ? ' ex- 
 claimed Quentin in amazement at this angry 
 onslaught. 
 
 ' Help it ? of course you could help it,' 
 retorted the other. * She is only a child. 
 You know well enough it is not customary 
 for girls to slip down to the billiard-room 
 with any man when everybody else is in 
 bed.' 
 
 ' I know ? ' Lee spoke rather sulkily, 
 and made a fancy shot across the cloth. 
 * I wasn't brought up in a ladies' school, so 
 how am I to know what is permissible for 
 the female sex ? I enjoyed the game — so 
 did she. Nobody was any the wiser, and I 
 must play billiards with some one. You had 
 better look to your laurels, Connisterre, I am 
 going to win.' Quentin made another stroke, 
 paused, then said in a more conciliatory tone.
 
 2i6 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 * It wasn't very late, you know — only half- 
 past eleven. They go to roost so early 
 here.' 
 
 ' An hour more or less would have made 
 no difference in the esclandre if you had been 
 found out. I don't say there was any harm in 
 her coming down to play billiards. The 
 harm was in your taking advantage of her 
 ignorance.' 
 
 * I rather like a girl with a touch of 
 diablerie in her,' pursued Quentin carelessly. 
 
 * There has been one staying here at the 
 Rectory whose attempts to get near the 
 boundary line, without actually going over, 
 have been lamentably funny. She wanted to 
 be risqud and she didn't dare. Now Made- 
 moiselle Leonie, although a perfectly discreet 
 little person, has a pair of witching eyes and 
 a spice of mischief in that pretty mouth of 
 hers which are irresistibly attractive.' 
 
 Connisterre listened with a sense of grow- 
 ing annoyance. 
 
 ' I think you have been looking at the
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 217 
 
 eyes and mouth more than was quite good 
 for you,' he said with a short laugh. 
 
 * I don't know about good, but it was very 
 pleasant,' returned Quentin, after another 
 brilliant stroke. ' She is quite ' 
 
 ' Look here, drop it.' 
 
 * I was going to say she ' 
 
 * Drop it.' 
 
 Lee turned round and looked at his com- 
 panion. The amusement had died out of 
 Connisterre's face. 
 
 * Of course, if you are going to cut up 
 rough, I have nothing more to say.' 
 
 * I don't wish to cut up rough, but I hate to 
 hear women discussed in a billiard-room, and 
 when it is a woman with whom I am connected, 
 I like it less than ever. Don't you be leading 
 her into any mischief, Quentin. You won't 
 have to answer for it to her — but to me, bear 
 that in mind,' and then he turned the subject. 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock before their 
 game was over, and the two men separated. 
 Quentin, sleepy after a long day spent in the
 
 2i8 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 open air, announced his intention to retire. 
 Connisterre was anxious for a smoke. 
 
 ' I don't think I shall turn in just yet,' he 
 said, as they paused a moment on the landing 
 outside the billiard-room door. ' I have some 
 letters to write. Are you coming down.' 
 
 ' No, I don't think so,' returned Quentin 
 with a yawn. * I feel rather fagged. You are 
 staying over to-morrow ? ' 
 
 'No. I go on to Carlisle by the 2.15. 
 Cannot spare longer. Good-night.' Then 
 they separated, and Geoffrey went down-- 
 stairs to the library. 
 
 Now it rather unfortunately happened 
 that this little dialogue took place outside 
 Leonie's room, and Leonie, who was anxious 
 to finish a certain enjoyable novel had set at 
 defiance the rule of Mights out at half-past 
 ten,' and was burning the midnight oil. The 
 evening had been a wearisome one, sapping 
 a little of the colour from her cheeks. 
 She had been unable to take an interest in 
 the fact that this piece of charity print was
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 219 
 
 Stronger and more durable than the last, or 
 that the state of health of the parish clerk's 
 wife's twins, lately introduced into this world 
 of sin and sorrow, left much to be desired. 
 The fact she really grasped was that while 
 she stitched and stitched as if for dear life in 
 the prim Rectory morning room, Connisterre's 
 brief visit to the Manor House was slipping 
 away with lightning-like rapidity. Upon 
 returning home Miss Paget met her in the 
 hall, and dispatched her straight to bed, on 
 the ground that it was already after ten. 
 
