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 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF^ 
 MY INSECT QUEEN," "A HOKRID GIRL," ETC. 
 
 A bliss in proof— and proved, a very woe. 
 Before, a joy proposed— behind, a dream." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON, 
 
 Publisfjfrs in ©rliinarg to ^zx fHajcstg tfje ©uccit. 
 1887. 
 
 (^All rights reserved.)
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/storyofkiss01wynn
 
 ^A3 
 
 CONTENTS OF YOL. 1, 
 
 CHAl-TIJ; I'AGX 
 
 I. Wendhoi.m, Past and Present ... 1 
 
 II. TuE Banker's Daughters ... 15 
 
 III. At the A^icARAGE ... ... ;>i 
 
 IV. Caterpillars ... ... 4,*! 
 
 Y. Sir William ( 'arrutheus, Bart. ... 08 
 
 VJ. Counter-Irritation ... ... 88 
 
 VII. Georgina ... ... ... 10;'> 
 
 VIII. Her First Oifer ... ... 12(3 
 
 IX. Georgina is amused ... ... 13c> 
 
 X. A Kiss postponed ... ... I5(t 
 
 XI. A Eailway Ride ... ... U>r» 
 
 XII. The Next Stage ... ... Vx\ 
 
 XIII. Off the Line ... ... ... 1^04 
 
 XIV. Keith forgets riiiiSELi ... 21.'; 
 
 XV. A First Kesult ... ... 224 
 
 XVI. Jilted again ... ... 24(> 
 
 XVII. Hurstleigh ... ... ... 2^)4
 
 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 
 
 Never, surely, was there so world-forgotten 
 a place as Wendholm, in Dorsetshire. 
 " Wendholm," interrupts some one who 
 knows it, " is not in Dorsetshire ; it m 
 
 in " Just so, my friend — I know, as 
 
 well as you do, where Wendholm really 
 is ; but, by the literary fashion of the day, 
 it is forbidden to name the Euglish county 
 iu which the scene of a story is laid. A 
 literary fashion may be, and often is, a.< 
 silly and inconvenient as any of those 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 depicted in the plates of a lady's magaziDe> 
 but a lowly pen-wiper like me does not 
 disregard it. So, as I do not choose to 
 adopt the worn-out inventions of *'Clay- 
 sliire/' " Gravelshire," " Mudshire," and 
 the rest, I borrow the name of a sister 
 county, in which to disguise — since disguise 
 is imperative — -the " shire " (for it is one 
 of the "shires") in which Wendholm is 
 situated. 
 
 There could scarcely exist in England, 
 though there might be in Wales or Scot- 
 land, a more world-forgotten place than 
 Wendholm I To begin with, it was seven 
 miles from a railway station ! Think of 
 that, ye who. consider that your fellow - 
 creatures have cut themselves off from all 
 intercourse with civilization — so far as you 
 are its representatives — if they betake them- 
 selves to any habitation beyond a short 
 walk from a first-class railway station on
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND TRESENT. 3 
 
 a main line ! Seven miles of a verv rouirli, 
 hilly, stony road. Nearly two hours' drive 
 for an ordinary ^' four "-wheeler. And wlien 
 you had reached Hanley station, it Avas 
 only on a " loop " line, from which three 
 or four trains ran daily to the little manu- 
 facturing town of Retford — Retford, which 
 was not so far from London as you would 
 have supposed, from the time it took to 
 arrive there, through a perfect network 
 of "junctions," with their endless changes 
 and delays. 
 
 There were no shops in Wendholm. 
 The butcher there killed a sheep and a half 
 a week ; by which is meant that the meat 
 consumption was at that rate, not that he 
 killed half a sheep or half-killed one. No ; 
 Wendholm might be rural, but it was not 
 barbarous. If its people were hungrier 
 than usual, or desired a little variety in its 
 diet, that butcher would, on receiving
 
 4 TEE STOPiY OF A KISS. 
 
 orders, proceed to Eetfovd by train, and 
 return thence with the requisite portions, or 
 as nearly as he could contrive it, of lean 
 (*a]f or superannuated cow. There was 
 a baker in the village, but he did not keep 
 a shop, having nothing to put in it. Like 
 the butcher, he knew, almost to a loaf, wdiat 
 tlie daily demand for bread would be. He 
 kept a boy and a basket to deliver his 
 goods ; the little cottage window of the 
 grocer, next door to him, sufficed for the 
 display and storage of any surplus pro- 
 vision, with space enough for the glass 
 bottles of " sweeties," with which the 
 Wendholm children tried ineffectually to 
 poisoii themselves. There w^ere also con- 
 tingents to the regular food supply. A 
 few scattered sheep farms on the hills 
 furnished a seasonable goose occasionally. 
 From the pasture-farms in the lowlands 
 could sometimes be purchased a superfluous
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 5 
 
 calf, or a more frequent pig ; so that 
 Wendholm stood in no peril of gross 
 material famine. But what of its more 
 complex social needs ? Had it no resident 
 doctor or lawyer ? If Mrs. Lomax, the 
 miller's wife, were surprised by one of those 
 feminine crises, of which the parish had 
 its due proportion — rather more than its 
 due proportion, if its (marriage) certifieated 
 matrons were alone reckoned in its mater- 
 nity — was John Lomax required to walk 
 to Retford, to take train for Hanley, t(^ 
 *' wire " for the parish doctor, who lived ten 
 miles further ? Or if Farmer Soathson were 
 taken suddenly ill, must his friend struggle 
 with the same difficulties before his lawyer 
 could be in attendance, with his still un- 
 signed will ? Not so ; there were horses 
 and riders at command for such contin- 
 gencies ; and though despatch was not to 
 be expected, still the Wendholmites were
 
 6 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 noted for longevity, and, whether it were 
 cause or effect, they were never in a hurry. 
 
 There were three houses of pretension 
 near Wendholm, but the actual street 
 consisted of the cottages of the agricultural 
 labourers employed on the few farms around 
 it, a carpenters workshed, a sawmill, the 
 butcher, baker, and grocer's "stores'' before 
 spoken of, a small church, a smaller chapel, 
 and two small public-houses ; and what more 
 would you have ? Such was the village of 
 Wendholm sixteen years ago ; and such it 
 is at the present day. 
 
 The Vicarage, pretty and picturesque, 
 was, at the time of which I write, inhabited 
 only by an aged and infirm bachelor cleric 
 and his young unmarried curate, who had 
 more leisure than was good for him ; his 
 parishioners being engaged most of their 
 time in the fields, where their wives also 
 found occupation, with such of their children
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 7 
 
 as were old eDOuorh to earn somethinof 
 by weeding, cattle-tending, or other light 
 employment. The other two houses of 
 any distinction in Wendholm added little 
 to its social charm. Oakland Heights, or 
 Oaklands, as it was oftener called, was an 
 old-fashioned family mansion, surrounded 
 by noble woods of oak and beech, and acres 
 ■of wild sheep-grazing land, sufficient to 
 warrant the most scrupulous estate-agent 
 in describing it as an estate. For many 
 years it had been shunned by tenants or 
 purchasers, as lying under the ban of 
 ^'Chancery," and when freed from that 
 stigma it was bought ^' for an old song " by 
 a maiden lady, who, from the day she 
 entered it until the day of her death, twelve 
 years later, had never been beheld by mortal 
 eyes but those of her doctor (Dr. Stewart), 
 her banker (Mr. Maitland), and three or 
 four old servants who rarely stirred beyond
 
 8 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 the grounds. Some said she was mad, some 
 that she was only a dipsomaniac ; Mr. 
 Maitland averred that she was neither. 
 Then they whispered that she had some 
 hideous personal deformity. "Nothing of the 
 kind," said Dr. Stewart. Then some highly 
 imaginative being suggested that she was 
 performing penance for some mysterious 
 crime committed in her youth ; and not 
 until this charitable theory had been pretty 
 widely disseminated did Miss Luton's legal 
 and medical advisers break through their 
 discreet reserve, and put the scandal-mongers 
 to utter rout by the simple statement that 
 the poor lady was deaf and dumb. 
 
 The third house, Wendholm Grange, was 
 more modern than Oaklands, and more 
 accessible, as it stood in the valley beneath 
 it, and not far from the village and church. 
 It belonged to an orphan heiress, who had 
 left it at her parent's death and never
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 9 
 
 revisited it, having been ordered, it was said, 
 to reside in Italy, on account of her delicate 
 lungs. It was rumoured that she was 
 engaged to be married to her cousin, Pro- 
 fessor Farquhar, the distinguished traveller 
 and naturalist ; and that on his return from 
 his latest exploration of some remote island 
 — which miorht have been in the moon for 
 
 o 
 
 all that the Wendholmites knew of it — the 
 marriage would take place, and the bridal 
 pair settle down at the Grange. 
 
 The wedding, in due course, was an- 
 nounced in the fashionable London papers, 
 and copied into the local ones ; but the 
 Grange made no sign. A year later, the 
 same papers proclaimed the death of the 
 young bride in child-birth ; but it was four 
 years before the widower brought his little 
 daughter to the long- deserted home. In 
 those three years the great wave of change, 
 that is silently sweeping over the world,
 
 10 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 broke with a tiny ripple into Wendholm's 
 sheltered creek, and Wendholm turned on 
 her pillows ; for to her 
 
 ** The river seemed the voice of dreams, 
 That murmured in her sleep." 
 
 The old vicar was dead, and the curate, 
 Charley Burnes, had been presented to the 
 living, which had been previously offered 
 to two other clergymen — not curates — who 
 had successively declined it. Old Miss 
 Luton was dead also, and had bequeathed 
 all her '^ real estate " to her servants, and 
 the Oaklands property to Mr. Burnes. She 
 probably wished by this bequest to prove 
 her attachment to the church, which she 
 had never entered, and her respect for the 
 church's representative, whom she had never 
 seen. But the conditions of the legacy were 
 such as to deprive it of its chief value. 
 The game on the property was to be strictly 
 preserved for a specified term of years, and
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 11 
 
 not a gun was to be fired in the woods 
 during that period — a condition which gave 
 great delight to the poachers, who did not 
 at all consider the prohibition as binding 
 upon them, and who contrived that when 
 its term had expired, there should be nothing 
 marketable left to fire a gun at ! Then, 
 not a tree was to be felled, nor a branch 
 iopped in the woods ; and the house was 
 to be kept in as good order as when Miss 
 Luton herself inhabited it. And this for 
 a term of nine years I No wonder that 
 poor Cliarley Burnes felt himself justified 
 in declaring, with his habitual carelessness 
 of diction, that his new heritage was " more 
 bother than enough." He could not live 
 in it himself — it was too far from the church 
 and the schools, too inaccessible to tlie 
 parish generally ; he could derive no profit 
 from sale of the timber ; and no country 
 gentleman would care for a woodland
 
 12 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 paradise where the pheasants and hares were 
 sacred to the poachers, especially as, being 
 forbidden to fire a gun in it, he could not 
 even amuse himself by shooting them. 
 However, the Vicar consoled himself with 
 the reflection that when the nine years had 
 expired (people at Wendholm did not think 
 nine years a very loug period to look for- 
 ward to, as most of them reckoned on living 
 to ninety-seven), that then Oaklands would 
 be his own, to do what he liked with. The 
 trees would be growing all the time ; the 
 plantations and preserves would be re- 
 stocked with game ; and he might let or 
 sell the property at a price which would 
 more than repay him for the long restriction. 
 So far these changes had produced no 
 exterior effect on Wendholm. No one at 
 Oaklands, no one yet at the Grange ; but 
 there was one vast chans^e at the Vicar ao^e, 
 for Mr. Burnes had married ! It will need
 
 WENDHOLM, PAST AND PRESENT. 13 
 
 one more retrospective chapter to explain 
 liovv this movement came about. But here 
 Araminta interposes, throwing a dissatisfied 
 ghmce at my still nncut pages. 
 
 " You have said nothing yet of the 
 * Upper Ten ' of your neighbourhood ? Were 
 there no great landed proprietors there ? 
 no local aristocracy ? no titled families ? 
 What story can be worth telling which has 
 not a lord in it ? " 
 
 My Araminta, please remember that 
 sixteen years ago the " new creations " of 
 political exigency had not yet made titles 
 as plenty as blackberries ; and — I blush to 
 record it, but in the peerless rusticity of 
 our parish there was not " A lord or a squire, 
 or a knight of the shire," or a lady in her 
 own right or in anybody else's ! 
 
 At this humiliating statement Araminta 
 lets fall my book, and glances yearningly at 
 the novel in which she has lately been ab-
 
 14 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 sorbed — a novel whose pages literally blaze 
 with more dukes and duchesses than ever 
 existed " simultaneous " in one country, but 
 whose portraits are really remarkably life- 
 like, considering that the gifted authoress 
 never saw a duke ; as life-like, almost, as 
 Madame Tussaud's wax effigies of the late 
 Royal Family. Take up my poor volume 
 again, dear Araminta ; once more let me 
 remind you that this chapter and the next 
 are purely retrospective, beginning at sixteen 
 years ago. Since then, Wendholm may 
 have done better — ^just a little better — or 
 how could I presume to speak of her people- 
 and their fortunes to one who, like 
 *' Jeames," " can't feel no hinterest in the 
 lower borders " l
 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE IL 
 
 THE BANKEPt's DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Mrs. Burnes. was the daughter of a wealthy 
 banker in Ketford, who had been in the 
 financial confidence of every family in the 
 county, of income sufficient to warrant them 
 in keeping a banking account at all. His 
 wife was considered beneath him, having 
 been distantly related to a tradesman in the 
 town, and she was therefore persistently 
 ignored by her husband's more aristocratic 
 connections. 
 
 Charlotte was for twelve years their only 
 child and presumptive heiress, when poor, 
 weakly Mrs. Maitland astonished " society," 
 her husband, and herself, by bringing into
 
 16 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 the world a second daughter. Perhaps, 
 being a shy, timid woman, she was unequal 
 to the effort to face the ridicule, not to say 
 censure, with which Eetford " society " 
 received such an act of domestic irrelevancy; 
 for she faded away, suddenly, like a flower 
 that has overbloomed, and the baby Juliet 
 was left to the sole care of her sister, who, 
 from her earliest girlhood, reigned supreme 
 over Mr. Haitian d's old-fashioned, but com- 
 fortable establishment. Charlotte brought 
 up her charge under the method of educa- 
 tion that had been in vogue among a 
 generation older than her own, a method 
 which commended itself to her somewhat 
 unbending temper and sense of right. So 
 Juliet grew up, conscientious, pure-hearted, 
 and docile, but not happy or strong. Her 
 nature was as sensitive as Charlotte's was 
 robust (Mr. Burnes emphasized it as 
 *' robustious "), and, trained beneath a dis-
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTERS. 17 
 
 cipline of constant repression and reproof, 
 she was painfully shy, and almost slavishly 
 subservient to her sister, whom she looked 
 upon as the express image and embodiment 
 of all human wisdom and authority. 
 
 On Mr. Maitland's sudden death, it was 
 found that his will had been executed before 
 the death of his wife or the birth of his 
 second child, and that, with the exception of 
 a com23etent annuity for Mrs. Maitland, it 
 left Charlotte his sole heiress. Probably he 
 had intended at some future time to alter 
 this arrangement ; or he might have believed 
 that Juliet's interests were safer in her 
 sister's hands than in her own. Anyhow, 
 the effect was that, at five and thirty 
 years of age. Miss Maitland found herself in 
 possession of what was great wealth to one 
 of her frugal habits and modest social 
 position ; while her sister, in the bloom of 
 youth — such bloom as had been granted to 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 18 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 such youth as hers — was dependent on her, 
 as the homely phrase has it, " for the very 
 clothes she stood up in " (a phrase, by the 
 way, which had less significance then than 
 now, when people find it easier to "stand 
 up " in their clothes than to " sit down " in 
 them !). 
 
 Miss Maitland showed no intention w^hat- 
 ever to rectify what all Ketford declared to 
 be a blunder or an injustice on her father's 
 part That, she said, might or might not 
 be ; it was not for her to call her father's 
 conduct in question. It was her duty to 
 carry out his wishes. He had left his whole 
 fortune at her disposal, and at her disposal it 
 should remain. 
 
 The Retford world, who hated Chatty 
 Maitland, called her a stingy, selfish old cat 
 — and their judgment was wrong, as the 
 world's superficial judgments often are. Miss 
 ]\laitland loved power ; and the reins having
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTEES. 19 
 
 been placed in her hands, she was not the 
 woman to relax her hold on them, or to 
 dispute the wisdom that had committed 
 them to her trust. But she never forgot 
 that it was a trust ; which, according to her 
 lights, she fulfilled conscientiously. 
 
 For a few years the sisters lived quietly 
 in a pretty villa close to Eetford, to which 
 they had removed on their father's death. 
 They knew and were known by everybody 
 in the county, but visited very rarely. 
 Even the heiress's wealth brought no suitors 
 to Simcliff Lodge. Few fortune-hunters 
 would have braved Miss Chatty's cold 
 scrutiny ; and had any been attracted by the 
 wan grace of the portionless Juliet, the 
 dread of Charlotte as a sister-in-law would 
 have acted as a countercharm. 
 
 So Miss Maitland had taken her place 
 among the old maids of — Dorsetshire, and 
 Juliet was meekly following, when, lo !
 
 20 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Charley Burnes came to the rescue of one, 
 and indirectly, as it subsequently happened, 
 of both. 
 
 Whether Mr. Burnes fell in love with the 
 lady, or the lady with him, matters little, 
 since the result was the same. Charlotte 
 Maitland became Mrs. Burnes, having first 
 taken care to have two-thirds of her fortune 
 settled on herself, and upon her sister after 
 her ; and shortly afterwards the curate was 
 presented to the living of Wendholm, where 
 his active, energetic wife became the terror of 
 the parishioners, and the object of special 
 aversion to all the she-clergy of the diocese. 
 
 Naturally there was much adverse criticism 
 of the new menage. Said the public voice 
 of Eetford, " She is old enoug^h to be his 
 mother ! He has married her for her 
 money, and such worldliness (in a clergy- 
 man, too !) will be sure to meet its punish- 
 ment. And so wilful as she is, he will never
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTERS. 21 
 
 be able to call his soul his own." (All the 
 better for him, I suppose, if his punishment 
 was to be a spiritual one.) " And that poor, 
 weak Juliet to live always with them ! It 
 was well that she is not particularly attract- 
 tive, for these old women are so jealous," etc., 
 etc. Yet, in spite of these gloomy predic- 
 tions, the marriage was a happy one. How- 
 ever cold and severe to others, Charlotte 
 Burnes was loviner and indulo^ent to her 
 young husband ; and he, indolent and easy 
 tempered, flattered by her pride in him, 
 and grateful for the help she gave him and 
 the comforts which she lavished upon him, 
 readily responded to her attachment, and 
 repaid it by a sincere and loyal, if calm and 
 unimpassioned aff'ection. So the Eetford 
 prophets watched in vain for the thunder- 
 bolts of judgment that should have fallen 
 on Charley Burnes for his mercenary mar- 
 riage, and presently found that the gentle
 
 22 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Juliet was not destined to serve as a con- 
 ductor for them. 
 
