a I E) R.ARY 
 
 OF THL 
 UN IVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 1893 
 v.i
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/strangetemptatio01spen
 
 A STRANGE TEMPTATION
 
 J^ Strange 
 
 Temptation 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs. J. KENT SPENDER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "a WAKIXG," "MK. nobody," " EECOLLECTIOXS of a COTJ^iTRT DOCTOR, 
 
 " GODWTX'S OEDEAL, " " PARTED LIVES, " 
 
 " LADY HAZIiETON'S COKFESSIOX, " 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 One frequently hears a story of John Bradford quoted with 
 approval, in which it is said that, seeing a condemned criminal 
 on his way to Tyburn Tree, he exclaimed, •• There, but for 
 the grace of God. goes John Bradford." Many, perhaps 
 most, have not yet reached that level, but Pharisaically 
 condemn those who have succumbed to forces and temptations 
 from which their judges have been free. Few are those who 
 undei;;^tand that a better and truer utterance of the Puritan 
 worthy would have been: •• There goes one for whose state 
 John Bradford is partly responsible!" 
 
 Jottings from Jail. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES— YOL. I 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 Xont)on 1893 
 
 HUTCHINSON & CO. 
 
 34 PATEEXOSTEE EOW
 
 PRINTED AT NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) 
 
 B\ II. C. A. TIIIEME OF NIMEGUEN (HOLLAND) 
 
 AND 
 
 TALBOT HOUSE, ARUNDEL STREET 
 
 LONDON, W.C.
 
 ^^ 3 
 
 ■J 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 \^ 
 
 Ipart I. 
 
 AT SAX FRANCISCO. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGK 
 
 I. — BEHIND THE' SCENES 1 
 
 IL— AFTER THE PLAY 23 
 
 IH.— LOVE GRAPPLING WITH DEATH 37 
 
 IV. — POLLY ACTS HER PART 46 
 
 ^ V. — BEN ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS 59 
 
 K 
 
 VI. — PARTING 72 
 
 .^ 'Sni.— azalea's FORTUNE COMES TOO LATE 85 
 
 ^ Vin. — TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH 98 
 
 d 
 
 Qr^
 
 Vni COXTENTS 
 
 part 11. 
 
 AT WOODLANDS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I.— IX HIDING 118 
 
 II.— HER FIRST HOSPITALITY 128 
 
 III.— QUEEN OF ALL SHE StTRVEYED 146 
 
 IV.— "MY COUSIN ELEANOR" 161 
 
 v.— OFF HER GUARD 178 
 
 VI.— POLLY ACTS ON ANOTHER IMPULSE . 188 
 
 VII.— SOMEBODY OUT IN THE COLD 197
 
 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 part I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 " Wake up, and don't be so down in the mouth ; 
 you know the manager will be ready to swear if 
 everything doesn't go right, wdth such a good house 
 as it is to-night. Why are you shivering? I think 
 it is hot," said the one girl to the other, who was 
 shaking off a peculiar appendage intended to represent 
 the scales on a mermaid's tail, and emerging in a 
 costume suitable to a danseiise. 
 
 Polly Smith could not think what was the matter 
 with her cousin, for Azalea had long ago got over 
 
 VOL. I. * 1
 
 2 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 the feeling of being ashamed of the dress, which was 
 high above the calves, but to-day the shame of it 
 seemed to have come back to her. " He will be there, " 
 she whispered. And, there could be no mistake about 
 it, her pretty white teeth were chattering wdth terror. 
 " And you know what he threatened, if I didn't listen 
 to him, or take his presents." 
 
 "Don't be afraid," said the stronger Polly, sarcasti- 
 cally ; " there are plenty of such threatenihgs for poor 
 girls like us, who try to keep ourselves straight. If 
 we were to listen to 'em we should never get through 
 the day's work. Let him hiss if he will ; there are 
 lots of others to clap; they will be mad about you, 
 as usual, if they have any taste." 
 
 " But I don't know what has come over me. I feel 
 bad and nervous to-night. I'm thinking that mother 
 wouldn't have liked it." 
 
 " Thank goodness, it won't trouble her where she's 
 gone, and we orphans, both of us, with no other means 
 of livelihood," said the more practical Polly, hurriedly,
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 3 
 
 knowing that little time could be wasted in such talk. 
 
 For already there was a sound of trampling of feet, 
 as the theatre was filling again with the men who 
 had gone out during the interval between the acts, to 
 lounge round the bar, where the barkeeper, resplendent 
 with a diamond pin in his dazzHng shirt-front, mixed 
 " cocktails " for the spruce, frizzle-headed clerks, or 
 the rough-bearded fellows to whom mining was a 
 profession, and who had settled down for a time in 
 * 'Frisco," as the City of the Golden Gate is lovingly 
 called by Western men. 
 
 It was not the beautiful and wealthy San Francisco of 
 the latest improvements, but the " 'Frisco" of decivilized 
 man, fond of rotator}^ motion in meriy-go-rounds, of ballad- 
 concert ditties with slangy phraseology, with a glossary of 
 his own, not always refined. Theoretically these bronzed- 
 faced men, transatlantic or colonial, with rhymes about 
 ranches and canons, had an honest disdain for all the " airs " 
 and " frills " of youthful women. But these novelties 
 amused as well as tantalized them, and when some of
 
 4 A STKA^GE TEiMPTATIOX. 
 
 the older men had to seek a week's amusement hi the 
 town, which they had once known as not much more 
 than a collection of cotton tents on sand heaps, they 
 would never have thought of strolling into " The Cali- 
 fornia, " or "Baldwin," but preferred to smoke their 
 pipes, or chew navy plug while they gaped at the 
 cheap melodrama or meretricious pantomime of the 
 "Adelphi." Only a Chinese theatre, where "tricks 
 that were vain " were performed nightly, which puzzled 
 the longest heads for an explanation, could vie with 
 the sensationalism catered for by the manager of the 
 "Adelphi." A part of the programme was the noisy 
 music of the band, and the fiddles, cornets, and 'cellos 
 were still performing as Polly, a little scared at her 
 cousin's appearance, made her final appeal. 
 
 "Oh, you know that is ridiculous; you couldnH be 
 nervous. Dancing with you is not only easy, it is a 
 real pleasure; you have always told me you enjoyed 
 it. Do you think I would ever have let you do it,, 
 dear, if it had been the other way ? " she cried, witk
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 5 
 
 •a sudden access of aiFection. ^ Don't you know that 
 I would have worked for the two of us?" she added, 
 excitedly, while the admiring old mulatto woman, who 
 was just then somewhat unnecessarily applying dabs 
 of rouge to Polly's already rosy cheeks, exclaimed, 
 * There she is, for all the world as if she was de 
 mammy, though she's as pooty herself, de honey ! Hard 
 to say which is de pootiest." 
 
 Aunt Sally, the " dresser, " said this with the grimace 
 of a monkey, occasioned by the fact that her mouth 
 was full of pins. In her anxiety not to swallow them, 
 her words were not distinct, and the cousins, who 
 were used to such "buttering," paid no attention to 
 them whatever. 
 
 It was hard, indeed, to say which was "the pootiest," 
 as Aunt Sally expressed it, jogging her dark head from 
 side to side approvingly, as she put the finishing touches 
 to Polly's dress, plaiting the silk between her old fingers 
 and handhng it as if she loved it. 
 
 Both the girls belonged to respectable families, which
 
 b A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 had emigrated from the old countrv in need of the 
 very necessaries of existence ; and both having been 
 deprived of their parents early, and thrown on their 
 own resources, had grown up like aquatic flowers, 
 piercing thi'ough the sHme and mud of their surround- 
 ings, tiii'owing out leaves of dehcate green, and pure 
 white corollas, in spite of the foul waters in which 
 their roots were embedded. 
 
 Both had eyes large and bright, set like jewels between 
 long, sweeping brows, but Azalea's were blue, while 
 Polly's were grey —a blackish grey by candle-light. Aza- 
 lea's hair was several shades lighter than her cousin's, 
 waving back from the temples, which had that look of 
 fragility peculiar to delicate health. The scarlet of Polly's 
 lips, which no paint could enhance, contrasted with the 
 fainter red of her cousin's, at times so pale as to be 
 scarcely distinguishable from the paler skin of the 
 upper lip, but daintily curved so as to display the 
 white teeth. Polly's teeth were larger, and the texture 
 of her skin Avas firmer and more warmlv white. Her
 
 BEHDvD THE SCENES. 7 
 
 round, pliant waist and well-developed bust contrasted 
 with Azalea's slender proportions. But both girls were 
 about the same height, both had well-formed bauds 
 and feet, and both had shining hair. 
 
 They looked like sisters more than cousins, and the 
 manager of the travelling company with which they 
 acted, and which was now making its tour in the 
 English Colonies and the United States, had made a hit 
 when he advertised them as " The Sisters Vere and 
 Violet Clavering. " Perhaps his acumen was nearly 
 as great when he associated them with a little piece 
 calculated in its opening act to set all the " corner 
 boys " grinning, whilst the concluding passages appealed 
 almost as strongly to that portion of the people, who 
 could live securely and enjoy polished society' in San 
 Francisco without fear of desperadoes — people sociable 
 and merry, if extravagant, loving to be amused and 
 ready to pay a high price for their amusement. 
 
 But in a city which prided itself on its amalgamation 
 of nations, and in which it was necessary to cater for
 
 8 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 tastes as various as those of the Chinaman with a 
 love for spectacular entertainment, and those of the 
 sons of great English famihes who had abdicated birth 
 in favour of riches, no manager could afford to be 
 fastidious. What would have been the good of pro- 
 viding high art for the uncultured specimens of nerve 
 and muscle who constituted the greater part of the 
 audience, who had no time for poetry, and who were 
 accustomed to the coarsest mental diet? The Venus 
 of Milo would not have appeared so lovely to the 
 majority of the men who lounged into this theatre as a third- 
 rate opera dancer — the Laocoon not so admirable as a 
 couple of prize-fighters — and Handel's choruses would 
 have compared unfavourably with a music-hall song. 
 An audience composed mostly of men, some of 
 whom had once learnt Latin and Greek, whilst others 
 rejoiced in such cognomens as Horsebeef Bill, Bulldog 
 Jack, Donkey Gulch, or Puppy Gentleman, was pro- 
 verbially difficult to cater for. The stalwart, grey- 
 shirted, knee-booted men, who had resigned themselves
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 9 
 
 to exile, perhaps for a lifetime, and had ceased to 
 correspond with friends in England, Avere not likely 
 to find fault with scenery which was coarsely painted, 
 and decorations which would have seemed ridiculously 
 tawdry, judged by the new advance in decorative and 
 scenic art, in almost any provincial town in Great 
 Britain. The " piece " had been adapted from a fauy 
 tale of Hans Christian Andersen's, with such lavish 
 alterations that Andersen himself would certainly not 
 have recognized his handiwork, and the scenery of 
 the first act was portentous and astounding. 
 
 " Looks as if 'twere that ar darned old Pacific gettin' 
 inter one o' his towerin' passions; he's a good fellow 
 when he's hisself, but he drinks a deal too much," 
 remarked one of the observers, probably with reference 
 to stories about storms in that neighbourhood, in 
 wliich the sea, in its fearful wrath, had driven ships 
 high and dry on the beach, chasing the escaping 
 occupants far into the sandhills, and dashing spars 
 and rigging after them.
 
 10 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 But the specialit}^ in this stormy sea was calculated 
 to tickle the fancy. For here and there between the 
 rough waves, which were managed in a primitive 
 fashion, with ckimsy machinery, the heads and shoul- 
 ders of mermen and mermaids popped up and down 
 hke those of so many Jacks-in-the-box, the inhuman 
 creatures gloating over the sufferings of a handsome 
 Prince, whose yacht was in danger of being wrecked 
 on the rocks. One pretty little mermaid alone was 
 touched with pity for the alarms of Prince Charming 
 and his retinue, endeavouring to save the helpless 
 mortals from the tm-bulence of the ocean. 
 
 The second scene was still more remarkable. In 
 a rocky cave, strewn with sea-shells and curious crea- 
 tures of the deep, an old witch of gigantic proportions 
 was sitting muttering over her cauldron. The little 
 mermaid (Vere Clavering) having forsaken her own 
 people, and encountered their enmity, for love of the 
 Prince, and having heard that the witch was able, 
 with her spells, to transform her into mortal shape,
 
 BEHIXD THE SCEXES. 11 
 
 had sought her in despair, ready to brave any curse 
 in pm^suit of her \Yishes. The sublime must ever be 
 blended with the ridiculous, and nothing but the girl's 
 pathetic expression, with her peculiarly ethereal cast 
 of beauty, could have made the representation of the 
 mermaid anything but comic on a nearer view. The 
 black-bearded witch, with her w^eird and bloated fea- 
 tures, murmuring her incantations over the fire, diverted 
 the attention from the fact that the girl, whose delicate 
 limbs were encased in a tail with fishy scales, could 
 not stand properly upright, but had to be floated in 
 on a slide, hidden in its turn by a huge nautilus 
 shell. The scales covered her to the waist, where a 
 pink silk bodice, almost entirely concealed by her long, 
 floating, blonde tresses, completed the effect, which 
 was ludicrous and impossible. 
 
 But nothing could destroy the native grace of the 
 performer, Avho was shy and gentle, and looked the 
 part to perfection, because she was a little frightened. 
 And the men and women in the pit, who were eating
 
 12 A STRANGE TEMFfATION. 
 
 sweetmeats and fruits, thought only of the cruelty of 
 the witch who decreed that, when the little mermaid 
 assumed human form, she should be dumb till she 
 should succeed in engaging the affections of the Prince. 
 The tender vibrations of the musical voice had been 
 heard, pleading in vain against the hardness of the 
 verdict, which further doomed her to the penalty of 
 death should she fail to win success. She had taken 
 the horrible decoction, which was to turn her into a 
 mortal, into her trembling hand — the hand was long 
 and narrow, and the fingers tapered ; it showed delicacy 
 of constitution — she had consented to drink it, and 
 had fallen into a deep sleep. 
 
 And now in the interval the people were waiting 
 for her reappearance in the form of a woman. The 
 muffled sounds of the stamping of feet showed that 
 they were beginning to get impatient. The scene- 
 shifters had changed the scenes, and the actor who 
 took the part of the Prince had already emerged 
 fi'om his dressing-room, and knocked noisily at tke-
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 13 
 
 door, bidding Polly and her cousin to "look sharp." 
 
 " It is time for you to go on — you mustn't wait a 
 
 moment longer — I'll come — I shan't be long," said 
 
 jMary Smith, giving one more encouraging glance to 
 
 her cousin. 
 
 The third act had begun. The inferior orchestra 
 had ceased, and the lights through the opal-tinted glasses 
 which had been casting a subdued, almost sickly, hue 
 over the theatre were turned on to their fullest extent. 
 The wine-bibbers had returned from crowding round 
 the bars, and had taken their places in the pit ; the 
 breath of some of them reeking from fumes of whisky, 
 or stale tobacco. Their eyes were stolidly fixed 
 on the stage, for now the treat of the evening was 
 about to commence — had they not come to see Yere 
 Clavering dance? 
 
 It seemed to the poor, trembling little da7iseuse, who 
 lay prone with her eyes closed — apparently asleep — on
 
 14 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 the stage, as if through her own shut eyeUds she could 
 see those hosts of other eyes — ev^erywhere — every- 
 where — the eyes of men. Men of all classes, and 
 perhaps of all nations, for it needed no knowledge of 
 the English language to come and see a pretty girl 
 dance. 
 
 And now for the fu^st time in the evening the pri- 
 vate boxes began to fill with the Mite^ who had dis- 
 dained to put in an appearance at the earlier and more 
 meretricious portion of the proceedings. Amongst 
 them, in a stage-box, was a well-known exquisite who 
 often frequented this theatre, dressed, as he fondly 
 supposed, in the height of European fashion, though 
 his war-paint and feathers would not have deceived 
 people in London or Paris, both necktie and dress- 
 suit being a little out of date. It was he who had 
 often flung bouquets to Vere Clavering, and who had 
 lately oifered her jewellery, which she had refused. 
 He had pretensions as an art critic, and opinions which 
 no one ever contradicted, seeing that the other men
 
 BEHIXD THE SCENES. 15 
 
 had little time to give to such subjects. When this 
 Beau Nash of the ceremonies applauded there followed 
 a storm of stamping and clapping. When he hissed 
 other people hissed. It was almost sufficient for them 
 to watch the movements of his lips. 
 
 He now settled himself in the front of the box, and 
 surveyed the scene through his opera-glass. It was better 
 painted than the former ones -a forest scene, with 
 graceful old oaks and Avild flowers in the foreground, 
 whilst English elms with their characteristic foliage 
 melted away in the blueness of the distance. It was 
 curious in other respects, for the Cahfornian painter 
 had introduced the " redwoods " and a few Monterey 
 cypresses, with creeping vines and some rare exotics, 
 apparently unaware of the incongruity. 
 
 Underneath one of the trees lies Yere Clavering, 
 no longer the "little mermaid," but not as vet recov- 
 ered from the deep sleep into which the witch's 
 draught had thrown her. The prince enters and views 
 her with astonishment. He wakes her, and takes her
 
 16 A STRAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 by the hand, trying to make her speak, and give him 
 some explanation of the loneHness of her position. 
 The danseuse arises, dazzHng in her beauty, and gUt- LJ 
 tering in the spangled robes, which have hitherto been 
 concealed beneath the scales of the mermaid's dress. 
 She is the attraction of the evening. ' The soft, blue 
 tint of the eyes, relieved by irises which are almost 
 black, with the pale, luminous hair, more like moonlight 
 than sunlight, the little feet, and the childlike air, give 
 her the appearance of a delicate china figure. A 
 motherly woman might have observed with a sigh that 
 the airy effect was sadly increased by the thinness 
 of the limbs, which had once been supple and round ; 
 and the mulatto woman, who had dressed her, could 
 have added the information of how impossible she 
 had found it to heighten with rouge the hectic spots, 
 which glowed on the ivory whiteness of her cheeks. 
 The prince finds that she is speechless. She motions 
 to him with her arms — her delicate hands. He does 
 not understand her. And then she begins to dance.
 
 BEHLNT) THE SCENES. 17 
 
 Heine's 7not, that dancing is praying with one's feet, 
 seems to have some meaning as she glides along in 
 this poetr}^ of motion. When she ceases there is a 
 storm of clapping, through which an ear quickened 
 by anxiety could distinguish the faintest hiss. The 
 feet of the dancer waver, but she takes courage. The 
 prince again takes her by the hand, speaks to her 
 kindly, and offers to shelter her in his palace. He 
 calls her his little foundling, and joy overtakes her. 
 The dance becomes more rapid as she attempts to 
 express her gratitude. Her little feet seem scarcely 
 to touch the ground — she floats rather than walks. 
 
 In the second scene the prince is at the door of 
 his palace. He is leading the dumb girl, and presents 
 her to his fiancee^ who is waiting to meet him in the 
 park in the evening light. The likeness and contrast 
 between the supposed sisters strikes the lookers-on, 
 for the princess is Violet Clavering, magnificently 
 dressed in some rich brocade, interwoven with silver, 
 on which a coloured light is turned to imitate the 
 
 YOL. I. 2
 
 18 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 setting sun, till it sparkles like cloth of gold. Violet's 
 dignified appearance, with firm neck, well set on her 
 shoulders, rounded arms, and stately carriage, hair of 
 a red chestnut, and eyes a shade darker than her 
 cousin's, contrasts with the ethereal appearance of the 
 dancer. She is gracious to the foundling, but the joy 
 of the deaf and dumb gii'l, when she approaches her, 
 is once more turned to anguish. She remembers the 
 time when she implored the witch to help her in barter- 
 ing her all for the hope of being human, and, cursed 
 with her granted prayer, she attempts in vain to make 
 her aifection known. The applause was apt to be 
 great at this crisis, when — deprived as she was of the 
 faculty of speech — the unknown girl had to express 
 by her dancing alone all her feelings of fear, hope, 
 and entreaty. But the applause was fainter than 
 usual, and again interrupted by a hiss, for the feet 
 of the dancer seemed to flag; the beauty, the coquetry, 
 and even the despair were somehow less bewildering 
 than usual.
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 19 
 
 In the last scene the marriage is about to take 
 place, and the dumb girl again appears as the bridal 
 procession is preparing to form. She detains the 
 bridegroom, who is fascinated, as if bewitched, by 
 the mysterious being, now beckoning, now entreating, 
 while she is still unable to deliver the message she 
 has to give him. Her agility, her caprices, as she 
 appears for a moment, and then vanishes into the 
 background, succeed for a little while in directing his 
 attention even from the bride. It was the crucial 
 moment in which the poor little dancer's triumph had 
 been wont to take the house by storm. 
 
 The clapping and stamping re-commenced, but the 
 hiss was again heard, and this time it was supported 
 by other hisses, unmistakeably repeated from the stage- 
 box. In the pit two or three men stood up full of 
 indignant protest. Such things before now had led to 
 encounters with fists. The dancer became aware of 
 it, and stood uncertain, with trembling limbs. Terribly 
 fatigued as she was by the efforts she had already
 
 20 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 made, oppressed by the panting of her breath, and 
 fearing to lose her control over her muscles, she made 
 the fatal mistake of glancing upwards at the boxes. 
 The man she feared and hated was there, and not 
 only he, but his companions. He was continually 
 explaining to those who turned him into ridicule 
 behind his back that, to him, the dance was a serious, 
 thing, an exhibition of Art ; he had a way of making 
 himself disagreeable, but, as he was rich and a good 
 shot, it was not wise to take him too seriously. Those 
 who differed from him shrugged their shoulders and 
 said nothing, but he had a following of his own, and 
 it was easy to see that others who thought themselves 
 dandies, and whose costume and ways were in almost 
 absurd contrast to the slouching figures and rough 
 clothing of the miners, took their cue from him, fol- 
 lowing their leader even in his hisses, so that the 
 accumulated hiss made a volume of sound. 
 
 Once more the dancer was overcome by the idea that 
 hundreds of eyes were staring at her from everywhere —
 
 BEHIXD THE SCENES. 21 
 
 eyes from the pit, the stalls, and the boxes — eyes 
 even from the foothghts, and eyes from the poor 
 musicians, who were staring from the orchestra! She 
 was unable any longer to bear the hungry stare of 
 those cruel eyes, or the bewildering glare of the foot- 
 lights. She heard nothing but the hissing, and believed 
 herself a failure. Cold drops of perspiration stood 
 like beads on her ivoiy brow. A laboured cough 
 burst from her chest, but she still continued to dance, 
 looking entreatingly at the audience, as if to ask them 
 why they hissed her when she had done her best, ill 
 and weak, to minister to their amusement. Her 
 movements were still graceful, but the dance became 
 slower and slower, as the shame of it overwhelmed her. 
 And suddenly, at the important moment, she wavered 
 — her hmbs gave way beneath her — the triumphant and 
 hopeful child had disappeared in the suffering woman. 
 She had fainted, fainted even beneath the roses and 
 camellias which her admirers had heaped down upon 
 her, to lessen the effect of her ill success.
 
 22 A STEANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards, when the curtain had 
 fallen, and Polly was bending over her, chafing her 
 hands, and whispering encouraging words into her 
 ears, she refused to be comforted, refused even at 
 first to be moved from the boards, on which she 
 crouched exhausted, hiding her altered face and di- 
 shevelled hair. 
 
 "I haven't got it in me any longer — I can never, 
 never do it again. That man hissed me because I 
 w^ould not take his presents, or answer his letters. 
 It puts me in the power of those sort of people. I 
 always hated it, and I can never do it now," she 
 said, loud enough to be heard by the supers and 
 scene-shifters, who were hngering near her, half in 
 pity and half in curiosity.
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 
 
 " It was very well when he only threw me the flowers ; 
 but if it was all to come over again, it would be 
 exactly the same. I coulcliiH accept the jewels ; you 
 know we made up our minds it wouldn't do. I want 
 to get out of it. I wish I could go away to the 
 ends of the earth," explained Azalea, in tones which 
 were weak from fretting and faintness, when the girls 
 were alone in their ill-furnished lodgings that night. 
 
 " It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't fancied 
 himself one of the dramatic critics," said Polly, with 
 a shrug, keeping to herself the reflection that they two 
 had made up their minds to a good deal which seemed 
 
 23
 
 24 A STRANGE TEifPTATION. 
 
 to be impossible in life. " It teas unfortunate to have 
 offended him, but you couldn't help it, darhng; it was 
 his fault for being so persistent : you must try to 
 forget it." 
 
 " But Avhat will you do ? I cannot live on yoii. 
 Perhaps I can take in needlework, or give lessons 
 in dancing?" 
 
 " Don't trouble to bother about it to-night, " said 
 Polly, twining her arms closely round her cousin. " I 
 have a little money saved, and 'Big Ben' will perhaps 
 help me to make enough for both of us." 
 