 Mr. Connisterre ? Oh, she could not see 
 him to-night. He was in the billiard-room 
 with Mr. Lee ; so with keen resentment in 
 her heart Leonie had gone upstairs to bed. 
 These few chance words exchanged outside 
 her door, and distinctly audible within, came 
 as a decided shock. Going away so early 
 to-morrow ! Why, that meant any interview 
 she could have with him would be of the 
 briefest. Morning was always Leonie's busy 
 time, and she had no hope that Miss Paget
 
 220 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 would absolve her from any of her accustomed 
 duties in order to give her an opportunity of 
 talking to Mr. Connisterre. Without waiting 
 to think further, acting as usual upon impulse, 
 Leonie threw down her book, and forgetful 
 that she had exchanged her serge dress for a 
 flannel wrapper, and that her hair was hang- 
 ing in a Gretchen-like plait down her back, 
 she followed Connisterre quickly downstairs. 
 The Manor House was a queer rambling old 
 building of no particular architecture, and 
 with a disregard of the usual arrangement 
 of rooms. Miss Paget grumbled a great deal 
 about its inconvenience, but to Leonie the 
 house was a huge delight. She revelled in 
 its low-ceiled, picturesque rooms, its winding 
 passages, and occasional steps ; but there are 
 times when even the quaint and artistic may 
 have their disadvantages, and the present was 
 one of them. Leonie spent some time un- 
 successfully searching for her quarry, the 
 reason for which was that Connisterre had 
 gone first to the library, then suddenly re-
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 221 
 
 memberino- there was a certain book on art 
 which he wished to consult before writing 
 his letter, left it by another door for the 
 smoke-room, where he imagined the volume 
 to be. Not finding it here, he pursued his 
 way to the drawing-room, and spent a few 
 minutes there searching amongst the periodi- 
 cals and albums. Finally rewarded with 
 success, he returned to the library and settled 
 down to his letters. Not for long, though. 
 Startled by the noise of a door opening he 
 looked up, to see a little white-clad apparition 
 half a dozen yards away regarding him with 
 a pair of dancing eyes which shone like stars 
 under the curly hair. 
 
 ' I have found you at last,' exclaimed 
 Leonie with infinite glee, as she made a rush 
 across the room to him. * I was afraid I 
 would never see you at all, for Miss Paget 
 would not let me come to the billiard-room. 
 I heard you say you were leaving quite 
 early to-morrow, and then I thought I will 
 go straight away and find him now ; but
 
 222 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 when I came to the library, no, you were not 
 there, nor the smoke-room, nor the drawing- 
 room ; you had, as Mr. Quentin says, done a 
 slope ; but I have found you, I have found 
 you, and that is the great thing.' 
 
 All this hurried out in a breathless, de- 
 lighted voice, with Leonie's two little brown 
 hands holding Connisterre's in a warm 
 clasp, her mischievous face rippling over 
 with smiles and blushes, her whole aspect 
 one of genuine welcome and delight. 
 Geoffrey would have been less than a man 
 if he had failed to feel flattered or appreciate 
 it, but all the same he cast an apprehensive 
 glance at the half-open door and Leonie's 
 nes'lwde attire. 
 
 * Are you not glad to see me .^ ' she went 
 on in a slightly reproachful voice, as he did 
 not speak. ' I have been so good. I have 
 not made myself troublesome by writing 
 letters to you, and I am, oh, so — so — so 
 pleased to s>^^ yoiL 
 
 ' My dear child, why yes, of course,' he
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 223 
 
 responded, looking down upon her as they 
 stood together in the soft lamp-Hght. ' I 
 was sorry you were out to-night, but in any 
 case we should have met in the morning. 
 Leonie, do you know I am going to scold 
 you? ' 
 
 ' But why ? ' she asked, with sweet aston- 
 ished eyes. 
 
 ' You should not run about the house like 
 this,' touching her white dressing-gown and 
 tumbled hair. 
 
 ' I forgot,' she said, colouring a little 
 now that she understood him, and speaking 
 more soberly. ' I was so anxious to see you 
 that I did not wait to think a minute ; but 
 it is pretty,' looking at her gown with the 
 innocent vanity of a child. 
 