 Scarcely had the new Vicar settled him- 
 self comfortably in the home which had been 
 so long familiar to him, but had now the 
 charm of being really his own, with many 
 other charms with which his wife's wealth 
 adorned it, though more for his pleasure 
 than for her own, when Dr. Farquhar 
 returned to take up his abode at the Grange. 
 This illustrious traveller was past early man- 
 hood, and was suffering from partial blind- 
 ness, brought on by the fatigue and hardships 
 he had undergone in foreign climates. He 
 had been ordered by his doctors to retire for 
 a time into the country for perfect rest and 
 quiet. Kest he certainly could at Wend- 
 holm, but there was little hope of quiet for 
 a man who, unaccustomed to household 
 trials, with no relations and no companions, 
 brought into his seclusion only three or four
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTERS. 23 
 
 servants, a middle-aged nurse, and a child 
 of three years old. Thrown only on the 
 Vicar's family for society, it was natural 
 that he should appeal to Mrs. Burnes for 
 such help in his domestic difficulties as only 
 a lady can give. Chatty soon discovered 
 that the blind master was robbed by his 
 groom; that the nurse got drunk, and the 
 child was neglected. She interposed, as was 
 " her nature to ; " but the servants rebelled 
 against a delegated authority. Wars ensued, 
 and the battle was fierce and furious, and 
 drove Dr. Farquhar again and again to the 
 quiet of the library at the Vicarage, where 
 the pitying Juliet unweariedly read to him 
 and wrote for him, or, while he conversed 
 with Mr. Burnes, amused the little Genevra, 
 who would cling to her and follow her 
 everywhere, like a little dog. Of course the 
 Retford folk sniffed at these proceedings, 
 and declared that Chatty was a schemer.
 
 24 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 They were wrong again. Mrs. Burnes was so 
 entirely absorbed in her task of subduing 
 the hostile forces at the Grange, that she 
 took no heed of what might be going on in 
 the Vicarage library, until one morning, on 
 her return from a more than usually brisk 
 engagement there, she was met by Juliet, 
 all blushes and tears, with the intelligence 
 that Dr. Farquhar had proposed to her, and 
 she had accepted him. 
 
 Poor Juliet's blushes and tears were alike 
 thrown away. Dr. Farquhar's views on 
 marriage were strictly utilitarian and 
 sentiment or passion held no place in them. 
 He wanted a secretary for himself, a mistress 
 for the Grange, and a mother for his little 
 daughter, and neither felt nor pretended to 
 feel any warmth of attachment for the lady 
 who perfectly and lovingly fulfilled these 
 requirements. If Juliet was disappointed 
 she expressed no disappointment, nor had
 
 THIE BAKKER'S DAUGHTERS. 25 
 
 she much time to indulge it. Dr. Farquhar 
 recovered his eyesight a few months after 
 his marriage, and the traveller's instinct 
 awoke as^ain in him. He made a will, 
 bequeathing all his property to Mrs. 
 Farquhar during her life, except in the 
 event of fher remarriage, when it reverted 
 to his child, on whom her mother's fortune 
 was settled ; and then he took himself off to 
 the wilds of Thibet in search of some new 
 plant or rare insect that he expected to find 
 there. She received one or two letters from 
 him after his departure, strictly enjoining 
 her, should he never return, to make the 
 Grano^e her home as lono; as she lived ; to 
 divide her authority over Genevra with no 
 one, but to bring her up in the country, 
 among all the rural scenes and tastes that 
 had been so dear to himself, and never to 
 thwart her in a single thing ! And very 
 soon afterwards came the news of his death.
 
 26 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 From that time fortli Mrs. Burnes resumed 
 her sway over her sister in everything but 
 what related to the little girl. Timid as 
 Mrs. Farquhar was, her conscientiousness 
 and loyalty gave her courage to defend the 
 trust committed to her, even as against the 
 revered Chatty, who gave way with dignity, 
 but with something of the mild surprise 
 that a cat might be supposed to feel if a 
 mouse turned round and spit at her. But 
 she, too, was strictly conscientious. When 
 Juliet urged, " It must be so, sister Chatty. 
 Genevra has been entrusted to me by her 
 father on these conditions, and I dare not 
 disobey his dying wishes," she would reply — 
 
 "Well, since it seems to have been his 
 wish that the child should grow up an undis- 
 ciplined savage, I suppose you cannot help 
 it. Not for all the wealth in the world 
 would I have accepted such a frightful 
 responsibility ; and I am not sorry, Juliet,
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTERS. 27 
 
 that you refuse to admit me to any share 
 in It." 
 
 But, after all, Genevra did not grow up 
 a savage, though in the way of discipline 
 there might have been something to be 
 desired. The child's nature was one that 
 rebelled against coercion, that was not easily 
 amenable to mere authority of any kind, 
 but which was yielding and docile to all 
 appeals to the affections. Mrs. Farquhar's 
 heart had been chilled by restraint in her 
 early youth, and disappointed in her uncon- 
 genial marriage, but it went forth with all 
 the more ardour of passionate love to the 
 orphan child, who from the first had called 
 her mother ; and by her gentle influence she 
 had trained her to something like sympathy 
 with her own essential womanliness, so 
 that her unconventionally fearless and im- 
 pulsive temperament had never betrayed a 
 trace of unmaidenly coarseness in word or
 
 28 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 act. She worshipped her stepmother ; she 
 dearly loved the kind Yicar ; and if she 
 declined to reckon " Sister Chatty " among 
 her titular kindred — for she always called 
 Mr. Burnes "Uncle Charley" — there was 
 no malice in the playful girlish insolence 
 with which alone she ever replied to the 
 cold sarcasms by which Mrs. Burnes expressed 
 her disapproval of what she called " tomboy 
 manners." 
 
 She had no associates of her own age, as 
 Mrs. Farquhar shrank from even such limited 
 social intercourse as she might have found 
 around Wendholm, and Mrs. Burnes was 
 unpopular in the neighbourhood, and had 
 no intimacies. Genevra's childhood was 
 spent in the summers in the fields and 
 woods, among the happy woodland creatures, 
 in Nature's music and sunshine ; by the 
 fireside in the winter, at her mother's knee, 
 poring over fairy tales and ballads, which
 
 THE BANKER'S DAUGHTERS. 29 
 
 she had fished up out of some old nursery 
 stores that had amused the first Mrs. Farqu- 
 har when a child. Her stej^mother had 
 herself undertaken the task of her education, 
 moved thereto partly by an instinctive 
 jealousy of any stranger's influence over her 
 darling, partly from the certainty of " Sister 
 Chatty's " unexpressed but very active 
 hostility against any unfortunate governess 
 whose ideas of scholastic discipline should 
 be formed on a method some fifty years 
 more modern than her own. 
 
 And so Genevra grew up in the wilds of 
 Wendholm, 
 
 " A maid whom there were none to praise, 
 And very few to love." 
 
 No savage, assuredly ; but fresh and sweet 
 as a hedge-rose, and with some of its thorns 
 about her too. Healthy, happy, pure, though 
 knowing but little of the " culture " of the 
 day, and less of its fashionable conventions,
 
 30 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 there was much for Genevra to learn yet, 
 even when she had attained the mature age 
 of sixteen, when this sketch of her simple 
 fortunes commences.
 
 ( 31 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 AT THE VICARAGE. 
 
 The Vicar of Wendholm laid down his 
 newspaper with a yawn (it was two days 
 old), and walked to the window — an old- 
 fashioned window, with a window seat, in 
 which Mrs. Burnes sat, mendincy a glove 
 with the careful accuracy she always be- 
 stowed on the smallest employment. The 
 Vicar looked on for a moment silently ; 
 there is no possible opening for comment on 
 the mending of a glove, so he yawned 
 again, and Mrs. Burnes glanced up from 
 her work with a mild remonstrance. 
 
 "It is early to yawn so, Charles. You 
 can't be so sleepy at ten o'clock in the morn-
 
 32 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 ing ; and you made a good breakfast too. 
 People yawn for hunger sometimes." 
 
 " They gape, you mean," corrected 
 Charley. *' Callow birds do ; but I am 
 hungry. Chatty." 
 
 Again Mrs. Burnes glanced up, and this 
 time with a faint surprise ; for scarcely had 
 the breakfast-table been cleared of an empty 
 coffee-pot and the ruins of a veal pie and 
 half a small ham, for all of which ruins Mr. 
 Burnes was to be held responsible. But she 
 waited to finish her glove before speaking 
 aerain, and the Vicar resumed. 
 
 " I am hungry for news, Chatty. That 
 postman is later every day. He must walk 
 from Eetford on all fours. Oh, I know 
 what you are going to say — that if I had 
 exerted myself as you wished, we should 
 have had a post- office of our own at Wend- 
 holm before now ; though we should have 
 been no better off — the same * walking
 
 AT THE VICARAGE. 33 
 
 gentleman ' would have brought the bags. 
 I could not have affirmed that our Wend- 
 holm correspondence would have been 
 sufficient to load a mail-cart or even a hand- 
 barrow." 
 
 " I was not going to say anything of the 
 kind, Charles ; I was going to say that the 
 postman was earlier than usual this morning, 
 for he passed the garden gate, on his way 
 back, while you were finishing your last cup 
 of coffee. '^ 
 
 " And no newspaper for me ? " cried 
 Charley, an expression of blank despair 
 overshading his naturally serene and jovial 
 countenance — an expression which might 
 have softened a heart of stone ; and Mrs. 
 Burnes heart was not of stone, or it was 
 stone of a very porous nature, as regarded 
 her husband, and she hesitated — she, wlio 
 prided herself on never hesitating — to suggest 
 consolation. 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 "1 dare say he had letters for Juliet, and 
 your paper may have been put into her bag. 
 They have done that before now, though 
 they have no right to do it, and if they do 
 it again I must insist on your complaining." 
 
 But Mr. Burnes only listened to the first 
 part of his wife's speech. 
 
 " Of course," he cried eagerly ; '' that's 
 what it is, no doubt ! I'll run over to the 
 Grange directly, and ask " 
 
 But Mrs. Burnes checked him. "My dear 
 Charles, there is no time for you to go to 
 the Grange and back before ten ; it is a 
 quarter to ten now, and Collis is to meet 
 you at the school at ten o'clock about 
 repairing the wainscoting in Miss White's 
 parlour. Can't you wait a few hours for 
 the paper ? " 
 
 " Oh, bother ! 1 suppose I must. You 
 are so insistent on the point of punctuality, 
 Chatty."
 
 AT THE VICAHAGE. 35 
 
 Mrs. Barnes smiled. People used to 
 say that her smile was cold and wooden, 
 and never brightened her face ; but there 
 was always a ray of wintry sunshine in it 
 when it shone upon her husband. 
 
 "It is worth some insistance, Charles, to 
 gain for you the character you have of 
 being the most punctual man in Wendholm.*' 
 Then, rising from her seat, she added, *' 1 
 will walk with you as far as the school, and 
 go on to the Grange for your paper. I shall 
 be back with it before you have finished 
 your business with Collis." 
 
 '*A11 right," assented Charley joyfully. 
 " Be quick with your toilette-^but that you 
 always are. ' A bonnie bride is soon 
 dressed.' " 
 
 The implied compliment may have 
 quickened Mrs. Barnes's movements, for 
 she very soon reappeared in her walking 
 dress, and the pair set off on their walk.
 
 36 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 They were not such an ill-matched pair 
 after all, notwithstanding the disparity 
 of their ages. True, the wife was on the 
 shady side of fifty ; but she was one of 
 those women who have never looked very 
 young, and never look much older after 
 the first bloom, the brief bloom of youth, 
 has passed. Her step w^as firm and light, 
 her figure trim, and always arrayed in 
 simple but very neatly fitting dresses ; her 
 hair showed no thread of silver, and her 
 features only failed of beauty from the 
 immobility and want of expression, which 
 at least preserved them from the lines and 
 wrinkles which tell the march of time and 
 sensibility in a more animated face. And 
 even yet, as in earlier days, Mrs. Burnes had 
 narrowly escaped being handsome. Nature, 
 in a capricious mood, had neutralized every 
 persona] advantage she had bestowed on her, 
 by adding a correspondiug defect. Her
 
 AT THE VICARAGE. 37 
 
 forehead was too narrow for its height (it 
 had been made high before low ones had 
 come into fashion, which had not yet 
 reverted to the type of the baboon or mar- 
 moset). Her large grey eyes were placed so 
 near together that they might have formed 
 one, like a Cyclops, had they not been 
 separated by the high bridge of an aquiline 
 nose, which, like the wall of Pyramus and 
 Thisbe, seemed to part a pair that yearned 
 for union. That nose, too ! — faultless in 
 shape, but with a flush on its extreme tip 
 quite out of keeping with the otherwise 
 colourless complexion, and which originated 
 Charley's pet name for his wife — of his " Rose- 
 bud." There could be no greater proof of 
 Mrs. Burnes' devotion to her lord, than that 
 she not only permitted this not very delicate 
 pleasantry, but even received it with com- 
 placency. Few people tolerate such allusions 
 to little personal blemishes, and all are
 
 «38 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 sensitive on the subject (I had almost said 
 the point) of their noses. Then, Chatty's 
 upper lip was so inordinately long, that her 
 mouth appeared at first sight to have dis- 
 appeared altogether, consumed, it might Le, 
 ])y the fiery nose. But, when discovered, it 
 was by no means ill-formed ; and even at 
 her present age her teeth were white and 
 even, although her rare smile hardly dis- 
 closed them, by reason of that straight and 
 resolute upper lip. These defects negatived 
 any claims to beauty Mrs. Burnes's friends 
 would have ever advanced for her, and cer- 
 tainly she would never have cared to advance 
 any for herself. Charley Burnes looked 
 older than his age. Good-tempered, easy- 
 going Charley, with his ill-knit figure, much 
 inclining to obesity, his slouching, shufiFling 
 gait, his thin, grizzled hair, and unduly 
 developed chin — Charley might have been 
 forty-seven, instead of thirty-nine ; and
 
 AT THE VICARAGE. 39 
 
 there appeared no reason, in the outward 
 presentation of things, why Mrs. Burnes 
 should always treat him with the calm 
 indulgence rather befitting a mother than a 
 wife, in spite of his attempt to repel it by a 
 kind of innocent conjugal gallantry, by 
 which he tried to assert their real relation ; 
 for it is an observable fact that when a man 
 marries a woman older than himself, it is 
 always the husband who is most sensitive 
 to the ridicule of the world, while the wife 
 disregards the fact, except as it may possibly 
 annoy him. 
 
 The pair walked on through the Vicarage 
 shrubbery in silence, w^hich Mr. Burnes 
 suddenly broke by exclaiming — 
 " Whom can they be from ? " 
 *' Whom can what be from, dear ? " 
 "Why, Juliet's letters. She must have 
 had a lot this morning for the postman to 
 have been in such a hurry to get rid of
 
 40 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 them that he could not stop to leave my 
 paper. Poor old fellow ! he is so unused to 
 heavy loads that a letter more than usual 
 tries him cruelly.'' 
 
 " How absurd you are, Charles ! You 
 know Juliet has no correspondence beyond 
 a few trade circulars or such things. The 
 postman has seldom any letters to deliver 
 at the Grange, except for the servants." 
 
 " Chatty," persisted the Vicar solemnly, 
 "she must have had as many letters this 
 morning as would outweigh my Times, 
 supplement and all ; for certainly that post- 
 man would have rid himself of the heaviest 
 burden first." 
 
 Mrs. Burnes did not consider this remark 
 as worthy of a reply. Presently Charley 
 broke out again — 
 
 " Valentines ! late valentines ! Valentines 
 for the servants ! Valentines for Jenny ! " 
 
 " Eeally, Charles," remonstrated his com-
 
 AT THE VICARAGE. 41 
 
 panion, " such a suggestian from any one 
 but you would be vulgar ! Servants' valen- 
 tines are quite beneath your attention ; and 
 Jenny's ! A child of her age ! Who is there, 
 besides, to send valentines to her f " 
 
 " A child ? Why, she is sixteen. I dare 
 say you thought yourself a woman at her 
 age, Chatty ? " 
 
 "Possibly. But then I had a woman's 
 duties, a woman's sense of responsibility ; 
 Genevra has only her amusements." 
 
 " As for who is to send her valentines," 
 continued the irrepressible Charley, disre- 
 garding his wife's grave tone ; " well, unless 
 one of the ushers in Dr. Bartlett's school, 
 or the butcher's boy, who belongs, I suppose, 
 
 to the kitchen - maid Well, I am 
 
 afraid I must discard the valentine theory. 
 Hullo ! Chatty, you have passed the turning 
 to the Grange. Hurry back, there's a love, 
 and get the paper as quick as you can, or
 
 42 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 old Collis will bore me to death with his 
 long-winded suggestions about those repairs." 
 And, kissing his hand to his spouse as she 
 turned away, the Vicar went on to keep his 
 appointment at the school, and justify the 
 opinion won for him by Mrs. Burnes, of 
 being "the most punctual man in Wend- 
 holm " — a character which he entirely owed 
 to her untiring exertions to keep him in the 
 path of duty.
 
 ( 43 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 CATEEPILLARS. 
 
 Wexdholm Grange was a pretty country 
 house, of no great pretension, situated about 
 half a mile from the church and village, and 
 at the opposite end from the Vicarage. The 
 woods of Oakland Heights clothed all the 
 slopes that intervened, and the woodland 
 paths that ascended to it could be reached as 
 soon from the Grange as from the Vicarage, 
 by striking into them from the high-road. 
 
 The Grange was surrounded by well- 
 planted and well-kept lawns and shrubberies ; 
 but, beyond a few acres of meadow, there 
 was nothing to entitle the proprietors to be
 
 44 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 called '' landed gentry," any more than the 
 united fortunes of Dr. Farquhar and his 
 first bride could have conferred upon their 
 daughter the distinction of being a great 
 heiress. The wealth of the first Mrs. Farqu- 
 har had, with the exception of this house, 
 been settled upon herself and her child, and 
 did not exceed six or seven hundred a year. 
 Dr. Farquhar's income had been considerably 
 less, as his expenditure had been lavish ; 
 and he had left all to his second wife while 
 she remained unmarried. But Mrs. Burnes 
 had considered that her trusteeship of her 
 sister's right to their father's wealth might 
 with propriety be transferred to her sister's 
 husband, and had made a liberal settlement 
 upon Juliet ; so that the pleasant home was 
 kept in perfect order, and every domestic 
 detail was arranged without extravagance 
 or display, but with comfort, and even a 
 certain elegance.
 
 CATERPILLAES. 45 
 
 Mrs. Burnes, on arriving at the Grange, 
 took the privilege of a near relative of 
 enterino: the house without rincrins: the bell. 
 She entered through a verandah that ran 
 along two sides of the garden and drive, 
 into a large, low vestibule filled, from 
 ceiling to floor, with the multifarious spoils 
 of Dr. Farquhar's scientific and zoological 
 researches all over the world, which made 
 it look more like a museum than a hall. 
 " Sister Chatty " always said that, to keep 
 it in proper order, a curator w^as needed, in 
 addition to the housemaid who was " told 
 off" for that special business ; and she 
 glanced with some contempt on the wild 
 beasts' skins that lay about in all directions, 
 the cases of stuffed birds and animals piled 
 up to the ceiling, and all the " lumber," as 
 she called it, of geological specimens and 
 fossils in one corner, and savage weapons, 
 iiousehuld utensils, and all sorts of anti-
 
 46 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 quities, civilized and barbarous, in another — 
 all which had been a fairy-land of delight 
 to Genevra in her childhood, and a wide 
 field of suggestive dreaming still. 
 