 " 'Big Ben' is a host in himself ; he can do a lot 
 with the manager ; but if Mr. Twining should turn 
 upon all of you for my shortcomings?" 
 
 " He didn't burst out on us to-night, though it was 
 really too provoking — a sort of thing which is sm^e 
 to be bad for the company. It was really one of the 
 best houses we have ever had. Now, if the manager 
 had stormed and lost his temper, I should hardly 
 have been surprised, but he was pretty good-tem-
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 25 
 
 pered," admitted Polly, frankly. She would hardly 
 have spoken out so plainly had she known that Azalea's 
 faintness was no mere transient attack. 
 
 "Oh, darling, why did you not tell me?" she cried 
 in her alarm, as the cough became incessant on the 
 following morning, and it was too evident that the 
 effort which had been made on the previous evening 
 accounted for its increased severity. " Did you think 
 I would have let you go if I had known? You had 
 better put a mustard plaster on your chest." 
 
 " Yes ; the disfigurement will not matter noiv^ " 
 answered Lea, as she sat up in bed, propped by the 
 pillow^s. "Are you going out, Polly? Don't stay in 
 this close room. And if you happened to be going 
 out, it struck me that perhaps you could get me a 
 few more of those glycerine lozenges ? — they did me 
 so much good last time." 
 
 She tm-ned away with a wan smile from the intent, 
 questioning look which the other girl fixed upon her. 
 There was no blind to the room, and the morning
 
 26 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 sunshine fell fall on the loveliness of the blonde head, 
 bringing out everything into clear relief, from the 
 bistre circles beneath the eyes, which told of want of 
 sleep, to the delicate down on the cheeks and on the 
 edges of the temples, where the fair curls were 
 pushed back. 
 
 The unspotted purity of the face lent a beauty 
 which would otherwise scarcely have belonged to it 
 when the morning light revealed its haggardness. 
 For the cheeks had lost their curves, the lips were 
 dry and colourless, and the black pupils, which had 
 been dilated, giving a brilliancy to the eyes, in the 
 excitement of the previous evening, were now con- 
 tracted to points like pins, while the eyes themselves 
 looked pale and red-rimmed. 
 
 A presentiment, sharp as an electric shock, darted 
 through Polly's mind that it was possible for her 
 friend and companion to be past the stage when gly- 
 cerine lozenges woald be of any avail. 
 
 " What is the matter with me this morning," she
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 27 
 
 asked herself, impatiently, " that I have such a lot 
 of queer thoughts haunting my brain like a set of 
 wretched imps sent to torment me? I must sweep 
 them all away, or I shall be good for nothing." 
 
 The air was clear and revivifying as she went out 
 for her daily piu-chases — not forgetting the glycerine 
 lozenges, only to be purchased at a store in Market 
 Street— but the Kobolds which continued to haunt her 
 brain were not to be swept away by any amount of good 
 air. The girl's own state of health was simply magnifi- 
 cent, and more than one man turned to look at her as she 
 walked with rapid, elastic steps, the coloiu" manthng in 
 her cheeks as she glanced with admiration at the brilliant 
 colouring of the Bay filled with hundreds of ships and 
 sailing-vessels of all descriptions — all busy — all alive ! 
 On other occasions this vivid sense of life would 
 have stirred the blood in her veins, and she would 
 have felt as if she could cry aloud for joy as she 
 inhaled deep breaths of the fresh, pure sea air. But 
 what was the use of feeling as if it were good to
 
 28 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 be alive; or delightful to catch a glimpse in the clear 
 atmosphere of the Golden Gate itself — that little, 
 narrow line of blue between the northern and southern 
 peninsulas, connecting the bay with the ocean? 
 
 As she passed the Palace Hotel, on her way from 
 Montgomery Street into Market Street, that sort of 
 electric shock accompanied by an unaccustomed sick- 
 ness of the heart came upon her again, and her steps 
 became slow and languid. Once more she grew a 
 little frightened as she recalled those unnatm-ally deep 
 stains under Azalea's eyes, and the pallid tint of the 
 face which by candle-light would be ivory white with 
 hectic colour on the cheeks. 
 
 A sudden resolution came upon her ; she would ask 
 the landlady of their lodging-house to recommend a 
 clever doctor. There were lots of doctors in " 'Frisco, " 
 and lots of people died, as Polly reflected with a pang, 
 remembering how "Big Ben," her lover — he who acted 
 the witch and had received his nickname from the 
 fact that he, on occasions, could sing a good bass
 
 AKTER THE PLAY. 29 
 
 song, priding himself on a " timbre " and volume of 
 sound which was enough to smash any ordinary window- 
 glass — how " Big Ben " had once suggested that the men 
 and the girls should take a holiday by driving out to 
 one of the cemeteries, w^here all respectable citizens 
 owned a " lot " which they were fond of showing to 
 their friends — the duty of " inspection " being a 
 sort of treat. To hear " Big Ben " talk, you would have 
 jumped to the conclusion that every desperado in 
 "'Frisco," or its surburbs, kept his private graveyard 
 in which to bury the numerous victims of his unerr- 
 ing sixshooter, and Polly had been thankful when 
 " Little Dick " (as the man who acted the Prince was 
 called, in contradistinction to "Big Ben") knocked 
 the expedition on the head, and declared it to be in 
 bad taste. " Big Ben " was an American ; but Dick 
 was a debased victim of the effete despotisms of 
 Europe, and though he was an " out-and-outer " in 
 the way of Radicalism, and proposed in some vague 
 fashion to reform the old country, he did not relish
 
 30 ■ A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 the conversation of his companion, who talked pleas- 
 antly of being deposited himself some day, — carefully 
 enshrined in what he called a "casket" — in his 
 " lot, " when that imfaihng marksman Death should 
 " let dayhght, " in some way unknown at present, through 
 him, and cause him to " pass in his checks." 
 
 Death was busy enough, as Polly reflected, in " 'Frisco, " 
 as Avell as everywhere else, and somehow the thought 
 of it turned her cold and sick. She had the impulse 
 of fighting with it, and warding it off with that deter- 
 mination and strength which comes to healthy, vigorous 
 youth. 
 
 She called in the doctor. He came the following 
 morning, but she had no intention of being alarmed 
 by his dolorous professional diagnosis. Indeed, she 
 thought it better not to question him, lest he should 
 be tempted to say horrible things to her. She beheved 
 it to be a pai-t of every doctor's programme to 
 humbug his patients by prophesying bad things, that 
 he might take all the credit of getting them out of the
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 31 
 
 hobble. "Little Dick" had told her so; he had 
 once had a fever, and the doctors had so humbugged 
 him. She had made up her mind that Dick, who 
 was shrewd and cautious, having a much keener eye 
 than she had herself for the hmnbugging propensities 
 of her fellow-creatures, must be in the right of it, 
 and she determined to cling to Dick's opinion. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the kind, old, keen-looking, grey- 
 haired man, with benevolent eyes beneath his over- 
 hanging, penthouse brows, began his careful examina- 
 tion of Lea's case, she was more than once shaken 
 in her resolution. Once she began to say, "Do 
 
 you ? " and broke off in her questioning, feehng 
 
 that she had only made a fool of herself. She stood 
 by the bedside, try'ing to master her nervousness and 
 foolish excitability, vexed with herself for the irritable 
 impatience which she found so difficult to restrain. 
 
 "Had you not better sound her lungs?" she had 
 asked, rather unnecessarily, when he entered the room, 
 flushing with anxiety as she ventured to make the
 
 32 • A STEAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 suggestion, and then became aware of her own foolish- 
 ness, because she could not bear to see the old man's 
 great, powerful hand pressed against her darling's deli- 
 cate back, to hear the sound of his taps, or to watch 
 the expression of his wrinkled face, scored Avith the 
 lines of thought as he stopped to listen. 
 
 •' You are hurting her," she felt inclined to exclaim, 
 and then turned away, ashamed of herself. For the 
 look in the kindly physician's face struck hke a shot 
 through her heart. 
 
 ''How was it you allowed her to go on dancing 
 when she caught this heavy cold ? " he asked, evading 
 that other question which she had determined not to 
 put, but which it needed little skill to read in her 
 anxious face. " How was it you did not call in 
 medical aid before ? " 
 
 Polly did not answer. She knew in her secret heart 
 that the very urgency of her fears had made her un- 
 practical, and the very strength of her will in keeping 
 a spectre at bay had kept her from asking anyone to
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 33 
 
 examine Lea. Nothing more had been said in the 
 presence of the patient, but Polly's tears had increased 
 as she noticed that the old man looked at her cousin 
 almost tenderly, when he helped to lay her back gently 
 on the pillows. He seemed to have been touched 
 himself, rough as his appearance was in many ways, 
 by the look in the sick girl's great, beseeching eyes. 
 
 Was it the fear of death — the same fear which had 
 been haunting herself — which was so visibly to be 
 seen in those eyes, with the imploring gaze of a 
 wounded gazelle? Polly asked herself the question 
 with a shudder, as she followed the doctor down the 
 stairs of the tall house with different rooms let out to 
 various families. The noise of children's voices with 
 the general stir of life, the odour of decayed vege- 
 tables, stale tobacco and beer, common to such crowded 
 human dwellings, struck Polly as it had not done 
 before, when the two stood together in the narrow 
 hall able to talk, for the first time, at the open door 
 leading into the street. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 • A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Then the doctor said abruptly, " You had better 
 move as quickly as you can out of this. Take quiet 
 lodgings as soon as possible — in the country air, or 
 — what do you say to Oaklands? There are small 
 houses in Oaklands if it is neai enough for your 
 work. Rest and quiet are absolutely necessary." 
 
 Polly simply nodded her head. Afterwards she had 
 taken herself to task for standing like a simpleton, 
 unable to explain that the salaries allowed to the 
 members of a travelling company were terribly limited, 
 and that though she had tried to be especially careful 
 in choosing a bedroom on her own account — ever 
 since Azalea had caught one of her severest colds 
 after being put into damp sheets — it seemed to her 
 impossible to get good and healthy accommodation. 
 These damp sheets and newly-papered rooms had 
 never hurt Polly, but, as " Big Ben " said, they " played, 
 the devil " with others who had not iron constitutions. 
 
 She tried to nerve herself to listen to the further 
 advice. It seemed that good air was needed, tonics
 
 AFTER THE PLAY. 35 
 
 and plenty of good, tempting food, and that doctoring 
 could do little or nothing. But what could she 
 understand of the tall talk which followed? Possibly 
 he had his own reasons for parrj'ing anything definite 
 and putting her off, as it seemed to her, with vague 
 generalities about the thickening at the base of the 
 lungs, the state of the tissues, and the condition of 
 the blood. When he came to the long words " tuber- 
 cular baciUi " she again nodded her head, feeling like 
 an idiotic hypocrite for pretending to know his meaning, 
 when she had not the faintest comprehension of it. 
 
 Possibly the fencing might have gone on longer on 
 both sides — he afraid to be too brusque witii her, and 
 she terrified to ask for the truth — had not a chord 
 of sympathy been suddenly touched l^etween them by 
 the fact that when Polly pulled out a piece of gold 
 from her slender little purse, he put his hands in his 
 pockets and sturdily refused to take it. 
 
 Then the girl, biting her lips and trying to swallow 
 down her tears, cried suddenlv — too distracted to
 
 36 ■ A STRA^^GE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 know what she was asking, and too terrified to be 
 logical — "If I do all that you tell me — and if we 
 move to other lodgings, at once — will you promise me, 
 promise that she will get well again." 
 
 She caught hold of him in her excitement, and 
 he, gently loosing his coat from her touch, said in a 
 lower voice, 
 
 " My dear, is it for me to kill or to make alive r 
 The issues of life and death are not with men like us. " 
 
 Afterwai'ds, when he drove off in his buggy to 
 visit his other patients, he found it difficult to get that 
 unusual vision away from his eyes, of a girl who 
 looked like a mad woman, her fingers clutching at his 
 coat as she cried wildly, 
 
 "Promise me, promise me.^ 
 
 More than once he found his spectacles dimmed 
 and had to take them oiF and wipe them. Then he 
 said to himself, with no unkindly thought, 
 
 "These actresses are queer people, always intense 
 and exaggerative."
 
 CHAPTER m. 
 
 LOVE GRAPPLDsG WITH DEATH. 
 
 Polly had never heard of a celebrated picture by 
 one of our greatest artists, in which Love, with its 
 ineffectual efforts and little hands — with muscles over- 
 strained from useless effort — is endeavouring to bar the 
 passage, and stop the striding walk of Death. But 
 the same impulse was upon her as she went wearily 
 up the stairs holding on to the balusters for support, 
 with a sensation that her arms were nerveless and 
 yet that her beloved should not die. 
 
 The doctor in his talk had alluded to a Higher 
 Power, but Polly — though she beheved in all sorts of 
 talismans and superstitions — had no intention of appeal-
 
 38 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 ing to that Higher Power. A sensation that it would 
 be mean to appeal to the Great Unseen on account 
 of her own selfish interests, whilst for years she had 
 put all such thoughts on one side, was as deterrent 
 as the recollection that she knew nothing at all of 
 such subjects. In her mere struggle for the neces- 
 sities of existence, and in the urgent needs of her 
 busy life there had not been a moment to spare for 
 the consideration of such topics. And yet she felt 
 weak as an infant, in trying to ward off the approach 
 of the horrible thing whose pestiferous breath was 
 already close upon her, in its attempt to snatch away 
 her treasiu-e. 
 
 Her sense of protection for Lea made her waver 
 for an instant, and wonder if there was no minister 
 in the whole of San Francisco who could help her 
 with his prayers. Then she thought how Ben would 
 laugh at her, if she sent for such " cattle, " and re- 
 minded herself how she had never believed in the use 
 of those sort of people. A minister would only come
 
 LOVE GRAPPIJXG WITH DEATH. 39 
 
 and preach, reproach Lea, as some of them had 
 reproached her once before, with the wickedness of 
 her profession, and then she would be worse. No, 
 Azalea had evidently guessed more about her present 
 illness than she had chosen to say to her; she was, 
 perhaps^ alarmed beyond measure — seized with the fear 
 of death herself, and trying to put it away from her. 
 Good God — if Polly could only get her darling out 
 into the country, into pure, fresh air where medicine 
 would not be needed — but she would have to consult 
 with her lover first. 
 
 Her lover! How horrible it was to be tied in such 
 a fashion, and to be tacked on to a sort of caravan, 
 a menagerie of strange animals in which people could 
 not be left behind, even to be allowed time properly to get 
 through their dying without apologizing to the manager. 
 
 She recalled the days when she had first been left 
 alone with Lea — terribly isolated in a strange country 
 to wliich they had emigrated with two elder people, a 
 widow and widower Avho were brother and sister — Lea's
 
 40 A STEAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 mother who was ah-eady sickening with consumption 
 and ordered out to a more equable climate, and Polly's 
 father who had afterwards fallen a victim to an 
 accident. They had been living pretty comfortably 
 till the dead body of George Smith had been brought 
 home on a stretcher; and then there was an interim, 
 during which the two girls of fourteen and sixteen 
 had to move into cheaper quarters, and to struggle for 
 their daily bread. 
 
 They were sinking into the lowest depths. Polly 
 recalled even now with horror the squalor of little 
 Bourke Street, the evil-looking, ugly backs of the 
 houses, the women with harsh, quarrelsome voices 
 standing at the doorways, the oaths of the men, the 
 vicious atmosphere, the drinking. Thank goodness, 
 they ^vere not obhged any longer to hve in a hell 
 hke that — but she could never forget that it was 
 Azalea's pretty talent for dancing, in which she had 
 always excelled at the Academy where the two girls 
 had been taught, which rescued them from the neces-
 
 LOVE GRAPPLING WITH DEATH. 41 
 
 sity of living upon the profits made by button-holing 
 or mending shirts. Since then, with faithful Ben as 
 a kind of protection — after all, he had been a good 
 sort of Newfoundland dog — the existence of the two 
 girls had at least been tolerable. But Azalea had been 
 ail in all to her. Polly recalled her little endearing 
 ways, and how, in spite of ill health, she had borne 
 with the constant grumblings of the girl who was 
 older and should have set an example, and how she 
 had never joined in declaiming against the wretched- 
 ness of their lot. 
 
 For the last year or so Polly had almost ceased to 
 rail at Fate. The sweet patience of her companion 
 in misfortune had not only modified her impatience, 
 but the high spiiits, inseparable from a perfect state 
 of physical health, had inflated her like a prosperous 
 wind, carrying her along without resistance. In spite 
 of the wear and tear, the constant knocking about, 
 and the indifferent salaries which were supposed to 
 be good enough for women — there was no doubt of
 
 42 . A STEAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 the fact that Polly had managed to enjoy her life. 
 
 All this must come to an end now — and when she 
 was alone again she would succumb to the old attacks 
 of blackest despondency and rail against the cruelty 
 of her fate. Cruelty, yes, it was cruel — the whole 
 world was cruel —she should never be callous enouojh 
 to bear it ! A sense of pity not only for her cousin but 
 for all the suffering women who were represented in 
 her, swept over her and made her angry. At that 
 moment she could not only have shaken her fist in 
 the face of the world, but if there had been a Revolu- 
 tion, such as " Little Dick " hked to rave of, she 
 could have stood red-handed at a barricade, or have 
 thrown in her lot with the petroleuses. Anything 
 to avenge herself on a society w^hich had driven her 
 father into exile, deprived her aunt of the necessaries 
 fit for a weak state of health, and forced a delicate 
 girl, with the seeds of hereditary disease, to dance for 
 the people's pleasure till she was ready to drop and die. 
 
 Polly, when she had settled her invalid to an early
 
 LOVE GRAPPLING WITH DEATH. 43 
 
 sleep that night, comforting her with all sorts of im- 
 promptu fibs, set out, with unusual bitterness in her 
 heart, to confer with Ben, on the subject of her change 
 of schemes for the future. It was an added drop of 
 gall to her cup that Ben would probably be furious, 
 and that the manager might possibly endeavour to 
 bind her to her bargain. For already his generosity 
 had been somewhat tried, by the necessity of removing 
 "The Little Mermaid" for a time from the boards, till 
 some other danseuse was sufficiently trained to take 
 Azalea's part, and it would be hard upon him to ask 
 him to part with Polly too. 
 
 Then what were they to live upon ? Polly had not 
 saved enough to keep them for longer than a few 
 weeks. Azalea's cough was less incessant; already it 
 seemed as if the prescription, which had been made 
 up at a druggist's store, was beginning to do her good, 
 but she was very tired and breathless. She would 
 evidently need much nourishment, and Polly's brain 
 went round when she asked herself how on earth all
 
 44 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 this nourishment was to be procured, or how they 
 were to exist when the slender purse was exhausted. 
 Oh, the curse of poverty, the hardness and wickedness 
 of the disproportion between human lots! 
 
 With the instinct of a wounded animal she sought 
 her way through the narrower streets, feeling, for the 
 moment, a sort of sympathy for the weary and poverty- 
 stricken creatures Avho had but one resource — drink — 
 and who were crowding round a saloon which had 
 been facetiously called the " Peep of Day " — but which 
 it would have been wiser to have nicknamed the 
 " Mouth of Hell. " Then she had a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling, for the sight of the mist within, dimming the 
 plate-glass windows, caused by the fumes of the whisky, 
 the smoke of the tobacco, and the breath of the men 
 who were crowded together over their cups, with 
 the sound of their oaths and noisy mirth, filled her 
 with a loathing idea of the horrors of the place. She 
 instinctively crossed over on the other side of the 
 pavement, thinking how Ben and Dick would laugh
 
 LOVE GRAPPLING WITH DEATH. 45 
 
 at her for being so suddenly squeamish, though Ben 
 had warned her against wandering into the Chinese 
 quarter, or that resort of thieves and cut-throats 
 known as the "Barbary coast." 
 
 The traditions of Polly's life had made her brave 
 as a boy — Ben had even taught her how to handle 
 a "Derringer" in cases of emergency— but her " peo- 
 ple " had been accustomed for generations to gentler 
 modes of life, and there were occasions when heredity 
 would suddenly assert itself. 
 
 " If I could only get away from it all!" she cried 
 passionately to herself, wondering how it could be 
 possible for refined and delicate ladies to spend their 
 time, as she heard they did, in ministering to the poor 
 in dirty and disgusting surroundings. " I should like 
 to have nothing but pretty things about me and never to 
 see anything horrid again as long as I live, " she added 
 wildly, as she gazed at the backyards of the shoddy houses, 
 the flues and the dirty chimneys, only redeemed by the 
 brilliant stars shining in the clear atmosphere of the sky.
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PART. 
 
 Polly calculated her time. She knew when the play 
 would be over, and when Ben and his companions 
 would be taking their supper together, at an eating-house 
 in the neighbourhood. One or tw^o of these little 
 suppers had been specially arranged before the com- 
 pany took its departure for Australia. 
 
 " Little Dick " who w^as like the Pacific, and drank 
 more than w^as good for him, though he never touched 
 water, was apt to get elevated as these suppers pro- 
 ceeded. The little man believed himself to be all 
 suppressed force. He was everything which w^as fearful 
 when in his revolutionary moods — a NihiHst, a con- 
 
 46
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PAET. 47 
 
 spirator, a regicide. He had been more than once 
 compared to Marat, and rather Hked the comparison. 
 But his language became adulatoiy whenever he 
 referred to women. Constant alkisions to flowers and 
 birds, eked out by stilted similes were supposed to be 
 suitable to them. He would have explained that he 
 either approached them in the language of poetry or 
 talked down to their level as if they were children. 
 He looked like a frog tiying to inflate himself and 
 ■emulate the bull, as he stood by Ben's side, glass in 
 hand, haranguing the company, just as Polly entered 
 the room. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, confronting the 
 other actors who interrupted him with laughing, sing- 
 ing and whistling, " an unparalleled misfortune has 
 happened to us. AVe are suddenly deprived of the 
 help of one whose Terpsichorean successes shed a lustre 
 over our performances. For just as Miss Vere Claver- 
 ing had reached the apex of her success, and was 
 enthroned on a dizzy height from which there seemed
 
 48 ■ A STR.VXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 little else to covet, she is hiu4ed into the depths by 
 unseen forces/ 
 
 He had got so far when he seemed in some mys- 
 terious way to be collared by "Big Ben," who having 
 had enough of his " chin-music, " touched him lightly 
 on the shoulder forcing him to sit down, and rising 
 to his own full height of six foot two, appealed in a 
 massive voice, slightly hoarse from emotion — if not 
 from cheap champagne — to the fellow-feeling amongst 
 men and women in their profession, which made it a 
 notorious fact that they never deserted each other, but 
 always stood by each other in distress. 
 
 Polly could not help being thankful, when he finished 
 his oration by then and there putting his hand in his 
 pocket and taking out some gold, as he sent the hat 
 round for a subscription which he started generously 
 with his own donation. Miss Yere Clavering would 
 no doubt be in need of some of those extra luxuries, 
 which, in their constant knocking about and moving 
 from place to place, had been needed by ladies of deli-
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PART. 49 
 
 cate constitution. He made a veiled allusion to the 
 draughty lodgings, and unaired beds which had to be 
 encountered in such necessary changes. Everybody 
 put in some coin, and pocket-handkerchiefs were the 
 order of the proceedings. 
 
 Then the excitement having quieted down with the 
 retirement of most of the women, the conversation 
 between the men reverted to their favourite topics. 
 And Polly, as she lingered, hoping that Dick would 
 go out, and leave her to get a quiet word with Ben, 
 hated herself for the feeling that her engagement had 
 been always more or less nauseous to her, and that 
 her whole being revolted from the idea of ever being 
 obliged to maTry this really kind-hearted man. He 
 was certainly big enough to take care of her, and his 
 protection had been useful not only to her but also 
 to Lea. How was it that the stupidit}^ of his intellect 
 and the vulgarity of his person could be so especially 
 apparent to her, on this very evening, when she ought 
 to have been more than usually grateful to him? 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 • A STRAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 The two men were talking noisily, and the talk, 
 which could scarcely be called a debate — as both were 
 more or less on the same side — was unnecessarily 
 loud. The bass voice became loud and rasping. Ben 
 had pushed his sleeves upwards, half baring his big, 
 sine^vy arms with the black hairs on them, as if he 
 were going to strike a blow at the effete European des- 
 potisms of which they were so fond of haranguing. 
 
 Even to look at Dick was a sort of rehef, though 
 his prematurely bald head which, when he did not 
 wear a wig, as he always did on the boards, w'as a 
 sort of prolongation of liis big, hairless forehead, filled 
 her with repulsion. For she was not bound to Dick, 
 and he was at least more intellectual. He made a 
 fool of himself, as they all did at times, but when 
 he was a little drunk Polly declared to herself that 
 the alcohol did not disfigure him so fearfully as it 
 w^as apt to disfigure Ben, whose big eyes became 
 fishy and his smile oily at once. Still, there w^as nothing 
 for her but to wait another quarter of an hour in
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PART. 51 
 
 patience, however little their " chin-music " interested 
 her. By that time they would probably have talked 
 themselves out, and Ben would escort her back to 
 her lodgings. 
 