 * H'm,' thought Connisterre, with a thrill 
 of vexation. ' I wonder if she wears this 
 when she runs down to play billiards with 
 Quentin. I must talk seriously to her.' 
 But under such circumstances it is not easy 
 to be serious. The witchery of the hour and
 
 224 POST RESTANTE 
 
 the position was too potent, and Connisterre 
 was no prig. He had too susceptible a 
 nature to come uninfluenced out of a tempta- 
 tion Hke this, and was conscious of a strong 
 desire to prolong the interview, even though 
 he knew it to be unwise. His vanity was 
 tickled by the girl's unassumed delight at 
 seeing him ; the part of mentor was in this 
 case a pleasant one to play. There were all 
 the elements of a strong flirtation ready to 
 hand, and yet 
 
 ' Look here,' he said, giving her a gentle 
 little push. ' Get away to bed, Leonie. Do 
 you know how late it is '^. ' 
 
 * Not so very late. Only twelve.' 
 
 ' Quite late enough if any one should hear 
 our voices and come down to investigate. 
 You must go. Besides, I have letters to 
 write. Oh, confound it,' under his breath, 
 ' here is somebody ! What the deuce am I 
 to do ? ' 
 
 Leonie also had heard a step upon the stairs 
 and stood still, a lovely colour coming and
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 225 
 
 going in her cheeks. At that moment she 
 looked more womanly, less like an irrespon- 
 sible child than Connisterre had ever seen her. 
 
 ' Hide yourself,' he said in a quick, ex- 
 cited whisper, and a second later knew that 
 the advice was ill judged. Far better to 
 face out such a situation. 
 
 Leonie made a dart away from him, but 
 there was no time to reach the further door. 
 She vanished within the heavy curtains 
 screening one of the windows, while Connis- 
 terre, his heart beating unpleasantly fast, 
 picked up the discarded book, and when Sir 
 John entered was apparently immersed in its 
 contents. 
 
 ' So it is you who are making such a 
 confounded row that an old man cannot get 
 a wink of sleep,' said the baronet testily. ' I 
 wondered what the devil was up.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to have disturbed you,' re- 
 plied Geoffrey, his eyes roaming with horrid 
 fascination towards a certain corner in the 
 room. * The fact is my — my head ached ; I 
 
 VOL. I 15
 
 226 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 mean I had letters to write, so stayed down 
 for an hour or two.' He jerked out the words 
 confusedly, but the baronet was gazing with 
 a stony stare at the further window. Leonie, 
 in order to screen herself from view, had 
 drawn one of the curtains away from the 
 centre. Part of the glass was uncovered, 
 revealing the pale face of the distant moon. 
 
 ' It passes creation that any one should be 
 so pestered with an infernal thick-headed army 
 of servants as I am,' foamed Sir John, putting 
 down his candle as he pointed to the un- 
 shuttered window. ' Look at that, look at 
 that, I say. If their disobedience isn't enough 
 to drive a man into the asylum.' At that 
 moment he looked ready for one. His face 
 was purple with rage. ' If I have said once 
 that I will have every window shuttered 
 at dusk, I have said it a hundred times. 
 As if there were not burglaries enough in 
 the country without a premium being offered 
 to people to break into your house. It 
 is that lazy rascal Thomas. I have half
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 227 
 
 a mind to ring him out of bed to 
 shutter that window. He would remember 
 in future.' 
 
 Sir John's hand was upon the bell. In 
 another moment such a peal would have re- 
 sounded through the house as to bring the 
 whole regiment of servants to the fore. 
 
 ' I will see to the window ; let me do it,' 
 exclaimed Connisterre, starting up in a per- 
 fect agony of apprehension, while actual 
 beads of perspiration stood upon his fore- 
 head. Good heavens, what a horrid scandal 
 he had to avert ! * Don't you trouble, 
 Sir John. I assure you I can do it. Yes, 
 servants are fools, of course — all servants are.' 
 
 ' Sure you know how, eh ? ' asked the old 
 man, with his hand still on the bell. ' I 
 won't have any risks run.' 
 