 Something of the air of the naturalist's 
 haunt pervaded even Mrs. Farquhar's draw- 
 ing-room — a room with large windows 
 opening on the lawn in front, and another 
 at the side, into a conservatory filled with 
 azaleas and heaths, and bright with flowers 
 on every available stand or bracket. No 
 one with a soul above cabinet-making would 
 have noticed that the furniture, although 
 once fashionable, and still comfortable, was 
 of twenty years' date, and so not even 
 fashionable now, far less aesthetic ; and that 
 all the paintings on the walls were merely 
 copies from the old masters, executed by 
 the first Mrs. Farquhar in water colours 
 during her long residence in Italy, and 
 therefore valueless from a marketable point
 
 CATERPILLARS. 47 
 
 of view. But the tastes of the late master 
 of the Granule were still traceable in the furs 
 and rugs and strange foreign ornaments, 
 much rarer a few years ago in drawing- 
 rooms than they are now ; and the inherited 
 proclivities of his youthful heiress could be 
 guessed by the birds that fluttered gaily 
 within their quaint Indian cages, and a cat 
 which took no notice of them, being too 
 deeply engrossed by the cares of a family of 
 small kittens, which had evidently never yet 
 known anything of the world, beyond the 
 sofa in a corner whereon they lay. 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar, a pale, fragile-looking 
 w^oman, with straw-coloured hair, streaked 
 with the silver of which her elder sister's 
 showed not a thread, with a low voice and 
 kind grey eyes — who bore not the most 
 distant family likeness to Mrs. Burnes — was 
 leaning back in an easy-chair, with her 
 hands lying idly in her lap ; but on her
 
 48 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 sister^s entrance she (as the French say) 
 - ' redressed " herself, and tried to seem, and 
 to feel, interested in the crochet-work 
 which was on the table at her side. Miss 
 Farquhar, on the other hand, was too 
 profoundly interested in her occupation 
 even to look round as the door opened 
 — that occupation being the rather difficult 
 one of keeping within the limits of a shallow 
 sandal-wood tray a number of the black, long- 
 haired caterpillars of the tiger-moth that 
 the country people call " woolly bears ; " 
 and as they are gifted with a great rapidity 
 of motion, it required skill to keep them 
 from escaping on the one side of the tray 
 as fast as they were pushed back on the 
 other. But at Mrs. Farquhar's greeting to 
 her sister, Genevra did look up, and even 
 rose and went forward to touch Mrs. Barnes's 
 cheek with her lips, and then rushed back 
 to arrest the progress of her '* woolly bears,"
 
 CATEKPILLARS. • 49 
 
 that were rapidly scattering over the room 
 and the window-panes ; unconsciously dis- 
 playing, as she did so, a simple grace of 
 gesture and motion that is rarely met with 
 except in children. At the first glance, 
 indeed, Genevra might have been mistaken 
 for a child — her figure was so mignonne, 
 and the careless simplicity of her manner so 
 devoid of self-conscioasness or conventional 
 reserve. But the second glance would have 
 showed her for what she was — a girl of 
 sixteen, whose slight form the rounded 
 curves of early womanhood were softening 
 into the promise of richer beauty, with the 
 tiniest hands and feet, and a well-poised 
 head with a wealth of nut-brown hair ; for 
 as yet the hair-dressers had not taken their 
 fashions from the convict prison or thti 
 orphan homes. . 
 
 But Genevra's face, at that time, was still 
 younger than her figure, and no one woukl 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 have called it beautiful, although most 
 people who glanced at her once would have 
 let their gaze dwell longer on her a second 
 time. Her complexion was not dazzling 
 in rose and snow, but it had the clear bloom 
 of perfect health, with the delicacy that 
 easily reflects every fleeting shade of 
 emotion. Her nose was not Grecian, but 
 neither was it snub. The red lips had a 
 way of setting themselves a little too firmly, 
 which, with the rather heavy eyebrows and 
 deeply fringed lashes, both much darker 
 than her hair, gave to the whole face the 
 expression, half musing, half resolute, of a 
 mutinous child ; and only when the deep 
 blue eyes sparkled with merriment, which 
 showed the small white teeth and awoke 
 a lovely dimple in the cheek, to match the 
 one that always nestled in the chin, — only 
 at such moments — and they were rare — 
 would a casual observer have dreamed of 
 calling Jenny Farquhar even pretty.
 
 CATERPILLARS. 51 
 
 *' You will excuse me for remarkinor on 
 your household arrangements, Juliet," said 
 Mrs. Burnes, in the tone of ceremonious 
 formality with which she usually attempted 
 remonstrance, " but is a lady's drawing- 
 room a proper place to study grubs in ? " 
 
 " They are not grubs, sister Chatty, ' 
 corrected the young entomologist ; " they 
 are caterpillars, and very scarce at this early 
 season, and they have changed their second 
 skins too ! " 
 
 " But can you not keep them in, say, 
 the breakfast- room ? " 
 
 " No, I can't, because mamma does not 
 care to sit anywhere but in this room, and 
 she likes to have me with her, caterpillars 
 and all." 
 
 "I very much prefer their being here," 
 said Mrs. Farquhar, '' for at first Jenny did 
 bring them into the breakfast-room, and 
 I found one in the cream -jug. Good
 
 52 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Leavens ! Chatty, what is the matter ? 
 Are you ill ? " 
 
 For a sudden spasm contracted Mrs. 
 Burnes's not very mobile features, and 
 she sat stift" and rigid, looking straight 
 before her, as at Medusa's head. 
 
 " Genevra," she said, in a firm but rather 
 hollow voice, " one of those reptiles is 
 racing up my boot ! " 
 
 " Shake him oJf," answered Jenny, care- 
 lessly. 
 
 A strong shudder passed over Mrs. 
 Burnes's frame, and she jerked her foot out 
 straight before her, and sat fixed in an 
 attitude which was the last she would have 
 chosen as graceful or decorous, as she 
 murmured in hollow tones — 
 
 " I cannot touch it ; it makes my blood 
 run cold ! " 
 
 Jenny ran to her relief, and captured the 
 "reptile."
 
 CATERPILLARS. 53 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Burnes," she cried, '* I never 
 knew you were so timid ! A ' woolly bear ' 
 does not hurt any one." 
 
 " I have heard, Genevra," answered 
 Chatty, " that they curl round on people — ■ 
 that beast is doing so now ! — and that their 
 hairs have a stinging property, like nettles, 
 whence they are sometimes called * devil's 
 rings.' " Then, too conscientiously truthful 
 to plead this doubtful fact as her excuse, 
 she added, " But whether that is so or not, 
 I have an unreasoning horror of caterpillars, 
 or maggots, or whatever you call them." 
 
 " Well, then," said Jenny, saucily, " you 
 can never more scold Martha, as you did 
 the other day, for screaming so at a spider." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied sister Chatty, 
 reflectively ; then she suddenly added, " un- 
 less I can convince myself that such re- 
 pulsions can be mastered. Give me that 
 creature, Genevra."
 
 54 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Jenny disengaged the insect from her 
 finger, round which it had formed a " hair 
 ring," and watched Mrs. Burnes with some 
 curiosity, as she took it from her into her 
 own hands, and gazed steadily upon it as 
 it curled itself up again in her hold — gazed 
 on it without shrinking, but with a sternness 
 that might have been copied from a St. 
 George fighting the Dragon. Sympathizing 
 with her heroism, the girl relieved her of 
 it, and put it back on the tray, saying — 
 
 '* Henceforth, Mrs. Burnes, you will be 
 more indulgent to Martha s weakness ? " 
 
 " On the contrary," answered Mrs Burnes, 
 " I shall insist on her overcoming it, since I 
 find that it can be done." 
 
 " Poor Martha 1 " laughed Miss Farquhar, 
 as she quitted the room with her unappre- 
 (dated treasures. 
 
 " How like her dear father ! " sighed Mrs. 
 Farquhar, as her step-daughter disappeared.
 
 CATERPILLARS. 55 
 
 *' Do you not think, sister, that she is growing 
 very lovely ? " 
 
 *' No, I do not," replied Chatty, briefly ; 
 and, rising, she brushed off some hairs the 
 caterpillar had left on her dress, with an air 
 of supreme disgust ; which, however, was 
 meant for the "woolly bear," not for Genevra. 
 "I am forgetting Charley's errand," she said. 
 " I was to ask you, did the postman leave his 
 paper here this morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, with some stupid circulars for me 
 from some of the Ketford tradesmen. It is 
 on the table in the corner. I should have 
 sent it on to you before lunch if you had 
 not called." 
 
 Mrs. Burnes went to the table and took her 
 paper, uttering an exclamation as she did so. 
 
 " Here is a letter that has slipped under 
 the wrapper," she cried — *'a private letter, 
 black bordered. Who is your correspondent, 
 Juliet?"
 
 56 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 " Who can it be from ? " said Juliet, turn- 
 ing the letter round and closely examining 
 it on all sides. " I receive so few letters, I 
 do not know the handwriting ; and a mono- 
 gram ! I can never make out those twirly 
 monofjrams. Whose can it be ? " 
 
 "Possibly the signature may tell you." 
 answered Charlotte. "If you would but open 
 it, Juliet, you will ascertain who wrote it." 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar acted upon this obvious 
 suggestion ; then she uttered a faint ex- 
 clamation of surprise, of which Mrs. Burnes 
 took no notice, her attention being fixed upon 
 one of Genevra's " woolly bears," which had 
 fallen unobserved upon the carpet, and was 
 making rapidly for Mrs. Burnes's legs. 
 
 " Juliet, do take up this beast ! I have 
 sufiered enough from them for one day. It 
 is quite ridiculous of Martha to make the 
 fuss she does about spiders ; they are not 
 half so unpleasant as these things. It is the
 
 CATERPILLARS. 5/ 
 
 hairiness of them that makes them so 
 repulsive." 
 
 But Juhet, absorbed in her letter, made no 
 reply. So Mrs. Burnes " took her courage 
 in both hands " and Juliet's large scissors in 
 one, and, using the scissors as tongs, took 
 up the caterpillar, which giving a remon- 
 strative twirl as she lifted it, poor Mrs. 
 Burnes's fingers contracted spasmodically, 
 with the disastrous result to the creature that 
 it fell in two halves on the floor ; and she 
 dropped the scissors with a shudder just as 
 Genevra came into the room. 
 
 *'Have you seen "she began; then, fol- 
 lowing the direction of Mrs. Burnes's eyes, 
 " Oh, sister Chatty, you have found it and 
 killed it ! How cruel of you ! " 
 
 " I did not do it on purpose, Genevra. 1 
 was taking it up, and it came to pieces in 
 that unpleasant way. You know I never 
 wantonly destroy any creature life that may
 
 58 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 have its uses, thougti what can have been 
 the use of that animal ? " 
 
 '' The world will be the less beautiful for 
 its loss — this summer at least/' replied Jenny, 
 regretfully gathering up the fragments of her 
 pet, to throw them out of the window. 
 
 " I dispute that, Jenny," said Mrs. Burnes. 
 *' The world is not enriched by the beauty of 
 a black caterpillar." 
 
 "But by the beauty of an exquisite tiger- 
 moth, sister Chatty. The world will be the 
 poorer for losing that.'' 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar, placidly unmoved by a 
 catastrophe to which people addicted to pets 
 soon grow inured, now handed her letter to 
 her sister ; while Genevra, who seldom cared 
 to share in the councils of the elder ladies, 
 once more quitted the room, just as Mr. 
 Burnes entered it. Mrs. Burnes, in her turn, 
 glanced at the signature. 
 
 " From Millicent Carruthers ? " she said.
 
 CATERPILLARS. 59 
 
 *' Was not she Dr. Farquhar's young sister, 
 who threw over the man she was engaged to, 
 to marry his rich uncle for his title ? I re- 
 member he told us of it once, and that he and 
 his brother- in-law had quarrelled about settle- 
 ments and become permanently estranged. 
 Why does she write to you, Juliet ? " 
 
 " She is a widow now, poor thing ! " said 
 Juliet. " You told me some months ago that 
 vou saw the advertisement of a Sir William 
 Carruthers' death in the 2'imes, but we 
 took no notice. We did not know him, and 
 we had received no cards." 
 
 ''What does she write to you about?" 
 repeated Mrs. Burnes. 
 
 " Oh, I can't half make out her scrawl. 
 Eead it aloud to me, Chatty." 
 
 Mrs. Burnes took the letter, searched in 
 her pocket for her glasses, adjusted them 
 leisurely, and read slowly as follows, with 
 occasional interruptions of her own : —
 
 60 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 '' ' My dear Mrs. Farquhar ' (she does 
 not call you sister, you see) — 
 
 " * I do not doubt that you have 
 felt for me in my great trial, under such 
 peculiar circumstances too, which you may 
 have learnt from the newspapers.' (She 
 does not apologize for not having sent 
 you a proper notification of it, although I 
 remember that Charles sent a courteous 
 letter to Sir William when Dr. Farquhar 
 died, which was taken no notice of.) ' My 
 husband's only son and heir — he was a 
 year or two older than myself — was killed 
 by a fall from his horse in the Bois de 
 Boulogne, and the shock proved fatal to Sir 
 William a week later. So long as he lived 
 I was forbidden to hold any intercourse with 
 my brother's family ; but I think such 
 resentments ought not to be handed down 
 to younger generations, and my dear girls 
 and my brother's child are without any
 
 CATEllPILLAKS. 61 
 
 nearer relatives on either side, and should 
 be almost sisters/ (There is something in 
 that.) * Will you accept my olive branch, 
 dear Mrs. Farquhar ? My eldest daugliter, 
 Anne, is to be married in a fortnight to a 
 young clergyman she lias been engaged to 
 for some years. Will you allow my niece to 
 be one of her bridesmaids ? The wedding 
 will, of course, be strictly private, and a 
 fortnight later my daughter Georgina and 
 myself are going on a visit to a friend who 
 is staying in Paris, and your dear little girl 
 will have only a month in which to make 
 the acquaintance of her cousins, which will, 
 I hope, be the commencement of a life-long 
 friendship. So pray send her to us as soon 
 as you possibly can. 
 
 " ' We are all grieved that we cannot 
 welcome her to our home — no louger ours — 
 in Cumberland. Only a few months before 
 he died, Sir William let his beautiful place,
 
 62 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 *' Brackensfell," and took this hideous old 
 house, in a dull, old-fashioned quarter, in 
 order to be near his favourite doctor (he 
 was a great invalid latterly), and, as he said, 
 that we ladies might be near the shops. As 
 if we wanted to be near shops ! However, 
 I dare say they will amuse my niece ; and, 
 under present circumstances, I have little 
 else in the way of amusement to offer her. 
 But I trust that brighter times are at hand 
 for my dear girls, tliough not for me, and 
 that my niece may share them. With 
 kindest love,' etc., etc." 
 
 Mrs. Burnes laid down the letter, took off 
 her glasses, and looked at her sister. After 
 a brief pause : " Well, Juliet ? Will you let 
 Genevra go ? " 
 
 " Ought I ? " answered Mrs. Farquhar. 
 " She is such a home bird, my Jenny, and 
 so young to be trusted among strangers." 
 
 " They ought not to be strangers ; they
 
 CATERPILLARS. 63 
 
 are her only relatives, and this may be the 
 last, as well as the first, advance they will 
 ever make. I do not think you should reject 
 it, Juliet." 
 
 " I fear " began Mrs. Farquhar. 
 
 But here a new member was added to the 
 family council in the person of Mr. Burnes, 
 who, having finished his conference in the 
 village sooner than he had expected, had come 
 in search of his wife and his paper, and was 
 speedily put in possession of the astounding 
 fact that Genevra's relations had " come 
 to the fore," and had invited her to visit 
 them in town. 
 
 "Now, I wonder," queried tlie Vicar, 
 laying down Lady Carruthers' letter, after 
 a careful perusal of it — " I wonder what put 
 it into her head to notice Jenny at all ? " 
 
 " Family aJSection, I should hope, Charles," 
 said his spouse. 
 
 " Famil}^ fudge ! " was Charles's irreverent
 
 64 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 reply. ** Dr. Farquhar had seen very little 
 of his sister, who was much younger than 
 he, and had been brought up by some old 
 lady whom he never visited. Not much 
 affection there, I fancy. Then he quarrelled 
 with her husband, and there was no 
 communication between them till his death. 
 Sir William never took the least notice of 
 his widow and daughter, and Lady 
 (Jarruthers has herself waited to apprise 
 them of her own widowhood till it is eight 
 months old. Even this invitation is 
 cautiously limited to a month, at longest. 
 The whole thing is an afterthought. I 
 should like to know what put it into her 
 head ! " 
 
 " But, my dear Charles," observed Mrs. 
 Burnes, " that is not the question of im- 
 mediate interest to Juliet. She wishes for 
 advice as to whether she ought to accept 
 the invitation for her dauohter."
 
 CATERPILLARS. 65 
 
 '' Of course she ought," was the Vicar's 
 unhesitating reply. "It is high time that 
 Jenny should know something of what 
 is going on in the world beyond this nook 
 of ours, and have some associates nearer 
 her own age than we three old folks. Her 
 only relations too ! " 
 
 " That was my view," said Mrs. Burnes. 
 *' We should be blamed, and justly so, if we 
 isolated her from her own kindred." 
 
 " My Kosebud," rejoined the Vicar 
 (using this term of the greatest endearment 
 to his Chatty), '' she has been isolated 
 long enough. You are always complaining 
 that Juliet lets her run wild. I do not 
 myself see anything amiss with the child, 
 but if she wants any training, she will get 
 it best by observation of other girls, and 
 get a taste, perhaps, for more civilized amuse- 
 ment than running about the woods after 
 black beetles." 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 *'Very well," said Mrs. Farquhar, re- 
 signedly. " Then it is settled that she shall 
 go ; but she cannot go alone ? " 
 
 " If that is all, I will take her up to town 
 myself," answered good-natured Charley, 
 " when you have settled with her ladyship 
 when she is to start. By the way. Sir 
 William's son having died unmarried, who 
 is the heir to that title and estate ? Is 
 it the nephew, I wonder, whom Lady 
 Carruthers jilted to marry the baronet ? 
 Rather awkward for her now if it is." 
 
 " Such a long time ago," said sister 
 Chatty ; " that must be forgotten. Why, it 
 was before we knew Dr. Farquhar, and years 
 before Jenny was born. Her cousins must 
 be older than she is. Besides, there may 
 be other nephews. It would be as well not 
 to allude to that transgression of Lady 
 Carruthers' in Genevra's presence, Charles." 
 "But," suggested Mrs. Farquhar, ''if
 
 CATERPILLARS. 67 
 
 Jenny does not care to make her aunt's 
 acquaintance, I cannot force her to . go, 
 sister Chatty." 
 
 "So likely!" rejoined Mr. Burnes, 
 laughing. " What young girl would not 
 care for change — for making friends with 
 other young people, for seeing town and 
 shops, and, above all things, for being 
 bridesmaid at a wedding ? Jenny will 
 dance for joy !" 
 
 And Uncle Charley was right.
 