 She would take care that he drank nothing more 
 till they were out in the fresh evening air, and then 
 — once for all — she would break to him that she 
 would have to stay with Lea. 
 
 Meanwhile Dick was leaning back with a cigar 
 between his lips. AVhen he removed it a sarcastic 
 smile was curling those thin lips on which the hair 
 was never allowed to grow, for the exigencies of his 
 various " parts." 
 
 He spoke as if he were a Revolutionist — a sociahst 
 — who would like to be a terrorist, whilst he was 
 forced to be a second-rate actor and a ladies' man. 
 
 " You know we ^-e members of the United States, 
 and have a President of the Republic — any man can 
 rise in America," said Ben, with one of his stentorian 
 laughs. 
 
 • 
 
 U, OF ILL L«
 
 52 A STRANG E TEMPTATIOy. 
 
 " We were speaking of Europe — of the oppression 
 of the working classes — of the tyrannical capitalist of 
 Ireland already rising — of " 
 
 "Leave Ireland to take care of itself," said Ben, 
 with another laugh. 
 
 "You know how I hate pohtics," interposed the 
 girl, with pouting lips. But Dick, when he was bring- 
 ing out all his biggest guns after the manner of his 
 " type, " did not suffer himself to be interrupted even 
 by a woman. 
 
 "Religion," he continued, "is for the Philistines 
 who make bogies for the oppressed people — the rising 
 generation will have nothing with it " 
 
 " You might have spared yourself that hit — I don't 
 think the present company troubles itself much with 
 it," roared Ben, by way of annotation. But the few 
 other men, who were sprawling about in various atti- 
 tudes comfortable to themselves, stamped and clapped. 
 Dick knew his consummate power over them. When 
 he talked in this excited style he might be nothing
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PART. 53 
 
 but a fool or an impostor, but he knew how to keep 
 his ascendancy, and how to work on the unpractical 
 and impressionable young fellows around him. 
 
 He had now time to turn his attention on the 
 female who had intermpted him. 
 
 "If you knew how we had missed you," he sim- 
 pered, " you, of all people, should be interested in the 
 politics you profess to hate — for it's you women who 
 for centuries have been the most wronged." 
 
 He spoke in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, in- 
 tended to be a musical alto, which he used whenever 
 he wished to make himself agreeable, and his looks 
 were as sentimental as he dared to make them in the 
 presence of Ben. 
 
 "" To tell you the truth," said the girl, " I didn't half 
 hear what you said. When these sort of fits come 
 on you I never half listen — I was thinking of other 
 things." 
 
 Then he entered into a long and eloquent disserta- 
 tion, " shooting his mouth, " as Ben explained, and
 
 54 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 getting off his "tough yarns." He told her that she 
 had no capacity for enthusiasm, that women had been 
 ready to die for the sake of emancipation. He in- 
 veighed against a state of society in which the strong 
 preyed on the weak, and in which the weak had only 
 the resource of putting out thorns for self -protection. 
 The duty of lying might sometimes be a real duty, 
 a barricade against tyranny — a deceit which was neces- 
 sary. All actors practised it. Polly listened with an 
 incredulous smile. She did not think it worth while 
 to argue that such departures from truth might defeat 
 their own purposes, or to protest, as the little man 
 brought his ineffectual sledge-hammer down, on the 
 moral rules which, according to him, were made for 
 the benefit of the rich and for the oppression of the 
 innocent. It was like the crowings of a bantam and 
 she waited for them to cease, sitting up in her chair 
 and smiling with a forced appearance of interest. 
 
 It was not the first time she had tried to show 
 herself interested in questions which did not in the
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PART. 55 
 
 least concern her, for she was a true woman, given 
 to individual and not abstract meditations. The 
 attempt was mere politeness, it had never succeeded 
 in deceiving the men ; but she wished to keep on 
 good terms with them, and knew that she had start- 
 ling news to break to her lover when the bantam had 
 done its crowing. Dick turned on her and accused 
 her of being as silent as a fish, and then appealed 
 to his other hearers. 
 
 "What is all this talk about law and order but 
 oppression of the people? There is one law for the 
 rich and another for the poor; the time will come 
 when men of property will find they will no longer be 
 able to keep the accumulated gains of a race of robbers.'* 
 
 Ben nodded, but the girl laughed. 
 
 "These are theories in the air; in your case they 
 lead to perfectly safe conclusions. Do you mean 
 to say that in your experience there has ever been a 
 time when you would think yourself justified in laying 
 hands on these — accumulations of robbers ? "
 
 56 A STEAJN'GE TEIVIPTATION. 
 
 He grew angry and evaded the point, for one of 
 the other men jomed in the langh. 
 
 ^ If such an opportunity came to him he would not 
 be faint-hearted," chimed in Ben; " I wish, for instance, 
 Ave could lay hands on a new^ lot of wigs, as that 
 last box disappeared in such an unaccountable fashion. 
 / might do at a pinch, but Dick w^ould never be 
 able to appear without his wig." 
 
 " Women are not generally so downright — to tell 
 you the truth — you were rather hard on him," said 
 Ben, as he looked at Polly tenderly on their way back 
 to her lodgings. 
 
 "I don't understand that sort of talk." 
 
 " You can understand it perfectly well. You have 
 intellect out of the common ; you are quite an extra- 
 ordinar}^ gh'l," said Ben, as he tucked her arm affec- 
 tionately under his. Polly was conscious, as usual, 
 of a revulsion of feeling, but it w'ould not do to quarrel 
 with him. This big Newfoundland dog, w^ho did not 
 think her a fool and had the w^orshipping look in his
 
 POLLY ACTS HER PAKT. 57 
 
 eyes when he called her an " extraordinary girl, " had 
 fought many a battle for her to protect her from 
 rudeness or insult. The power of habit was strong, 
 and while his eyes dwelt upon her approvingly she knew 
 that she must hide her impatience and dissatisfaction. 
 
 After all, she was carrying out " Little Dick's " 
 theories in acting her part as she generally acted it. 
 For she straightened her brows, and her eyes were 
 clear and firm as before, when she answered, 
 
 " It needed no cleverness to find out the weak 
 points in his case. It'll injure yoiu* work if you give 
 in to this foohshness." 
 
 " It is making no difference to my work. * 
 
 " I am glad to hear that — you have the public to 
 please; and the hard life you lead would become im- 
 possible, if — if you yielded to all these moods." 
 
 Polly had not the courage to add there and then, as she 
 had intended, that the " hard life " would not be hers for 
 at least some time to come, and that the impertinence from 
 which he had shielded her — and to which she and Azalea
 
 o8 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 ^voiilcl otherwise have been subjected, in addition to their 
 other annoyances — need be dreaded by her no longer. 
 
 She put off the fatal announcement till the follow- 
 ing morning, shrinking from the unusually sentimental 
 look in Ben's eyes — a look which warned her, in some 
 wav which she could not define, that he was intendins: to 
 broach the subject of fixing the day for their marriage. 
 
 " Best to let him sleep off the champagne, " thought 
 practical Polly, who had been quite relieved when he 
 had ceased to talk about marriage, being in her secret 
 heart averse to the idea of losing her liberty. 
 
 Attractive as she was, she had found it convenient 
 in a company of this sort to be engaged to someone 
 — tall and massive in appearance — who could protect 
 her from the assiduity of others, and the convenience 
 had been still greater when that someone was in no 
 hurry, but could treat her like a comrade. Now, for 
 the first time, it occiu-red to her, with a suddenness 
 which took away her breath, that it might now be 
 still more convenient to get rid of him altogether.
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 BEN ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. 
 
 Azalea was sympathetic as usual. She Hstened, on 
 the following day, with a look of pity on her face, 
 when Polly told her of her difficulties. But it did 
 not occur to either of the girls that it would be the 
 right thing for Polly openly to break her engagement. 
 The man was coarse and large but he was very good- 
 tempered. There was nothing downright bad about 
 him, and it seemed impossible to both of them to 
 expose themselves to the possibilities of his wrath. 
 
 " Being engaged to him was one thing, marrying is 
 another. I never told him that I actually intended 
 to marry him," explained Polly, as she settled her 
 
 59
 
 60 ' A STRANGE TEMPT ATIOX. 
 
 cousin in the old, chintz-covered arm-chair, and pre- 
 pared to keep the other appointment in which she 
 could no longer delay speaking. 
 
 It was an ingenious fib ; but, in spite of being irate 
 with Dick, Polly prided herself on her art for making 
 ready excuses. 
 
 "Yes, dear, you and I tried to do the best for 
 ourselves, but Ben was invaluable," assented the younger 
 girl, "I don't see how you could have helped it." 
 
 " You yourself will be glad to get away from Dick. " 
 
 A slight flush lit up the pallor of Azalea's face, 
 but she shivered and drew the white knitted "cloud," 
 which Polly's deft fingers had woven for her, more 
 closely round her. 
 
 " How much nicer it would be for us both if there 
 were no men!" she said, a little irritably, glancing up 
 into Polly's face. It was a pitiful, appealing glance, 
 as she suddenly corrected herself and added, 
 
 " Oh, I needn't be afraid. A person in horrid 
 health is no longer a fascinating object."
 
 BEX ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 61 
 
 * Darling, how dare you talk so ! " cried Polly, catch- 
 ing her in her strong arms, and forgetting, in the 
 violence of her embrace, that she was almost squeezing 
 the breath out of her dehcate frame. 
 
 " Big Ben " was lying neghgently on a greasy sofa 
 wrapped in a greasy dressing-gown, when his fiancee, 
 (who, in the whole course of her Bohemian life, had 
 never been fettered by the European institution of 
 chaperons) came to visit him by appointment in his 
 sitting-room a few hours afterwards. Japanese devices 
 were embroidered on the dressing-gown, which he had 
 purchased second-hand at one of the stores. 
 
 But its splendours were somewhat mitigated by the 
 fact that it was too short for him, whilst his long 
 legs and big, clumsy feet were stretched out beyond 
 the edge of the sofa. There were large holes in the 
 worsted slippers which had been embroidered for him 
 by some former sweetheart, for many women had been 
 sweet upon Ben, but to do him justice he had cared 
 for none of them, till Polly, as he often explained.
 
 62 ■ A stra:nge temptation. 
 
 "knocked him flat." Roses had been embroidered on 
 the sHppers — hideous, English-worsted-work roses — 
 and a butterfly going after the roses, which contrasted 
 somew^hat oddly with the Japanese dressing-gown. 
 But butterfly and roses had long ago been submerged 
 in an inky cloud of greasy dirt, from which here 
 and there thin threads of canvas protruded. 
 
 The artistic vanity of the man, as well as his entire 
 absence of taste, w^as demonstrated by the sort of 
 tableau he had prepared for Polly. Other women 
 had told him he was handsome, and his life would 
 have been deprived of one of its principal attractions 
 if he had ceased to believe that he was pleasing in 
 the eyes of the sex. 
 
 Yet Polly saw only the defects. He was fat and 
 his coat was threadbare. The complexion which had 
 so often been disfigured by paint, looked spotty and 
 shiny in the morning light. 
 
 Still, he had been so kind to her; only the previous 
 evening he had had that gentle thought of making
 
 BEN ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 63 
 
 up a purse, to provide a suffering woman with the 
 luxuries which he could never afford to purchase 
 himself. Was it his fault if he was forced to drink 
 cheap champagne which was more or less poison to him, 
 and to smoke odious weeds, and if — though he was careful 
 never to get drunk — his whole appearance told a 
 story of the combined action of nicotine and alcohol ? 
 He did not speak in the nasal tones of some Ameri- 
 cans, but when he modulated his voice, as he did 
 when he greeted Polly, that voice was rich and sweet 
 with the intonation which always pleased her, peculiar 
 to the Western man. 
 
 "Well, how fares it with the invalid? Is the little 
 sister making progress this morning ? It's a pity one 
 can't send a hint to that old stager way back in 
 England. If Azalea Deveril ever comes into her 
 fortune there couldn't be a better time," he said, as 
 he stretched out his hands in welcome, rising from 
 the sofa and drawing a couple of chairs together. 
 
 Polly winced, for he had touched on a subject
 
 64 ■ A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 which ^^as a sore one to both the girls. The allusion 
 was to an old uncle of Azalea's, whose life had not 
 been exactly a pleasant one ; the whole object of which 
 had been to make money. Mr. Deveril was a leather 
 merchant and had lived always in the smell of leather, 
 though he had purchased a little estate in Surrey, 
 which he generally visited on Sundays. Of late years 
 his health had not been good and he was a martyr 
 to insomnia. But when he lay awake at nights his 
 thoughts could not be comfortable ones. He had never 
 cared for books or for natural scenery; neither his 
 library, his pretty house, nor his park-like grounds were 
 of any use to him. He had never married and had 
 never forgiven his only brother for marrying a penniless 
 girl of gentle birth, who had been a governess before 
 her marriage, and who insisted, diu-ing her widowhood, 
 on leaving England on account of her delicate health. 
 Roger Deveril had refused to help her, and had 
 announced his intention of leaving his money to distant 
 relations. Mrs. Deveril, if she impressed upon Azalea
 
 BEX ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. 65 
 
 that her uncle was aged and she was the next of kin, 
 had nevertheless insisted that if Roger Deveril cared 
 for anything it could only have been for leather, and 
 that his heart was as leathery as anything else about him. 
 He had made the money, but he could not spend it. 
 
 Yet the girls had often chattered about this cyni- 
 cal Uncle Roger who hated. his fellow-creatures; had no 
 hobby of any kind, though year after year he piled 
 up his income, and whose money could bring him 
 neither interest nor amusement. 
 
 " Lea will never come into her fortune," said Polly, 
 with a decided shake of her head. " It will all go 
 to distant relatives — to cousins three times removed, 
 but, of course, it is hard upon her." She had suddenly 
 become reflective, almost oblivious of Ben's existence, 
 as some horrible remarks of Dick's about the dis- 
 proportion in human lots grated on her memory. Her 
 tone became dreamy — almost far-away — as she said, 
 
 "Lea is more precious to me in herself than any 
 
 of the money, which connection with her could bring 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 A STEAXGE TEMPT ATIOX. 
 
 me. AVe have quite given up thinking any more 
 ■about the money." 
 
 Ben's shrug said, '* Azalea is not everything. " He 
 had evidently no sympathy to spare for Polly's dis- 
 tressed look, or the little frown which distorted her 
 delicately modeUed brow. 
 
 "You must recollect," she added, pathetically, "that 
 we have been all in all to each other." 
 
 Ben hated this sort of thing. 
 
 " You care more for Azalea's little finger, than for 
 the whole of my body," he said, becoming suddenly 
 livid with excitement. 
 
 Then he made an effort at self-control and looked 
 at her pleadingly, with the fear of loss in his eyes, 
 as she went on to tell him about the doctor's visit, and 
 how it would kill Azalea to travel, and how the two must 
 be left — for at least a little time — behind. It was 
 his turn to speak. But she listened with signs of 
 impatience difficult to hide, as he told her how hard it 
 would Ije for him to endure his life durins: her
 
 BEN ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. 67 
 
 absence, and of how mad he thought her to run the 
 risk of throwing up her engagement aUogether. 
 
 " Higgins'll be glad enough to get it, and possession, 
 as you know, is nine points of the law — there'll be no 
 getting her to budge when once she takes the part. 
 Higgins — for all she dyes her hair — could never look 
 it like you at the best of times." 
 
 ^ Let her keep it and welcome — I am sick of the 
 life," said the mv\. draa'Siino; her hand awav from his 
 affectionate grasp. 
 
 Ben. in his present mood, was alarming. He was 
 well enough when he took life easily and even comic- 
 ally, as he generally did. To hear him laugh was 
 pleasant enough ; his big guifaw being a thing to 
 chase away black melancholy. It was such a hearty 
 laugh, he seemed to laugh with the veiy innermost 
 part of his being — no one could be deceived about 
 the man's genuine enjoyment of life. 
 
 It was pleasant enough, too, to make use of his 
 purse, as Polly had always been accustomed to make
 
 68 A STUAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 use of it in emergencies. He had to be coaxed into 
 good behaviour hke a good-natured Bruin. But, when 
 her lover looked at her as earnestly as he did just 
 at present, it suddenly occurred to Polly that Ben had 
 another side to his character; that he was perhaps 
 more in earnest than Dick would have been about 
 his marriage, and was a man who would fight for his 
 rights, w^ere it even in the wild excitement of a revolu- 
 tion ! She remembered now how he was apt to recite 
 his parts with a suicidal energy, and waste his undoubt- 
 edly fine voice on the desert air. To play at Social- 
 ism with Dick, and to carry on the game of violent 
 attachment for herself, had possibly been the necessary 
 vents for letting off some steam from his overcharged 
 sensibilities. 
 
 She began to wish she had not found it necessary 
 to humour Ben by rash promises of marriage, when 
 he put his arm round her waist, and said, reminding her, 
 " You know how we've always counted that if we put 
 our earnings together w^e should have enough for both."
 
 BEX ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. C9 
 
 "Yes, dear," she said, though she flinched. Every 
 moment was of importance to her, and she could not 
 bear to lose the advantage she had gained in dwelling 
 on Azalea's ailments, by letting him guess the blank 
 in her affections, when her conscience told her she 
 ought to be grateful to him. " Yes, dear," she still 
 answered, mechanically, when he went on to explain 
 that, if he spared her for a while to nurse her sick 
 cousin nou\ she must promise in a very short time 
 to join the travelling company at its next destination, 
 when he should claim as his guerdon that the mar- 
 riage should then and there take place. 
 
 "Yes, dear," assented Polly, absently; she would 
 have agreed to anything when she wanted him to 
 make himself useful, by looking out for lodgings for 
 her, and helping her in a great emergency. 
 
 She was not accustomed to trouble herself by guess- 
 ing what was going on in the consciousness of other 
 people, and she only thought it a great nuisance 
 when Ben suddenly seized her hands with the grip
 
 70 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 of a dro\Yning man, anxious to save himself from 
 being sucked into the depths, and she — not knowing 
 the great effort which the poor fellow had made to 
 conquer his selfishness — screamed out with the pain, 
 and wrenched her taper fingers suddenly out of his grasp. 
 
 "How^ you hurt me!" she cried, with the moue of 
 a humoured child, and then started back at that 
 something in his face which she had never seen in 
 it before. 
 
 " You are an iceberg, rather than a woman ; you 
 care only for your own sex," he said, seizing her in 
 spite of herself, and kissing her passionately again 
 and again, while she fought to be free, straining at 
 his arms with energetic hands. 
 
 But it was of no use ; he was much the stronger of 
 the two. And her struggles availed her nothing as 
 he lifted her from the ground, pressing her close to 
 him. His breath came in short, quick pants and she 
 could hear the beating of his heart. An impulse 
 of self-])rotection made her twist herself away from him.
 
 BEX ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 71 
 
 " It is brutal — it is not manly — just because you 
 are so big ! " she managed to cry out when she could 
 recover her power of speech. 
 
 " One would think that I had no rights — that you 
 were not my promised wife," laughed the Goliath, as 
 he stood a few steps off, and made himself merry at 
 her displeasure, " why, Polly, girl, you know it is all 
 right and proper, and no one here to spy on us neither. " 
 
 The Titan was a good-natured one according to his 
 lights, and it was true that her promise had implied 
 her consent. It w^as horribly true that he had a 
 right — that she had given him the right with her own 
 free will — and that he had earned it by all he had 
 done for her. 
 
 Xow was the time to tell him that she did not love 
 him ; to beg him to release her from the contract. 
 But she and Azalea were dependent on his bounty, 
 and the thought of Azalea kept her quiet. Though 
 the tears of vexation came into her eyes, she made 
 a desperate effort to command herself.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PARTIXG. 
 
 '^ How horrible ! " she said to herself a few minutes 
 afterwards, staggering to a seat in the open air, with 
 a burst of angry tears, " I wish he would not — I like 
 him well enough at a distance, but when he insists on 
 things like that, I hate him — oh, I hate him, and I 
 hate myself for being a woman and for ever letting 
 him engage himself to me. " 
 
 It began to dawn upon her that it never was likely 
 to be any different, and that the more fuss he made 
 about her the less she was likely to care about 
 him. 
 
 "How horrible!" she repeated, wiping her face hard 
 
 72
 
 PARTIXG. 73 
 
 that she might wipe out the recollection of the kisses. 
 *^ How horrible that I should have to subrait to it I 
 I must get away from him at all costs, but I must 
 not tell him what I feel!" 
 
 Yet a few hours afterwards she had another revul- 
 sion of feeling, when Ben hurried to her with the 
 information that he had- been successful in procuring 
 a room for them, in a charming little house at Oaklands 
 — a " tasteful house " so far as Ben's hghts went about 
 such matters — belonging to a well-to-do mechanic's 
 wife, who let out one apartment large enough for the 
 two girls. 
 
 ^Xow, I tell you what — you'll starve if you don't 
 take care what you're about — who knows but when 
 we put our horses together again, I may earn enough 
 for the lot of us?" said the man, in his rich accent, 
 as in a burst of generosity he drew out his purse. 
 He explained, with a glowing face, that he had had a 
 stroke of luck, that the manager — possibly alarmed at 
 the defection of others of his troupe — had promised to
 
 /i A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 raise his salary if he would sign an agreement to 
 remain with him for at least a couple of years, and 
 that when Ben signed it there and then, he had given 
 him a cheque for fifteen pounds. The big fellow's 
 eyes glistened as he offered the women a tenner and 
 promised to send more should it be required. 
 
 " His bark is worse than his bite, " said Azalea^ 
 with a faint smile, " I do think, Polly, dear, you might 
 go farther and fare worse." 
 
 And Polly, who had succeeded in calming her ner- 
 vousness and irritability, assented, shamefaced. 
 
 Even when Ben, who carried Lea down the stairs, 
 to be ready for the flitting, burst out once more, 
 " Well, I'm blowed if I'll let you go ; most men 
 would kick up a devil of a row," Polly told him 
 that she thought it quite natural for him to swear, 
 and she could not help being sorry for him when 
 he put them comfortably into the steam-car, wrap- 
 ping a greasy railway-rug over their knees, and then 
 ran as far as he could till the car was out of sight.
 
 PARTING. 75 
 
 He could not accompany them to their destination, 
 for he had to perform that night, and on the follow- 
 ing day the troupe^ which was used to hurrying 
 from place to place, set out for Australia. Polly's 
 last recollection of Ben was with the rays of the 
 setting sun shining full on his faithful face, and 
 reveahng the fact that .big tears were welling up in 
 his eyes, and glittering like dewdrops on the black, 
 stubbly hairs of his cheeks. It did not make him 
 look handsome, for he ran till he grew red and purple 
 in the face, then stopped, puffing and panting, to wipe 
 off tears and perspiration. 
 
 The setting sun shone also on hundreds of roofs 
 and chimneys, on the windows of innmnerable houses, 
 flashing with brilliant coloiu-s, and afterwards on the waters 
 of the bay, which were turning from turquoise to 
 amethyst and onyx in the evening light. 
 
 Ben and his devotion were soon forgotten, as both 
 girls cried out with enthusiasm as the train skirted 
 the City front on a road built on piles over the shoals.
 
 76 A STRAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Both of them had been so tied by the duties of their 
 profession — the one an invaUd and the other con- 
 demned to spend much of her time in an unheaUhy at- 
 mosphere for her cousin's sake— that the view of Oaklands, 
 with the mountains at the back of it, which burst upon 
 them, reflected in the shining water, after the train had 
 skirted the bay for two miles, was entirely new. 
 
 They scarcely knew which they admired the most 
 — the city itself, now in the distance, nestling amidst 
 a forest of evergreens, oaks, orchards, parks and vine- 
 yards, or the houses of the suburbs, surrounded by 
 this verdure, and charmingly free from the dust, 
 noise and bustle which they had hated. Polly was so 
 delighted that she even forebore to comment severely 
 on Ben's idea of " taste " as she and Azalea took 
 refuge, with a sigh of content, in the little nest 
 wliich had been selected for them with a careful eye 
 to economy. The sense of rest after turmoil was so 
 grateful to them both that, by mutual consent, they 
 made no remarks about the hideous horse-hair sofa,
 
 PARTI^'G. 77 
 
 the impossible wax flowers, the old felt rugs, the 
 cheap oleographs imported from England, or the ugly 
 china on the mantelpiece. 
 
 Azalea's appetite was bad, but Polly prided herself 
 on her housekeeping, setting her wits to work to com- 
 bine frugahty with the purchase of tempting tit-bits. 
 
 They laughed hke a . couple of children together, 
 when Polly spread out all her purchases regularly 
 every day — the dough nuts, oranges and " cookies, ** 
 with the " Turkish delight " and candy, the bottle 
 of cheap red wine, and some " Liebig's Extract'' — in 
 the exuberant pleasure caused by the outlay of the 
 first of Ben's pieces of gold. The season of grapes, 
 peaches and apricots was not yet, but cun-ants as 
 large as nuts, and cherries inches in circumference 
 could be purchased, with plenty of eggs and milk. 
 