 'Quite sure.' Connisterre was already at 
 the window swinging the shutter forward 
 with a noisy clatter. * For heaven's sake, 
 Leonie, keep still,' he whispered, and cowed 
 by something in his tone, she did keep still,
 
 228 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 even though Connisterre stumbled acciden- 
 tally upon her foot, and sent a quick thrill of 
 pain through every nerve. But the danger 
 of discovery had been averted. 
 
 Sir John, after another growl, and a broad 
 hint to Connisterre that it would be a favour 
 if he would retire to rest, and allow other 
 people to do the same, left the room, and 
 they heard his heavy step plodding up, stair 
 by stair, until it died away into silence. 
 Connisterre drew a long breath of relief. 
 
 * Come, Leonie,' he said, gripping her 
 almost angrily by the shoulder as she 
 emerged from her retreat, so incensed was 
 he at the thought of their mutual danger. 
 ' I hope you understand what a risk you 
 have been running. Never do such a thing 
 again.' 
 
 * But how was I to know he would come 
 down ? ' she said with a pout, her eyes like 
 twin stars in the small, pale face. 
 
 'How were you to know he wouldn't?' 
 retorted Geoffrey. * Go to bed at once.'
 
 A MORAL DISCOURSE 229 
 
 She turned away from him, went half 
 across the room, finally came back and stood 
 by his side hesitatingly. 
 
 ' Please say good-night, Mr. Connisterre,' 
 she said wistfully. ' I am sorry I have vexed 
 you, but really I did not know it was wrong.' 
 
 Geoffrey's face relaxed. He was only 
 flesh and blood after all, and as she stood 
 there in her simplicity, raising a rather fright- 
 ened face to his, one hand playing nervously 
 with the ribbon at her waist, he felt his 
 pulses thrill, and a mad temptation seize him 
 to take her in his arms and kiss the tremor 
 from her lips. It was only a temporary weak- 
 ness — the witchery of the hour, the lonely 
 room, and the silence around them. He re- 
 sisted it, but the colour rose to his face. ' I 
 am not angry,' he said, taking her hands 
 in a friendly clasp. ' Only, Leonie, the world 
 has a very wicked tongue ; don't you give it 
 any occasion to wag against you. Good- 
 night ; I shall see you in the morning.' 
 
 As the little white -clad form vanished
 
 230 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 from his sight, Geoffrey threw himself into a 
 chair, resting his head upon his hand. The 
 letters were completely forgotten. 
 
 ' I must find that man,' he muttered at 
 last. ' Must make him come forward and 
 accept his responsibilities, or there will be 
 the very mischief to pay.'
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IN THE WOOD 
 
 No man is so foolish, but may give another good counsel some- 
 times. — Ben Jonson. 
 
 A DREARY looking morning, dreary by virtue 
 of the grayness of the skies, and the damp, 
 humid look which a night of heavy rain pro- 
 duces in late October. It had cleared during 
 the early hours of dawn, but the ground was 
 wet and sodden. Rain-drops glistened on 
 the grass and on the stable roof; they hung 
 pendant to the water-spouts and the shiver- 
 ing trees, which now and then shook them- 
 selves irritably, as if the touch were distasteful 
 to their bare branches. Away in the east a 
 faint pale line of light made a jagged rent 
 across the monotonous gray sky which other- 
 wise looked dreary in the extreme. A low
 
 232 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 whistle of the wind sometimes broke the 
 silence, rising now to a scream, or sinking 
 again into a dull, disquiet murmur. Not by 
 any means an inviting or desirable morning 
 for a walk, but Connisterre, who had spent a 
 disturbed night, walked rapidly down the 
 avenue, heedless of the inclement weather. 
 It was a relief to be out in the fresh air, even 
 if that air were raw and chilly. Turning 
 sharply off to the right by a little path 
 which he remembered of old, Geoffrey came 
 at last to a low, park fence separating the 
 avenue from the wood. Vaulting over this 
 into the dusky recesses beyond, he walked 
 on more slowly, for it was comparatively 
 sheltered here. Some of the trees had lost 
 their glory of gold and scarlet, but a few, 
 more hardy than the rest, still held with a 
 tenacious grip the mantles which months 
 ago spring had cast upon their shoulders. 
 Geoffrey threw back his head and stared at 
 the leafy fretwork above him, through which 
 the gray sky gazed down with a dreary
 