 68 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 
 
 A QUARTER of a century is an appreciable 
 portion of a life, and it was five and twenty 
 years, and a little over, since Brian Car- 
 ruthers was Milly Farquhar s lover. 
 
 The nephew of Sir AVilliam Carruthers, 
 and wholly dependent upon his uncle, who 
 had reared him from a boy, fed, clothed, 
 and educated him — grudgingly, it is true, 
 but still in accordance with the social tradi- 
 tions of his class — he had no prospect of 
 inheriting title or fortune, as Sir William's 
 only son was but a year or two older than 
 himself, strong and healthy, and with 
 every likelihood of inheriting the longevity
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 69 
 
 of his race, almost every member of which 
 had kept his heir waiting for his lawful 
 succession until but a comparatively short 
 time remained for him to enjoy it in. And 
 the heir had never, from any unreasonable 
 impatience, been missing when the roll-call 
 summoned him. 
 
 Having, therefore, no fortune of his own, 
 and, as clerk in the Foreign Office, no 
 prospect of advancement beyond the faint 
 chances of family interest — very faint in his 
 case, as Sir William was a languid politician 
 and lived far remote from political circles — 
 it was quite in the natural order of events, 
 first, that the young man should incur 
 debts ; and, secondly, that he should engage 
 himself to a girl without a penny. In this 
 double difficulty he had recourse to his 
 cousin, Bertram Carruthers, for advice and 
 assistance. But Bertram had difficulties of 
 his own to contend with in the money line.
 
 70 THE STORr OF A KISS. 
 
 and was not at all accustomed to trouble 
 himself with the difficulties of other people ; 
 so he coolly handed him over to the secular 
 arm, by enclosing his artless confession in 
 his next letter to Sir William, who calmly, 
 without apparent anger or malice, wrote to 
 his nephew, demanding " full particulars ; " 
 and on receiving them proceeded to devise 
 such remedial measures as seemed to him 
 to suit the case. The debts were not 
 appalling. Brian was careless rather than 
 extravagant, and the whole amount of his 
 liabilities for three years did not equal one 
 column of the schedule which was annually 
 handed to Bertram's father by Bertram's 
 creditors, and paid without a murmur. But 
 that was no precedent ; rather, the more 
 frequently the baronet was asked to pay 
 his son's debts, the more unpalatable was 
 the request to pay his nephew's also. And 
 he could foresee no end to such appeals.
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 71 
 
 If Brian's services to an ungrateful Govern- 
 ment were so inadequately rewarded that 
 his income could not suffice for his personal 
 expenses, how would it meet the added 
 burthen of a household ? Nohlesse oblige. 
 Sir William had few relations, and had but 
 little affection for any of them, except his 
 son, whom he idolized ; but he had family 
 pride, and, believing in the "solidarity of 
 race," would have done his utmost to 
 maintain any relative of his name on what 
 he considered the normal level. " A link 
 which cannot be broken," he used to say, 
 " should be kept from soilure or defacement, 
 which is a blemish to the chain." And 
 hence his nephew's impecunious marriage 
 would involve not only a probable claim 
 upon him for the butcher's and baker's bills 
 incurred for a thriving nursery, but tlie 
 farther and graver necessity of providing 
 *' careers" for the inmates of tliat nursery
 
 72 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 when they should sally forth into the 
 world. 
 
 Sir William Carruthers, unlike his nephew 
 and son, was a man of iron resolution and 
 tenacity of purpose ; but it was a silent, 
 bull-dog tenacity, that never '^gave tongue." 
 He mused for some hours on his nephew's 
 letter, and then, without replying to it, 
 started off to London, and called upon a 
 former friend of his, who possessed some 
 influence in the Foreign Office, and, after 
 a short conference with him, obtained for 
 his nephew the appointment of British 
 Consul at Kio Vedas, a small seaport on 
 the South American coast^an insignificant 
 place, rarely visited by mercha.nt vessels on 
 their way to ship guano from a neighbour- 
 ing island. A few Bristol and Liverpool 
 firms had representatives in the town, and 
 had recently begged for a consul to protect 
 their trading interests. And Sir William
 
 SIR WILLIAM CAREUTHERS, BART. 73 
 
 returned to his hotel, smiling vengefully, as 
 he thought of his refined, fastidious nephew 
 expiating his financial and amatory trans- 
 gressions among merchants' clerks, and 
 supercargoes, and the *' spicy breezes " of 
 the guano isles ! 
 
 A few days sufficed for his further ar- 
 rangements, and then the blow was dealt. 
 Brian was summoned from a regatta in the 
 Isle of AVight to meet his autocratic relative 
 in town, and ordered to start for Rio Vedas 
 in ten days, in a ship bound for a Brazilian 
 port, in which his passage had been secured. 
 Resistance would have been vain ; but Sir 
 William knew his man, and feared no resist- 
 ance. Brian, like the rest of his family, had 
 sufficient tenacity of purpose when once his 
 purpose was clear to himself ; but he was 
 dreamy and indolent, and readier to accept 
 the suggestion of another tlian to originate 
 one of his own. He was like a shell-snail,
 
 74 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 which can be taken up and set down where 
 you will, and, after a period of reflection, it 
 will take steadily, though leisurely, the 
 path before it, never turning aside, or 
 seeming to object that it was not the course 
 it had chosen for itself. Its motto may be 
 " J' arrive,'' but it evidently dislikes being 
 hurried, and in that point also young 
 Carruthers resembled it. Or, he was like 
 a ruminating animal receiving the food 
 offered by any familiar hand, but requiring 
 a long time to chew the cud of meditation 
 upon it, before it could become nutritive to 
 the organs of impulse and activity. 
 
 And Sir William took care to give him 
 no time for remonstrance, nor even for a 
 last adieu to his beloved ; only so far con- 
 descending as to remind him that his exile 
 was merely temporary, and would be ex- 
 changed for a better office, when something 
 better fell in the way ; and as for the
 
 SIR WILLIAM CAERUTHERS, BART. 75 
 
 marriage question, that must be postponed 
 at least until his debts were paid — which 
 payment was made conditional on his un- 
 hesitating obedience. 
 
 But the attitude of Brian's mind was not 
 hesitation, but a brooding pensiveness. So 
 his uncle saw all necessary arrangements 
 completed ; put him on board the Anna 
 Moore an hour before she sailed, waved a 
 farewell to him from the shore as she 
 moved away, and left him to brood at his 
 leisure during a three months' voyage. 
 
 That was Sir William's first move. His 
 second wt^s to seek out the friends of the 
 young lady to whom Brian had engaged 
 himself, and obtain their co-operation in 
 cancelling such an imprudent agreement. 
 
 Millicent Farquhar had few friends. An 
 orphan, whose only brother was very 
 seldom in England, she lived in a dull 
 cathedral city in the North, with an old
 
 76 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 lady, her great-aunt, tlie widow of a Church 
 dignitary, on whom she was wholly depen- 
 dent, and with whom she led a dull life. 
 She had met Brian at a ball during a visit 
 to London with Mrs. Elwes in the spring ; 
 and, as Sir William found to his great satis- 
 faction, the engagement to a " detrimental " 
 had received a very reluctant sanction from 
 the old lady, which she was most eager to 
 withdraw, on learning that the youth's 
 uncle disapproved of his marrying at present. 
 But the girl herself ? Sir William looked 
 at her and considered. She was very young 
 and very pretty : the beauty of a Hebe, 
 plump, fair, fresh, and rosy — the charms 
 which are often so attractive to elderly 
 bachelors or widowers. She was a lady in 
 every sense of the word, and with a character 
 which her aunt called "quite unformed" — 
 she might have said it was non-existent ; 
 and Sir William further considered. It
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHEES, BART. 77 
 
 was his duty to break oflf an engagement 
 which could only bring her unhappiness ; 
 it was his duty to soften the pain of the 
 blow, and, if possible, console her. A few 
 tears, easily dried, were followed by smiles, 
 which showed that he had " done his spirit- 
 ing gently," and the duty of consolation he 
 fulfilled by marrying her himself ! 
 
 But, alas ! the honey of poor Millicent 
 Carruthers' honeymoon was spread very 
 thinly indeed on her bridal cakes. Sir 
 William, in marrying a portionless girl, had 
 not an idea of sj)ending any more money on 
 her than on her food, drink, and clothing. 
 He had made her '^my lady," and it behoved 
 her to rest content with that distinction, 
 which her young lover could not have given 
 her, and demand no more in the way of 
 fashionable amusements, dresses, and visit- 
 ing, than he could have given her ; and 
 that would have been very little indeed.
 
 78 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 Sir William's resources were heavily taxed 
 to support the extravagance of his son, 
 while his clearest wish was to hand down 
 his estate of Brackensfell to his heir, un- 
 burthened by charge or liability of any 
 kind, and to do this a rigid economy was 
 necessary. So he pinched and saved, with 
 scarce a murmur, to provide Bertram with 
 money to be squandered on the racecourse 
 and the gaming-tables. It was not alto- 
 gether Millicent Farquhar's pretty face which 
 had led Sir William to think of marry- 
 ing her. No, it was economy ! If she 
 married Brian he would have to bear all 
 the expenses of the young menage. If the 
 menage were his own, he would be better 
 able to regulate those expenses, and have 
 what enjoyment it could afford as well. 
 The friends of this girl were not in a posi- 
 tion to insist on settlements which would 
 encumber the estate, so he oflfered none.
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 79 
 
 Brackensfell was lonely, and a fair face at 
 his table would be pleasant to see, and 
 would not need expensive gewgaws to 
 make it fairer — quite the reverse if he Avere 
 called on to pay for them ; and she had 
 another advantage — she had no relatives 
 except a brother, much older than she was, 
 the distinguished traveller and naturalist, 
 Dr. Farquhar, who, being far from Europe 
 at the time of her hasty marriage, could not 
 be consulted about it. He heard of it, 
 however, in time to write a letter of angry 
 remonstrance to Mrs. Elwes, that reached 
 her a few days before the wedding, in which 
 he reproached her for consenting to the 
 sacrifice of his young sister, a girl of 
 eighteen, to a man old enough to be her 
 father, who was selfish enough to propose 
 leaving her at his death dependent on the 
 bounty of his heir, a roue and a spend- 
 thrift. Mrs. Elwes showed this letter to
 
 80 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 Sir William, who took no further notice of 
 it than to inform his wife that from thence- 
 forth Dr. Farquhar's name was blotted out 
 from the list of his family connections ; and, 
 as the brother and sister had never shared 
 the same home, and had but rarely met, 
 Lady Carruthers yielded without a sigh. 
 Indeed, she soon found she wanted all the 
 sighs of which her lungs were capable for 
 herself. 
 
 Brackensfell was a dreary mansion on 
 a wild moorland in the North. Such 
 capabilities of beauty as it had possessed 
 had been undeveloped, and even when Sir 
 William brought his young bride there, he 
 had not expended a shilling in adorning or 
 improving it. He had only taken up his 
 residence there a few years after his first 
 wife's death, and then, as now, it was little 
 more than a rough bachelor's home. But 
 the estate itself he sedulously improved and
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 81 
 
 cultivated, and spent much of his time in 
 superintending these improvements, in con- 
 sultations with his steward, and visits among 
 his tenants. A few of the surrounding 
 families called on the bride on her arrival, 
 but their attentions were so coldly received, 
 and so scantily acknowledged by the baronet, 
 that they were seldom repeated. 
 
 Lady Carruthers soon found herself caged, 
 with no hope of freedom even to beat her 
 wiugs beyond the precincts of her moorland 
 home. She did not resist. Her tempera- 
 ment was essentially lymphatic, and with 
 her flowers and her novels, and the nightly 
 game of backgammon with Sir William, and 
 her occasional confidences with her doctor, 
 and rides about the country on horseback 
 with her husband, she contrived to attain a 
 measure of content, if not happiness ; and 
 the sighs she breathed for the lover she had 
 jilted were easily dissipated when she went 
 
 VOL. L 6
 
 82 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 in to dinner, for a good cook was the one 
 expensive luxury that Sir Wilham allowed 
 himself, and, fortunately for her, Millicent 
 liked good cooking. 
 
 But soon the sighs grew deeper and 
 more frequent. Two daughters were born 
 in quick succession, just as Bertram Car- 
 ruthers' calls on his father's banking book 
 were becoming more urgent and importu- 
 nate. Sir William grew more and more 
 morose and fretful. He resented the advent 
 of these new charges on the Brackensfell 
 property, as if it had been an intentional 
 annoyance on the part of his lady. Girls, 
 too ! What is the use of girls, except to 
 eat up a huge share of what should belong 
 to their half-brother, and bother him with 
 improvident marriages, as Brian had nearly 
 done, and as he, by-and-by, almost wished 
 he had done ? For the poor Millicent early 
 lost her bloom and the little vivacity she
 
 SIR WILLIAM CAERUTHERS, BART. 83 
 
 ever had. She had not much intelligence, 
 no culture, no tact. She was docile as a 
 spaniel, and as timid. She was afraid of 
 her husband, and her very timidity pro- 
 voked him, while he almost hated the 
 children. 
 
 As years passed on, affairs grew worse. 
 The girls were not likely to feel much 
 affection for a father who thwarted them 
 in all their inclinations, denied them every 
 pleasure, grudged them the very clothes he 
 was obliged to pay for. He knew they did 
 not love him, and strongly distrusted his 
 wife, as having taught them to deceive 
 him. As age came on, he was crippled by 
 rheumatic gout ; and though he kept his 
 wedded slave chained to his sick chamber, 
 he could not at the same time see that these 
 girls did not run into mischief. 
 
 They were not attractive girls either. 
 Their education had not been ncL^lcctcd ;
 
 84 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 they had had accomplished governesses, and 
 had even been " finished " for a year or two 
 in a Parisian pensionndt. Noblesse oblige ; 
 and Sir William would never have sought 
 to evade the duty of rearing his ofi'spring 
 as the females of the Carruthers' line had 
 been always reared. They were gentle- 
 women, and fitted to take rank with gentle- 
 women. But Georgina, the eldest, was like 
 her father, lean and sallow and plain- 
 featured, with no charm but a pair of 
 brilliant dark eyes ; and, like her father, she 
 had a cold heart, a sharp temper, and a 
 bitter tongue. Anne resembled lier mother, 
 though not so pretty as Lady Carruthers 
 had been ; but she was even more insipid. 
 Sir William never transferred to his daugh- 
 ters any share of the afi*ection he lavished 
 on his son. That worthy, wdio was twenty- 
 five years older than Miss Carruthers, had 
 now reached the mature age of forty- three.
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 85 
 
 He had sown bis wild oats ; and though he 
 still preferred life in Paris, or Vienna, or 
 Rome to the sweet domestic charms of 
 Brackensfell, which he rarely visited, still 
 he gambled no longer, and even gave sigDs 
 of developiDg the penurious tastes of the 
 spendthrift grown miser. So far well ; he 
 would wed an heiress by-and-by, which 
 would be even better. And Sir AYilliam's 
 careful nursing of the Brackensfell estate 
 had made it a thriving property. That was 
 best. 
 
 Still, his parsimonious habits rather in- 
 creased than diminished ; and he excused 
 them, when he deigned any excuse, by 
 pleading the necessity of saving during his 
 life some provision for his widow and dowry 
 for his daughters, that they miglit not be 
 burdensome to their brother when he came 
 into his inheritance. So, feeling the in- 
 firmities of his nearly eighty winters in-
 
 86 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 creasing on him, and the charges of his 
 physician, when telegraphed for from town, 
 more annoying than any pains — when he 
 was not actually writhing under them — he 
 let Brackensfell Manor House to a wealthy 
 millowner from Bradford, who was building 
 a palace for himself in his own district, and 
 wanted a temporary refuge from architects 
 and builders, and took a quiet, old-fashioned, 
 and comparatively inexpensive house in 
 Stratford Place, near his doctor, where he 
 immured his wife and daughters, who could 
 not even solace themselves with gay pro- 
 menades or shopping, since they were denied 
 more than two bonnets a year. Georgina 
 sat in the house and snarled. Anne 
 utilized her dowdy bonnet by carrying it 
 into back streets and poor dwellings, and 
 making of it a trap with which to ensnare a 
 curate, who likewise visited in that parish ; 
 but of this affair Sir William knew nothing,
 
 SIR WILLIAM CARRUTHERS, BART. 87 
 
 nor ever knew anything. They were 
 scarcely settled in their new home when 
 the news arrived that Bertram Carruthers 
 had been fluno; from his horse in the Bois de 
 Boulogne, and killed on the spot. The 
 shock of this intelligence, unguardedly com- 
 municated to his father, threw the gout to 
 his heart, and he died within the hour. He 
 had left a will, bequeathing the trifling 
 provision he had saved within the last three 
 or four years to his daughters, but the will 
 was unsigned. Everything else that he 
 possessed was tied up in the Brackensfell 
 estate, which was strictly entailed. And 
 the exile, Brian Carruthers, was heir to all I
 
 88 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 COUNTER-IREITATION'. 
 
 Meantime, the exiled Brian had pursued his 
 devious way, "remote, unfriended, solitary, 
 slow," with a chain of Millicent's hair round 
 his neck, and a farewell note from her in 
 his breast-pocket, containing the usual vows 
 of fidelity and hopes of re-union — hopes 
 which, on arriving at Eio Vedas, Brian was 
 compelled to relegate to the distant period, 
 when *' something better should turn up." 
 For his new home was not one that he could 
 oflfer to an English bride. The climate, 
 tempered by the sea-breezes, might be 
 enjoyable enough to those who could sym- 
 pathize with salamanders, and the sur-
 
 COUNTER-IRRITATION. 89 
 
 rounding scenery, though rather monotonous, 
 was not lacking in charm to those for 
 whom Nature has unfailing aspects of 
 beauty. But " the sweet shady side of Pall 
 Mall " had more interest for Brian than the 
 long, low coast, with its fringe of breakers 
 on the gleaming sands ; and a young lady 
 brought up amid the strictest proprieties of 
 the clerical-aristocratic circle of a cathedral 
 close would scarcely relish the society of 
 bachelor employes of commercial houses, 
 whose one aim in life was to make money 
 as quickly as possible, to earn the promotion 
 from their principals that would necessitate 
 their recall home — a society varied, but 
 little improved, by the occasional admixture 
 of a few Portuguese or Brazilian families of 
 the trading classes, and captains of merchant 
 ships, all living under the laxest rules as 
 regarded language, manners, and dress, and 
 attended by throngs of negro slaves, and
 
 90 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 pervaded by a mingled fragrance of tobacco, 
 guano, and African sables. 
 
 Clearly Millicent Farquhar could not be 
 invited to join her lover at Eio Vedas ; so, 
 with a sigh, he wrote a tender letter to her, 
 in which he tried to speak hopefully of the 
 better things that w^ere in store for both, 
 and an urgent letter to Sir William, pressing 
 him to keep his friend at the Foreign Office 
 always on the alert, to watch for the better 
 things and transfer them, as he had 
 promised, to the expectant consul. 
 