 "I should never have had this holiday if it were 
 not for you. And yet — I was sick of being a slave 
 and a drudge," said Polly, drinking the tea, which she 
 had made, in quick gulps, and l)uttering a portion of
 
 ^^ ' A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 a French roll which she had bought for Lea, saving 
 the crisp crust for the invalid and contentedly munch- 
 ing the spongy, unwholesome centre herself. 
 
 She could not as yet get out of the habit of walk- 
 ing about the room, as she ate her impromptu meals 
 in the intervals of conning her parts, rehearsing, or 
 acting; and she was fishing up the eggs from the 
 saucepan, in which they had been boiling, as she looked 
 back with sparkling eyes, and sang one of the little 
 snatches of song which came readily to her lips. 
 
 "Toujoiirs gai— Toujours gai! 
 Then let us chase the clouds away 
 And follow my example I " 
 
 The invalid smiled and tried to take up the refrain. 
 
 It was impossible to think of Polly as sallow, or 
 dnll-eyed ; there was always such a peach-blossom tint 
 on her cheeks, and such an intensity of life about 
 her that it was somehow difficult to associate her 
 with the thought of grief. And yet an acute observer 
 ^voiild have seen that her lip quivered as she turned
 
 PAETIXG. / 9 
 
 round again and pretended to busy herself with the 
 lire. For Azalea bep;an to cough directly she attempted 
 to sing, and it was an unusual trial for one of 
 Polly's intense disposition to be forced to admit to 
 herself that she did not dare to think about the future. 
 
 To live in the world without Azalea, exposed to the 
 persecutions of "Big Ben," seemed to her neither more 
 nor less than an impossibility. 
 
 And yet she must laugh; if she did not laugh she 
 would inevitably break down, and to break down 
 would be to hasten any impending catastrophe. 
 
 " Little things " are said to please '' little minds," and 
 it struck them both as exceedingly amusing that the 
 good woman who let out her lodgings to them, had 
 confused their identity. She invariably addressed 
 Polly as "Miss Deveril," while Azalea had to be 
 content with the more modest name of "Smith." 
 
 " Xever mind, my dear. She evidently thinks the 
 longest name fits the elder of the two, and you look 
 lots younger than I do," said Polly, patting Lea's
 
 80 . A STEAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 hand in a condescension in \Ybich there was more 
 pathos than she cared to show. 
 
 For the dowr\' of suffering had left the younger girl with 
 an appealing, unsophisticated, almost infantine expression. 
 
 " She is half blind, you know. She says we are as 
 like each other as if we were two peas, and that 
 she can't tell the one from the other. It is a ridi- 
 culous idea that we should be as like as Siamese 
 twins, when, as Ben used to say, if I am your double 
 at all I am a transparent double — more like your 
 ghost, I should say, than your double." 
 
 Polly did not laugh. Her sense of humour was not 
 deficient, and she tried to account for her sudden 
 gravity by explaining that she did not like the good 
 soul who let the lodgings, and who had been so care- 
 ful for their comforts, to be laughed at. AVhat if she 
 were somewhat blind and deaf, and what though the 
 girdle round her waist measured thirty-five inches, 
 she had been motherly and kind, and did not seem 
 at all inclined to be grasping in her charges !
 
 PARTIXG. 81 
 
 " And so, for the time, we will change places, and 
 leave her, without correcting and worrying her in her 
 mistake. You shall call me Azalea, and I will dub 
 you Polly — whenever she comes in — it will be fun 
 for a change." 
 
 But it did not seem much like fun, for the elder 
 girl's voice trembled, and the younger one did not 
 dare to indulge in hilarity — it brought on the cough. 
 Even the attempt to join in conversation was hin- 
 dered by tickling in the throat, though Polly bought her 
 toifee and jujubes, which she sucked to stop it. 
 
 Day by day the emaciation increased and the effort 
 was greater to creep out into the sunshine, or walk 
 more than a few steps, with that panting breath. And 
 now and then a handkerchief was sent to the wash 
 which Polly, for some mysterious reason, was not 
 allowed to see. She did not guess the worst, though 
 when she gazed at her own rosy face in the cheap 
 mirror, which puffed out her cheeks and made her 
 eyes look askance, she could not help being struck 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 '82 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 by the fact that the likeness was growing less and 
 less between herself and her cousin. Her own bright, 
 though shaded hair, reddish, with dashes of auburn 
 verging into brown, was now considerably darker than 
 Azalea's which seemed to have faded from lack of 
 nourishment. Her eyes, which seemed to drink in light 
 from the beauty around her, were clearer and deeper in 
 colour, her step buoyant and her form full of plastic grace. 
 
 There were intervals in the days in which she 
 could spare time from nursing I^ea, when she spent 
 hours in the open air, and when vague shadowy 
 thoughts stirred her imagination in a way she could 
 not understand, piercing like rays of sunshine through 
 her other more dolorous forebodings. For she was 
 so young, and her splendid physical health insisted on 
 asserting itself. 
 
 No melancholy could deprive her of the sense of 
 freedom with which she climbed a httle ascent on the 
 mountain side, and imbibed fresh scents of the salt sea 
 air. Far away she could see the waves rolling on the
 
 PARTING. 83 
 
 shore, fringed by a lace-work of foam, and only when 
 she ran down again to be in time to minister to Lea, 
 there would be once more the dismal feeling that that 
 hill behind the city was barring her in. 
 
 Hope seemed to be in some unknown region where 
 prison bars would not hem her in, and to be wafted 
 to her with its fair promises — beckoning her to come 
 away. She could not get rid of the thought which 
 seemed to her cruel, even when she looked at the 
 horizon from which the ships came sailing. The mys- 
 terious Unknown, which seemed to tempt her, was far 
 beyond that quivering line of blue. It was hard 
 and unnatural to be condemned always to sordidness 
 and want, always to pass her life in a monotonous insipid 
 state, or in drudgery and toil, and never to be able 
 to say, "I have had my day; I have lived my life." 
 
 Polly never divulged these thoughts. They only 
 came to her at intervals, and then she lapsed again 
 into her anxious, excited state, ashamed of herself, when 
 her darling was suffering, to be so conscious, even for a
 
 84 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 moment, of this wild craving for freedom, this deUcious 
 and intoxicating idea that escape might still be possible 
 from the man she did not love, and all the petty and 
 disagreeable details of her everyday, bread-getting 
 existence. 
 
 The recollection of Ben was like a nightmare to 
 her. It haunted her in her sleep, and she began to 
 dread the rap of the postman — lest it should bring 
 her another of his letters. Her conscience reproached 
 her with not writing more to him herself, and once, 
 when she was out walking, she thought she caught a 
 glimpse of a figure like his. It must have been her 
 mistake^ for Ben was far away, and he had signed an 
 engagement with the manager never to desert his post. 
 Yet she crouched behind a hedge, and afterwards, 
 with fluttering breath, took refuge in flight.
 
 CHAPTER Vn. 
 
 azalea's foetuxe comes too late. 
 
 So the weeks passed by till the money which Ben 
 had given them and the httle hoard saved by Polly 
 for emergencies were oozing, and the girls scarcely 
 dared to question the future, or think of what they 
 should do when the money was all spent. After the 
 buffeting and hardships of theatrical life, it had done 
 them both so much good to play at independence, that 
 there were days when Polly flattered herself that 
 Azalea even looked a trifle better, taking the bright- 
 ness in her eyes and the increased cheerfulness of 
 her manner as a joyful confirmation of the improvement 
 in her condition. The soft breeze which blew in 
 
 85
 
 86 A STRAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 through the open window failed, indeed, to bring a 
 touch of health to the thin, Avan cheeks, on which the 
 hectic spots still glowed so brilliantly, but her spirits 
 were improved and she certainly coughed less. 
 
 How would it be when the fund was all expended, 
 and when Ben's patience might be expended with it ? 
 It was a subject on which Polly scarcely dared to 
 linger, for there were signs of impatience already in 
 Ben's letters. Abeady he had begun to m-ge that he 
 thought he had done his duty, and that his life and 
 Polly's should not be sacrificed to Azalea's ill health. 
 And Polly did not like to admit to herself that there 
 was truth in what he said. Click, click, went her 
 needle — for she had begun to take in needlework — 
 having vague hopes that she might prevent her cruse 
 of oil from diminishing. But the needlework was so 
 queerly done, with gaping stitches and knotted thread, 
 that folks refused to give her more. Yet Polly Avas 
 still persuaded that the great secret was to employ 
 herself, to wander in the open air, or occupy herself
 
 azalea's fortune comes too late. 87 
 
 with helping the landlady to prepare deHcacies for 
 Lea — anything rather than to allow herself time to 
 tliink. 
 
 The necessity for strict economies jarred as usual 
 with the taste for everything neat and pretty — a taste 
 which probably came down to her from some of her 
 English ancestors. AYhen Azalea breakfasted in bed 
 Polly would fidget about the room, never satisfied 
 with the effect which her utmost efforts could produce. 
 
 The shabby sheet would be shaken out and a twitch 
 given to it, but no amount of fingering could make 
 the folds hang properly or efface the ugly stains 
 caused by Azalea's medicine, which had been dropped 
 upon it. And when the time came for the sick girl 
 to get up for breakfast — the two deluding themselves, 
 as was their fashion, with all sorts of fairy schemes 
 never to be carried out, such as, " AVhen you get a 
 little better, dear, we'll go boating or picnicking," — 
 Ben's railway "\,\Tap, which had once been a sort of 
 Persian blanket, was spread on the horse-hair sofa
 
 »« A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 to make it as comfortable as possible. Polly had 
 dreamed, when she was rich enough, of manufacturing 
 a chintz cover for it ; but that day seemed farther off 
 than ever, seeing that there was not even a margin 
 to pay for the wear and tear of clothes. Yet when 
 the summer flowers were ail in their glory, and the 
 trees in their best superabundance of foliage, Polly, 
 as she gas^e a glance at herself in the glass, could not 
 help w^ishing that she had something a little prettier 
 to wear. It had not much to do with vanity — it was 
 rather a sense of the fitness of things ; for Polly, who 
 never sighed for her past theatrical tawdriness, felt as 
 if her threadbare garment was a jarring note in that 
 beautiful Nature, where the flowers were clothed in 
 red velvet, blue satin, or cloth of gold, and where 
 the birds were in rich plumage and the beetles like 
 jewels. 
 
 Would she not have been happier without the sen- 
 sitiveness which made her so painfully aware of the 
 coarsenesses, incongruities, and the deprivations of
 
 azalea's foetuxe comes too late. 89 
 
 lier life? She knew that she and Azalea had no 
 right to those finer feelings which had made the 
 atmosphere around them and their whole experience 
 as actresses, in some indefinable way, impure. That 
 rude experience had at times been a sort of purga- 
 tory to them, and yet neither would complain to the 
 other of what she had secretly to endiu^e. 
 
 They hated it; the transitory escape from it had not 
 served to make the outlook any better. 
 
 "A little while and we must go back; I alone, or 
 both together — he won't have patience much longer," 
 thought Polly to herself, as her needle clicked. In 
 vain she tried to rally herself to look at hfe only on 
 the practical side; the domination of certain tastes 
 and modes of thought was too powerful to be shaken 
 off, and that new sort of perception which had been 
 cultivated in her since her rambles in field and forest, 
 too acute to be got rid of. 
 
 " A little while and the last dollars will be spent — I 
 shall never be able to dance again, and I shall onlv
 
 90 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 be a miserable drag upon Polly," thought Azalea, as 
 she lay on the sofa and insisted on pricking her tender 
 fingers with the needle, difficult to handle in her state 
 of weakness, but having to be pacified with the pre- 
 tence of doing something to help Polly; the pain in 
 her lung, which had been scared away for a time by 
 the excitement of her new life, coming back in its 
 intensity. 
 
 Polly tried to blind herself to the fact that her 
 darling was no better. But one morning when she 
 had been out early on some shopping expedition, she 
 returned to find Lea lying apparently speechless on 
 her bed, to which she had crawled from the sofa. 
 The eyes were more widely opened than usual, and 
 seemed to have deepened in tint to a more intense 
 china-blue, and the thin, transparent hand, on which 
 the violet veins were beginning to show painfully, was 
 pressed on the heaving bosom, from which the breath 
 came in hurried pants. The face was pale but trans- 
 formed; a triumphant gladness was shining in it, but
 
 azalea's foetu>'e comes too late. 91 
 
 the feet were cold, and she was shivering as if she 
 woukl never be warm again, though, as Polly often 
 reminded her, they were living in a climate which 
 never varied from winter to summer more than ten 
 degrees, and nobody had any right to be cold. 
 
 Polly's first thought was that a pot of strongly- 
 scented Gloire de Dijon, roses, which she had bought 
 with her earnings for her darling, to remind her of 
 England, might have overpowered her by their perfume, 
 and she reached forward for the pot to put it out 
 of the room. Then she saw that Azalea was hugging 
 a letter — a letter of huge proportions, fastened with 
 big seals. 
 
 " He is gone. My rich uncle is dead — he thought 
 of me at the last — his only brother's one child — and 
 — I wonder the la^^wers found me out. He has left 
 me all his money, and his place in Siu-rey," gasped 
 the sick girl, bringing out the words in quick gasps, 
 and in a sort of whisper. Then she began to laugh 
 hysterically, laughter followed by tears — and next the
 
 92 A STRAXGE TEMPl^ATIOX. 
 
 cough came on in paroxysms, and Polly's efforts were 
 in vain to soothe it. 
 
 The elder girl had to put a violent effort upon 
 herself to keep from crying as well, for " the pity 
 of it " coming just now — the letter being delivered in 
 her absence, so that she could not have asked Azalea 
 to let her open it, or break its exciting contents to 
 her by degrees. Her pity overpowered her even more 
 than the pleasure. It needed no physician to tell her 
 how the joy was too great for Azalea to be able to 
 bear it, and that the shock of it in her present con- 
 dition would be almost as prostrating as a sudden 
 shock of grief. 
 
 "Don't talk of it just this minute," she said, push- 
 ing the paper away from the eager grasp of the trem- 
 bling fingers, which twitched convulsively as they tried 
 to hold it. "" You are trembling, and your teeth are 
 chattering. " 
 
 She held her closely to herself, and began to chafe 
 the twitching hands, wishing that the great eyes were
 
 not so unnaturally luminous from the effect of that 
 strong emotion. " You must make haste and get well ; 
 there will be more reason now," she said, attempting 
 to speak considerately, and to calm her own voice, 
 almost wishing that she could get away from the gaze 
 of those wide-open, glittering eyes. 
 
 Azalea looked at her with that peculiar smile which 
 appeared to transfigure her face, as if some mysterious 
 light were shining behind it, and seeming to illuminate 
 it. She made an effort to speak and then turned 
 away her face, as if she had changed her mind, and 
 would keep her thoughts to herself. Why should she 
 tell Polly that she knew she would never get well, 
 and so spoil the pleasure of the few days which they 
 had left to spend together? Why even confide to her 
 that she must make haste to do what had to be done, 
 if she would benefit anyone Avith this money ? 
 
 " I shall have to WTite — and to prove my identity, '^ 
 she gasped again, in broken speech, carrying her hand- 
 kerchief to her mouth, holding it under the pillow^
 
 94 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 and then brin^^ins^ it out ao:ain and holdino; it to her 
 lips, as Polly said triumphantly, " There will be no 
 doubt about the identity ; ' Big Ben, ' and the manager, 
 and everyone knows." 
 
 There was more uncertainty in voice than W'Ords, 
 for the idea of a will, when they knew nothing about 
 law, appalled them both. There was something dis- 
 concerting in the elder girl's look as she took up 
 the papers and handled them gingerly, seeing possible 
 vistas of lawyers' contracts, and contingencies which 
 might be more or less difficult to meet. 
 
 Azalea understood. " There is nothing of that sort, " 
 she explained, with panting breath. " It is all per- 
 fectly straightforward. There are no first cousins, 
 even — and no relations — just some of a very distant 
 sort. He left it to me — after all — because there was 
 no one else— of — of any consequence, and if — I should 
 be worse — there is nothing — to hinder me — in making 
 my will — and leaving the whole — of it — to whom — I 
 choose. Of course, I shall make you my heir."
 
 AZALEAS FORTUNE COMES TOO LATE. Uo 
 
 Polly smoothed her pillow, not liking the flushed 
 cheeks which told of the gaUoping pulse. It was a 
 good thing, as she said to herself, that there was not 
 a plethora of relations, and she was ashamed of herself 
 for her own selfish thoughts, which were already 
 flying like birds over the ocean to the England which 
 it was possible Azalea might never reach. " I will 
 go with you," she said, almost in a whisper, ^ but 
 we must make quite sure that there will be no law- 
 suit — no one to dispute it — you are not strong enough 
 for worry." 
 
 '^ Yes — you must go with me — things will be differ- 
 ent now. He will spare you — for at least — a little 
 longer," panted the sick girl, looking at her with the 
 yearning look which seemed to tell her cousin in that 
 moment of intense feeling how she had never tho- 
 roughly liked her being mixed up with a man like 
 Ben, and how she knew that that engagement had 
 been entered into, partly for her sake. " Who knows 
 — if you have patience — but things will come right
 
 96 ■ A STILINGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 — for you — as well as for me? I always blamed my 
 uncle — but he was generous — at the last." 
 
 She was sittmg up in her bed, and asking for paper 
 and ink. " I must write at once. It does not do 
 to — put things off." Was it because the veil of flesh 
 had grown so thin that that dignity had come into 
 her bearing, that pathos into her voice? 
 
 Usually it was Polly who took the lead, but the 
 relationship between them seemed to be suddenly 
 altered. Azalea was even speaking in a stronger 
 voice, as she stretched out her hands for the pen, 
 " It will be a mere nothing to write and prove the 
 identity ; though that is proved already, by the letter 
 which has come to me, and followed us from ^lel- 
 bourne into this country," she said, in tones which 
 surprised Polly, they were so much clearer than usual. 
 Then suddenly she added, "It is getting dark," though 
 the day was a magnificent one, and the sun was 
 streaming through the window. " Draw up the blind 
 a little higher."
 
 azalea's fortuxe comes too late. 97 
 
 Her cousin turned round to see if it were possible 
 to draw it higher, and then what happened exactly 
 she could never afterwards tell; how it was that 
 Azalea gave a little cry — less like a cry than a sound 
 in the throat — and that when she hastened to help her 
 she saw that she had fallen forward on the bed, 
 with her eyes turned upwards, and that she did not 
 know her. 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. 
 
 Everything that happened afterwards remained more 
 or less like a dream to Polly — the violent ringing 
 of the bell, which she must have rung like an automa- 
 ton, the coming of the landlady, the useless re- 
 medies of smelUng salts, eau de Cologne, and vinegar, 
 the sending for the doctor, who had no consolation, 
 no hope to give her, the useless self-reproach when 
 she kept on repeating to herself, " If I had not gone 
 out so early, that I might have been at home, and 
 have broken the news to her by degrees! Or if 
 this news had only come before — or not come at 
 all — when its coming could only kill her ! "
 
 TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. 99 
 
 It was cruel, it made her rave again against fate. 
 The doctor had told her to be brave, but she could 
 not be brave — all her energy seemed to be exhausted. 
 She remained stupefied, tearless, gazing at the dead 
 body a few hours afterwards, when other women 
 had dressed it for the burial, which must come so 
 soon, in a " lot " in a strange country, which she 
 had scarcely money enough to pay for, and which 
 seemed to her much more dismal than an English 
 churchyard. 
 
 All that remained of Azalea had been covered 
 with white flowers, and it lay smiling like a bride. 
 A clergyman would read the service over it, but 
 Polly wondered for the first time if she had neglected 
 her duty in not sending for some of the people who 
 called themselves Christians, while Azalea was yet 
 alive. Her fear that they would be " psalm-singing 
 hypocrites," as "Little Dick" had always given her 
 to understand, or that even a parson would be "right 
 down upon her," had, perhaps, kept her from giving
 
 100 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Azalea another sort of chance — she conld scarcely 
 define what. Had she been a Buddhist or a Mo- 
 hammedan she would have had a more definite idea 
 about this chance ! For it seemed to her as if a 
 blind Fate ruled the universe, — a Fate which had 
 deprived her of the only being she loved, just at the 
 very moment when happiness had been in store for her. 
 So the hours passed till the sun had set, but she 
 — caring nothing for what others thought — had for- 
 bidden them to draw down the blinds in the room. 
 More than once the old landlady stole in to ask if 
 she would take anything to break her fast, or drink 
 a cup of tea to refresh herself, and then had crept 
 out again, alarmed. For Polly had not only refused 
 the inevitable panacea of tea, but had answered her 
 with a shake of her head, or a hopeless movement 
 of her hand, staring right out in front of her. It 
 was as if she saw^ nothing but that silent figure on 
 the bed, and kept repeating " She is deacW so as to 
 force herself to face the horror of the realitv.
 
 TRIED BEYOXD HER STRENGTH. 101 
 
 Azalea was dead! She would never walk, never 
 laugh, never dance again, never smile at her except 
 with that stereotyped smile which was enigmatical 
 and terrible, with the consciousness of having solved 
 the riddle "of this painful earth," and of being unable 
 to communicate it to her. Polly began to be alarmed, 
 as the shadows grew deeper, by the solemn majesty 
 of this smiling corpse, with its wax-like hands crossed 
 on its breast, and to ask herself if this could in reality 
 be all that remained of Lea, the little girl who had 
 played with her, who had looked up to her, and come 
 to her as a refuge from all her troubles, and — with 
 that tendency of the human mind to look back upon 
 the past as more blessed than the present — she recalled 
 her ways, and her sympathizing kisses, telling herself 
 that life would be unendurable without her. " AVe 
 were all in all to each other. She stood to me in 
 the place of father, mother, sister, and — lover," she 
 thought, unconsciously paraphrasing the words of 
 Andromache in the wildness of her grief. And then
 
 102 A STRA^'GE TEMPTATION. 
 
 suddenly she recollected "Big Ben." And her heart 
 smote her with despair as she realized that now — when 
 her last penny wonld be spent on the necessary burial 
 of the dead — she should have to send to her future 
 husband for more money — for at least so much as 
 w^ould enable her to join him in Australia. 
 
 And then there was her promise. That feeling, as 
 if cold drops of water were falling one by one, with 
 a torturing sensation, down her back, and which she 
 had had ever since the doctor had told her that Azalea 
 had not fainted this time, but would never wake again, 
 came upon her unendurably at the remembrance of 
 her promise. She had always chafed against the bond 
 which united her to Ben, though it had seemed best 
 to submit to it, for more than one reason. Yet she 
 knew that it was hard upon Ben that a girl as young 
 as she was should have the power to lead him captive 
 at her will, and that he should be able to make no 
 resistance; and she could imagine how maddened the 
 big, tender-hearted, but passionate fellow would be at
 
 TRIED BEYOXD HER STRENGTH. 103 
 
 the mere idea that his future wife should attempt to 
 escape from him. 
 
 " He is not a man to be trifled with ; he would kill 
 you if you trifled with him," one of the other actresses 
 had hinted, when she tried to warn Polly. And Polly 
 fully believed it. He was vulgar, but he was strong, 
 and his strength of character pleased her better than 
 his vulgarity. "You will write," he had said at their 
 last meeting, " write as much and as often as you 
 can." She knew how ungrateful she had been in 
 wTiting seldom and little, though she had seemed to 
 assent, partly because she did not wish to make their 
 parting more painful, and partly from not wishing to 
 triumph in her power of making him happy or wretched. 
 He had tried to keep up her remembrance for him by 
 sending her not only long letters, but big valentines, w^ith 
 staring paper and flowers, and lines from Lalla Rookh, 
 to which he had added some of his own in manuscript, in 
 which " dear " and " clear, " " sweet " and " heat, " were 
 intended to delight her with a sense of his poetical power.
 
 104 A STRAXGE TEMPT ATIOX. 
 
 The two girls had laughed together at Ben's verses, 
 and Azalea — who had to check her merriment because 
 it brought on the cough — had added, " He might at 
 least have waited till Valentine's day ! " But to look 
 at her as she lay there in the majesty of her trans- 
 formation, it did not seem possible that ever in her 
 life those white lips could have laughed. And yet the 
 remembrance of how Azalea had sometimes joked at 
 Ben and his rough ways, came back to Polly with an 
 odd sensation of the ludicrous at this terrible moment, 
 and then she rose and paced the room, flinging out 
 her arms like a swimmer combating for life itself in 
 deep water. 
 