 IN THE WOOD 233 
 
 visage. A silence almost deathlike reigned 
 here in the heart of the wood. It was a 
 beautiful spot in summer, a lonely one in 
 winter, and at present seemed tenanted 
 only by Connisterre and the scurrying fleet- 
 footed rabbits. He paused to light a cigar, 
 and was fancying himself quite alone, when 
 there came floating towards him on the wings 
 of the breeze the refrain of a song, mingled 
 with a creaking, cracking sound, the origin of 
 which he could not at first determine. Connis- 
 terre listened intently. It came again, this 
 time louder, more distinct, and he recognised 
 both the singer's voice and the melody. A 
 quaint little negro doggerel, infinitely pathetic. 
 'I suppose "Home, Sweet Home," and 
 *' Way down upon de Suwannee Riber" have 
 very much in common,' he laughed, walking 
 on. And so surely they have. Rich or 
 poor, wise or simple, black or white, deep 
 down in those wayward hearts of ours lies 
 the common emotion of humanity, a simple 
 natural love of home and all its old associa-
 
 234 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 tions. We may smother it, we may choke it 
 down, laugh, ridicule, and sneer, but for all 
 that the hidden chord is there in most of us, 
 and when we are old or weary or in pain and 
 grief from the world's hard buffetings, it is 
 strong enough to draw us back for shelter 
 and consolation. So now in the dreary 
 silence of the morning the old refrain of — 
 Way down upon de Suwannee Riber 
 
 came home to Connisterre with an added 
 touch of pathos, as he remembered the lonely, 
 friendless condition of the little singer. 
 
 When I was playin' wid my brudder 
 
 Happy was I. 
 O take me to my kind ole mudder, 
 
 Dar let me lib and die. 
 
 A pause, and more of that curious creak- 
 ing, then the voice rose again, a clear, childish, 
 not very strong voice. 
 
 Eberywhere I roam, 
 
 O darkeys, how my heart grows weary, 
 Far from de ole folks at home. 
 
 Then followed a long silence. Connisterre
 
 IN THE WOOD 235 
 
 put aside the intervening branches and came 
 out into the open. 
 
 * So I have found the nightingale,' he said 
 with a laugh. ' Where did you learn that, 
 Leonie ? ' and then he discovered the cause 
 of that mysterious creaking. The girl had 
 perched herself like an elf upon a low, naked 
 branch which jutted out some distance from 
 its parent stem, a gnarled and lightning- 
 shrivelled tree. As it swayed up and down 
 beneath her weight, it groaned audibly as if 
 in deprecating protest at having to work in 
 such an enfeebled condition. The scene was 
 a desolate one, but to Connisterre's artistic 
 eyes more interesting than a prettier one. 
 He would like to have straightway con- 
 veyed it to canvas. The seared tree stricken 
 down in the zenith of its pride by some 
 horrid convulsion of nature, the green- 
 sward littered over with thousands of brown- 
 tinted sodden leaves and yellow acorns, the 
 wide belt of trees a dozen yards away seem- 
 ing to encircle this little clearing in the
 
 236 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 wood as if it were some hallowed spot where 
 elfs might play, the dull gray background 
 of an autumn sky sending out a voiceless dirge 
 of the dying year, and quaintest of all, the little 
 black-clad figure with wistful face and wind- 
 tossed hair seated on the swaying branch. 
 
 ' I learned it from Mr. Quentin,' said 
 Leonie composedly, in answer to Connis- 
 terre's query, and she shied an acorn at a 
 scampering rabbit as she spoke. 
 
 ' What else does that scatterbrain teach 
 you ? ' Connisterre leaned one arm upon the 
 branch, holding his cigar in abeyance. ' He 
 is not a very safe tutor, Leonie.' 
 
 ' No ? Well, I do not care. He is amus- 
 ing and that is what your grim English are 
 not usually. I am weary of them, weary.' 
 She tossed her acorns to the ground w^ith an 
 impatient movement, and laid her hand upon 
 the rough coat sleeve beside her. 
 
 * Cannot you take me away, Mr. Connis- 
 terre,' she asked piteously. 'Let me go to 
 France or Italy, or somewhere that I can
 
 IN THE WOOD 237 
 
 laugh and sing and see the sun. I am un- 
 happy, indeed ; indeed I am.' She burst 
 into fretful sobs, which went to Geoffreys 
 heart. 
 