 Neither letter received any reply ; but 
 Brian was good at waiting. Then, in a 
 few months, came a line from his uncle's 
 bankers, informing him that his debts were 
 fully paid, and that as long as he resided in 
 Eio Vedas his drafts upon them would be 
 honoured to a stated amount, which would 
 be sufficient, with his official emoluments, to 
 enable him to hold a position befitting the
 
 COUNTER-IEKITATION. 91 
 
 Government's representative in the town. 
 This notice brought comfort to the exile ; 
 for, he reasoned, Sir William's munificence, 
 limited to a stay in Eio Vedas, surely meant 
 that it would be for a brief j)enod only, 
 and that a better appointment, and a self 
 (and spouse) supporting one, was near at 
 hand. 
 
 And while he was musing thus, came a 
 letter addressed in Bertram Carruthers' 
 handwriting — a few lines, calling for sym- 
 pathy, and enclosing a newspaper cutting, 
 in which was announced the marriao;e of 
 Sir William Carruthers with Miss Millicent 
 Farquhar. 
 
 The blow fell crushingly on the unhappy 
 young man. The treachery of his uncle 
 was not the less odious that there had never 
 been any warm affection between them. 
 The fiilsehood of his betrothed was not the 
 less bitter that his love had been born of
 
 92 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 mere ball-room admiration. The world had 
 
 become a desert to him, empty of interest or 
 
 sympathy ; for his cousin had been ignorant 
 
 of his engagement, and was occupied only 
 
 with his own wron<2f, in haviDo^ his inherit- 
 or o 
 
 ance diminished by possible settlements on 
 a mercenary stepmother, who was youthful 
 enough to threaten heavier charges on it in 
 the future. He had no friends in the 
 society around him, having held himself 
 aloof from his countrymen, less from distaste 
 for their modes of thouoht and feelini^, than 
 
 o o' 
 
 from constitutional reserve and self-absorp- 
 tion ; and they, in return, believing any 
 show of cordiality unwelcome, avoided him 
 as a haughty, " stuck-up " aristocrat, who 
 would probably remain but a short time 
 among them — and. the shorter the better. 
 
 And he now w^ithdrew himself further 
 from all intercourse with them, beyond 
 what was demanded by his few business
 
 COUNTER-IRRITATION. 93 
 
 relations, and sunk into a brooding despon- 
 dency, which, fed by his isolation and by 
 the enervating influence of the climate, 
 would probably soon have fitted him for the 
 still more uncongenial society of lunatics, to 
 which class some of his neighbours already 
 secretly relegated him, but for a circum- 
 stance which occurred, apparently adverse, 
 but in reality "a blessing in disguise." 
 
 We are all familiar (at least in theory) 
 with a remedy which doctors call "counter- 
 irritation," which was once thus illustrated 
 by a wag : " Cure for a sore throat : Swallow 
 a kitten, and pull it back by its tail." Now, 
 Brian's kitten was a shark ; only, instead of 
 swallowing it, it nearly swallowed him, and 
 it happened in this way. 
 
 One morning, before sunrise, he went 
 down to the beach, entered a boat manned 
 by an old negro and a lad, and ordered 
 them to take him out to sea to bathe. They
 
 94 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 took him a certain distance, and then roused 
 him from his melancholy musings, to assure 
 him that they had reached the furthest 
 point from which he could bathe in safety, 
 as sharks had occasionally frequented the 
 deeper waters ahead. But to Brian, in his 
 gloomy abstraction, to be eaten by sharks 
 seemed but a trivial accident, and the warn- 
 ing was unheeded or forgotten. He was a 
 remarkably good swimmer, and when he 
 found himself in the water, in the enjoy- 
 ment of an exercise from which, for very 
 listlessness, he had for some weeks refrained, 
 the cool sparkle of the waves flashed new 
 energy into his weary frame, and he struck 
 out gallantly, feeling as if, could he only 
 swim far enough, he should swim out of the 
 whirlpool of sorrow in which his very being 
 had been submerged. As he very nearly 
 did! 
 
 Suddenly a warning shout rang over the
 
 COUNTER-IRRITATION. 95 
 
 water from ttie negro in the boat, who liad 
 been sweeping the horizon with Carruthers' 
 glass, and was now pulling at his oars with 
 his utmost energy to meet him. And lo ! 
 he descried, fortunately at some distance, 
 making towards him from an opposite 
 direction, what he could not doubt to be — 
 a shark ! A shark in the bloom of early 
 fish-hood, not yet attained to its fullest size 
 and vigour, but quite old enough materially 
 to modify Brian's views as to "trivial 
 accidents." 
 
 There must be something in the theory of 
 " latent energies," for never before or since 
 did Carruthers exhibit such a frenzy of 
 mental determination and muscular activity 
 as he did that morninQ; in his effort to 
 regain his boat. It was a hairbreadth 
 escape. The monster had overtaken him ; 
 there was a hospitable " come inside " grin 
 on his countenance as he turned over, after
 
 96 THE STORY OF A KTSS. 
 
 the manner of sliarks, to enforce tlie invita- 
 tion, just as Brian bounded into the boat 
 like any flying-fish, and fell breathless and 
 bleeding. Bleeding ? Yes, verily, he was 
 saved by a supreme efibrt, but the monster, 
 in transitu, had confiscated his great toe ! 
 
 Needless to affirm that the amputation 
 had not been performed with surgical skill, 
 though with more than surgical celerity ; 
 and by the time that efficient aid could be 
 procured, to amend the rough and ready 
 method of the piscine operator, pain, loss 
 of blood, and partial exposure to a blazing 
 sun had brought the wretched victim into 
 such a condition, that, had the alternative 
 substitution been possible, he would probably" 
 have preferred his toe to his sweetheart. 
 
 Violent fever and inflammation ensued, 
 and then a period of utter prostration, pro- 
 longed by the weakness of the nervous 
 system induced by previous mental suffering.
 
 COUNTER-IRRITATIOK 97 
 
 But there was compensation. English, 
 Portuguese, and native families vied with 
 each other in kindly solicitude for the help- 
 less sufferer, whose social shortcomings weie 
 forgotten and forgiven in his youth and 
 loneliness. There was no romance of black- 
 eved senoritas bendiner over his bed and 
 damping his pillow with salt tears (he had 
 had enough of salt water), and the " Sisters " 
 who nursed him were not young and lovely, 
 but plain-featured and very fat ; but kind 
 faces watched over him, kind voices soothed 
 liim, cordial sympathy welcomed him back 
 to health. 
 
 Few of them were polished ; all were 
 brotherly and friendly. Carruthers had 
 never been made so much of before, and by 
 the time he had quite recovered, he had 
 ceased to feel himself an alien and an exile 
 in Rio Yedas, or to look impatiently for a 
 promotion which never came. The indolent 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 far niente life of tlie sunny land suited 
 him well. To lounge all day in a verandah, 
 smoking the best of cigars, looking out 
 upon the glittering waters (mildly anathe- 
 matizing the sharks therein), attended by 
 obsequious negroes, and smiling at his 
 friends' efforts to amuse him with the latest 
 witticisms current in Eio Vedas, or turning 
 over the books, papers, and other reviews 
 which he took care should be liberally 
 supplied to him from a London bookseller — 
 this he found pleasant enough, after a time, 
 to silence regret and dim remembrance. 
 
 I believe that, even in London, it has 
 been found possible for a young man to 
 lead a life of smoking, lounging, and doing 
 nothing. But it costs more in town ! 
 Brian could enjoy these luxuries in Eio 
 Vedas without fear of duns or similar incon- 
 veniences. The allowance his uncle made 
 him was positive wealth there, and even
 
 COUNTER-IREITATIOX. 99 
 
 billiarrl -playing was not ruinous, as gaming 
 was a vice from which the young repre- 
 sentatives of the mercantile houses were 
 guarded by the necessities of their position. 
 
 And so weeks and months glided on, and 
 year succeeded year, until our modern Eip 
 van Winkle aroused himself one day, witli 
 a smile and a sigh, to the consciousness 
 that his youth was gone, and that he had 
 dreamed away twenty-five years in Rio 
 Vedas. But his early love-dream was gone 
 too. A man declines to cherish romantic 
 sentiment for an aunt, and Brian had been 
 "jilted." That little vulgar word never 
 ceased to rankle in his mind with a per- 
 sistence that was in itself a proof that botli 
 his love and his sorrow had been more 
 superficial than he knew. It may be that 
 he had found consolation in lighter attacli- 
 ments and less holy bonds, for morality 
 was not up to a high standard among cither
 
 100 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Earopeans or Brazilians at Kio Yedas, and 
 Brian's did not rise above it. That lie had 
 ]iot o-rown coarse in mind or manners durincr 
 his long banishment was owing partly to 
 natural refinement, partly to a temperament 
 which was slow to receive external impres- 
 sions, and, in some degree, to the improved 
 tone of his society, which had been con- 
 tinually recruited from the advancing civili- 
 zation of the commercial ranks in England, 
 ])y men of higher culture, birth, and breeding 
 than he had found there on his arrival. 
 
 Brian Carruthers, at eight and forty, was 
 still what young ladies call " an interesting 
 lookins: man." Pie was rather below middle 
 height, slender, but well proportioned ; and 
 the slight limp occasioned by that shark's 
 voracity was so much in keeping w^ith the 
 natural pensivcness of his manner, that it 
 took nothing from its grace. His close - 
 cropped hair and small head and delicate
 
 COUNTER-IRRITATION. 101 
 
 features gave him a certain youtlifulness of 
 appearance, notwithstanding the long grey 
 moustache (with no accompaniment of beard 
 or whiskers) and the bronzed complexion ; 
 and in the large blue eyes there was a look 
 that might well be taken for pathetic, 
 though in reality it was only absent and 
 introspective. In his solitary life amon^L^ 
 the natives and slaves, who were ignorant 
 of any language but their own, he had 
 contracted a habit of murmuring quite 
 audibly the thought which was passing 
 through his mind — a practice which afforded 
 so much amusement to his countrymen, 
 that they were careful never to warn him 
 of it, as, when his blue eyes dwelt with 
 peculiar intensity on the face of some com- 
 panion, while he thoughtfully caressed his 
 drooping moustache, the fixed attention 
 which was so flattering to the speaker was 
 likely to be followed by a murmured com-
 
 102 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 iiient wliich had a very different meaning. 
 The candid circle in Madame de Genlis' 
 Palace of Truth might have welcomed him 
 among them as an habitue to their customs. 
 Such was Brian Carruthers when the 
 startling communication reached him from 
 liis uncle's lawyers that he had become, 
 through unforeseen accident, the heir to the 
 family title and to a prosperous and unen- 
 cumbered estate. The "something better" 
 had turned up at last !
 
 ( 103 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GEORGINA. 
 
 *' Well, thank Heaven ! that's over, and 
 will not happen again ! " and Miss Carruthers 
 threw down the book which had been for 
 some minutes in her hand, with the pages 
 still uncut, and laid her head on the chair 
 cushions with a Ions: sio-h of contentment. 
 Lady Carruthers looked up from the vase 
 of half-withered flowers she was arrans^inor 
 on a table beside her. She was a woman 
 whose beauty had been of the kind which 
 consists more of colouring than of form, and 
 seldom outlasts youth's earliest springtime. 
 She was worn and sallow now ; her face 
 wore a half-anxious, half-sullen expression,
 
 104 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 and her figure was decidedly overblown and 
 shapeless. 
 
 *' Glad what is over ? " she inquired. 
 
 ** Well/' answered Georgina, "I mean 
 
 But do throw away those shabby flowers, 
 mamma. We need not keep up our j^enu- 
 rious habits now. Brian w^ill bring you a 
 fresher bouquet presently." 
 
 " Glad ivhat is over ? " repeated Lady 
 Carruthers, persistently. 
 
 "Why, this detestable wedding of Anne's, 
 with its sentimental foolery, and its dulness 
 and dowdiness ; it might have been a maid- 
 servant's wedding 1 " 
 
 o 
 
 " You are unreasonable, Georgina," re- 
 monstrated her mother. *' In our deep 
 mourning, such a double mourning too, we 
 could but have a very private wedding. 
 And in any case, a great display would 
 have been absurd, since your sister has only 
 married a poor country clergyman, and
 
 GEORGINA. 105 
 
 except for Brian's generosity there could 
 have been no wedding at all." 
 
 Lady Carruthers said truly. It would 
 have been gall and wormwood to a sensitive 
 woman to find herself left dependent on 
 the liberality of the man she had wronged 
 for any share of the fortune for which she 
 had sacrificed him. But Lady Carruthers 
 was not sensitive, and when she found that 
 there was but the most meagre provision 
 for her, scarcely sufiicient to support herself 
 and her daughters, certainly not to afibrd 
 her youngest and favourite child the assist- 
 ance without which her marriage must be 
 indefinitely postponed, she calmly wrote to 
 her former lover, enclosing Sir William's 
 unsigned will, and pleading that, in justice, 
 a mere legal informality ought not to pre- 
 vent his heir from carrying out his wishes. 
 
 No answer came from Sir Brian ; but 
 from his lawyers Lady Carruthers received
 
 106 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 the satisfactory announcement of '' instruc- 
 tions " from their client to arrange a settle- 
 ment on his uncle's widow and daughters, 
 considerably more liberal than they would 
 have been entitled to claim under the will 
 had it been properly executed. Thereupon 
 Lady Carruthers wrote a second letter to 
 her quondam sweetheart — a grateful, aunt- 
 like letter, in which she told him of Anne's 
 engagement, and invited him, in the names 
 of herself and daughters, to come to them 
 immediately on his arrival in England, and 
 claim his position as head of the family by 
 giving away the bride. 
 
 An invitation which Sir Brian, after some 
 hesitation, accepted, though not until he 
 had lingered at Rio Vedas much longer 
 than any other man in his position would 
 have cared to do. He duly presented him- 
 self at the wedding, and gave away his 
 cousin to her expectant curate, and it was
 
 GEOEGINA. 107 
 
 to this ceremony, now ten days past, that 
 Genevra Farquhar had been invited to 
 officiate as bridesmaid. 
 
 " I know, I know," replied Georgina to 
 her mother's remark. " Of course it was 
 all right, but none the less dull, and 
 Anne's sentimental ^ gush ' over her bumpkin 
 bridegroom was most ridiculous ; and so, 
 mamma, both you and I may rejoice that it 
 is over and done with." 
 
 " At least, Georgie, your cousins, Sir 
 Brian and my niece, did not seem to find it 
 at all ridiculous. They both appeared quite 
 interested. By the way, talking of my 
 niece, I hope that her people quite under- 
 stand that her visit is strictly limited to a 
 month ? With all our arrangements in 
 hand for our visit to Paris, she is rather in 
 my way as it is. I never could clearly 
 understand why you insisted on my inviting 
 her at all"
 
 108 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 "Make yourself easy, mamma," answered 
 Miss Carruthers ; " Miss Farquhar's friends 
 will not spare her to you for so long as a 
 month. She is to return home in a fort- 
 night at latest. I have clearly explained to 
 you why I wished you to ask her here, but 
 you were too much engrossed with Anne's 
 trousseau to pay me any attention." 
 
 " I can give you my whole attention 
 now," said Lady Carruthers. " Why did 
 you make me write to Mrs. Farquhar, and 
 at such a time too ? " 
 
 " Just the right time, mamma. It was 
 an opportunity of renewing your relations 
 with Jenny and her people, and of offering 
 her a graceful compliment besides. If you 
 had not liked her when you saw her, you 
 had done all that could be expected of 
 you, and could retire from any further 
 intimacy without awkwardness." 
 
 " But why revive the relationship at all I "
 
 GEORGTXA. 109 
 
 "Oh, mamma/' rejoined Georglna, un- 
 ci villy, "your density is aggrav^ating. Can- 
 not you see that, immured as we have been 
 by m.y loving papa, that we might cost him 
 as little as possible, and left almost beggars, 
 we have absolutely no friends — except this 
 dear old lady we are going to in Paris — 
 who will trouble themselves to ask us to 
 tlieir houses ; and we are not likely to 
 afford to keep one of our own." 
 
 " Unless you marry well," suggested the 
 mother. 
 
 " As 1 mean to do," said Miss Carruthers, 
 candidly. " But I must have some stand- 
 point in society first, and I begin with my 
 relations. My uncle. Dr. Farquhar, was a 
 distinguished man in his day, and liis little 
 daughter has a position, or ought to have, 
 in the county society where she lives, 8hc 
 will be an heiress, too, in a small way, and 
 altogether she is worth cultivatiug ; and the
 
 110 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 Grange will be a convenient place for me to 
 stay at when you are with Anne, and I am 
 on the wing." 
 
 "I do not see much in your policy," 
 answered Lady Carruthers, a little wearily. 
 "You could take a shorter cut to fortune 
 another way." 
 
 "I know," laughed Georgina. "You 
 mean by captivating my cousin Brian ? No, 
 thanks ; I have not the courage to face 
 ridicule, and what would be more ridiculous 
 than for a girl to marry an old lover of her 
 mother's ? " 
 
 " You ought never to have heard that 
 story, Georgina," remarked Lady Carruthers, 
 severely. 
 
 "Then," replied the daughter, "you 
 should never have retained your old maid in 
 your service. Moreover, I never had a 
 chance of winning Brian. My face is against 
 that."
 
 GEORGINA. Ill 
 
 " Your face ? You are not very plain," 
 said Lady Carruthers, doubtfully, '' and 
 you are one whom the men call a fine 
 girl." 
 
 '* Shall I tell you ? " said Georgina, who 
 secretly resented her mother's qualified 
 approval of her personal charms. " Yes, I 
 think I will. You were not present at my 
 first interview with my cousin Brian. I 
 was alone in the drawing-room when he 
 first arrived, and of course I went forward 
 to greet him with all the warmth of welcome 
 one naturally shows to the representative of 
 the family, who has been so truly generous 
 as Brian has been to my sister and me. 
 Well, you know his way ; he held both my 
 hands in his, abstractedly — I do not believe 
 he knew what he was holding — and his 
 large grey eyes dwelt on my face in silence 
 for so long, that I thought he was j)reparing 
 an oration expressive of extra-cousinly
 
 112 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 affection, and then he slowly murmured, 
 * She is the imas^e of her d d father ! ' " 
 
 Lady Carruthers was shocked. 
 
 ** You ought not to repeat such words," 
 she said ; " they were not meant for your 
 ears or for mine. I cannot think where 
 Brian contracted that horrid habit of speak- 
 ino" in stage * asides ; ' he never had it when 
 I knew him." 
 
 " Possibly not," answered Georgina drily ; 
 " there is time enough to contract a good 
 many odd habits between three and twenty 
 and eight and forty. However, you can 
 understand now that, my cousin's memory 
 beino" so retentive, he is not likely to cherish 
 a errand passion for me ; and that fact being 
 fully recognized, I proceed to suggest another 
 and more feasible method of utilizing my 
 relations." 
 
 " I do not see," began Lady Carruthers. 
 
 '* No, mamma ; you never do see, unless
 
 GEORGINA. 113 
 
 I open your eyes. AVliere is Genevra just 
 now { 
 
 " Brian called for her not an hour ago to 
 take her a drive round the Park, while we 
 were at Eedmayne's." 
 
 "What were Brian and Jenny doing in 
 the back drawing-room all the morning 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 "He was reading the last new poem to 
 her. He is very kind in trying to amuse 
 the child, for I am afraid that we rather 
 neglect her." 
 