 " If Lea could only have lived, I would not have 
 minded so much. I could, perhaps, have told him the 
 truth, and we two, when we once had money, could 
 have escaped together to England in peace. He would 
 have found some other woman to care about him, and 
 we girls would have sufficed for the happiness of 
 each other. How deliciously happy we should have
 
 TRIED BEYOXD HER STRENGTH. 105 
 
 been, and in what a paradise we should have hved. 
 The mere sense of fi^eedom would have been paradise 
 for usf' 
 
 And then, dreams of what might have been floated 
 again before her eyes. How often had she exercised 
 this faculty, which had come to her from childhood, 
 telling herself to keep still and concentrate her mind 
 on some mental vision which she could be successful 
 in creating for herself ! She had been the central 
 figure of these visions, and had seen herself on various 
 occasions triumphant and feted, with all the pleasures 
 and glories of the world around her. 
 
 For Azalea's sake she had controlled these fancies, 
 and had never allowed them to take possession of her 
 lately; but now that Lea was dead, it seemed more 
 wretched than ever to give herself up to the wearing 
 toil of a hard-working life, as the wife of a third-rate 
 actor whom she had never loved. It was only the 
 fact that she was penniless, that she must starve or 
 go back to Ben, which could enable her to face the
 
 106 ■ A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 prospect. She felt as if death itself would be in some 
 way preferable to the life she had before her, and 
 yet she was young and healthy, and the instinct of 
 life was strong in her. Then a sudden thought struck 
 her. It seemed to come from without — an awful sug- 
 gestion, penetrating like a ray of light into things 
 which before had been dark — an exciting idea which 
 dazzled her eyes, dancing before them like a jewel, 
 till she was unable to put it on one side. 
 
 It came, as it were, and took possession of her, 
 dominating her with a power which she was unable 
 to resist. Something which she had never known 
 before seemed to throb in her veins— a species of 
 intoxication — a ferment of rebellion. Fate had dashed 
 the cup of freedom from her just as she was about 
 to put it to her lips, but though she was only a weak 
 woman it occurred to her now that it might be pos- 
 sible for her to foil fate. 
 
 Not only possible but easy. The landlady, the only 
 person who had taken any interest in the two girls,
 
 TRIED BEYOXD HER STRENGTH. 107 
 
 had confused their identities and knew her by the 
 name of Azalea Deveril, and had insisted on calling 
 the dead cousin by the name of Polly Smith. They 
 had humoured her in the idea, treating the matter as 
 a good joke, and had not taken the trouble to contra- 
 dict her. The arrangements for the funeral were to 
 be made on the follo^ying morning, but meanwhile 
 good blundering Mrs. Sedley had certainly given the 
 wrong name, not only to the doctor but to the under- 
 taker. It was Mary Smith whom she had reported 
 to be dead ; the certificate of death would be made 
 out in that name. There was nobody in " 'Frisco " to 
 contradict the idea ; nobody likely to trouble about 
 the identity of two unknown damsels, who had been 
 living in retirement ever since the other actors had 
 set out for Australia, who were supposed to have 
 departed with their company, and who had never 
 acted under their own names. 
 
 Azalea had not lived to will the property to her 
 cousin as she intended, but there could be no doubt
 
 108 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 about her intentions. And as to her proposed letter 
 to the lawyer, she had been so little of a scribe that 
 nobody was likely to be acquainted with her hand- 
 writing. It would be as easy as possible for Polly to 
 communicate with the lawyer under the name of 
 Azalea Deveril, and to personate her character. Should 
 inquiries be made, the likeness between them had been 
 so remarkable that she w^ould only have to dye her 
 hair a few shades lighter, and to whiten her cheeks 
 to assume the personality of Azalea. And as for Ben, 
 he would hear that Polly died suddenly, and that 
 Azalea had gone back to England, her uncle having 
 left her his property, and he w^ould be so overcome 
 by grief as not to trouble about Lea. Ben and Dick 
 would be far away ; she would never be likely to meet 
 them, or any of the people w^ho had acted with her. 
 And once released from her present circumstances, 
 she would live in a retired fashion, so as never to 
 have to fear the slightest danger from any such expert 
 observers.
 
 TEIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. 109 
 
 It was dark by this time, but she lit the candles, 
 and taking up with shaking fingers the letter from 
 the lawyer, which had been forgotten in her burst 
 of grief, she sat down and tried to read it. But she 
 could not concentrate her attention. Once more 
 she was taking; a flio-ht into the tawdry halls of 
 
 Oct » 
 
 fancy. She was young and had known deprivation, 
 and even semi-starvation, in her life. Why should 
 she not know the joys as well as the sufferings of 
 existence; the pleasures, subtle and sweet, which 
 money could buy for her; the delights of luxury 
 and the joys of independence ? The world seemed to 
 beckon to her. Why should she not go to England — 
 that England where she was born — and live like 
 other refined gentlewomen? It was not as if she 
 asked for much. A vulgar glorification of riches 
 and splendour, with the thought of men and women 
 lifted like the gods of Epicurus above the troubles 
 of hfe, came natural to one who had known the 
 meaner worries and pinpricks of Hfe. Had it been
 
 110 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 only the thought that ill-cooked, untempting meals 
 should be things of the past, and that rags of 
 underclothing, requiring constant darnings, could be 
 replaced by lace- trimmed linen — that in itself would 
 have had power to tempt her. v 
 
 But it was the idea that she could flee from a life 
 which might in other ways become hideous and 
 loathsome, that she could make for herself fresh 
 surroundings, fresh friends, and ncAV associations, and 
 that she should not be forced to marry, but could 
 leave Polly Smith with all her difficulties and entangle- 
 ments behind her, wdiich came to her like an arrow, 
 piercing its way to her secret heart. " Azalea, oh 
 my darling — you of all others would understand, if 
 you knew about it," she cried, sinking on her knees 
 by the bedside, and kissing the motionless folds of 
 the shroud. "It is what you would have wished, 
 I shall only do what you would have done." 
 
 And the serene majesty on the marble brow of 
 the dead girl did not seem to rebuke her, but smiled
 
 TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. Ill 
 
 on her as before, with the same enigmatical smile. 
 The smile did not frighten Polly; neither was she 
 scared by subtle distinctions between right and wrong, 
 such as might have troubled a well-brought-up girl. 
 
 According to the doctrines which Ben and Dick 
 had preached to her, there was no such thing as 
 temptation; human beings were Hke brutes^ driven 
 by their instincts. Even these instincts were inherited, 
 and a man might be at one time of his life the 
 inheritor of some dark deed, committed by some 
 remote ancestor, however much a sense of duty, 
 transmitted by a conscientious parent, may have 
 restrained him within narrow limits, for the greater 
 part of his humdrum existence. And what was con- 
 science but an inherited faculty — a mere habit, preach- 
 ing penitence? And what was the abundance of the 
 rich, but property stolen from the poor? 
 
 The distinctive effects of this materialistic philosophy 
 upon all that in her childhood she had held most 
 sacred had been limitless, though she did not know
 
 112 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 it. What was life, but a narrow plank between tAvo 
 extremes of annihilation? From nothing^ a2:ain to no- 
 thing? How could anyone be blamed for extracting 
 the greatest amount of pleasure in the short space 
 given to each human being for enjoyment? Fear of 
 God — had they not told her that God was not real? 
 
 " Thank Heaven, " Ben had said to her, " you never 
 went in for any sort of religious humbug." 
 
 There had been a greater craving after " religious 
 humbug " than he ever could guess. But neither of 
 the two girls had any fixed belief of their own, to 
 serve as a check to the precipitancy of such opinions 
 on the part of the men. Perhaps Azalea knew noiv, 
 but she did not answer. AYhen Polly questioned her 
 she seemed all attention, but the smiling lips were 
 closely compressed and never stirred. 
 
 The time was going on. It had always been going 
 on. She remembered how her mother, when she lec- 
 tured her in her childhood, used to tell her that lost 
 time would always confront her; that was one of the
 
 TRIED BEYOXD HER STRENGTH. 113 
 
 old-fashioned ^Yays of talking. Was it possible there 
 could be such a thing as lost time? She rose and 
 inspected the little timepiece on the mantelpiece. Its 
 hands pointed to two o'clock. The other people in 
 the house had long ago gone to bed — she had told 
 them not to sit up, for that night she would watch 
 alone by the dead ; and she remembered that by the 
 morning it would be necessary for her to decide. 
 Two o'clock! Fiye minutes past! The pulsation 
 sickened her, she got up again and stopped the clock 
 by shaking it. 
 
 Then she must have dozed, worn out by fatigue, 
 for once more she seemed to hear the squeaky voice 
 of " Little Dick " haranguing the other actors, and tell- 
 ing them that the duty of lying might sometimes be 
 a real duty, a necessary protection in a state of society 
 in which the strong played on the weak. Once more 
 she seemed to hear him crowing like a bantam. 
 " What is all this talk about law and order but oppres- 
 sion of the people? There is one law for the rich 
 
 VOL. I. . 8
 
 114 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 and another for the poor ; the time Avill come when 
 men of property will no longer be able to keep the 
 accumulated gains of a race of robbers." 
 
 She woke with a start to the recollection of her 
 grief. The room was no longer dark, and there was 
 an opal light in the sky, deepening into rose colour 
 near the horizon. It seemed unnatural that the sun 
 should be rising as brightly on a morning when she 
 could no longer share her sense of rapture in its 
 beauty with Lea. She hated the idea of the day, 
 ^vhich would have to be passed without her cousin, 
 and of the other days which must follow — unless there 
 was a change in her life. And once more the temp- 
 tation assailed her, which might not have been so 
 vivid if her nerves had not been strained to the 
 uttermost; if the wild impulse after freedom, which 
 had tormented her all her life, had not been triumph- 
 ing over a nature weakened by the agony of parting 
 from the being she had loved best in all the world. 
 
 In the morning light it seemed to her that there
 
 TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. 115 
 
 was something disapproving in Lea's smile. Yet how 
 could that be? There were but two theories about 
 the dead. Either, as Ben and Dick thought, they 
 ceased to exist, or if they loved us they could not 
 grudge us a little pleasure in this life. ^ How could 
 the angels be angels, and grudge a little happiness 
 to a poor mortal like me? " asked Polly, dismissing 
 the thought as unworthy of her credence. The logic 
 ought to have been undeniable, and yet she was illo- 
 gical. For drops of perspiration stood on her brow, 
 as she made more than one effort to free herself from 
 the weird inspiration. Struggling seemed to be of no 
 use, for it returned again and again, taking its seat 
 beside her, and whispering black thoughts, like a fiend, 
 into her ears. The thoughts seemed to her to be 
 white ones, but the struggle might still have continued 
 had not Mrs. Sedley's quavering voice been heard at 
 the door. 
 
 "I've brought ye a cup o' tea, Miss Deveril, dearie." 
 " She caUs me 2Iiss Deveril, " whispered Polly to
 
 116 A STRAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 herself. "Fool that I should be not to avail myself 
 of the opportunity! " 
 
 And there and then she asked if Mrs. Sedley's husband 
 would kindly write a letter for her — a letter which she 
 felt too weary and miserable to write at once herself — to 
 the poor actor to whom Mary Smith had been engaged 
 to be married, to tell him of the sudden death which 
 had taken them all by surprise. 
 
 Polly laid stress on the word " sudden " when she 
 dictated the letter — in which she added that in conse- 
 quence of her uncle's death Miss Deveril had been 
 summoned to proceed immediately to England, being 
 in too weak a state of health and too much crushed 
 by her sorrow to do more just at present than to 
 send condoling messages. Everything after that seemed 
 to be made easy to her, for, on preparing to answer 
 the lawyer's letter, she found that a cheque had 
 been enclosed to Azalea filled up with a sum suffi- 
 cient to meet the necessary expenses for her mourning 
 and for her immediate return.
 
 TRIED BEYOND HER STRENGTH. 117 
 
 The funeral was less tn'ing than she had expected. 
 There was but one mourner, and if that mourner 
 managed to veil her face and hair, and even to drape 
 her figure by deeper crape than was necessar}', no 
 one interfered. It was only when the coffin was 
 lowered into the grave with the name " Mar)' Smith " 
 engraved on it, that the new Lea found it difficult 
 to be firm and resist the shuddering fit which shook 
 her in all her members, as the earth was sprinkled 
 over the Hd. 
 
 But, after all, she was young, and the prospect of 
 novelty and adventure is always pleasant to the 
 young. 
 
 The future seemed to present no insurmountable 
 difficulty, and she was so thankful to escape fi'om 
 the life which she had di'caded, that she heaved a 
 deep sigh of relief when the little snorting and pant- 
 ing engine, which was to drag the train to the wharf, 
 set off through the suburbs of Oaklands, taking her 
 far away from her mean and humiliating surroundings.
 
 part 11. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN HIDING. 
 
 It was a bright morning early in October, about a 
 year and a half afterwards. Rain had fallen during 
 the night at Forest Hill, and the wet leaves were 
 shining with a vivid light, rendered brilliant and almost 
 unnatural by the yellow tints of the beech, the red 
 of the ash, and the russet of the oak. 
 
 Shafts from the autumnal sun penetrated through 
 the branches of the trees, glittering on the moss- 
 stained boles of the beeches, and the grey trunks of 
 the old oak-trees, which looked, where the shade 
 was deepest, as if they were black as well as gnarled 
 with age. The sun-shafts also smote on the tangled 
 
 118
 
 IN HIDIXG. 119 
 
 underwood, with its dank clusters of red briony and 
 lingering purple blackberry; they lighted up the 
 puddles on the road, humouring the vanity of miniature 
 pools that mimicked the glories of the sky. 
 
 Here and there, on the side of the road, the fences 
 had been broken down, reveahng glimpses of the 
 wood, where a few blossoms of golden-rod still 
 lingered. A gate which led into the grounds of a 
 house called Woodlands had a sign-board labelled 
 " Private," and on it "Trespassers will be prosecuted," 
 but the sportsman smiled to himself as he read the 
 aggressive interdict. " Seems as if shfe likes to be 
 queen of all she surveys," he said to himself, "and 
 yet cannot afford to have her fences mended ! " 
 
 His smile was benevolent, if not a little patron- 
 izing, for he had long passed the rawness of youth 
 and, though his eye Avas keen and his hand steady, 
 it was not his habit to hurry himself in his move- 
 ments. He had fallen behind the shooting-party, which 
 was a little ahead, partly because the road was un-
 
 120 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 usually muddy and he had an objection to being unne- 
 cessarily spattered with dirt from head to foot, and 
 partly because he was as fond of meditation as old 
 Izaak Walton, and liked to infuse a little of it into 
 all forms of sport. But as he stopped somewhat 
 leisurely to siu"vey the prospect, the spell of silence 
 was broken by a faint stir. He listened, " cocking 
 his ears, " as his sister called it, as he had " cocked " 
 them from boyhood, to listen to the sounds which 
 stirred his pulses and put him on the alert, with that 
 inherited propensity for sport which comes to most 
 Englishmen as a natm^al endowment. . 
 
 AVhat was it ? The whirr of a covey of pheasants, or the 
 sound of rabbits, scudding away to their burrows among 
 the roots of the tall fir-trees, in the wilderness labelled 
 " Private " ? Whatever it was, his dogs suddenly became 
 excited, and one of them in its eagerness had already 
 leapt through the broken fence. He called to it, but 
 it was too late — it did not obey his call ; and in 
 another moment he, too, had cleared the broken hedge,
 
 IN HIDING. 121 
 
 and bent his steps for a well-known short cut which 
 would enable him to rejoin his friends, and ^fhich he 
 had long been accustomed to take through the little 
 wood. 
 
 " A woman has no right to make a private snuggery 
 of it — the wood has been public from time immemo- 
 rial, " he said to himself, as he dehberately followed 
 his dogs. 
 
 He did not know whether to be vexed or pleased 
 at the fact that the dogs had taken the initiative, 
 since he had more than once threatened — half in 
 earnest and half in fun — to break through the en- 
 chanted solitude of the maiden, who was vaguely 
 rumoured to have come over from the wilds of 
 Australia, and who insisted on hiding herself from the 
 eyes of men. But before he had time to make up his 
 mind, the Fates willed it that the maid herself, who was 
 that morning standing amongst her gardeners, consult- 
 ing with them, suddenly confronted him with flashing eyes. 
 
 She resented the intrusion of the dogs, but more
 
 122 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 than all she resented the appearance of a man with 
 a gun. * If he was after the pheasants, she was de- 
 termined to protect the pheasants. She was ready 
 with a storm of denunciation against the Englishman's 
 instinct for killing, and all such slaving of dumb 
 creatures. But speech did not seem to be necessary. 
 The eloquence of her stately attitude, her outspread 
 arm, and her gestm-e of authority as she stood amongst 
 her people, consulting with them over some improvements 
 which she contemplated in thinning the trees, was 
 sufficient to make him feel like an idiot. 
 
 " You are under some mistake, sir. There is no 
 thoroughfare through these grounds," she said, with the 
 air of a queen, speaking in a rich, full voice, in which it 
 would have been difficult to detect the American accent. 
 
 "Oh-h!" he replied, and she felt herself getting 
 hot, for his tone was a trifle ironical, and it was un- 
 reasonable to be angry with him for his incredulous 
 " Oh ! " " Oh, do you really find it necessary to be so 
 particular in the shooting season?" He spoke loudly.
 
 Ds HIDING. 123 
 
 and Avas evidently not in the least ashamed of him- 
 self. Indeed, it rather seemed to her that the irony 
 increased, as he added, gallantly, " All such rules, 
 madam, are apt to be less strictly observed at this 
 season of the year ; " and he laughed back at her, 
 lifting his hat. 
 
 He had often threatened to have a good look at her, 
 and he ^Yas making the fullest use of his time. 
 He could not compare her to a young Diana. She 
 hated the hunt, and thought that to inflict suffer- 
 ing on the meanest thing that breathed was 
 tantamount to crime in a man, and yet she walked 
 and stood with the ease and grace of a Diana. She 
 was sunburnt, and the rich brown of her cheek was 
 like the hue of a mellow peach when the colour glows 
 on it. Her hair was of the tint of the russet leaves, 
 her throat well set on her shoulders, and her eyes 
 lustrous. He took in all these points in a second, 
 as well as the humorous fact that two lads and one 
 man seemed to form a sort of bodyguard about her,
 
 124 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 and that there was something ahiiost reverential in 
 the way in which they watched their young mistress's 
 eye. Evidently they were entirely under her influence, 
 so much so that if she were to command them, by 
 one of her imperative gestures, it was even possible 
 they might try to oust the intruder. 
 
 " Excuse me ; I am a stranger here, and you can- 
 not expect me to be acquainted with the etiquette 
 which dictates the relaxation of your rules," she an- 
 swered, in the same queenly manner. 
 
 And now it was his turn to flush angrily. For 
 Ralph Carlyon was the son of one of the oldest land- 
 owners in Surrey, whereas her uncle had been only 
 a iparvenu. " It is no fault of mine, " he said, " if 
 our grounds are near each other, and I refer to the 
 unwritten etiquette which has always, for generation? 
 past, existed between neighbours." 
 
 He waited a moment, fumbling for his card, and 
 shifting his breech-loader to his left arm. The pre- 
 caution was needless, for sii[ person being familiar, the
 
 IN HIDING. 125 
 
 man mumbled his name. Yet to his surprise the name 
 seemed to have no effect upon her; it might have been 
 the first time she heard it, for all the impression it made. 
 
 " Whether your estate be a neighbouring one or 
 not," she continued, in the same chilling tone, " the 
 grounds on which you are trespassing do not belong 
 to you. And our opinions differ about the pheasants. 
 AYe have no preserves here, but if any of the poor 
 birds whom you are pursuing have taken refuge with 
 me, there is no international law which compels me 
 to give them up for slaughter. I am new to your 
 English customs, but I have heard that pheasants do 
 occasionally wander. So much the better for them if 
 they seek shelter with me." 
 
 She spoke a little slowly and pronounced her con- 
 sonants carefully, leaving the vowels to take care of 
 themselves. But the vowels were full and clear, and 
 there was music in the voice. Even her hands were 
 flowerlike, and she used them to emphasize her con- 
 versation in a way which had a curious charm. Would
 
 126 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 he have hked it as well had he known that all this 
 was the survival of a theatrical education? And then 
 when she seemed to glide rather than walk as she 
 came a little nearer to him, thai., too, was a relic of a 
 former state of existence, as Avell as the intonations of 
 her musical voice. 
 
 There was a queer, contagious charm about her, 
 different to that exercised by the common run of 
 women, and he found himself succumbing to the fas- 
 cination evidently exercised over her ouployes. It had 
 the effect of making him curiously unwilling to comply 
 with her wishes ; for he was a man of strong will, 
 whose mind, if it did not move rapidly, moved con- 
 clusively. Seeing her once, meant seeing her again. 
 Having formd his opportunity, he was determined to 
 pursue his advantage. " If I turn back, fair lady, in 
 obedience to your behest, I cannot do so without asking 
 why you should hide yourself when we have all been so 
 anxious to make your acquaintance, or without thanking 
 the kindly chance which has led to our first meeting. "
 
 IX HIDIXG. 127 
 
 Just at that moment the sound of other footsteps, 
 and the barking of other dogs, following possibly in 
 the trail of the war-path, apparently angered and excited 
 her, for a tinge of deeper crimson was dyeing her 
 cheeks. There was banter in his tone, and she was 
 in no humour for banter. " You mock me," she said, 
 angrily. " Spare me your mockery, and keep back 
 your associates, if they, too, intend to intrude on a 
 woman who chooses to hide herself." 
 
 One of the lads stepped impulsively forward. It 
 seemed an impossibility that even these untutored 
 hinds should attempt to hasten his exit by force. The 
 fooHsh boy had forgotten the breech-loader, and in 
 Carlyon's smiling attempt to avert a possible catastrophe, 
 he changed his position hurriedly, and struck his hand 
 with some force against the trunk of a tree. 
 
 It did not escape her notice that the hand was 
 badly hurt, and in an instant there was a singular 
 revulsion of feeling.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 
 
 She had recovered from her sudden fright as the 
 sound of the barking died away, and it became evident 
 that* no one else was likely to intrude on their 
 privacy. But that was not all. The sight of the 
 few drops of blood trickling on Carlyon's sleeve had 
 a curious effect upon her. 
 
 " You have hurt yourself," she said, and the sound 
 of her voice had suddenly become dulcet, pitying 
 and womanly. Her face was sympathetic, and a 
 corresponding change appeared on the faces of the 
 lads, one of whom had narrowly escaped being 
 felled to the ground but a moment or two before. 
 
 128
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 129 
 
 In vain did Ralph Carlyon assure her that the skin 
 was only grazed, and the bruise not worth mention- 
 ing. He spoke somewhat brusquely, not having yet 
 recovered from the insult, which might have driven 
 him to assert himself in some unpleasant fashion, had 
 he not controlled himself with his sense of the pohte- 
 ness due to a woman. But when she came nearer 
 to him, insisting on inspecting the wound, declaring 
 that it was much more serious than he allowed it to 
 be, that the wrist was beginning to swell, and that 
 she was really not sure it might not be dislocated, 
 he ceased to be annoyed at the contretemps^ and 
 began to be rather pleased than otherwise at the 
 turn which affairs had taken. Women's nerves were, 
 after all, but poor affairs, when they allowed them- 
 selves to be so easily affected by a drop or two of 
 blood. There seemed to be nothing for him but to 
 submit when she sent her servants into the house 
 with messages about lint, bandages, and brandy. 
 
 It was useless to hint that nothing had happened 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 A STRAXGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 of sufficient importance to prevent him from accom- 
 panying the party wliich was on in front, or regain- 
 ing the stragglers who were behind. ''Let the birds 
 have a rest, you will shoot nothing to-day ! " she said, 
 viith a return of the imperative manner. And he 
 ended in weak submissiveness, whistling to his dogs, 
 one of whom did not return, w^iilst the other came 
 back leaden-footed and disconsolate, following the 
 melancholy procession into the house. 
 
 For to the house they positively went, Carlyon 
 laughing wickedly in his sleeve at the recollection 
 that no profane masculine hoof had ever before invaded 
 her castle. He Avas put on a sofa in the dining-room, 
 his hand and wrist being bandaged by delicate fingers. 
 And if he felt it a little hard on him to be compelled 
 to stay behind in this silly fashion, and knew that 
 he should be laughed at by his friends for his folly, 
 he did not altogether object to the amusing role of 
 invalid. For his hostess had sent for the brandy 
 which she administered without more ado, and which
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 131 
 
 be took obediently, feeling invigorated in more senses 
 than one, so that it was a little difficult to conceal 
 the extent to ^Yhich his risible faculties were tickled. 
 And now that the uncompromising frown had disap- 
 peared from Miss Deveril's brow, he had leisure to 
 study her beauty, and found it had not been exag- 
 gerated. He assumed a gravity which he did not feel 
 in the character of a " chiel takin' notes " which he 
 determined to carry home to his womenfolk. Manlike, 
 he could not have descnbed her dress, but he noticed 
 that it was well fitting and of some pretty and suitable 
 material. 
 
 "Odd! She is more like an impulsive child than 
 an educated woman," he thought, as he fell into the 
 humour of the thing, stretching his long legs on the 
 morocco leather, and sipping the brandy and water 
 out of a silver cup. 
 