 ' My dear, if you really are not happy 
 here, you shall go somewhere else,' he said, 
 laying a friendly hand over the one upon his 
 arm. * But don't you see any post in which 
 you have not complete freedom would be 
 more or less distasteful to you at present. 
 They are not unkind to you here ? ' 
 
 ' N-0-0.' 
 
 ' It is just this way,' he went on, pulHng 
 his moustache with restless fingers. ' Sooner 
 or later we must all learn the same lesson, 
 the lesson of endurance. We cannot have 
 our own way. Discipline comes to us in some 
 form or other. If we were all free agents 
 the world would go to pieces.' 
 
 ' But every one is not under discipline,' 
 said Leonie, drying her tears resentfully. 
 ' Some people do just as they like ; Mr. 
 Quentin does.'
 
 238 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Mr. Ouentin does nothing of the kind, 
 except in holiday time. Do you suppose 
 he would not prefer to be lounging about with 
 a gun, boating on the Broads, or fishing in 
 Norway, instead of grinding in a city office 
 which he has to do practically three-fourths 
 of the year } I have to work, we all have to 
 work, and even if fate has put the silver 
 spoon in our mouth, it is so coated with 
 responsibilities that if we did our duty we 
 should never taste the silver until we 
 died.' 
 
 ' But I don't want to work ; I hate work, I 
 hate responsibilities,' cried this young Pagan, 
 in no sense impressed by the philosophy 
 which Connisterre propounded. ' I want to 
 do just as I like.' 
 
 ' Then, my dear girl, the sooner you learn 
 that your wish has no chance of being 
 gratified, the better for you. Come, now, be 
 sensible. Look at the matter fairly and 
 squarely, and see if the present state of affairs 
 cannot be endured until there is daylight in
 
 IN THE WOOD 239 
 
 the future. I know It is an anomalous posi- 
 tion. I know you feel your husband's deser- 
 tion ; but — and this brings me to another 
 point. Do you remember, Leonie, my saying 
 that I did not think he — your husband, I 
 mean — was any connection of mine ? I have 
 reason to believe he is.' 
 
 ' But how ? ' exclaimed Leonie, opening 
 her eyes in astonishment. 
 
 ' I was looking over some old papers the 
 other day which formerly belonged to my 
 father, and have been left undisturbed since 
 his death. Amongst them I found one re- 
 lating to a deed of gift of some few hundred 
 pounds to his cousin, Henry Connisterre. 
 Further search brought to light something of 
 which I had been ignorant before, namely, 
 that my grandfather had a younger brother, 
 a black sheep of the family. This man, 
 then, William Connisterre, was the father 
 of Henry, and uncle to my father. Do you 
 follow me ? ' 
 
 Leonie nodded.
 
 240 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' On reading through a packet of letters, 
 I was able to piece up the story in part. 
 William Connisterre had been sent abroad 
 for some disgraceful act or other, and then 
 probably lost sight of. Finally I came to a 
 partially destroyed note, dated from Chicago, 
 and written to my father by Henry Connis- 
 terre, his cousin, twenty years later, beseeching 
 him for the sake of the tie of blood between 
 them to send him some pecuniary aid.' 
 
 * But my husband's name is Gerard.' 
 
 ' Exactly so. Mention is made in the 
 letter of a child, a boy, but the name is 
 almost illegible. It seems to commence with 
 
 Ge , so the probability is your husband 
 
 and my half cousin are one and the same. 
 That being so, it gives me a litde right to 
 look after your interests until he can be 
 found.' 
 
 ' When I must go to him,' said Leonie, 
 with an odd smile. * I do not think that 
 would be nice.' 
 
 ' But he is your husband.'
 
 IN THE WOOD 241 
 
 * He would like not to be.' 
 
 'Oh, well, that is neither here nor there,' 
 said Geoffrey, flicking the ash from his cigar. 
 ' A great many married people nowadays are 
 in the position of wishing themselves celibates 
 again. ' 
 
 * I suppose I must live somewhere,' said 
 Leonie with a sigh ; ' but at present I feel 
 just like a letter left at the post office — only 
 nobody calls for me.' 
 