 " I am not neglecting her — I am utilizing 
 her." And as Lady Carruthers still looked 
 puzzled, she continued, "We leave town in 
 a fortnight. Brian will betake himself to 
 his new estate ; he will marry some lady 
 w^ho, whatever may be her predilections, is 
 not likely to have any for her poor relations, 
 who thus lose all hold on him. But if he 
 weds your niece " 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 114 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 *' Georgina 1 " almost screamed her mother. 
 
 "If he weds your niece," proceeded the 
 young lady calmly, " then the family tie is 
 strongly knit, with all its contingent ad- 
 vantages ; and thus, by doing my utmost 
 to further such a marriage, I should, if I 
 succeed, utilize both my relations. Well," 
 resumed Miss Carruthers, as her mother 
 continued silent, " do you approve of this 
 plan of mine for turning defeat into 
 victory ? " 
 
 " I cannot say that I do, Georgina ; the 
 disparity in age is too great." 
 
 " Not greater than ? " 
 
 " Yes, greater by four years ; and if it 
 were the same, still my married life, as 
 you know, was not so bright that I should 
 propose to make it a precedent for Jenny's." 
 
 " Oh," answered Georgina, in whose cha- 
 racter filial reverence was by no means a 
 salient feature, " but Brian is not such a
 
 GEORGINA. 115 
 
 Blue Beard as Sir William was ; he will be 
 kindness itself to his young w^ife. " 
 
 '' However," continued Lady Carruthers, 
 " there seems to be something selfish and 
 heartless in encouraging such a marriage, 
 merely for our own interest. Genevra is a 
 child, young even for her years. I think 
 her friends should be consulted, at least." 
 
 Georgina perceived that her confidence 
 had been premature, and hastened to retrace 
 her steps. 
 
 " Her friends ? They could but be pleased 
 with such a brilliant match for a little 
 country maid like her ; and in any case, if 
 she is a child, she is a spoiled child, wlio 
 will take her own way, whether her friends 
 approve or not. Interference does no good 
 in such matters, and would certainly offend 
 Brian. It may come to nothing." 
 
 " I think it will come to nothine:," said 
 Lady Carruthers. '' I believe your cousin s
 
 116 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 attentions to Jenny are prompted simply by 
 a wisli to amuse the child ; his manner to 
 her is not in the least lover-like." 
 
 " And you ought to know," said Georgina, 
 with the faintest possible sneer. 
 
 " So," continued her mother, " my advice 
 to you is not to j)ut such nonsense into 
 Genevra's head. If Brian has any thought 
 of the kind, he will forget all about it when 
 she leaves us. He never does anything in 
 a hurry." 
 
 And, so saying, Lady Carruthers walked 
 away to prepare herself for a shopping 
 expedition, and studiously avoided further 
 allusion to Georgina's politic views. 
 
 They were not without foundation. The 
 wedding of Miss Anne Carruthers had been, 
 as her sister had said, a very uninteresting 
 one. The bridal party had consisted only 
 of the mother and father of the bride — 
 represented by Sir Brian as the head of the
 
 GEORGINA. 117 
 
 family — the bride and bridegroom, and tlie 
 bridesmaids, Georgina and Genevra. On 
 the bride's departure, Lady Carruthers and 
 her daughter had been too much occupied 
 with their own preparations for leaving 
 town to take much trouble to amuse their 
 youthful guest, and at first Carruthers took 
 that task on himself from pure good nature, 
 which presently gave way to more personal 
 motives. The most pressing duty urged 
 upon him, on his arrival in England, by 
 his lawyers, and the few friends who had 
 welcomed him, was the duty of marrying 
 and giving an heir to the title, which 
 would otherwise become extinct with him. 
 It was not an old title — all the more reason 
 it should have the chance of becoming older ; 
 and although Brian cared little for the title, 
 and not at all for marriage, he accepted the 
 suggestion, and dwelt on it, in his slow, 
 persistent fashion, until he almost imagined
 
 118 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 tliat he Lad himself originated it. But his 
 early experience had made him distrustful, 
 and he shrank as he pictured to himself the 
 hungry mothers and scheming daughters of 
 fashion who would be soon in full pursuit 
 of him as a prey. And he gradually awoke 
 to the perception that in the little budding 
 maiden, whose freshness and naive enjoy- 
 ment of the scenes around her had so 
 amused and interested him, and whose 
 frank and cordial recognition of his eiSforts 
 to please her had so gratified him, there 
 was the very ideal of a suspicious Coelebs — 
 an innocent country girl, too young to be 
 fancy-tainted, pretty enough to please, and 
 brought up in ignorance of worldly cunning 
 and selfish aims. It did n()t occur to him 
 that this ignorance might plead against 
 him, as blinding her to the advantages of a 
 marriage with a man thrice her age, for he 
 never thought of himself as old. His silent,
 
 GEORGINA. 110 
 
 uneventful years had glided by, like the 
 noiseless lapse of a dull river, which reflects 
 always the same scene, unbroken by a ripple 
 or a wave ; and, in his youth, he had been 
 voluntarily deserted by his love for a man 
 much older than he was now. 
 
 She was pure from any thought or dream 
 of passion, and it would be his care, by 
 surrounding her with all ^' sweet observance," 
 to keep her so ; for Sir Brian was indisposed 
 for ardours on either side. He did not fall 
 in love — he walked into it, and, so far from 
 feeling impatient with Miss Farquhar's 
 evident unconsciousness of his attentions, he 
 was quite contented to " take his time," 
 and to admire his blossom with the dew on 
 it — the frank eyes which met his fixed 
 gaze with no bashful avoidance ; the dim- 
 pling smiles of welcome ; the playful 
 familiarity, unchecked by the blushing 
 reserve which, sooner or later, love would
 
 120 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 bring with it ; and Sir Brian was willing 
 that it should be later, only not too late. 
 
 And thus Jenny, who had been received 
 by her aunt and cousins with kindness, but 
 with no warmth, had found her first ex- 
 perience of bridal festivity decidedly dis- 
 appointing, and would have found her 
 London visit equally so but for the baronet's 
 untiring efforts to amuse her. And as days 
 went by, and the engagements of her 
 hostesses left her more and more to her own 
 resources, she began to watch eagerly for 
 the daily visit of her new friend, who 
 always came with the proposal of a drive 
 or walk on fine mornings to some fresh 
 exhibition or entertainment, and would sit 
 with her for hours on inveterately WTt after- 
 noons, reading some new poem aloud to her, 
 and answering the questions with which she 
 plied him about the customs, climate, and 
 products of the distant land which had been
 
 GEOEGINA. 121 
 
 SO long his home. Especially she was 
 interested in the dreadful adventure of the 
 shark, which might have cost him his life, 
 and had actually cost him a toe ! The 
 slight limp, which might have seemed a 
 disadvantage in the eyes of some girls, 
 became an absolute charm in Jenny's, who 
 might have looked with comparative in- 
 difference upon Jonah as a prophet, but 
 would have been wrapt in admiration of 
 him when he had been swallowed by a 
 fish ! Once or twice Sir Brian ventured an 
 attempt to enlist her sympathy with him 
 on a more romantic subject, by the vaguest, 
 most distant allusions to his early disappoint- 
 ment, to the treachery of the woman he had 
 loved. But it would not have answered his 
 purpose to dwell too much on an " ower true 
 tale," and he was secretly pleased to see 
 that it involved but little response from the 
 as yet unawakened chord of sentiment in
 
 122 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Genevra's by no means sentimental nature. 
 She pitied his loneliness in exile, but she 
 liked better to hear about the shark ! 
 
 Not only did the idea of Sir Brian as a 
 lover never occur to Jenny, but the idea of 
 any lover at all had not as yet presented 
 itself to her imagination except as a very 
 vague and distant probability. She had 
 been almost entirely restricted to the society 
 of two elderly ladies, who would have con- 
 sidered it a kind of profanity to suggest 
 such probabilities to a girl of her age, — a girl 
 who might, Mrs. Farquhar said — who ought 
 to, Mrs. Burnes declared — have been in the 
 nursery. The few works of imaginative 
 literature that fell in her way were a com- 
 plete series of Sir Walter Scott's novels, 
 which had belonged to her own mother ; 
 and these were eagerly devoured. But the 
 chief interest of these bewitching tales 
 depends but little on the love-making, and
 
 GEORGIAN A. 123 
 
 no girl could be tempted into the torrid 
 atmosphere of passion by her sympathy with 
 Edith Plantagenet or Catherine of Pertli. 
 Indeed, Jenny's admiration of these heroines 
 was always greater for the stateliest and 
 coldest among them. Diana Vernon, Edith 
 Bellenden, Flora M'Donald, would have 
 been her models, if she had cared to choose 
 one; and she was firmly of opinion that 
 that dear old Constable de Lacy was much 
 to be preferred to his successful nephew. 
 Her studies in poetry, of w^hich she was 
 passionately fond, were not so limited to a 
 single writer ; but, as yet, the charm of 
 verse had been the charm of its music only, 
 and had awakened no deeper chord in 
 response. Moreover, a greater joy than any 
 she found in literature existed for her in the 
 beauty of woodland scenery, in the creature 
 life in forest and fields. While eagerly 
 searching for a rare fern or flower, or peering
 
 124 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 with rapturous admiration into a nest of 
 little blind and naked harvest mice, the most 
 thrilling romance would have fallen flat on 
 her attention. But, you see, she was only 
 sixteen, and the most exciting love-stories 
 are rather wanting in point to ears on 
 which no living lover has ever breathed 
 their interpretation. 
 
 Sir Brian did not misread her apparent 
 absorption in his talk of his foreign ex- 
 perience. He did not for a moment imagine 
 that Ginevra was in love with him. He 
 believed — as men in such circumstances are 
 prone to do — that her capacity for love was 
 dormant and undeveloped ; and he was 
 glad that it should be so. A pure, calm 
 affection was all that was requisite in a wife 
 and mother of future heirs. She was too 
 young for worldly self-interest, too innocent 
 to dream of any hardships in the watchful- 
 ness with which he would guard her from
 
 GEORGINA. 125 
 
 worldly perils. If he must marry he had 
 better not lose any more time. Once in the 
 vortex of the husband-hunters, he mii^ht 
 
 be swept off' his feet and whirled into 
 
 Sir Brian glanced at fat Lady Carruthers 
 and lean, sharp -faced Georgina, and 
 shuddered.
 
 126 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HER FIRST OFFER. 
 
 The day arrived which was to be the last 
 Brian and Genevra would spend together in 
 town. He was to start for Brackensfell the 
 next day on business, and in a day or t^^■o 
 she was to return home. It was a brio-ht, 
 sunuy May morning, with a bitter east wiiul. 
 Genevra found it charming and so exhila- 
 rating ; but poor Sir Brian shivered in his 
 rugs and furs when he drove up to Stratford 
 Place as usual to take Jenny out for her 
 early drive, and he was unhappy when she 
 said it was a shame to waste the rare town 
 sunshine under any roof. Would he take 
 her a walk in the parks or Gardens ? But,
 
 HEE FIRST OFFER. 127 
 
 as he ruefully acquiesced, she suddenly 
 bethought her of the Zoo, which she had 
 never seen, and he eagerly caught at the 
 proposal to drive there. There were sheltered 
 corners there, kept warmed for the foreign 
 creatures from sunnier climes, and he 
 promised himself secretly that very little 
 of the morning should be spent in the open 
 air. 
 
 Little Jenny, a born naturalist, was in her 
 glory at the Zoo. She was chiefly interested 
 in the animals which, strange to her, were 
 familiar to her companion, and she eagerly 
 questioned him about their haunts and 
 habits ; but Sir Brian cared nothing about 
 such doings, and his replies left much to be 
 desired in the way of scientific accuracy, 
 though Genevra never suspected that he 
 was drawing on his imagination for the 
 facts which he so confidently aftirmed. "If 
 she could only see a shark ! " But sharks
 
 128 THE STOEY OP A KISS. 
 
 were not amonsf tlae aOTeeable monsters 
 cherished at the Zoo, and Sir Brian did not 
 repine at the omission. 
 
 ''Were there camels or elephants at Kio 
 Vedas '? " 
 
 And when Sir Brian shook his head, she 
 looked disappointed, and glanced wistfully 
 towards a little wired court they had just 
 passed, in a very draughty corner, containing 
 a number of chilly guinea-pigs. 
 
 " No camels ^ " 
 
 " No, Jenny ; but there were splendid 
 birds — humming-birds and parrots, all 
 colours. Shall we go into the aviary, and 
 I will show you some like them ? " 
 
 And to the aviary they proceeded, where 
 the wily baronet secured a seat for his young 
 friend and himself in the well-warmed 
 house, and watched her, as from time to 
 time she quitted his side, to flit among the 
 gay-plumaged birds that fluttered and
 
 HER FIRST OFFER. 129 
 
 screamed round her, not unfrequently ad- 
 dressing her in a word or two of Spanish 
 or' Portuguese, learnt of the sailors on their 
 voyage, at which Sir Brian laughed, but did 
 not 23ropose to interpret. He slowly pulled 
 his long moustache, watched Genevra, and 
 mused. It w\as warm and pleasant there ; 
 but oh, the cutting wind they would have 
 to face when they left the Gardens ! And 
 his journey to-morrow ; the dull, desolate, 
 wind-swept mansion among the bleak fells 
 of Cumberland — the home of his boyhood, 
 it is true, but a home that had never been 
 home-like to him, the orphan relative of its 
 heir ! And a vision arose before his dreamy 
 fancy of a very different home. Not at 
 Kio Vedas ; he felt that he could never take 
 up his life there again ; but in some isle of 
 the blest, where he could bask evermore in 
 sunshine, without duties or cares or social 
 worries, with his books and his cigars, and 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 — since marriage was insisted on as a neces- 
 sity of his new position — with an innocent 
 girl-wife, who would ask for no amusement 
 but in her pets and her flowers, of which 
 no winters would bereave her, until the 
 advent of the required heir condoned in 
 his neighbours' eyes his evasion of his local 
 responsibilities as the owner of Brackensfell. 
 
 At that point in his meditations Genevra 
 presented her last piece of biscuit to a blue 
 macaw, which had for some time been re- 
 warding her bounty with the most oppro- 
 brious epithets (in Portuguese), and returned 
 to Sir Brian, who rose to offer her his seat 
 on the bench, and placed himself again 
 beside her. 
 
 " But there are no humming-birds here, 
 Sir Brian," she said. " You promised to 
 show me humming-birds." 
 
 " No, Jenny," he answered ; " you can 
 only see such fragile creatures as those by 
 seeking them in their natural homes."
 
 HER FIRST OFFER. 131 
 
 *' Oh, how I wish I could ! How I long 
 to visit those places, with their delicious 
 climate and their exquisite scenery, and all 
 the lovely birds and wild things. If papa 
 had lived he would have taken me with 
 him there, and to many other foreign lands, 
 which 1 shall never see now." 
 
 " You may see them yet," answered the 
 baronet, looking reflectively at her. " Some 
 other friend may take you there." 
 
 *' No chance at all," returned Jenny, 
 despondingly. " Mamma says she could 
 not live through a sea voyage, and I have 
 no brothers with whom I could go." 
 
 " You can go," suggested Carruthers, 
 slowly, " with — a husband ? " 
 
 Genevra's eyes brightened, and she drew 
 a long breath, as if a delightful vista had 
 suddenly opened before her, but it ended in 
 a sigh. 
 
 *' That must be such a very long time 
 hence," was her naive reply.
 
 132 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 Sir Brian smiled — he had a very pleasant 
 smile — and had there been another soul 
 besides themselves in the aviary, that smile 
 would have been his sole rejoinder. But 
 for the moment they were alone with the 
 evil-tongued cockatoos and macaws, and 
 the situation was too strong for him. He 
 leaned tenderly towards her, and took her 
 hand in his. 
 
 '^ Let me be your husband, Genevra, and 
 we will go and see the humming-birds 
 together."
 
 ( 133 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 
 
 ]\Iiss Carruthers glanced up with a languid 
 curiosity as Genevra entered the room, while 
 Lady Carruthers also looked at her with a 
 newly awakened interest, and to both of 
 them it appeared that she looked less briglit 
 than usual. 
 
 " Alone, Jenny ? " said Georgina. " What 
 have you done with my cousin ? " 
 
 " Sir Brian left me at the Zoo," answered 
 Miss Farquhar. " He said he had a business 
 engagement at his lawyer's office ; but he 
 will be with you this evening." 
 
 " Of course," remarked Georgina, signi- 
 ficantly ; but Genevra took no notice.
 
 134 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 " You look tired, my child," said her 
 aunt. " I am afraid you have not amused 
 yourself so much as usual this morning." 
 
 "And no wonder," observed Miss Car- 
 ruth ers. "The idea of any girl wasting a 
 whole morning in town, in those horrid 
 Gardens, among a lot of inodorous animals ! 
 Why, Genevra, you might just as well have 
 stayed in the country, and visited one of 
 Van Ambergh's travelling shows ! " 
 
 " I like looking at wild beasts much 
 better than shopping," answered Jenny ; 
 " but I am tired of both to-day. The town 
 is so noisy. Are there no letters for me, 
 aunt ? " 
 
 " There is one that came just after you 
 went out, dear. It is on your dressing- 
 table." 
 
 Miss Farquhar immediately left the room; 
 and Georgina remarked, impressively — 
 
 " Something has happened ! I have never
 
 GEOKGINA IS AMUSED. 135 
 
 heard Jenny complain of being tired before. 
 Has she refused Brian, do you think ? " 
 
 Lady Carruthers' rejoinder was not sym- 
 pathetic. '' I do not believe he has been 
 such a goose as to ask her. It is all a 
 foolish fancy of your own, Georgina." 
 
 " If you say that, mamma," replied her 
 daughter, irreverently, " I shall think you 
 are jealous, and have forgotten that Brian 
 is within the prohibited degree now. How- 
 ever, I will have Miss Farquhar's secret at 
 once, if she has got one. There is no time 
 to waste in speculation ; " and she rose 
 accordingly, and proceeded to her cousin's 
 room. 
 
 Genevra had seated herself at her dress- 
 ing-table, and, without taking off her bonnet, 
 began to read her mother's letter. It was 
 the usual kind of letter that she had 
 daily received from Mrs. Farquhar since she 
 left home — loving regrets for her absence ;
 
 136 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 tender cautions against over-fatigue or taking 
 cold ; assurances of the well-being of all her 
 friends, human and animal ; gentle reproaches 
 for the extreme brevity of her own letters, 
 and affectionate entreaties to write punctu- 
 ally in reply. 
 
 Jenny glanced over the pages more ab- 
 sently than she was wont to do, and then 
 let them fall from her hand to the floor, 
 where they lay unheeded, while she sat 
 trying to restore order to her own thoughts, 
 bewildered by the unexj)ected occurrence at 
 the Zoo. 
 