 The room was a simple one, for this girl who had 
 returned from San Francisco, and who remained such 
 a mystery to her neighbours, was not, after all, so
 
 132 A STRA^'GE TEMPTATION. 
 
 very rich. The fortune which had been left to her 
 by the old " money-grubber " of an uncle, as his 
 neighbours called him, was not larger, nor so large, as 
 that which would come to her neighbour, Ralph Car- 
 lyon, and the Carlyons considered themselves to be 
 decidedly poor. Yet ever}'thing was better arranged 
 than might have been expected, by the leather merchant's 
 niece. 
 
 The glittering glass, and the shining silver on the 
 carved oak sideboard were in keeping with the cheerful 
 movements and pleasant manners of her servants. 
 There had been no chaperon in San Francisco, and 
 if such a creature had dared to intrude on Polly, 
 alias Azalea Deveril, she would have been speedily 
 taught her duty, or kept in her proper place. The 
 best chaperons in England were surely those who 
 took no notice of their charges and their behaviour? 
 But when Azalea — scarcely as yet used to the new 
 name she had adopted — returned to England, she had 
 determined to have no companion ; it might not be
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 133 
 
 safe to have one. It had all seemed strange and 
 uncanny at first, like a story in a play in which she 
 was the principal actor — or a thing in the " Arabian 
 xSights." But how was it to end? It had not proved 
 half so enjoyable as she had expected it to be. The 
 silence had seemed to her terrible, till she made friends 
 and aUies of her servants, the sound of whose foot- 
 steps and laughter at a distance had first of all jarred 
 on her nerves. 
 
 A countiy house in which a sociable woman is shut 
 up alone may prove to the unaccustomed luxurious 
 and comfortable, but, after all, it was somewhat weari- 
 some. And so she had worked with her maidens, 
 and superintended her men, till, all unknown to her- 
 self, the domestic interior bore a strange resemblance 
 to the old patriarchal or tribal life. 
 
 Her castle was not a large one, still to her it was 
 a castle. And to be isolated in a sort of castle, 
 away from any city, or from masses of humanity ; 
 perched up in a kind of queenship ; smTOunded by
 
 134 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 one's own land ; and afraid to venture out for fear of 
 encountering wild beasts who might pounce on one 
 and tear one to pieces — or, in other words, proclaim 
 one to be a fraud — was not an enlivening experience. 
 There was not much pleasure in reigning, after all. 
 For Polly — alias Azalea, or, as she preferred to call 
 herself, Lea — was given to feel things vehemently. 
 And though her " land " was somewhat limited, it made 
 her shudder now and then, when she got depressed, 
 to remember that six feet or less of land in this grey- 
 skied England — she measuring only five foot four — must 
 serve her for her grave, and that she could cany none 
 of her present possessions away Avith her when she 
 died. She had no love for tortuous ways or unfathom- 
 able silences which had never. been hers before, but 
 w4iich seemed to grow on her by custom, and she made 
 in vain ambitious plans for reading, to be carried on 
 without a master. 
 
 Sometimes she wished she had been buried in the 
 other Azalea's grave, or had stayed behind to marry
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 135 
 
 " Big Ben." But Polly had been always a practical soul, 
 and she meant to be practical now, considering that 
 when a thing was done, and it was impossible to go 
 back, she had to make the best of it. She had never 
 really wished to go back. " Oh, no !" she said to herself, 
 " I could never have gone back to those evenings with 
 the empty grates, burnt puddings, and badly-cooked 
 potatoes." 
 
 Conscience did not trouble her, simply because 
 she had not as yet developed a conscience ; but 
 misgivings occasionally interfered with her comfort. 
 Persons coming to pry were to be kept out of her 
 domain. AYomen in particular were to be kept at arm's 
 length, for women always found each other out ; but 
 she began to wonder whether she need be cpiite so 
 particular about men. She wondered more especially 
 when she parted from Ralph Carlyon, not being very 
 sorry in her secret heart, when she reflected how dif- 
 ficult it would be to prevent any further association 
 Avith one whom she had once admitted to her house^
 
 136 A STKAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 and treated like a disabled man. Perhaps he had 
 not hurt himself so much as she had fancied. At any 
 rate, he had turned white when he had hurt his 
 hand— it did not occur to her that his offended dignity 
 might have made him white. Polly was impulsive as 
 w^ell as practical, and she blamed herself for stupidity 
 in allovring herself to be conquered by an unnecessary 
 ebullition of feeling, now that it was too late. It 
 might lead to awkward complications. 
 
 Perhaps she was not wrong, for, afterwards, in the 
 evening, Ralph gave an account of the episode to his 
 sister. " Depend upon it she is getting tired of soli- 
 tude," he said, quoting humourously, "'I am half 
 sick of shadows, said the Lady of Shalott.' " And 
 then he added more gravely, " All the things we have 
 heard about her seem to be wide of the mark ; she 
 is not in the least like the girl I expected to see. 
 If I had not seen her, I shonld have imagined her to 
 be more like a man than a pretty little girl. But, 
 after all, it is astonishing to see the way in which
 
 HER FIRST HOSPriALITY. 137 
 
 she manages her own affairs. So powerful a nature 
 seems to have no right to lodge in so slender a frame." 
 Phillis Carlyon; who was a few years his senior 
 and nearer forty than thirty, answered sharply, " All 
 the stories that I hear of her are unwomanly and un- 
 seemly. She is one of the atheistical, self-assertive 
 
 women who never enter a church. 
 
 " I dare say there are lots of ways of accounting 
 for that. She has no mother and no friends, and has 
 lived all her life in the Colonies." (Polly had thought 
 it safer to say vaguely that she came from the Colonies.) 
 * There seems to be a sort of mystery about her." 
 
 He did not add that it was the " sort of mystery " 
 as he expressed it, which she kept up about her past 
 life which helped to captivate his imagination, as if 
 beyond the outward fascination which had attracted 
 him was an inner shrine that no man might invade. 
 His sister — a somewhat angular old maid, whose 
 features, always of the aquiline type, had now^ become 
 sharp as those of an eagle — was not exactly the person
 
 138 A STEANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 to whom he could make confidences of this kind. 
 
 Miss Carlyon only muttered that she did not hold 
 with such "nonsense." Neither was she singular in 
 her opinion, for every family in the neighbourhood 
 was strongly prejudiced against the new-comer. The 
 hospitalities of the little house, in which the so-called 
 Azalea lived, had been profuse in the case of some 
 former owners — who had inhabited it before the advent 
 of the leather merchant — and when it became known 
 that its new proprietor — an unmarried woman — intended 
 to live alone and to close her doors to all outsiders, 
 the country world around her not only gave vent to 
 its indignation, but discovered in the affront which had 
 been put upon it a reason for a scandal. 
 
 Nothing is so likely to cause a revulsion of feel- 
 ing, as the refusal of kindness from those who 
 intend to patronize. And more than one of the good- 
 natured families in the neighbourhood had intended 
 to patronize Azalea. They had had no such desire 
 to make friends with the old uncle, and were rather glad
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 139 
 
 than otherwise that the house should be shut up for 
 a part of the week Avhile he owned it, and that he only 
 visited it on Sundays. But the niece who came from 
 a distance was different, and could be treated with 
 kindly indulgence as a lonely and marriageable girl, 
 whose mother was reported to have been a perfect lady. 
 Things had been rather tame in the neighbourhood 
 of Forest Hill. A loss of property had compelled Lord 
 Riversley to put down his pack of hounds, and various 
 misfortunes had occurred in other family circles, plung- 
 ing them into mourning. It had not been a good 
 year, and, indeed, things had been dull for a couple 
 of years. There were potent reasons wdiy the Carlyons 
 themselves should refrain from indulging in their usual 
 festivities, for old Mr. Carlyon was not only well 
 stricken in years, but ailing and weak, and he also 
 had had considerable money losses. It had been 
 none the less kind of Phillis Carlyon to offer to 
 get Azalea Deveril a class in the Sunday-school on 
 the occasion of her first arrival.
 
 140 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 It is needless to say that her offer was refused, a 
 refusal which became charged with meaning when it 
 was understood that the friendless girl did not even 
 intend to take sittings in the parish church ; so that, 
 after a time, her appearance, which had been looked 
 forward to with a flutter of expectation, came to be 
 spoken of with bated breath. 
 
 Older women who had been ready to take her by 
 the hand, considering that she had no mother — poor 
 thing! — and was not likely to come in the way of their 
 own girls, as she had so few advantages, were taken 
 aback at her indifference and unconventionality in 
 shutting herself up without a chaperon. She had only 
 twice been seen walking out of her own grounds, and 
 then she had been veiled. And though as far as they 
 could judge she had a pretty face, that pretty face 
 was considered, under the circumstances, to be an extra 
 disadvantage. 
 
 It was the fashion to shake the head when Miss 
 Deveril was mentioned, and Phillis shook hers now.
 
 HER FIRST HOSPITALITY. 141 
 
 She always spoke of her as a "poor misguided 
 creature," monopolizing for her sex the sort of hcense 
 which belonged to men. 
 
 "Women give her the cold shoulder," she said, 
 " and they would not do it without a reason. I've seen 
 them turn round and avoid looking at her, even when 
 she drives past them." 
 
 "Because she began by giving the cold shoulder 
 to them. But if she were to mix in society she would 
 soon live that down, " laughed Ralph in reply. " Why 
 are you so hard, PhilHs ?" 
 
 " She is a person with whom I could not have the 
 least sympathy." 
 
 He laughed again, in a way she did not like. 
 
 " You men are so slow in finding people out, " she 
 retorted. 
 
 "Women can tell at a glance by intuition," he 
 answered enigmatically, still chuckling to himself, "I 
 will take Eleanor to call on her ; Eleanor is always 
 kind."
 
 142 A STEANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 * There will be an esclandre some day, and then 
 you will be v^ery sorry to have mixed yourself up with 
 her — take my word for it," said his sister sharply. 
 
 How a man so very eligible, so highly presentable, 
 and so important in the neighbourhood as her brother, 
 could " let himself down " by visiting such a person, 
 was to Phillis incredible. For Ralph had always been 
 one of those eminently good and highly respectable 
 men whose taste in the matter of women was unim- 
 peachable. Though his father had been a horsey roan, 
 and devoted to hunting as long as he had been able 
 to sit on a horse, and though horses had ever been 
 som-ces of interest to, and more or less the vocation 
 of, the men of the Carlyon family, Ralph had never 
 liked girls who were given to stable-talk. He had 
 not even cared for emancipated women, but good 
 Avomen like his sister Phillis and his cousin Eleanor 
 — women who went much to church, visited the poor 
 people, and taught in Sunday-schools — women who 
 were supposed to be the salt of the earth — had hither-
 
 HEE FIRST HOSPITALITY. 143 
 
 to been the women most affected by Ralph. He had 
 never set himself in open opposition to a pet theory 
 of his father's, that Eleanor, the favourite niece, whom 
 the Squire had adopted on the death of his widowed sister, 
 many years before, and who was consequently always 
 with her cousin in the house, would make a suitable 
 wife for him by and by. The idea was in the air, 
 rather than openly given out, and as the old man, 
 even in his dotage, had the good taste never to speak 
 of it before the two who were most concerned, neither 
 of them felt bound to take any notice of it. 
 
 But that Ralph, who had been always supposed to 
 care for one whose life was so excellently ordered as 
 Eleanor's, could be smitten by the attractions of a 
 siren from the Colonies, brought up, not as other 
 women are brought up, and possibly fed on godless 
 philosophies, was a thought that Phillis refused to 
 entertain. No young woman could choose such a 
 singular course of life had there not been some reason 
 in the backs:round for it. She would not be so mad
 
 144 A STEAXGE TEMPT ATIOX. 
 
 as to deal an unnecessary blow at her popularity in 
 the neighbourhood, by refusing herself to people like 
 Miss Carlyon and Eleanor Hudson, unless she had 
 doomed herself to imprisonment because she was cer- 
 tain she would be a failure. 
 
 "We called once, and she made an excuse; you 
 must perfectly well know that we can never call 
 again. " 
 
 " I do not ask you, but I mean to go myself. You 
 women may have your rules, your laws of society, 
 your little etiquettes, but you cannot expect us men 
 to be always bound by them." 
 
 " I cannot understand why you should be always 
 asking for information about her — a girl who says 
 she comes from the Colonies, whose antecedents are 
 doubtless queer, who chooses to shut herself up, and 
 never to go near a place of worship," rejoined Phillis 
 hotly. " I am afraid you have been taken in by her 
 airs and graces." 
 
 " And I cannot understand why you women should
 
 HER FIEST HOSPITALITY. 145 
 
 be always hard on each other. A woman should 
 never run down other women," he said, a little severely. 
 " Eleanor would never do that. It is the low opinion 
 of her sex which Nellie always resents, not only for 
 herself but for other w^omen." 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 QUEEN OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 
 
 Polly was more restless than usual that eveniug. 
 For a little while the wonder of her new hiding-place, 
 with all the associations of the extraordinar}^ old 
 country; the vistas of the centuries stretching out 
 behind her; the breath of the strange new air; the 
 greyer climate; the passing clouds, and the glories of 
 the sea which she had crossed to reach it — supplied 
 her with food enough to satisfy her in her life of 
 retirement. 
 
 Her own grounds were not large, but they com- 
 manded perfect views. And for that little while the 
 lovely prospect had a quieting influence — as if a soft, 
 
 146
 
 QUEEX OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 147 
 
 unseen hand stole over her, smoothing the hair on her 
 brow. She had fretted a good deal for her girlish 
 friend, but soon she began to console herself, like a 
 child with toys. The girl from the Colonies loved 
 ever}'thing because all was so novel to her. The great 
 trees with soft round heads, which looked as if one 
 could stroke them in the distance, were loveliest when 
 seen from her windows. She had watched them in 
 their various aspects — when the sun had caught some 
 of their heads and turned their hair into gold; when 
 in the shades of evening they became dusky green ; 
 or v\-hen, as now, in the autumn days, they assumed 
 all sorts of chromatic tints. 
 
 All was delightful in the garden when it had been 
 handed over by the former owners, from the peacock 
 which had been encouraged to unfold its gorgeous 
 plumes on the old stone terrace, the pug dog glad to 
 welcome a friend, the sun sparkling on the diamond 
 casements of the windows, the little old-fashioned 
 sundial, and the one time-stained old fountain in
 
 148 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 imitation of the French style, with its poor little 
 Cupids in stone, defaced by time, ^Yith an arm or leg 
 missing here and there, but smiling as the water 
 trickled above their heads, dimpled still, but blackened 
 and moss-grown in the course of years. 
 
 But she was getting very tired of watching them 
 in loneliness. A year and a half seem like ages- 
 when one is young, and Polly began to feel as if the 
 hair on her head must be growing grey. The rocks 
 of candied sugar were turning into hard aggressive 
 rocks, shutting her out from her fellow-creatures ; the 
 showers of dew perfumed with vanilla, were proving 
 to be cold saturating rain. For if the Castle were 
 enchanted at all, it was only enchanted in a horrible sense^ 
 It was as if she had lived alone in this place with her few 
 serving-men and serving-maids for centuries and cen- 
 turies. And the pride — really a form of distrust — with 
 which she had checked all approach to neighbourly 
 feeling, and which had proved so difficult to break 
 down, was costing her more than she had counted on.
 
 QUEEX OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 149 
 
 Beyond the mere fact of having made up her mind 
 to personate her friend, she had no cause for self- 
 reproach. She had begun her new Hfe with a fii-m 
 ■determination, God helping her, to keep it henceforth 
 pure and true and clean. If she had not gone to 
 church it was partly because she was afraid of the 
 notice she might attract, and partly because she had 
 never been used to it, and it was more natural to her 
 to absent herself. But she was beginning to be like 
 a child playing at hide-and-seek, shut up in a strange 
 room, who, when its companions do not find it, feels 
 ^s if it must call out. The ghastly dulness was 
 becoming intolerable. 
 
 And when Ralph Carlyon came again — as he had 
 said he would come, having intimated that seeing 
 her once should mean, in his case, seeing her often — 
 when he sought another opportunity, bringing a 
 message extracted from his unwilling sister, she was 
 rather thankful to him than otherwise for breaking 
 down a cold reserve which was bv no means natural
 
 150 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 to her. He had positively persuaded Eleanor to 
 accompany him, she falling into his vein, and declar- 
 ing, in spite of Phillis, that she did not see why she 
 or any other sensible woman should give way to the 
 whims of this royal personage. 
 
 The " royal personage " was certainly unconventional, 
 for she insisted on showing Miss Hudson round the 
 house. She had odd new views about the futm^e of 
 England, and talked of the time w^hen all the great 
 houses would disappear, and the fine collections of 
 china and pictures come under the hammer of the 
 auctioneer. 
 
 Her own apartments were somewhat severely fur- 
 nished, for the uncle had invested largely in mahogany, 
 massive in style, and as Eleanor thought "bourgeois." 
 But the girl had evidently good taste. For in pass- 
 ing through London she had bought herself a lamp 
 supported by a little bronze Hermes, a copy of the 
 celebrated Mercury of Bologna. It gave her an idea 
 of the joy and vigour of youth ; she, too, felt as if she
 
 QUEEN OF AU. SHE SUPt^T:YED. 151 
 
 would have liked winged feet, to fly away fi'om the prison 
 she had made for herself by her own craft. 
 
 "It shows that the taste is there, and will only 
 require cultivation," said Eleanor afterwards, hoping 
 to propitiate Phillis. 
 
 Eleanor brought a peace-offering of some autumn 
 chrysanthemums — curled darhngs of the Japanese 
 variety — with a message of thanks to Miss Deveril 
 for her attention to the bruised hand. 
 
 They had had a good deal of fun over the supposed 
 injury which was done to that hand. Miss Deveril's 
 belief in the injury was evidently so ingenuous that it 
 could not be pretended. 
 
 But Miss Deveril had quick perceptions, for she 
 turned the conversation into another groove at once, 
 and began to inveigh against the hunting propensities 
 of her neighbours. 
 
 *They don't often start a fox, and have to be 
 content with hares," explained Eleanor, and then Polly 
 had her sav.
 
 152 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 The fox, she declared, was a most intelligent creature 
 with all its wild instincts and clever ways, and turning 
 to Ralph with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she 
 made him feel rather foolish by demanding, " AVhy on 
 earth should you want to kill it?" Her manner implied 
 that few animals with any intelligence were left in 
 this dreary old England. "They caught a baby fox," 
 she said, " soon after I came here, and it was pretty 
 enough to see the little thing, with its tiny claws, 
 burrowing a hole for itself beneath the cage. But 
 I — I let it go free. I have a sympathy with that 
 fox. How do I know it may not be the very one you 
 will be trying to kill the next time you go to the meet ? 
 Oh, I know — I have heard that not to be constantly 
 booted and spurred is to be subject to reproach in this 
 place ! I think spurs are cruel things ! " 
 
 There was a dead silence, which she was the first 
 to break by adding, 
 
 " You get so used to cruelty you never think of it. 
 Oh, I dare say walking with the guns may become a
 
 QUEEX OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 153 
 
 fashionable amusement, but never for me. I should 
 hate to see creatures maimed and tortured." 
 
 Ralph hastened to assui^e her that his cousin Eleanor 
 belonged to a Society for protecting animals, and that 
 she was also an admirer of St. Francis of Assisi, of 
 whom ]\Iiss Deveril had evidently never heard. But 
 though he assured her that he never meant to carry 
 on any further raids into her preserves, and was only 
 too anxious to apologize for the one which she resented, 
 he could not prevent her from enlarging on her sym- 
 pathy for hunted things. 
 
 According to her, the women as well as the foxes 
 were cruelly oppressed by the things which men not 
 only allowed, but encouraged in the old country. 
 
 " A man does not give up his whole life for the 
 sake of being married, and why should a woman? " 
 she asked impulsively, chattering on, regardless of the 
 bad impression she was producing. 
 
 Eleanor did not know what to make of this girl, 
 whose wavs were so different from her own wavs.
 
 154 A STEAN'GE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 and who alternately delighted and frightened her. It 
 was like coming in contact with a being from another 
 planet. 
 
 The extreme colourlessness of Miss Hudson's appear- 
 ance, her delicacy, her perfect finish, and even her 
 femininity — in a peculiar sense not common with many 
 women — were brought into strong relief by her con- 
 trast with Polly. 
 
 " You are too young to be so much alone, " was 
 the only speech she made which savoured of patroniz- 
 ing, and then — conscious of the feeling of stand-offish- 
 ness — she hastened to correct her mistake by an 
 encouraging smile, which broadened into a laugh when 
 Miss Deveril suddenly presented a little box of bon- 
 bons, having a red-turbaned lady with red cheeks pictured 
 on its lid, and — holding it out to her visitors — began 
 to munch the contents herself, as she explained, 
 
 " I always carry sweets m my pocket — the worst 
 of it is that — with the way the dressmakers make the 
 dresses now — they are sometimes hard to sit upon."
 
 QUEEX OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 155 
 
 She was afraid in her turn that she had committed 
 some terrible solecism, \yhen Ralph — looking at the 
 odd expression of perplexity in Eleanor's eyes with the 
 answering fright in those of his hostess — burst into 
 a laugh, and the laughter threatened to become uncon- 
 trollable. 
 
 Polly joined in it herself — afraid all the time that 
 it might not be the right thing to do. She had always 
 offered chocolates as a sign of amity to Ben and Dick, 
 when she had wished to propitiate them, but evidently 
 it was not proper here. 
 
 "One must live and learn," thought Polly, with a 
 sigh. 
 
 Eleanor went away admitting to herself that the stranger 
 was charming in spite of her shortcomings, and in 
 spite of her divergence from herself in opinion and 
 habit. 
 
 "She is not like anyone else," she said, "she fas- 
 cinated me a good deal, but she was not at her ease 
 any more than I was."
 
 156 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 She did not think it necessary to explain that the 
 stranger had repelled her at the same time, and that 
 even she, though she did not know it, spoke with 
 condescension, while Phillis's nose and chin seemed 
 to grow sharper at the very mention of the visit. 
 AVhat good could come from cultivating the acquain- 
 tance of a wild girl from the Colonies, who at one 
 time determined to shut herself up, and at another 
 was, perhaps, too ready to make friends? 
 
 " She is something of a beaut}^, " explained Eleanor ; 
 '^ so far the gossip is right. She is just the sort of 
 woman who would have the incense swung for her if 
 she went much into society. And she is so original; 
 I could imagine her being the rage in London." 
 
 Eleanor spoke a little sadly. She was conscious 
 herself of being no beauty, though there was something 
 striking in her personality, and many people were 
 strongly drawn to the fair, pale woman, no longer in 
 her first youth, the lines of whose figure were thin 
 and angular, and whose face was often likened to that
 
 QUEEN OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. lo7 
 
 of a mediaeval saint. Neither of the two relatives 
 suspected that it was not so much Miss Deveril's 
 beauty as Miss Deveril's fascination which had attracted 
 Ralph Carlyon. From the moment that the man and 
 the woman had stood face to face, he had been 
 conscious that something fresh and charming had 
 come into his life, a new influence which was to 
 permeate his whole being, and possibly revolutionize 
 some of his previous theories. 
 
 Phillis and Eleanor would have been much more 
 anxious if they could have known how often, dm^ing 
 the next few weeks, Ralph was to be a visitor at 
 Woodlands. Polly's grace of maidenhood, her fresh- 
 ness, her naivete when she threw off her odd mask 
 of reserve, were all telling upon him. The lilt of ■ 
 her clear young voice singing to herself, or giving 
 orders to her gardener as she walked about her 
 grounds — for she led an open-air life, and received 
 Ralph generally in the open air — even her habit of 
 breaking into boyish whistling; the thousand little
 
 158 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 smiles which seemed to kirk in the dimples on her 
 cheek or in the corners of the red lips — were pleasant 
 to him. He observed and noted them all with a 
 quick sense of humom-, which was one of the greatest 
 pleasures of his life, though it rarely moved him to 
 the outward expression of laughter. And, unimagi- 
 native though he usually was, he fell into the habit 
 of creating for Miss Deveril all the qualities which 
 her face and bearing suggested to him. 
 
 By degrees he tempted her out of her solitude, so 
 gradually and so gently that she was scarcely aware 
 of the change. " Don't you find it very dull ? " he 
 began by remonstrating. " When other people lived 
 here there was plenty of life about the place." 
 
 "I have made friends of my servants," she tried 
 to explain, enlarging on one of those views of life 
 which had the charm of novelty to him ; " they say 
 we women like being slaves, and that we are hard in 
 our turn to other women, sometimes even to children 
 and those beneath us. That may be the fashion in
 
 QUEEX OF ALL SHE SURVEYED. 159 
 
 England, but I have not been used to it. My people 
 all love me. I dance with them, I sing to them. I 
 remember their independence as human beings." 
 