 ' Poor child,' laughed Connisterre, giving 
 her his hand to help her down from the 
 branch. 
 
 'So it is ''poor child," nobody cares a 
 toss for me,' she retorted. 
 
 'Where do you learn all these expres- 
 sions,' Geoffrey asked as they walked on 
 side by side. 
 
 ' It is that boy, that Mr. Quentin Lee ; he 
 teaches me what he calls the slang language, 
 and it is very useful. Lady Paget wishes me 
 to learn English quickly, so I am learning all 
 kinds. Is it not better so ? ' 
 
 VOL. I 16
 
 242 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 ' Depends upon the kind of English, I 
 should say. Lee's vocabulary is not quite 
 suitable for a jeune demoiselle ; I wouldn't 
 follow his lead too closely.' 
 
 ' And why not, monsieur ? ' she asked, 
 dropping him a little curtsey. 
 
 ' Oh, because — because See, Leonie, 
 
 there is something else I wished to say. 
 Were you not playing billiards rather late 
 the other night when everyone else was 
 in bed ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' defiantly. 
 
 ' Then promise me not to do it again } ' 
 
 ' But I like billiards.' 
 
 * Possibly, but you might like them at a 
 more reasonable time.' 
 
 'Oh, les convenances, les convenances,' 
 she said with a shrug of her shoulders. ' How 
 am I to know what is right and what is 
 wrong ? Miss Paget will say to me, " Leonie, 
 that is not permissible." Lady Paget says, 
 " You must not speak to gentlemen like that ; 
 you are too straightforward." Then, if I
 
 IN THE WOOD 243 
 
 am not straightforward, I am equivocating. 
 Bah, it is a funny place this England. Here 
 it seems proper to do some improper things, 
 and improper to do proper ones.' 
 
 ' Illogical but true,' murmured Connlsterre 
 under his moustache. 
 
 * Do you know that we are going to 
 London ; your beautiful, dirty London, after 
 Christmas,' she cried, suddenly turning the 
 conversation. 
 
 ' So I suppose.' 
 
 ' Then perhaps I will see you ? ' 
 
 ' I hope so.' 
 
 ' And you may have found my husband '^. ' 
 
 ' I hope so.' 
 
 ' Are husbands often lost 1 ' 
 
 ' They are often not to be found,' he 
 returned jestingly. 'We have five women 
 to every man in England.' 
 
 'Then there are four happy women,' she 
 said with some energy. 
 
 * A negative sort of happiness some would 
 say.'
 
 244 POSTE RESTANTE 
 
 Leonie stopped in the path, and looked 
 up at him, a roguish dimple in her cheek. 
 
 ' You do think you are very precious, 
 then ? ' she laughed. 
 
 ' Oh, well no, not precious,' he said, rather 
 nonplussed by this rapid table-turning. ' We 
 are rare, therefore not easily discovered ; 
 anything not easily discovered possesses a 
 certain intrinsic value proportionate to its 
 rarity, ergo — we are, as you suggest — 
 precious. That is a logical deduction.' 
 
 ' But I do not quite understand you,' she 
 said, wrinkling up her brows. 
 
 They had come to the low fence which 
 separated them from the avenue. Connisterre 
 vaulted over and held out his hand. 
 
 ' I will explain to you later on. Come.' 
 
 * No, I can get over myself,' she returned 
 with some dignity. ' Please w^alk on.' 
 
 He laughed and obeyed. A moment later 
 Leonie joined him, a long rent in the front 
 of her skirt testifying to the incompetent 
 way in which she had followed his example.
 
 IN THE WOOD 245 
 
 ' It is too bad. I have never torn myself 
 before,' she said resentfully. ' I wish I could 
 wear a tweed suit and knickers like yours, 
 instead of skirts always draggle, draggle 
 through the mud. How do you think you 
 could walk with a petticoat dangling about 
 your ankles ? ' 
 
 ' I should not attempt to walk, I should 
 lie down and roll,' he returned with apparent 
 gravity, as he looked at his watch. ' Do you 
 know the time ? It is half-past eight, and Sir 
 John will be raving mad if we are late for 
 breakfast. I'll race you to the end of the 
 avenue.' 
 
 END OF VOL. I 
 
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