 Sir Brian had rightly conjectured that, 
 as yet, Genevra's maiden fancy had been 
 stirred by no dream of husband or lover, 
 and assuredly it had never occurred to her 
 to connect the idea of Sir Brian Carruthers 
 with any such dreams, until now that 
 he had unmistakably proposed to her, and 
 — she was not at all sure that she had not
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 137 
 
 accepted him ; she was ahiiost sure that he 
 believed she had ! In the confusion and 
 bewilderment of her surprise, she had been 
 struck dumb, and not one syllable would 
 rise to her lips. Naturally, the lover had 
 taken her silence for a bashful consent. 
 People came and went around them — there 
 was no opportunity for exchange of senti- 
 ment on either side ; but she remembered 
 something of a tender pressure of the hand 
 he held in his, some whispered words of 
 gratitude and devotion, as he led her 
 through the Gardens, and handed her into 
 the carriage, standing bareheaded as she was 
 driven away ; for Sir Brian's foreign notions 
 of the etiquette in such cases forbade him 
 from accompanying her home, as he w^ould 
 otherwise have done, and he respected her 
 emotion, though he misunderstood its cause. 
 " Could this be," Jenny asked licrself in 
 doubt and perplexity — " could this be a
 
 138 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 betrothal ? " What miorlit have been her 
 
 o 
 
 answer to her lover, had she previously- 
 reflected on the subject, or if she had given 
 any answer at all, even at the moment, she 
 did not ask herself. Her position, though 
 unforeseen and, so to speak, unintended, 
 was not without its charm. Her heart 
 fluttered a little, with childish vanity, at 
 the homage ofi'ered her by a man whom 
 Lady Carruthers and her daughters looked 
 up to, deferred to, and evidently respected. 
 
 And yet — and yet 
 
 A light tap at the door, and Georgina 
 entered. Her quick glance took in the 
 situation at once — little Genevra, still in 
 her walking-dress, leaning back in her chair, 
 abstracted and pale ; the mother's letter 
 lying, where it had dropped from her care- 
 less hand, at her feet ; and the sudden 
 crimson that rushed over her face, as her 
 cousin's significant smile greeted her. For-
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 139 
 
 tunately, Sir Brian's trick of monologue did 
 not run in the family, or Miss Carrutliers' 
 first audible utterance would have been — 
 
 " What an old fool he has made of 
 himself ! " 
 
 Instead of which, she clasped her arms 
 round the blushing girl, and murmured 
 caressingly — 
 
 *' Tell me all about it, Jenny darling. I 
 always knew how it would be." 
 
 But Jenny was herself again at once. 
 She was unaccustomed to " promiscuous 
 gush," and hated it thoroughly. She shook 
 herself free from her cousin's embrace, and 
 answered coldly, if not very grammatically — 
 
 " I have nothing ' would be ' to tell you 
 about." 
 
 But Miss Carruthers was not easily re- 
 pulsed. "Will you deny that Brian has 
 proposed to you this morning ? " 
 
 Jenny was silent.
 
 140 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 " Oh, you haj)py girl ! And you have 
 said ' Yes ' ? " 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 " Now, Jenny, don't be reserved with 
 your only relatives. I knoiv you have 
 accepted my cousin. You could not have 
 the cruelty to refuse him ! " 
 
 " And, pray, why not ? " inquired Jenny, 
 begiDning to untie her bonnet-strings, and 
 stooping to pick up her mother's letter. 
 
 Georgina cast a sidelong look at her, and 
 her lips trembled with the effort to suppress 
 a smile, but she answered demurely — 
 
 " I overheard — I could not help over- 
 hearing — some words of Brian's conversation 
 with you in the back drawing-room the 
 other day, from which I inferred that he 
 was telling you of the great sorrow of his 
 life, that had kept him so long aw\ay from 
 England. Now, was he not ? " 
 
 "He told me something of a friend who
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 141 
 
 liad betrayed him, and married the lady he 
 was eno^aged to," answered Genevra. *' Did 
 you know the lady, Georgie ? Did you not 
 grieve with him ? " 
 
 " Did 1 ? " exclaimed Georgie. " Why, 
 it was before " — " I was born," she was 
 going to say, but checked herself in time, 
 and substituted for it — "before I knew my 
 cousin. But I was going to say, Jenny, 
 that you never could be so cruel as to refuse 
 Brian, when he looks to you to make him 
 happy ? " 
 
 Jenny lifted her long eyelashes, and 
 turned solemn eyes on Miss Carruthers' face. 
 " It would be a great trust, would it not ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " But one that you have accepted, I am 
 sure," answered Georgie, who was choking 
 with laughter, and hardly able to control 
 lierself. So adding, " There, I'll not tease 
 you any more. Of course, Brian told you
 
 142 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 that he dines here to-day ? Lie down and 
 rest ; Maxwell will come to you in time to 
 see you dressed for dinner," she gave her 
 a hasty kiss, and ran downstairs to her 
 mother, when she threw herself into a chair, 
 and burst into a peal of laughter. 
 
 " You have been at some mischief, 
 Georgina," said Lady Carruthers, looking up 
 from her work, " for nothing else amuses 
 you so much." 
 
 " Who would not laugh, mamma ? Fancy ! 
 that child positively asked me if I had not 
 grieved with Brian in his first love dis- 
 appointment ! " 
 
 ''Who told her of it?" asked Lady 
 Carruthers, looking annoyed. 
 
 " Brian himself told her — merely, as I 
 judge, to enlist her sympathies for the 
 heart sorrows which are only — I 7nust laugh 
 — only a quarter of a century old ! " 
 
 "Well, well," said Lady Carruthers, im-
 
 GEOEGTNA IS AMUSED. 143 
 
 patiently ; "I suppose Brian does not date 
 his memories as he does his letters. Pro- 
 bably Jenny thought his disappointment 
 more recent. She does not seem to consider 
 him so venerable as you do, Georgina, to 
 whom it appears quite ridiculous that he 
 could ever have been vounof." 
 
 " Because," answered Georgie, " she is too 
 young herself to form much idea of age in 
 her new relations to her first lover. If she 
 had ever received admiration from young 
 meu, she would have been quicker in ob- 
 serving the grey hairs in my cousin's 
 moustache." 
 
 "But, Georgina, is it really gone so 
 far?" 
 
 " Yes, mother ; it has gone so far that you 
 must be prepared to descend to the rank of 
 Dowager Lady Carruthers. Console yourself 
 with the reflection that you will be Brian's 
 aunt a plus beau titre henceforth ; that
 
 144 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 your niece will make a good match ; and 
 your daughter will reign over the young 
 menage, so as speedily to secure a better one 
 for herself." 
 
 " You may find yourself mistaken in that 
 calculation, my dear," answered her mother. 
 '' Genevra will not always be a baby, and I 
 doubt if either Brian or you will find her so 
 easily ruled." 
 
 "As if Brian would ever rule any one ! " 
 laughed Georgina. "But we will adjourn 
 further discussion, for here comes Maxwell 
 to summon me to try on that new dress. 
 We have not too much time, remember, if 
 we are to leave for Paris next week, and 
 send Jenny home on Thursday." 
 
 " And that reminds me " said Lady 
 
 Carruthers. 
 
 But the young lady had quitted the room 
 with her maid ; and, with a sigh, the mother 
 was fain to follow.
 
 GEOEGINA IS AMUSED. 145 
 
 But Genevra did not " lie down," as her 
 cousin had advised her. That lady's effusive 
 sympathy had rather irritated than softened 
 her. After all, there was nothing to call 
 forth so much sentimentality in the simple 
 fact that a gentleman, neither young nor 
 romantic, had proposed to gratify her desire 
 to travel and see all the wonders of which 
 she had so often read by becoming her 
 husband and guide. That was the right 
 view to take of the matter. Why, Sir Brian 
 and she had been alone together every 
 day for the last fortnight, and never a word 
 of love had he breathed to her ! If he had, 
 she would have hated him. She despised 
 such silly stuff. It was, as Miss Carruthers 
 said, ''a trust" that he had reposed in her, 
 and which she had — accepted ? She was 
 not quite sure ; but if she had, she was 
 ready to fulfil it with dignity and fidelity. 
 Had not Mrs. Burnes often said, how 
 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 honoured a woman should feel when a man 
 asks her to preside over his home, to wear 
 his name ? Hitherto she had always been 
 treated as a child ; how grateful she should 
 be to Sir Brian for such a proof of respect- 
 ful devotion ! Of course, she must feel very 
 happy and proud, but Georgie had no right 
 to assume that everything was settled and 
 arranged. There was her dear mother's 
 opinion to be consulted first. Should she 
 write to her to-night ? No, she thought 
 not. Jenny disliked letter-writing. In- 
 deed, she had no correspondents, and Mrs. 
 Farquhar, since she came to town, had been 
 her first. She decided that it would be 
 better to defer her confidence until her 
 return home ; there were so many things 
 she had to tell her mother then. She would 
 talk over this with her, among the rest. 
 And suddenly a new emotion surged over 
 the girl's heart and seemed to sweep away
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 147 
 
 everything else — a passionate yearning to 
 be in her sweet home again, in the quiet 
 of the beautiful woodlands. How lovely 
 they must be looking now, in the fresh 
 burst of their May verdure ! She was tired 
 of town, of the hurry and bustle and noise 
 and gloom, and the crowds of people all 
 strange to her, and these wearying shops 
 that Lady Carruthers and her daughter 
 were so fond of. It had all amused her 
 with its novelty at first ; but now, oh, how 
 she longed to be at home again ! As for 
 Anne's wedding, it had been less interesting 
 to her than many a rustic bridal of which 
 she had been an eagerly welcomed and 
 honoured witness. No one had seemed to 
 care whether she was there or not ; they 
 worried her about her dress ; and Anne's 
 bridegroom was a stupid, plain young man, 
 and they sat in a corner, with the lover's 
 arm round his lady's waist, and her head
 
 148 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 ou his shoulder. How she would loathe 
 a lover who behaved like that ! Genevra 
 was not one who would be lavish of afiection 
 to strangers. Lady Carruthers had shown 
 no desire to win her niece's love, and Jenny 
 was entirely indifferent to her. From 
 Georgina she felt something like repulsion. 
 The girl's frank nature recoiled from the 
 worldly insincerity that she rather felt than 
 saw, from the cold sneering manner, scarcely 
 veiled by affected playfulness, and alter- 
 nating with caresses, which Jenny tolerated, 
 but never returned. No, she did not care 
 for her new relatives, nor for their ways. 
 8ir Brian had been invariably nice and kind 
 to her. But for him she could not have 
 stayed so long as she had done in Stratford 
 FJace ; and although he was polite to his 
 cousin and her mother, she did not think 
 he cared more for them than she did herself. 
 Jenny's brains were unaccustomed to dwell
 
 GEORGINA IS AMUSED. 149 
 
 on such " social topics " as these ; she felt 
 quite confused, and longed more than ever 
 to be in her mother's arms again. Only 
 two days now I
 
 150 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 
 
 Punctuality is called " the courtesy of 
 kings." It should be no less the courtesy 
 of baronets ; but it was one in which Sir 
 Brian was notoriously deficient, although he 
 was never designedly so. He could not 
 understand how it was that he was always 
 ready for his appointment G.ye or ten minutes 
 too soon, and yet always arrived ten or 
 fifteen minutes too late. The reason simply 
 was that he passed the intervening period 
 in " mooning," from which he only aroused 
 himself to find that the time of grace had 
 been greatly exceeded, and had to rush
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 151 
 
 away in a hurry at last. On this occasion 
 he reached Stratford Place just as dinner 
 was on the table. Lady Carruthers treated 
 him without ceremony, and never waited 
 for him ; while Genevra, who was perfectly 
 regardless of etiquette when her brains were 
 preoccupied, had seen him come as she was 
 descending the stairs, and saw the servant 
 follow to 'announce dinner, and, with a 
 sudden shyness, she slipped into the dining- 
 room first, where Sir Brian, considerably to 
 his surprise, and a little to his discomfiture, 
 found her seated at the table, gravely con- 
 templating the soup tureen. No sentimental 
 or even significant greeting could take place 
 in such circumstances ; and with a laugh 
 from Georgina and a mild reproof from her 
 aunt, Miss Farquhar's indecorum was passed 
 over ; and Sir Brian, at the head of the 
 table, with Lady Carruthers on his right 
 hand and Georgina on his left, was eflfectually
 
 152 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 deterred from offering any expressive atten- 
 tion to the young lady beyond. 
 
 As was liis custom when they dined alone, 
 he followed his hostess into the drawing-room 
 after dinner, but his recalcitrant sweetheart 
 had again slipped away through the door of 
 the back drawing-room. Georgina watched 
 him as he glanced round with an air of 
 perplexity, and broke into a merry laugh. 
 
 " Stole away, Brian ! " she said. *' It is 
 really too bad of Jenny. But never mind ; 
 you shall have her all to yourself presently, 
 if you will only make a frank con- 
 fession." 
 
 Then Lady Carruthers, plaintively : 
 *' Surely, Georgina, you are not accusing 
 your cousin of any wish to withhold his 
 confidence from us, whom it so nearly 
 regards ? " 
 
 Brian looked from one to the other, and 
 said nothing.
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. l53 
 
 " We have not been quite blind/' resumed 
 Georgina. " Mamma and I were only this 
 morninor conoTatulatins: each other that our 
 family ties will be more closely knit than 
 ever, for," she added maliciously, " mamma 
 will be doubly your aunt now." 
 
 "But," interposed Lady Carruthers, im- 
 patiently, " are we to understand that you 
 have formally proposed to my niece, and 
 that she has accepted you ? " 
 
 Sir Brian hesitated. "Well, yes, I 
 believe I may say that she has done me the 
 honour to accept me, subject, I suppose, to 
 the usual reservation — if her mother ap- 
 proves ; and, until that is settled, I think 
 it would be best not to discuss the subject 
 even betw^een ourselves." 
 
 " You can count upon our discretion," 
 answered Lady Carruthers, in a slightly 
 offended tone ; " but, considering that she 
 is my own niece, and has been committed
 
 154 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 to my care, I do not see the necessity of 
 this reserve/' 
 
 " My dear aunt ! " remonstrated Sir Brian. 
 
 He had never called her " aunt " before, 
 and she hated him for doing it now. Only 
 such a feeling of bitterness would have 
 prompted her to add — 
 
 " The only drawback to my approval of 
 your proposal to my niece is the very great 
 disparity in age ; but I suppose it is the 
 doom of the Farquhars to marry old men." 
 
 " Not a hard doom," retorted Sir Brian, 
 *'if they are old men of title." And then, 
 ashamed of the taunt, he did not mend it 
 by adding hastily, ''But Genevra is too 
 young and too innocent for such calculations." 
 
 " That she certainly is," said Georgina, 
 eager to divert the tide of conversation, 
 which seemed verging on dangerous breakers. 
 " She is as innocent as a baby. You have a 
 delightful task before you, cousin, in train-.
 
 A KISS POSTrONED. 155 
 
 ing her to conventional manners. Mj aunt 
 Farquhar seems never to have made an 
 eifort in that direction." 
 
 " Wliat sort of person is Mrs. Farquhar ? " 
 inquired Sir Brian. 
 
 " Oh/' said Lady Carruthers, " I can tell 
 you nothing about her. She is my brother's 
 second wife. I never saw her. You must 
 judge of Genevra's people for yourself, 
 Brian." 
 
 " And unfortunately," he rejoined, " I 
 cannot do that as soon as I could wish. I 
 am off to-morrow morning for Brackensfell. 
 Jephson goes with me, and can spare no 
 other day. I have business there, which he 
 insists on my attending to immediately — 
 lawyers are so peremptory — and I shall 
 probably not be back for a week." 
 
 " Oh, poor fellow ! " laughed Georgie, a 
 little ironically ; " what a delay for an 
 ardent wooer ! And, mamma, how cruel
 
 156 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 we are to keep him from his love on the 
 eve of parting ! But I know Jenny is in 
 the little anteroom downstairs, where she 
 usually writes her letters of an evening. 
 Go down to her, cousin, and bring her up 
 to tea. You need not hurry," she said 
 archly ; and added in a lower voice, as the 
 door closed behind him, " Festina lente ! 
 Any hurry in you would be a portent indeed, 
 as a fixed star racing a comet I " 
 
 But none being called for on this occasion, 
 and the long-past outrage of the shark 
 making itself always remembered when the 
 sufferer descended stairs, Carruthers limped 
 leisurely down to the anteroom, where 
 Jenny stood gazing absently at some black 
 sparrows on the window-sill, reproaching 
 herself for her unaccustomed fit of bashful- 
 ness, and trying to summon up enough of 
 maidenly dignity to grace her return to the 
 friends she had so abruptly deserted. But
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 157 
 
 no sooner did Sir Brian enter the room 
 alone, than (it was a bad sign for him, could 
 he have read it) all her embarrassment at 
 once disappeared. In the presence of her 
 aunt and cousin she had felt awkward and 
 shy ; but there was nothing to call up 
 blushes and palpitations in the approach 
 of a quiet, middle-aged gentleman, w^ho had 
 placed before her the solemn subject of 
 matrimony itself in the light of a joint 
 excursion in search of humming-birds ! 
 
 Sir Brian, on his part, was rather ner- 
 vously in dread of another *' bolt." The 
 bashfulness which had hurried her to the 
 dining-table on the first occasion, might 
 prom23t a flight into the kitchen the next, 
 and he could not well follow her there. So 
 he cautiously restrained any lover-like ad- 
 vance, and presently the two were chatting 
 aw^ay as placidly as if the little episode of 
 the morning luid occurred six mouths ago.
 
 158 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 He had explained to her the necessity of his 
 immediate departure for Brackensfell, and 
 the possibility that he might be detained 
 there for a week or two ; and she was 
 telling him that in two days she was to 
 return to Wendholm. 
 
 " But, Jenny dear, you are surely not 
 going to take that journey alone ? " 
 
 " Not quite alone," she answered ; 
 " Georgina's maid, Maxwell, is to take me, 
 and return next day. It is really kind of 
 my cousin to spare her ; they are so busy 
 just now with their own travelling prepara- 
 tions, and, for that matter, I could go quite 
 well by myself." 
 
 " It would be kinder in Lady Carruthers 
 to keep you until some friend can come for 
 you from your home. Why must they turn 
 out in such a hurry ? " 
 
 " Because the agent has let the house for 
 the season, and the people want to come in,
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 150 
 
 for one thing ; and my aunt wants to meet 
 a friend in Paris, for another ; and be- 
 sides Oh, I want to be at home 
 
 again myself. I am so tired of the 
 noise and bustle of town, and I want to 
 see mamma ! " 
 
 " Poor Genevra I " said Brian, kindly ; 
 " it has been a dull visit for you. Since 
 Anne's wedding you have been left so much 
 alone, and this is not a cheerful situation 
 even. Bat ought I not to write at once to 
 Mrs. Farquhar, before I start for Brackens - 
 fell ? Then, with her permission, I can 
 wait upon her directly my lawyer sets me 
 free, and without returning to town." 
 
 Genevra considered a little; then — "Why 
 do you wish to write to mamma ? " 
 
 Sir Brian drew his chair nearer to her 
 and took her hand. " My dear love, 1 
 must ask Mrs. Farquhar s sanction to the 
 engagement which has made me so proud
 
 160 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 and happy. Will she give it readily, 
 Genevra ? " 
 
 " But is there any engagement 1 " she 
 inquired, with such a perplexed look in her 
 blue eyes that Sir Brian tried, to reassure her. 
 
 '^ Well, dear, a promise, we will say, if 
 you like that word better — a promise," he 
 added softly, " to brighten my hitherto sad 
 and lonely life, as no woman can ever do, 
 has ever done, but you.'' 
 
 He had touched the right chord. The 
 little maiden looked at him gravely, and 
 did not withdraw her hand ; but she said, 
 *' Please don't write to mamma till I have 
 seen her, Sir Brian— not for a day or two, 
 at least ; I have so many things to talk to 
 her about first." 
 