 " AVhere did you pick up all this Radicalism ? " 
 laughed her neighbour, without noticing that his 
 inquiries were never answered. There was a fresh- 
 ness in the pretty pedantry ^^dth which she brought 
 out these opinions which completely subjugated him. 
 But by degrees he laughed her out of some of her 
 ideas. It was all very well — that theory of living 
 like a female Robinson Crusoe, monarch of all she 
 surveyed— but it was rather hard on her neighbom-s. 
 If she could have had her way, she would have 
 allowed the rabbits, the hares, the partridges, and the 
 pheasants to breed undisturbed. As to any outsider 
 daring to shoot on her little property, it had been 
 worse to her than the audacity of the keeper in trying 
 to keep the increase down, and more unpardonable 
 than the gardener who had wished to cut down timber 
 without consulting her. But, after all, this was tyran-
 
 160 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 nical in a sporting country. What could be greater 
 tyranny from one who prided herself on resisting 
 tyrants? She found all her arguments suddenly turned 
 against herself, and laughed good-temperedly when she 
 was assured that it was she who had been the tyrant. 
 
 Yet everyone noticed that Ralph Carlyon was less 
 keen on the hunting and shooting that season. 
 
 " She has been doing her best to open my eyes to 
 my shortcomings," he admitted, "I have half a mind 
 never to shoot anything a^ain — to let the pheasants 
 and partridges multiply as well as the foxes." 
 
 But at the same time Ralph was a masterful man, and it 
 was ominous to PhiUis when he added, with grim emphasis, 
 
 ''I am determined to try and cure her of shutting 
 herself up. She may be taking a right step in the 
 direction of female emancipation, but why should the 
 emancipated woman refuse to see her friends ? " 
 
 "Whether he were in earnest or in fun, it was 
 evident that the " Lady of Shalott, " was not to be 
 allowed to languish any longer in retirement.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ■ MY COUSIN ELEANOR. " 
 
 Xew thoughts and strange feelings were surging up 
 in Polly's heart. She tried to put them away from 
 her by an effort of her will ; but they were not un- 
 pleasant thoughts. 
 
 She had not wasted her time during the eighteen 
 months she had lived alone. Directly she came to 
 England she began to study other women, and was 
 particularly anxious to acquire the " well-groomed " 
 appearance of the English girls who sometimes drove 
 past her gates, the girls who belonged to the county 
 families in the neighbourhood, and who looked as neat 
 as their sleek and glossy horses and well-appointed 
 
 VOL. L isi 11
 
 162 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 carriages. She had denied herself to all of them, })artly 
 because she was afraid of their discerning something 
 peculiar in her. The essentials of knowing how to 
 carry herself and how to walk gracefully had been 
 learned long ago, and she had always prided herself 
 on being able to dress with effect, but in the dress 
 as in the walk she had now to correct all that was stagey. 
 Pier quick perception told her that the peculiar style 
 of these other women was something different from 
 theatrical smartness. She had determined to acquire 
 it, discarding the diamonds and gold bangles which 
 she had bought on first landing in England, wearing 
 spotless cuffs and collars, and neat little boots, which 
 were kept without a crease by being constantly 
 stretched on boot-trees. She had even tried to brush the 
 waves and crinkles out of her rebellious hair, preserv- 
 ing her own secret as to the wash which she again 
 began to apply to it at nights, to keep it as nearly 
 as possible to the canary colour of Azalea's tresses. 
 But still she was terribly afraid of those other girls.
 
 163 
 
 She had been afraid of them all the time that she 
 had lived alone, with a sort of feeling of having gone 
 back to the Middle Ages. 
 
 It seemed to her in a vague manner as if, in another 
 incarnation, she must have experienced that sensation 
 of being shut up ^vith her workpeople. But then, no 
 doubt, in that former stage of existence, she had 
 worked at tapestry with her maidens, and had beguiled 
 the weaiy hours not only with women's talk, but also 
 with knightly guests. Could it have been any duller 
 — that working at tapestry, when one could not even 
 see the pattern, but had to stitch in the threads at the 
 back of the embroidery — than the lonely, w eaiy hours 
 with no knightly guests ? It was disagreeable as well 
 as dull to be a chatelaine without guests, and a 
 prisoner in one's own grounds. The affection of her 
 faithful attendants, and the pleasant air of the country 
 with the outlook from her windows on the giant 
 trees — immemorial elms and oaks, with the moss of 
 centuries on their trimks — had palled on her after a time.
 
 164 A STKAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 For, oh, it had been dull ! And as Polly would have 
 said of herself in the old days, she was " a grega- 
 rious animal," and, after all, could not help being 
 thankful to have the spell of the enchanted solitude 
 broken at last, and to be able to yield unconsciously 
 to the desire which every woman has in moments 
 of weakness, to shift the burden of her life on to 
 the shoulders of some man. And, curiously enough, 
 she did not resent the interference — not even when 
 Ralph tried to revise her theories about womankind. 
 Women, as he insisted, knew their power in past 
 days ; they were the inventors of the ideal, and 
 believed in their own illusions. They were the poets 
 of unwritten poetry ; the priestesses of the occult. Now 
 they were in danger of throwing away the bone for 
 the shadow. Polly shook her head, but he had set 
 her thinking, and in that lay the path to danger. 
 She had never yet cared for a man, though she had 
 loved a woman wildly and passionately, with all the 
 fervour of her passionate heart. She had resented
 
 165 
 
 the sickly sentimentality, which is so prone to exag- 
 gerate one stage of human life. But now, for the 
 first time, she knew^ the meaning of thoughtful sym- 
 pathy, and of mental ambition. The thoughts which 
 had been lying useless till fired by the thoughts of 
 others, like dead coals ready to take flame when the 
 burning wood should reach them, suddenly started 
 into life. 
 
 And the poor lonely girl had a feeling, which she 
 tried in vain to shake off, that she — the independent, 
 the self-sufficing, who had fled across the seas to 
 escape an unwelcome lover — had somehow need of 
 this plain-spoken, dominating man, of his presence, 
 his smiles, his encouragement, and even his help. 
 
 "Was it because the men whom she had known 
 before, had only been burlesques and caricatures of 
 the refined type which they tried to mimic, or could it 
 be possible that the domesticity which had always excited 
 her irony was beginning to be necessary' to herself? 
 
 Certain it was that Ralph Carlyon's open face, his
 
 166 A STRANGE TE^IPTATION. 
 
 expressive grey eyes, his cheerful candour, and his 
 pleasant manner contrasted strangely with remembrances 
 of hard-featured men in " 'Frisco" taverns — men with 
 bowie-knives and revolvers in their belts. His was 
 an impressive figiu'e, and the graver tones of his voice 
 had begun to thrill her in a way which she found it 
 difficult to resist. In her presence he was always 
 careful, and full of self-restraint. To serve God and 
 be a respectable member of the Church of England, 
 keeping any doubts which might trouble him locked 
 in his own breast, whilst he did his duty by his 
 family and the land which had belonged to his fore- 
 fathers for generations, was the simple creed in which 
 Ralph Carlyon had been educated. And if there was 
 another side to his character, a phase in which he 
 found congenial food in reading Renan and Herbert 
 Spencer, and writing letters to thoughtful friends who 
 had souls above mangel-wurzels, turnips and top- 
 dressings, it was a phase which he kept to himself, 
 being only known to his neighbours under the character
 
 167 
 
 of the future squire — a good-natured man to deal 
 with when "you didn't tread on his corns" — "a real 
 kind man" said the farmers round, — " but if you once 
 opposed him, you warn't likely to do it twice." 
 
 Meanwhile Polly was a good deal impressed by 
 everything about him. The " Hall " w^as the oldest 
 mansion in the neighbourhood of Forest Hill, having 
 been built long before London — stealthily creeping 
 on — invaded the suburbs — an invasion of which the 
 Carlyons spoke, as if it were an incursion of Goths 
 and Vandals. It was a couple of centuries older 
 than the unassuming house which the leather merchant 
 had purchased. It had been added to from time to 
 time, throwing out a gable here, and a picturesque 
 chimney there, till the ancestral home had become a 
 medley of all sorts of architecture interesting to the 
 artist and antiquarian. The grey facade and its black 
 shadows chilled Miss Deveril when she summoned up 
 courage to return Eleanor Hudson's visit. 
 
 She had screwed up her resolution to make the
 
 168 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 call, but felt inclined to draw back when a hard-fea- 
 tured butler, who looked as if he would never see sixty 
 again, ushered her up a massive staircase, with stern- 
 eyed family portraits on its walls, into a drawing- 
 room cold, intimidating, and furnished in prim style, 
 and, finally, into the presence of an equally hard-fea- 
 tured mistress of an equally uncertain age, whom she 
 correctly guessed to be Miss Carlyon. 
 
 But she had determined to like Phillis, whom some- 
 body had described to her as a homespun sort of 
 woman whom it was absurd to be afraid of, and of 
 whom Ealph had said with a smile, " We leave her 
 the monopoly of all the virtues. She is one of the 
 people who are always in the right, and not popular 
 in consequence ; perfect goodness being exasperating. 
 But when you come to know her you will be sure 
 to like her." 
 
 His manner had perhaps implied that the great 
 thing in a woman was to be pliant and amenable 
 to circumstances, but Pollv did not as vet take
 
 169 
 
 alarm at this manner. And she took to Phillis, she 
 scarcely knew why, perhaps because the maiden 
 sister had the same steady, earnest look in her dark 
 grey eyes as Ralph had in his, but she did not admire 
 her. Miss Carlyon's face was honest, clever, keen 
 looking, sarcastically sharp, and undeniably plain. 
 Girl-like she had concluded that Eleanor Hudson was 
 also plain, and that the worthy people who had cir- 
 culated reports to the effect that there was a secret 
 understanding between the cousins must certainly be 
 mistaken. For if Phillis was matter-of-fact and some- 
 what angular in form, with the outHnes of old maiden- 
 hood, Eleanor also was undeniably thin, with high 
 cheek bones, a little flat chested, and prematurely faded. 
 " There can be nothing in all that chatter ; have I 
 not heard that they always gossip in coimtry places 
 like this, in England?" said Polly to herself, walking 
 on to her fate like a somnambulist, impressed for the 
 first time by a new personality, almost hypnotized by 
 the strange and unexpected influences which were
 
 170 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 brought to bear upon her, astonished at herself and 
 the fresh possibihties which from day to day were 
 discovered in her. 
 
 Ralph Carlyon could scarcely have explained why 
 his feet so often wandered in the direction of his 
 neighbour's house. They read together — first prose, 
 then poetry ; he selecting such passages as she would 
 be likely to understand. 
 
 It was plain enough, as he acknowledged, that her 
 education had been neglected. But she was enthusi- 
 astic and had taught herself a good deal, and, after 
 all, he declared, she knew more than the generality of 
 girls who pretended to know so much, but who might 
 have been born before Cadmus for any real knowledge 
 that they had of letters. He set himself to remedy 
 her defects to the best of his power. 
 
 He corrected her mistakes — some of them were 
 odd. She said she came from the Colonies, but he 
 had to correct her Americanisms ; that was accounted 
 for by her explanation that she had lived for some
 
 "my COUSIX ELEANOR." 171 
 
 time in America, He tried to make her think ; it 
 seemed to him horribly discourteous, but he hastened 
 to apologize for the discourtesy by complimenting her 
 on the rapid strides which she was making in conse- 
 quence of her native w^it and her quick intelligence. 
 
 She would not talk of her experiences. 
 
 Old thoughts were evidently put more into the 
 background as new ones monopolized, and the recol- 
 lection of all the things which she had seen in her 
 past life seemed somehow to oppress her. 
 
 This was strange, and he admitted that many other 
 things were strange about her ; he grew intimate 
 enough to be able to laugh at her for her oddities. 
 She did not, for instance, trouble herself much about 
 time. The watches stood still which she wore as 
 ornaments, the clocks in her house were left unwound. 
 She declared that she knew the time by the length 
 of the shadows, but the servants, of whose attachment 
 she boasted, took advantage of her, and sometimes the 
 whole household sat up far into the night. And Ralph
 
 172 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Carlyon — who could not bear to hear her habits 
 laughed at as eccentric — began by winding up the 
 clocks and ended by winding up something else. 
 
 She showed him the books which she had tried in 
 vain to read by herself, and consulted him about them. 
 It was inconsistent with her Radicalism and her strong 
 opinions about the independence of women that she 
 should take his advice — but Polly was still a mass of 
 inconsistencies. 
 
 She was the first woman he had ever known who 
 seemed to have released herself from the bonds of 
 the conventional. And if she were uneducated in 
 some respects, she was oddly cultivated in other w^ays. 
 She had learnt a good deal from the book of Nature, 
 and she was happy in queer quotations from dramatic 
 authors, and sometimes from French writers. He 
 could not help wondering how she — so ignorant in 
 other respects — had got hold of them. 
 
 Then it was that by insensible degrees, and for 
 subtle reasons which she could best explain, she thought
 
 173 
 
 it well to change the code which she had laid down 
 for herself and intended to be as infallible as the laws 
 of the Medes and Persians ; for, having once admitted 
 a masculine intruder, it was difficult to exclude other 
 neighbours. Phillis came, and tried to be friendly, 
 but she had not tact enough to control her inclination 
 to lecture, and she was the first to be alarmed at the 
 jokes which were made in the neighbourhood, on the 
 subject of her brother's constant visits to the lonely 
 house which Polly had christened Woodlands. Phillis 
 had always been on good terms with her brother, but 
 she was one of those conscientious people who are apt 
 to make themselves disagreeable from their excessive 
 confidence in themselves. 
 
 "You always think yourself in the right," said 
 Ralph, when she tried to remonstrate with him, "and 
 as I have never been able to disturb you in the 
 stronghold of your position, I will not attempt to do so 
 now. But for Heaven's sake let your remarks be limited 
 to myself — there is nothing inferior about this girl."
 
 174 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 To Eleanor he spoke more freely. 
 
 " Study ! she asks me to help her study. It is 
 really almost a pity, for she is charming as she is — 
 charming as one of Nature's wild flo^yers. She knows 
 a little about dress, and a good deal about dancing. 
 She has a mass of curious ideas — a jumble of poetry 
 which sometimes she quotes, and inyariably fastens on the 
 wrong people — all of this is most fresh and amusing." 
 
 And then he added, laughing, 
 
 " She knows nothing about the history of her own 
 times. One would think she had been asleep — a sort 
 of female Rip Van Winkle — only she looks so juvenile 
 and has the oddest ideas about politics. And she has 
 her antipathies ; she hates geography like poison." 
 
 He laughed again, little guessing that Polly's hatred 
 of geography was due to her horror of being questioned 
 about Australia. He was too much amused to be on 
 his guard ; it was already dawning on him that what 
 the other women might think foolishness and childish- 
 ness in the "Lady of Shalotf were, in fact, freshness
 
 "my cousin ELEANOR. " 175 
 
 and originality, and that his own life had been half 
 benumbed before he knew her. 
 
 But to Polly, when the intimacy increased, he 
 ventured to explain, "You are the sort of girl to whom 
 all hypocrisies would be hateful, but you must not 
 judge more conventional people by yourself. I am 
 sure you will love my sister and cousin when you 
 come to know them. My sister is really not a woman 
 to be dreaded — " 
 
 "Though she does take me for a sort of heathen 
 Chinee," laughed the girl. 
 
 "Why, if you had remained here any longer shut 
 up by yourself, no one knows what you might have 
 turned into, " rejoined Ralph, answering her according 
 to her own humour, but with just a touch of his 
 sister's middle-aged self-complacency. He was very 
 well aware that her mind was growing rapidly under 
 his direction, and though, in spite of her usual frankness, 
 she kept certain memories to herself, he was by no 
 means alarmed at her reticence.
 
 176 A STRAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 "What does anybody know about her?" asked 
 Phillis, angrily. 
 
 And Eleanor, on whom she pressed the question, 
 was bound to admit that there was something about 
 the girl which she did not quite understand. 
 
 "I should think not, indeed. How could anyone 
 understand ? " retorted Phillis, undeterred by the 
 remembrance of her brother's warning, that if she 
 allowed herself to make innuendoes at the expense 
 of other people some day or other they would 
 degenerate into libels. 
 
 But Eleanor, who was very hard at work amongst 
 her poor people, only answered her with a sweet 
 and somewhat sickly smile. No one had much time 
 to notice Eleanor's looks, or to remark that she was 
 growing thinner and paler. Her soft, fair eyelids did not 
 as yet show the traces of tears, or the anguish of night- 
 watches when she had to conquer herself. Eleanor was 
 much at church just then, though, unlike Phillis, she did 
 not bore people with her talk about church services.
 
 177 
 
 "My cousin Eleanor is really most kind, though 
 her manners are a little cold," said Ralph Carlyon, 
 somewhat anxiously. " AVe are a good deal to each 
 other, having been brought up together since child- 
 hood." 
 
 It had always been his way quietly to ignore any 
 cut-and-diied schemes which his father might have 
 made on his behalf; he considered it far more polite 
 to the lady to ignore them. By long habit, he con- 
 tinued coolly to treat these questions as if they 
 had never existed, without taking the trouble to 
 argue about them, or to contradict them, but owing 
 to this habit, which saved him a good deal of worry, 
 he was perhaps answerable for some of the trouble 
 which might have been prevented. 
 
 VOL. r. • 12
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OFF HER GUARD. 
 
 No one knew exactly how it came about! — how the 
 girl who felt the need for studying in her leisure 
 hours with all her energy and zest — aware of the 
 enormous gaps in her knowledge, which must be filled 
 before she could take her place amongst other educated 
 women — came to depend more and more on the help 
 of a friend ! And how for the first time, finding in 
 the eyes of a human being the annihilation of self — as if 
 her personality had been merged in the being of another — 
 she was almost afraid of his coming lest his breath should 
 fan into flames those sparks of which she was beginning 
 to be conscious amongst the dead embers of her heart ! 
 
 178
 
 OFF HER GUARD. 179 
 
 It was insensate, absurd. 
 
 " I must be on my guard ; I must be on my guard. 
 It will not do for me to marry anijone^'" she was in 
 the habit of repeating, as if by rote, to herself. But 
 the words had lost their meaning. 
 
 She had always believed in hypnotism, and was 
 siure she was being hypnotized. She tried to assert 
 her will, and to rehearse to herself all the theories 
 against the domination of man, which had hitherto 
 ocemTed so readily to her mind. But when Ralph 
 ■came again — this good and precise man whom it was 
 madness for her to love — she seemed to have forgotten 
 all her theories and had only a helpless sense of being 
 conquered. 
 
 He, too, was caught in a network of his own 
 fancies. It was not till later that he found how he 
 had invented all sorts of attributes for Miss Deveril, 
 and how little she had said or done to confirm him 
 in his ideas. Afterwards, he remembered how she had 
 been outspoken and a little abrupt, with no dehcate
 
 180 A STRANGE TE.A[PTATIOX. 
 
 comprehension of difficult questions, such as is usual 
 amongst EngHsh-brecl girls, but with a downright way 
 of speaking, as if it were impossible for her to under- 
 stand why subjects should be tabooed for girls on 
 \^hich. men or even mature women could discoiu-se 
 amongst themselves. More than once some remark of 
 hers had made him start— a chance remark which had 
 seemed to justify Phillis in being contemptuous about 
 the new and fantastic relationship which was being estab- 
 lished between her brother and this outlandish stranger 
 from the Colonies — Phillis always declaring that she 
 thought too well of Ralph to believe that anything 
 could really come of it. 
 
 Phillis might have been a little comforted could 
 she have known how the girl had declared, with flashing 
 eyes, that she had determined to lead a single life^ 
 and it was utterly impossible for her ever to dream 
 of marrying. "Utterly is a strong word," Ralph had 
 answered calmly, as he looked at her with the masterful 
 smile which she tried in vain to resent. " You are
 
 OFF HER GUARD. 181 
 
 letting me teach you a little, and you will not be so 
 discoiu'teous as to refuse to let me show you how the 
 verb '' Anio' may be conjugated. At least you will let 
 me tr}', and when I have failed it will be time enough 
 for you to repeat 'utterly impossible.' " 
 
 He set himself to win her in a philosophical way, 
 the first step being to wean her from any supposed 
 eccentricity. For her manner was sometimes stilted, 
 not only with him but in the presence of other 
 visitors, whom she no longer excluded. And yet he 
 knew how she longed for a burst of healthy laughter. 
 * It seems to me, " he said one day, " that you have 
 good spirits and are always bottling them up. AVhy, 
 if I may venture to ask? You could not have cared 
 so much for that old uncle." 
 
 Again she flushed the brilliant red which had always 
 dyed her cheeks, even to the little ears, when her 
 new friend ventured to ask any question which referred 
 to her past life — but she looked away from him. 
 
 "It is rather hard on a fellow not to let him put
 
 182 A STRANGE TEMPTATIOX. 
 
 the simplest and most civil question," he thought, for 
 the first time with a sense of irritation, modified by 
 that strange and secret conviction that it was one of 
 the oddities which would all come right by and by. 
 But even these oddities justified him in declaring to 
 Phillis, " She is not commonplace at all, and you know 
 how many of your sex are terribly commonplace." 
 
 If Polly did not absolutely " let herself go " after 
 his remonstrance about her forced gravity, she became 
 more like her old self. Now and then a sort of timid- 
 ity would come over her in the midst of her sallies 
 of wit, and an appealing air which contrasted piquantly 
 with the assertion of her liberty. "A woman must 
 be a fool," she said, "who, having tasted the sweets 
 of liberty, would bow her neck to the yoke in this 
 England of yours. Once fettered, I should do nothing 
 but long for emancipation. Horrible — to think of 
 giving up one's liberty." 
 
 He was nearer to her than he had been before. 
 She felt it, for she dared not raise her eyes when he
 
 OFF HEE GUAED., 183 
 
 Avas reading some familiar poem, and when she felt 
 that he was taking possession of her. There was no 
 withstanding the tender tone of his voice, cheering her 
 and encouraging her. It seemed to her that since 
 Azalea's death she had heard nothing so tender. 
 
 And yet she rattled on in what Phillis called her 
 " American " style. How so many women could remain 
 crushed under this conjugal tyranny without asserting 
 themselves was incomprehensible to her, Polly declared. 
 Miserable creatures, with rigid autocrats for their hus- 
 bands — would no deliverance ever come to them ? 
 Marriage was egotism, a sort of dual egotism, she 
 said, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. "Oh, you 
 can't want that of me — it can't be that^'^ she cried, 
 bursting into tears and thrusting him away with pas- 
 sionate sobs. And Ralph only smiled quietly in that 
 provoking way of his. He had ceased to care if he 
 vexed her, he even risked irritating her — anything to 
 dominate her in the end. But it was a part of his 
 philosophy to let her talk herself out.
 
 184 A STRA^^GE TEMPTATION. 
 
 She intended to be persistent in her refusal, but her 
 opposition was only fanning his love into a flame. 
 The possibility of disappointment in the long run did 
 not occur to him ; so sure was he that it would only 
 be a question of time. As to dismissal, he was deter- 
 mined not to take it. A man who had been humoured 
 all his life by women, and who was conscious of 
 having a great gift to give, was not easily disturbed 
 when he set his mind on a thing. 
 
 The autumn changed into winter. The veils of mist, 
 drawn, as if by invisible fingers, over the skies and 
 rising from the fields and woods of Forest Hill, gave 
 way to the sparkling silver of a reign of hoarfrost. 
 
 xind then old Mr. Carlyon became seriously ill, and 
 the weeks which had passed monotonously, without 
 anything unusual happening but the discussing of 
 agricultural improvements, or the reading of new books, 
 were followed by a brief period of tragic and emo- 
 tional interest. All that careful nursing and affectionate 
 solicitude could do, was done, but Mr. Cai-lyon, in
 
 OFF HER GUARD. 185 
 
 consequence of his extreme age, was unable to throw 
 off the cold which he had caught with the change of 
 weather, and the doctors could only soothe his passage 
 to the grave with opiates. The dying man slept for 
 the greater part of the time, nor was it supposed that 
 there could be any need for disturbing him to consult 
 with him about his affairs. It was only on the open- 
 ing of the Will that it was found he had indulged, in 
 earlier years, in unwise speculations on the turf, and 
 that the estate, unknown to his heir, was heavily 
 mortgaged. 
 
 It was then remembered that the aged man had 
 been heard to mutter something about mortgages and 
 speculations, and that there had been compunction and 
 a sort of appeal in his face, but that those who heard 
 him had supposed him to be delirious. It was the 
 old story of heavier expenses in spite of diminished 
 income and unfortunate investments, and Ralph — who 
 listened to the tale of these pecuniary embarrassments 
 with a grim face — could not help remembering that
 
 186 A STEANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 his father had not been the man to hve without the 
 comfort and show which he considered to be necessary 
 to his position, and that his expenses had never been 
 curtailed, though he knew himself to be in debt and 
 continual difficulties. 
 
 " The place is not entailed, there is nothing to 
 prevent me from selling it," said the younger man, 
 with that grim face when he heard that there was 
 a mortgage even on the house. 
 
 But that was merely a threat. He was too much 
 attached, as Phillis said, to every "stick and stone" 
 to sell it. Yet so heavy were the liabilities, that it 
 was considered better for a time to let the Hall and 
 its grounds, and to sell oiF the horses — the utmost 
 which Ralph Carlyon could hope for being to ensure 
 a modest competence for himself and his female 
 relations. 
 
 Then the state of things was suddenly altered. 
 When the old father lay first ill and then dead, amongst 
 the hallowed associations of the house which had
 
 OFF HER GUAED. 187 
 
 belonged to his ancestors, Ealph Carlvon had no idea 
 of shirking his duties by any farther visits to Wood- 
 lands. Before the Will was opened, and even \Yhen 
 he Avas making all the arrangements for the funeral, 
 the thought had entered into his mind of how well 
 and pleasant it might be to associate the woman he 
 loved with ideals as noble as his own, in all his schemes 
 for the well-being of his poorer neighbours. Afterwards 
 he mastered himself, deciding that he could not offer 
 her a position as brilliant as she might be entitled to 
 expect from her beauty and her fortune, moderate 
 though that fortune was. The ties of kinship came 
 first, and these could never cease to be binding; they 
 had been so even in primitive communities. 
 
 He kept aloof from Woodlands, till he heard that 
 !Miss Deveril was ill.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 POLLY ACTS OX ANOTHER BIPULSE. 
 
 Though she had been making strenuous efforts to 
 cuhivate her intellect, Polly had not intended to awaken 
 her slumbering conscience; she had not foreseen that 
 the two were inseparably bound together. Once or 
 twice during the time she had lived alone, her con- 
 science had stirred in its slumber, as a chrysalis touched 
 sharply may be made to stir in its wintry sleep, 
 and then it had settled itself again to its former 
 inertia. 
 
 " I have a right, " she said to herself. " The dar- 
 ling whom I loved would have left it all to )ne — she 
 would have wished me to have it. And so long as 
 
 188
 
 POLLY ACTS ON ANOTHER BIPULSE. 189 
 
 I keep my secret it hurts nobody else — though one thing 
 is certain^ I must never, never marry. ^ 
 
 But latterly she had not been so certain about 
 leading a quiet, unwedded life. Since she had known 
 Mr. Carlyon she had had to struggle more and more 
 against ever-increasing temptation. Should her one sin 
 shut her out from all that was enjoyable in existence? 
 
 One of her attractions towards Eleanor, who was 
 singularly kind and gentle to her, had been a curious 
 impulse to confession, a sort of idea that the deHcate 
 woman with her saintly face would never betray her 
 confidence, and might even play the part of expe- 
 rienced sage to her ignorance. But as she grew more 
 learned in the ways of the world she shrank from 
 hypothetically putting her own case, waiting for any 
 judicial or impartial verdict. Xot only would it be 
 too much like surrendering a part of herself — and she 
 noticed that other people were in no haste to give 
 themselves away by a foolish Avant of reticence — but 
 she began to guess what the verdict would be, and
 
 190 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 how her case would appear to outsiders. And as she 
 guessed it, she suffered. Her reminiscences were bitter; 
 they came upon her now and then Hke sharp twinges 
 of neuralgic pain, though she managed generally to 
 forget. She had glimpses of the time when the remem- 
 brance of what she had done might become like a 
 perpetual blister applied to her self-esteem, hidden 
 from the eyes of others, like the hair shirt of a saint, 
 but always fretting her temper and poisoning her 
 happiness. By a natural impulse she desired to ward 
 off that time, and the longing in her secret heart to 
 make her life a full one, with plenty to do, and plenty of 
 delight, corresponded with her desire to shift her burden 
 on someone stronger. 
 
 When she heard that the Carlyons had lost their 
 money, and that Ralph intended to let the patrimonial 
 house and live in a small way elsewhere, it occurred 
 to her, by a new form of casuistry, that she might 
 perhaps be useful in the emergency. Why should he 
 not continue to lead the life of a country gentleman
 
 POLLY ACTS OX ANOTHER IMPULSE. 191 
 
 — the life to which he had been always accustomed, 
 and which evidently suited him beyond all others ? 
 If he could not atford to live any longer in his own 
 house, why should he not continue to make use of 
 hers ; and why — between them — should they not make 
 proper provision for the cousin and sister? 
 
 She had forgotten that she had thought this all out 
 before, and had decided that such a marriage would 
 be impossible. 
 
 She did not allow herself time to think, but made 
 her plans in haste, giving out that she was seriously 
 ill ; her anxiety had, in fact, brought on a succession 
 of sleepless nights, and she received Mr. Carlyon in 
 a pretty, coquettish, invalid costume when he came to 
 condole with her, and also to announce his intention 
 of breaking up his establishment. His voice broke a 
 little when he spoke of his sister, and he quickly 
 changed the subject when Polly alluded to the collection 
 of pictures which the Carlyons had boasted should 
 never get into the hands of the dealers. " There is
 
 192 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 not the least occasion," she said, "for you to part 
 with them — you can be nearly as well off as before — 
 and — and your sister too," this with a gulp, for the 
 thought of Phillis at that moment w^as somewhat difficult 
 to swallow, " and that dear Eleanor — don't you under- 
 stand?" 
 
 He was not quite so quick at taking in her mean- 
 ing as she would have liked him to be, for hitherto, 
 though she had evidently not been unfavourable to 
 him, he had always been discouraged by the mixture 
 of emotions on her impressionable face. Her manner 
 was no longer ungracious, but he did not understand 
 the feverish gloAV which had come into the beautiful 
 face, the light in her grey eyes, nor the sudden way 
 in which she pressed her hand on her side as if to stop 
 the beating of her agitated heart. 
 
 " Don't you understand — must I speak a little more 
 plainly?" she asked, between laughing and crying — 
 ignoring those troublesome pinpricks of which she 
 had never been conscious till lately, but which other
 
 POLLY ACTS ON ANOTHER IMPULSE. 193 
 
 people dignified by the name of conscience. "Don't 
 you understand that I have enough for all — that is, if 
 you will take a pupil in with the pictures and bric-c^- 
 brac, which needn't be sold, and teach her to conjugate 
 that verb — what was it ? I f oroet. " 
 
 o 
 
 His eyes sought hers. Till now they had been 
 averted as if by a conscious effort, and he looked to 
 her, in his black suit and his attitude of melancholy 
 dignity, like a sort of Hamlet and Ravenswood rolled 
 into one. Hitherto she had generally seen him in 
 shooting costume, or easy, comfortable clothes, dressed, 
 as Phillis sometimes said, " more like a bushranger 
 than anything else." And this carelessness of appear- 
 ances had added to his age. Xow, in his mourning 
 suit, he looked even younger than liis thirty-four 
 years, " quite young enough to make a very good 
 Hamlet on the stage," as she had been saying to 
 herself, and yet hating herself for the old habit of 
 looking at everything theatrically. 
 
 She herself was answerable for the sudden revulsion of 
 VOL. 1. 13
 
 194 A STEAXGE TE31PTATI0N. 
 
 feeling, in which his staid and somewhat elderly manner 
 was put oif like a garment, as if incompatible with his 
 virility. If he had looked young before, he looked ten 
 years younger now, as his hand stole round her waist and 
 he drew her to himself with an eager air of proprietorship. 
 " My wife ! " he said, " I had not dared to hope this. " 
 And as his hand stole round her the touch went 
 through her, as if she had been thrilled by some 
 electric current. In the old days she would have 
 told herself it was ridiculous, for then she had deter- 
 mined not to believe in galvanic batteries of that sort. 
 Yet the involuntary remembrance came upon her, of 
 how a kiss from the lips of another man had always 
 revolted her, and filled her with aversion. Polly was 
 changed into Lea; she was not the same person; yet 
 the recollection dyed her cheeks with red and a sense 
 of guilt. A tear of mortification stole down her face. 
 Was she a creature of impulse, to be always domi- 
 nated in this way by feelings, instead of the strong 
 woman she had determined to be — the nineteenth century
 
 POLLY ACTS ON ANOTHER IMPULSE. 195 
 
 woman's-rights woman who had nothing to do with moods ? 
 
 She burst into a storm of sobs, pushing him aside. 
 ''No, no — not 'my wife' yet! You must promise me 
 first. You must not question me about my Hfe in — 
 in — the Colonies. We were poor and we had to move 
 about. Oh, it was innocent enough, but I went 
 through so much that it sends me into a nervous fever 
 to talk of it ! The doctors say it is bad for me to 
 allow my mind to d\\ell on it. And you must not 
 try to fetter my liberty too much. Let me be free, 
 free as the air. I cannot always stay here, sometimes 
 I feel as if I cannot live in this place. No woman 
 who really loves would be such a fool as to wish to fetter a 
 man ; you will not interfere with me^ neither shall I with 
 yoii^^ she said in her simplicity, Httle guessing what 
 interpretation might afterwards be put upon her words. 
 
 But he gave no heed to them then, being ready in 
 his haste to make any amount of promises. * I will 
 leave you free as the air, I will never force your 
 love; but remember, it is only love which sanctifies.-
 
 196 A STKANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 this arrangement you would make with me. Could I 
 be loaded with benefits from you, could I stoop to 
 accept them — to go to live for a time in your house — 
 think how ridiculous it would be — unless you were 
 my loving wife ? " he said, surveying her at a little 
 distance with that masterful look, which had made her 
 think sometimes that his chin was a trifle too long, 
 hke his sister Phillis's, and the set of his Hps too 
 dogged, showing determination and will. But it was 
 something to have reduced the masterful man to a 
 state of passionate intensit}^, in which none of his 
 friends would have recognized him. 
 
 For, as her sobs increased, and he could not bear 
 to see her unhappy, he began to walk wildly about 
 the room, ready to forget his usual prudence in the 
 promises she asked of him. She was drawing on a 
 bank of credit for which she would have to pay 
 ruinous discount, for, after all, what were the promises 
 which might have to be fulfilled, made in the rash heat of 
 his passion, when he would have promised her anything?
 
 CHAPTER yn. 
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IN THE COLD. 
 
 In all tliis it was characteristic that no one had thought 
 about the possibility of suffering for Eleanor. Not 
 Phillis, who had never guessed that under her cousin's 
 shrinking humility there might exist something of the 
 ardour of youth or of desire for happiness, natm^al to 
 her age. Not Ralph, who had always thought it better 
 to ignore his father's whims by taking it for granted 
 that Eleanor had a call to devote herself to a religious 
 life, and to deeds of mercy and kindness to others. 
 
 Both were right in their idea that the frequent hints, 
 given by the old squire, had been a source of annoy- 
 ance and humiliation to his niece, and that she endured 
 
 197
 
 198 A STEANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 them only because she could not resent them without 
 ingratitude. Eleanor's quiet and contented manner, her 
 sedateness, and her reserved attitude, which almost 
 amounted to secrecy, were perpetual safeguards against 
 the intrusion of curiosity from outsiders. From the 
 time when she had arrived at the Hall, an orphan, 
 almost a child, no one had noticed the infinite sadness 
 in the eyes which gazed out at the meadows, broad 
 and wide, amongst which the shadows crept, or at the 
 deer, reposing in the bracken beneath the oak trees 
 in the deer-park, which varied that meadow-land in 
 which a great part of her uncle's property consisted. 
 She was rightly supposed to be a great admirer of 
 natural scener}^, but the closest observer had never 
 suspected that passion could grow out of such a placid 
 beginning, or that Eleanor, who had been Ralph's com- 
 panion from childhood, who had talked with him over 
 his University prospects, and watched him in every 
 trial or pleasure of his life, could be the sort of 
 \Yoman to cherish a sentimental attachment.
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IN THE COLD. 199 
 
 She was respected and esteemed because she con- 
 fided in no one. More than once her hand had been 
 sought in marriage, but she had dismissed her suitors. 
 
 " She is too good for any of us, " Ralph had said 
 to Philhs, as he noticed the increasing signs of ardent 
 rehgious devotion which had been Eleanor's from the 
 beginning, and which awed and astonished, though they 
 did not personally impress him. 
 
 He could not understand anyone having such a 
 vocation. The whole thing was beyond his grasp; 
 he had no comprehension of it and could only admire 
 it. He could say " Pray for me," when the girl went 
 to her daily services with that beautiful saintly ex- 
 pression on her face, but he had no idea of going 
 with her. 
 
 Both he and Phillis were right in their idea, that 
 the frequent services in the church at Forest Hill 
 had conduced to the happiness of her life. But no 
 one had guessed the agonizing prayers and the 
 emotional ups and downs of a girlhood of this sort.
 
 200 A STILIXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 Her scrupulous conscience had always rebuked her, 
 for allowing herself privately to think of the possibility 
 of the match which her uncle had proposed, as if for 
 the intrusion of an unlawful thought. Humiliated in 
 her own eyes by a secret weakness, she had sought 
 to expiate it by such asceticism and retirement as 
 could be reconciled with her adherence to the English 
 Church. No one had the remotest suspicion how, 
 beneath a smiling face which hid her acute sensibilities, 
 Eleanor had been fighting with a great sorrow, unaided, 
 and passing through the most humiliating grief a 
 w^oman can endure, a grief which cuts through ever}' 
 fibre of dignity. 
 
 "The only comfort is that I alone have to suffer," 
 she said, while a wave of great hopelessness went 
 over her. 
 
 It mattered little to her that every nerve was 
 jarred if she still managed to be simple, generous, 
 and much enduring. And it signified still less, as 
 she wrestled with her trouble, that the youth which
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IX THE COLD. 201 
 
 never lasts long was abridged by her acts of self- 
 renunciation. 
 
 "It will be better as time goes on," she had always 
 said to herself, when it had seemed as if brain and 
 nerve would be injured by the strain ; yes, she felt 
 sure it would be better when she had got over the 
 difficult period of youth. 
 
 She, who would not willingly let her self-love 
 deceive her, had formed so low an idea of herself 
 that she had an equally low idea of the folly of 
 the world, and was determined never to be shocked 
 by her fellow-creatures. To divert the earthly affec- 
 tion, which had betrayed her, into higher channels, and 
 so to purify herself from earthly passions as to be 
 able to seek God in ihe inmost recesses of a soul 
 in which He might dwell, had become a desire so 
 necessary to be combined with true humility that it 
 had unconsciously exorcised the demon of self-right- 
 eousness. 
 
 From the time of her first interview with Pollv,
 
 202 A STRAXGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 she had a truer intuition into that woman's restless- 
 ness of character, and a truer sympathy for the inquir- 
 ing spirit with which the reputed Lea would have to 
 grapple with the numerous problems which would 
 present themselves for her solution, than Phillis in her 
 carping mood, or Ralph in the blindness of his affec- 
 tion. With the sensibility of heart which had hither- 
 to been so little appreciated, Eleanor had determined 
 never to allow herself to become a mere mystical 
 recluse. There should be no misfortune which she 
 would not seek to alleviate, no sorrow with which she 
 would not sympathize, and no form of sin by which 
 she would be alienated. 
 
 There was a vagueness and a novelty about the 
 lady of Woodlands which had a fascination for her 
 as well as for Ralph. 
 
 It was tliis nebulous unreality, this pretty air of 
 mystery which had at first attracted Ralph ; it was so 
 queer in connection with the other side of the girl's 
 character, in which she was sharp-witted and clear-
 
 SOMEBODY OUT EN' THE COLD. 203 
 
 headed. As an accepted lover he could speak out 
 about it ; he could rally Polly on the audacity of her 
 ignorance and innocence. 
 
 " You must not really talk like that ; people will 
 misunderstand you." 
 
 And then as the angr}^ colour rushed into her cheeks, 
 she repeated her old refrain. 
 
 ** I like to be free-^free ! No one can be free 
 who is married." 
 
 He answered with a low gurgle of laughter. 
 "You couldn't always have continued a sort of 
 virgin princess. Some day or other you would have 
 had to come off your pedestal. Be thankful that it 
 is I — who will not put you through your catechism." 
 
 For she had placed both her hands in his, with a 
 confidence in him which touched him, when he first 
 showed a tendency to forget his promise, saying, "You 
 can't expect me to give an account of all my doings, I 
 refuse to be put through a sort of catechism. I trust you, 
 and you must trust me — it is the only way to be happy. "
 
 204 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 He was too confident in himself to take a large- 
 minded view of the way. 
 
 But one day when she burst into tears, having a 
 compassionate and pitiful estimate of her own situation, 
 and exclaiming, as she wept : " You ought to have 
 chosen a soft little obedient thing, who would always 
 be malleable, with nothing cantankerous about her," 
 he was touched as well as amused. She had reduced 
 him to a state of agreeable perplexity ; she was not 
 like any woman whom he had ever met before, but 
 there were a thousand poetical charms about her, and 
 her coquetry, which was instinctive and without pre- 
 meditation, proved to be irresistible. 
 
 Ralph's choice of a wife astonished everybody, 
 and made some of the good people in the neighbour- 
 hood a little cynical. For Ralph Carlyon seemed to 
 be the last man to rush into marriage with a compara- 
 tive stranger, unless the explanation of money could 
 be accepted. He had been guilty of no flirtations 
 with other women, and though it was well understood
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IN THE COLD. 205 
 
 that he had taken no notice of his father's manoeuv- 
 ring about his cousin, it was equally well known that 
 he had never committed himself to an explicit opinion 
 on the subject. Why, then, should he make such an 
 extraordinary choice, when he had delayed so long, 
 unless, indeed, he was no better than other men, and 
 had been tempted by the bait held out to him by this 
 little upstart from the Colonies ? But even that theory 
 did not hold water, for Azalea Deveril's property was 
 known not to be large, and many richer women would 
 have found an eligible parti in Ralph Carlyon. 
 
 All the Carlyons prided themselves on the posses- 
 sion of backbone, and had a contempt for inverte- 
 brate creatures, the present Carlyon being no excep- 
 tion to the rule, and not likely to do a weak or 
 unmanly thing. And to marry a woman of no family 
 at all, the niece of a leather merchant, a girl hailing 
 from the Antipodes, and without sufficient money to 
 make the sacrifice worth while, would have seemed 
 to the county people a proof of flaccidity.
 
 206 A STRANGE TEMFIATION. 
 
 They shook their heads and said little, Miss Carlyon 
 being equally puzzled. " I don't believe in its being 
 real love," she muttered, when Ralph announced his 
 engagement to her. " If you examine your heart you 
 will find it is merely an odd sort of infatuation." 
 And when Ralph only looked at her with an enigmati- 
 cal smile, as if he were well pleased with himself, 
 she continued, " I am sure that my father would have 
 objected very strongly. What do you know of her 
 life in the Colonies ? Everybody acknowledges that 
 it is odd that this divinity should have shut herself 
 up, and then condescended to admit you rather than 
 other people." 
 
 But Ralph's friendship counted for much, and 
 the good temper which made little of unpleasant 
 incidents, with the faculty of sleep which, in her present 
 state of magnificent health, wiped them all out of Polly's 
 memory, as a sponge wipes out scrawling writing on a 
 §late, counted for more. INIr. Carlyon's fiancee fell 
 eagerly into all his wishes. As soon as he explained
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IX THE COLD. 207 
 
 that he thought many married people selfish, in ima- 
 gining that the ties of marriage exonerated them 
 from the responsibilities of kinship, she gener- 
 ously suggested that Phillis should make her home 
 with them. Polly was aware of too much that was 
 wrong in herself not to have a fervent desire to make 
 the best of other people. Phillis sometimes jarred on 
 her, but she managed to ignore the jarring points, 
 gliding easily over them, and only laughing at them 
 when she was by herself. 
 
 And when Phillis found that a home would still be 
 offered to her with the brother whom she idolized in 
 her secret heart, she registered a vow to say as 
 little as possible to the discredit of his wife. In 
 future, she would not allow the marriage to be 
 stigmatized as foolish, by people who looked on the 
 surface. 
 
 But if Phillis's pride from henceforth wore the gar- 
 ments of humility, and if she kept the arrows sheathed 
 which were ready to be shot out of her quiver at the
 
 208 A STRANGE TEMPTATION. 
 
 interloper who had been bold enough to ensnare her 
 brother, Eleanor's task was a harder one. 
 
 * Congratulate me — you at least must have known 
 that this was coming, and I count on my old play- 
 mate's sympathy. You and I always stood by each 
 other in the old days when nursery punishments were 
 dreaded ; you and I will always be friends, " Ralph 
 cried, with a glowing face, pressing the hand of his 
 cousin, as if no love passages (as in truth was the 
 case) had ever passed between them. And though 
 the " old playmate " was more statuesque than usual in 
 manner, she, poor soul, did congratulate him on the 
 beauty and generosity of his betrothed, and Eleanor had 
 ever been the one to sing Azalea's praises. 
 
 " I said, from the first time I saw her, that she had 
 a good heart. No, you are not blinded by your devotion 
 to her ; she will be all that you expect, and more, '* 
 said Eleanor, returning the warm hand-pressure. 
 
 No one guessed that she mmmured in her secret 
 heart, " O Lord, how long ! " and no one noticed
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IN THE COLD. 209 
 
 that the pallor for which she had always been remark- 
 able, so suddenly increased that the tint of her 
 clear-cut features became waxlike, resembling the 
 colouring of those corpses which are exposed, in some 
 foreign cities, before the rites of interment. The same 
 seal of peace was on Eleanor's features as that set on 
 the faces of the quiet dead. But it would have taken 
 keener vision than either Ralph or his sister Phillis 
 possessed, to see that the bistre circles had increased 
 beneath the deep-set eyes, and that the corners of the 
 mouth drooped with that smile which was so saintly. 
 Phillis's only observation was, " How little she cares ! 
 My father made a mistake. Eleanor is a girl with a 
 distinct vocation — nothing would have induced her to 
 marr}^ ! " 
 
 And when Eleanor told her quietly, a little while 
 afterwards, that she had made up her mind to carry 
 out a project at w^hich she had dimly hinted at a 
 previous period of her life, and to enter a sisterhood 
 in the English Church, Phillis w^as not only relieved, 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210- A STRAXGE TEMFfATION. 
 
 but it was universally said that Miss Hudson had come 
 out in a new character, as if the excessive shyness 
 which had been her bane all her life was now to be 
 put on one side. " For the first time she will be in 
 her proper element," was the general remark about 
 Eleanor, whose new vocation seemed to harmonize and 
 })ut the finishing touches to all that had been crude 
 or wanting in her character. 
 
 So passed the days of the courting time, till the 
 marriage took place at Forest Hill, quietly, as suited 
 a wedding when the bridegroom's people were in 
 mourning. And if Polly was not followed in church 
 by bridesmaids dressed in white, or pretty pages to 
 hold up her dress, and if the seats were not thronged 
 with crowds of people, still the bells were ringing out 
 their chorus, and the bridegroom, with his smiling 
 face had tender lights in his eyes. Some of the folks 
 remarked on the bride's absent manner and the fact 
 that she did not seem half to listen to the service. It 
 was all like a dream— a dream which continued through
 
 SOMEBODY OUT IX THE COLD. 211 
 
 the rapture of the honeymoon with its touch of child- 
 ishness, its feeling of picnicking out in the world and 
 going like children, hand in hand, through a new 
 
 Arcadia — a garden of Hesperides, which the serpent 
 had not yet entered. 
 
 EXD OF VOL. r.
 
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 BY MRS. RID DELL. 
 
 Austin Friars. 
 Too Much Alone. 
 The Rich Husband. 
 Maxwell Drewitt. 
 Far above Rubies. 
 A Life's Assize. 
 The World in the Church. 
 Home, Sweet Home. 
 Phemie Keller. 
 The Race for Wealth. 
 The Earrs Promise. 
 Mortomley's Estate. 
 Frank Sinclair's Wife. 
 The Ruling Passion. 
 My First and My Last 
 
 Love. 
 City and Suburb. 
 Above Suspicion. 
 Joy after Sorrow. 
 
 BY FLORENCE MARRY AT. 
 
 Miss Harrington's Hus- 
 band. 
 Mount Eden. 
 Gerald Estcourt, 
 
 B YFL ORENCEMARR YA T— 
 continued. 
 
 Love's Conflict. 
 Too Good for Him. 
 Woman against Woman^ 
 For Ever and Ever. 
 Nelly Brooke. 
 Veronique. 
 
 Her Lord and Master. 
 The Prey of the Gods. 
 The Girls of Feversham^ 
 Mad Dumaresq. 
 No Intentions. 
 Petronel. 
 
 BY JOSEPH HATTON. 
 
 A Modern Ulysses. 
 
 By Order of the Czar. 
 
 Clytie. 
 
 The Tallants of Barton* 
 
 In the Lap of Fortune. 
 
 The Valley of Poppies. 
 
 Not in Society. 
 
 Christopher Kenrick, 
 
 Cruel London. 
 
 The Queen of Bohemia* 
 
 Bitter Sweets. 
 
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