 That Sir Brian's proposal should not be 
 classed among the matters of first interest 
 with Miss Farquhar was as unexpected as it 
 was unflattering; but he was becoming
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 161 
 
 used to these little surprises, and, attributing 
 them all to pure girlish innocence, was in- 
 clined to dwell with peculiar satisfaction on 
 that undoubted characteristic of his youthful 
 Jiancee. So, after some hesitation, he con- 
 sented to wait to address Mrs. Farquhar 
 until Jenny should give him her permission 
 to do so. "But only a few days, Genevra ; 
 I cannot promise longer than that." 
 
 *^ Perhaps," suggested Jenny, with quite 
 unconscious irony, " you had better wait 
 until you have finished all your business at 
 Brackensfell, and then you can come, if you 
 like, and see mamma. It would be ever so 
 much better than writing." 
 
 " No, dear ; that will not do. I must 
 have Mrs. Farquhar's permission to call on 
 her." He paused, fixing his slow gaze on 
 her, and stroking his moustache, but, for 
 once, without uttering his stage ** aside." 
 " Well, Genevra, if it must be so, I will 
 
 VOL I. 11
 
 162 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 give you, say, three days for all these 
 preliminary chats with your mother. I can 
 get through the most pressing affairs at 
 Brackensfell in that time ; then I will run 
 down for a day or so to London, and shall 
 expect to find a letter from you at my club, 
 enclosing Mrs. Farquhar's permission for me 
 to visit Wendholm before I return to Cum- 
 berland. Will that do ? " and he murmured 
 to himself, "It is not ' according to Cocker,' 
 I am afraid." 
 
 But Jenny drew a deep breath of relief. 
 *' Then that is settled," she said. " Let us 
 go upstairs to tea." 
 
 She rose, and would have withdrawn the 
 hand which her lover still held ; but he 
 rose too, still retaining it, and would have 
 drawn her into his arms ; but she snatched 
 it away, and recoiled from him with such 
 a gesture of repulsion that he instantly 
 desisted, and said submissively —
 
 A KISS POSTPONED. 163 
 
 " You are right, my Genevra ; it is only 
 with your mother's sanction that I should 
 claim the first touch of those pure lips — the 
 first — will it not be, Genevra ? — they have 
 ever received from any man." 
 
 Jenny drew herself up with a dignity of 
 which Carruthers, a few moments before, 
 would have thought her incapable, and 
 replied coldly — 
 
 " Is such a question any proof of respect. 
 Sir Brian ? '' 
 
 "Forgive me," he said quite abjectly ; " I 
 did not mean to suo^o-est what should offend 
 you. ' The girls of the period ' grant such 
 favours with a laugh to any young fellow 
 who is bold enough to presume on a sur- 
 prise." 
 
 Jenny bent her clear eyes upon his face, 
 with a look in which the dawn of womanly 
 sensibility shone faintly through a childlike 
 sensibility.
 
 164 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 *' You mean foreign girls/' she said. 
 *' Every English girl is taught to keep her 
 lips sacred for the one man whom she will 
 ])romLse to love." 
 
 *' As you have promised me ! " ventured 
 Carruthers. 
 
 *' I have not promised anything," rejoined 
 Jenny, rebelliously ; but she laughed as she 
 passed through the door, which her lover 
 had opened for her, and fled back to the 
 drawing-room.
 
 ( 165 ) 
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 
 
 Had Jenny's own departure from Stratford 
 Place not been so imminent, she might have 
 missed Brian's attentions more ; but for the 
 two days that remained for her stay in 
 town, Georgina, and Lady Carruthers her- 
 self, exerted themselves more than they liad 
 previously done to interest and amuse her. 
 True, the subjects in which they endeavoured 
 to enlist her sympathies were chiefl}' their 
 approaching visit to Paris, and the brilliant 
 toilettes d demi deuil which Georgina was 
 to take with her to Aix-les-Bains. But 
 Genevra liked to admire pretty dresses as 
 well as other girls, although she did not
 
 166 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 covet them for her own personal adornment, 
 and she was in the highest spirits at the 
 prospect of returning to her tender mother 
 and her rural pursuits. She thought a 
 great deal oftener, at this time, of her 
 ponj, her kittens, and her doves, than she 
 did of the newer acquisition of a lover. 
 She was not reminded of him by any 
 allusions from her aunt or her cousin, who 
 had mutually agreed that the affair should 
 be considered as not settled. 
 
 "Very likely it never will be," Lady 
 Carruthers said hopefully. "Brian cannot 
 have made up his mind so soon." 
 
 "Nor Genevra either," said Georgina, 
 laughing. "They both seem quite willing 
 to wait." 
 
 One reason for Genevra's anxiety to go 
 home was the feeling that Mrs. Farquhar 
 would be able to clear up and settle the 
 many floating plans which perplexed her
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 167 
 
 when she thought of Sir Brian's menace as 
 to that postponed embrace. Had she 
 really given him the '' claim " which he 
 asserted ? Some vague theory of the nature 
 and significance of the kiss masculine is 
 sure to present itself, " somewhere, somehow, 
 or some when," to every maiden's thought. 
 Genevra was extremely undemonstrative in 
 her affections, and lavished no caresses, 
 except on her stepmother. Mrs. Burnes 
 allowed, but never returned them, and not 
 the liveliest imagination could associate the 
 idea of kisses proper, kisses special, with a 
 cold dab on an irresponsive cheek ! 
 
 When Jenny was a very little girl '* Uncle 
 Charley" would take her on his knee and 
 kiss her, but his wife very early checked 
 the practice. 
 
 '' There should be," she said, " no pseudo- 
 relationships allowed between young girls 
 and men. You are not really Genevra's
 
 168 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 uncle, my dear Charles, nor will she be 
 always a baby. Do not form a habit which 
 in a few years would be indecorous. A 
 young girls lips should be kept sacred to 
 the man she promises to marry." 
 
 Words which are not understood when 
 spoken, often imj^ress themselves on the 
 memory of a thoughtful child, as did these 
 on Jenny's, until she could, and did, repeat 
 them almost verbatim in later years, and 
 until, to her mind, a kiss grew to be some- 
 thing solemn, even sacramental, in its 
 mysterious significance. But then, you see, 
 Miss Farquhar was an odd girl. 
 
 When the day arrived for her journey 
 homeward, there was a mischance. Maxwell, 
 Georgina's maid, who was to have accom- 
 panied her, had been seized with a dreadful 
 neuralgia in the night (invented for the 
 occasion, as she had no desire for a tiresome 
 railway journey into the country). "Her face
 
 A KAILWAY RIDE. 169 
 
 was so swelled '' — it was certainly bandaged 
 — '* it was as much as her life was worth to 
 go out in an east wind." And there were 
 Jenny's boxes packed and corded. What 
 was to be done ? Lady Carruthers made a 
 faint suggestion that she should wait a day 
 or two ; but Jenny would not hear of it — 
 Mrs. Farquhar would be so bitterly dis- 
 appointed. So the matter was settled by 
 compromise. The footman was sent forward 
 to arrange about the luggage, etc., and Lady 
 Carruthers and her daughter themselves 
 accompanied the young lady to the station, 
 gave her in charge of the guard, and saw her 
 securely fastened into a " ladies' " carriage, 
 with all her travelling comforts around her, 
 and then, with a profusion of aflfectionate 
 farewells, stood waving their hands to her on 
 the platform, as the train steamed away ; the 
 aunt's last audible words being, " We shall 
 miss you so, dear child," and the cousin's —
 
 170 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 when beyond hearing — " Now we have done 
 our duty by Brian's little rustic, and may 
 bless Providence that it is over ? " 
 
 And Genevra could have echoed the 
 thanksgiving. The temporary excitement of 
 her visit had passed off, and now, in the 
 subsequent reaction, all seemed dreamlike 
 and shadowy. Sir Brian and his wooing 
 most of all. She would be at home once 
 more ! At home, with all who really loved her 
 — her mother, and Uncle Charley, and — yes, 
 even sister Chatty loved her, she believed, 
 after a fashion. At home, with the free 
 range of hill and meadow ; with her birds, 
 and her dogs, and her pony ; and all the 
 household, and all the parish, to pet her, 
 and praise her, and scold her, even ! She 
 descended from her momentary elevation on 
 " the white heights of womanhood," and 
 forgot all about Sir Brian and his claims. 
 She turned from that brief episode of
 
 A E AIL WAY RIDE. 171 
 
 courtship, as she would have thrown aside a 
 poem or a romance, to go forth to listen to 
 the thrushes, or to pluck the first chestnut 
 blooms. She would take up the book again 
 bj-and-by, where she had turned down 
 the page ! 
 
 She looked after Lady Carruthers and her 
 daughter, as they disappeared from the 
 platform, and then drew back her head and 
 glanced at her fellow-travellers in the com- 
 partment — a wan, yellow lady, closely 
 veiled and respiratored, and a maid, or 
 companion, bouncing and bonnie, who every 
 now and then stooped forward, and shouted 
 some trivial remark to her mistress in a 
 voice that might have startled the stoker. 
 Jenny's first emotion was pity for her 
 companion, but before the train stopped at 
 the first station, it became pity for herself, 
 and, being a young lady prompt and 
 energetic in action, she was ready for the
 
 172 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 guard the moment he showed his face, and 
 demanded a change of carriage. Probably 
 it was no new experience to that function- 
 ary, that a pretty girl, imprisoned by her 
 friends in a '' ladies' " carriage, should 
 desire more general society ; for he made 
 no objection, but led her to an empty 
 carriage, beside the open door of which two 
 young men were engaged in earnest con- 
 versation. He glanced doubtfully at them, 
 and, apparently deciding that neither of 
 them could be labelled *' dangerous," he 
 handed the girl in, placed her packages 
 beside her, and departed ; while Jenny, 
 who had rarely know^n bashfulness, and 
 w^ould never know how to feign it, leaned 
 a little forward in her seat, and watched 
 the youths, scarcely more than boys, with 
 a meditative doubt whether both or only 
 one was to be her fellow-traveller ; and if 
 but one, which would she prefer ? One was
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 173 
 
 a lad of about twenty, short, clumsily built, 
 with a suspicion of bow legs, a face strongly 
 freckled, and a shock head of hair of the 
 vivid scarlet- orange hue of a healthy carrot. 
 His eyes were small and pale, his mouth was 
 of Gargantuan dimensions, though orna- 
 mented with a good set of teeth, and, except 
 this feature, there was nothing to be placed 
 to the account of his attractions but a frank, 
 kindly expression of merry good humour 
 and " ready -to -obligingness." His com- 
 panion was a youth some two years older, 
 considerably above the middle height. It 
 would have been puzzling to guess his 
 nationality, for, w^ith the stature and powerful 
 build that might belong to an Englishman, 
 a Russian, a Dane, there was a refined 
 intelligence in his delicate features, in his 
 large, dreamy, dark eyes, and the tint of 
 his complexion, that might have spoken of 
 Spanish or even Indian extraction — in fact,
 
 174 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 it was both. As he stood there, listening 
 with a smile to his friend's eager chatter, a 
 group of young men passed him, glancing as 
 they went by at his lofty height, the width 
 of shoulder and depth of chest that told of 
 physical strength, with the grace that some- 
 times goes with perfect proportion ; and one 
 Slid to the other, ''Moray of Balliol. Hand- 
 some fellow, isn't he ? " while two girls in the 
 next carriage gazed from the window (like 
 Jenny) at the dark expressive face, the silky 
 raven-black hair and moustache, and the 
 brilliant white teeth that glittered beneath 
 it, and said to one another, quite audibly, 
 '' Isn't he perfectly lovely ? " 
 
 But before Jenny had quite made her 
 choice, the guard's whistle sounded and the 
 taller of the lads sprang into the carriage. 
 
 " Well, good-bye, old man," sang out his 
 friend. ** Wire to me if Fair Fury looks like 
 winning ; and oh, I say. Sir Galliard "
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 175 
 
 But the saying, whatever it was, did not 
 overtake the departing train, and Jenny, 
 remembering Lady Carruthers' awful warn- 
 ing against conversation with strangers in 
 railway carriages, folded her pretty lips into 
 an expression of absolute reserve, and taking 
 up a Pall Mall, with which her cousin had 
 gifted her at parting, arranged it skilfully 
 so that she could gaze on her vis-avis 
 behind it without much danger of detection. 
 After all, her aunt must have been right in 
 calling her " such a baby," or could she havt' 
 diverted herself with observations of an 
 entire stranger, instead of pondering on the 
 all-important fact that she had but a few 
 hours before received her " first offer," and 
 more, that she had almost, if not finally, 
 accepted it ? 
 
 Unused as Miss Farquhar had been to the 
 society of young people, and especially of 
 young men, it was not marvellous that she
 
 176 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 sliould find this specimen of the genus a 
 
 very favourable one. Not only was he good 
 
 looking, but he was well dressed, and with a 
 
 distinguished air, that bespoke him well-born 
 
 and well-bred. It was a thoughtful, refined, 
 
 sensitive face, and as it bent over nothing 
 
 more interesting than the obstinate straps of 
 
 a leather knapsack that he was vainly trying 
 
 to unfasten, the long black lashes that curled 
 
 on his cheek reminded Jenny (with an 
 
 alteration) of the Prince's apostrophe to the 
 
 Sleeping Beauty (girls' thoughts are such 
 
 foolish things !) — 
 
 " Love, if thy tresses be so dark, 
 How dark those hidden eyes must be ! " 
 
 He lifted them suddenly, and she saw 
 that they were indeed night-black, large 
 and calm, but with something of sadness in 
 them, and something, too, of suppressed fire 
 in their depths. The silence was broken by 
 a very prosaic inquiry.
 
 A RAILWAY EIDE. 177 
 
 "Would you like to have this window 
 put up ? " 
 
 The words were common enough, but the 
 voice that spoke them would have made the 
 cry " Fresh herrin'!" musical. A voice deep, 
 rich, and soft as the first low trill of the 
 nightingale, with its suggestion of infinite 
 melody, that will presently entrance the 
 night. So entranced was Jenny, that she 
 was silent for an instant, as if waiting for a 
 fuller music ; then recollecting herself, she 
 blushed a little, and replied confusedly — 
 
 "I beg your pardon — yes, please. I was 
 
 thinkinor " A month ag^o she would have 
 
 said unconcernedly, " What a magnificent 
 voice you have ! " but a few weeks' sojourn 
 among her more polished relatives had taught 
 her something of conventional reserve, and 
 she checked herself, resuming, '' I was 
 thinking of something ! " 
 
 The youth put up the window as desired, 
 
 VOL. 1. 12
 
 178 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 and returned to his contest with the straps, 
 his unspoken reflection being, " What an 
 awful fool she is ! and she does not look 
 like one either ! " 
 
 As for Genevra, she was overwhelmed 
 with humilation and self-disgust. *' What 
 an imbecile thing to say ! What an idiot he 
 must think me ! " (You see, she was right 
 there.) ** If he would only speak again ! " 
 
 But he remained silent, probably as anti- 
 cipating no conversational enjoyment, until 
 Jenny, forgetting her aunt's warning, ven- 
 tured to take the initiative. 
 
 " Please, Sir Galliard, I should like the 
 other window closed ; the dust blows in on 
 that side." 
 
 The young man looked up once more, 
 but with such evident amazement and 
 perplexity, that Jenny was at her ease 
 directly, and laughed gaily. 
 
 " You are surprised that I should know
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 179 
 
 your name ? I heard your friend on the 
 platform call you ' Sir Galliard.' " 
 
 " Oh " — with a grave smile — " that is only 
 a nickname. Most of our men call me ' Sir 
 Galahad.' " 
 
 " Then," rejoined Jenny, " he is as in- 
 articulate as a railway porter. He certainly 
 pronounced it * Galliard.' But who are 
 your ' men ' ? " 
 
 '' My friends— the men of BalHol." 
 
 '' Are you an undergraduate ? " 
 
 "Not now. I have taken my degree." 
 
 " Sister Chatty says," observed Jenny, 
 sententiously, "that undergraduates are only 
 big schoolboys who play at being men. Why 
 did they call you Sir Galahad ? " 
 
 " They fancied they saw a likeness, I 
 suppose. Our men " 
 
 " Boys," corrected Jenny emphatically. 
 
 " Had a whim of calliog each other after 
 King Arthur's knights, and they chose 
 me
 
 180 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 '' They were foolish boys " 
 
 *' Men/' corrected the youth, in his turn. 
 
 " Because you are not a bit like Sir 
 Galahad, who w^as fair." 
 
 " Mislike me not for my complexioD, the 
 shadowed livery of the burnished sun," 
 murmured the young man ; and Jenny's 
 eyes sparkled. " At least, the men " 
 
 " Boys." 
 
 *'Men," repeated her companion, still 
 gravely. 
 
 And then both burst into merry 
 lauohter — lauQ;hter which transformed the 
 seriousness of Sir Galahad's features into 
 youthful fun and playfulness, and brought 
 out Jenny's sweetest dimples and showed 
 her pearly teeth. After that the barrier of 
 etiquette quite broke down between the 
 girl and boy, and Genevra prattled away, 
 quite regardless of Lady Carruthers' warn- 
 ing, asking all sorts of indiscreet questions,
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 181 
 
 making all sorts of indiscreet confidences ; 
 both happy, both interested in each other, 
 fresh and free in the innocent eo-oisni of 
 early youth. But Jenny did not name 
 Sir Brian, partly from instinctive reserve, 
 but more because that subject had not, for 
 the moment, any interest for her ; and her 
 new friend was far more intent on eliciting 
 her habits and tastes than on avowins: his 
 own. But soon this fact dawned upon 
 Geuevra, and checked a little the tide of 
 her garrulity, or at least diverted it into 
 another channel. 
 
 " Now," she said, " you know all about 
 me—" 
 
 "Except your name." 
 
 " So tell me your history." 
 
 " I will, when it is finished, if you will 
 ask me then. I am only at the titlepage 
 as yet." 
 
 " Tell me the titlepage, then."
 
 182 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 " You had read that when you called me 
 ' Sir Galliard: " 
 
 " You are laughing at me," pouted 
 Jenny, " but it was your friend's fault. 
 People ought not to use nicknames on a 
 railway platform " — with a little air of 
 dignity, which vastly amused the youth, in 
 a lady so openly defiant of railway pro- 
 prieties. '* What is your real name ? " 
 
 " I am Kit Moray, at your service," he 
 answered, with a little bow. 
 
 " Kit ? That stands for Christopher, does 
 it not ? " 
 
 " My godfathers and godmother," he 
 answered, " stood for Keith." 
 
 " Your real name is very hard to get at. 
 But luhij did your friends think you like 
 Sir Galahad?" 
 
 And then, as if wrought upon by the 
 spell of a magician, the lines dropped 
 slowly from the young man's lips —
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 183 
 
 ** ' I never felt the kiss of love, 
 Or maiden's hand in mine.' " 
 
 *'Did you not, really?'' asked Jenny, 
 looking with perfect simplicity into Moray's 
 face. 
 
 ''No, really. Why should I?" he an- 
 swered, returning her gaze more fixedly 
 than he had yet done. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she said carelessly. 
 " Of course ladies never kiss any one except 
 their brothers, but somehow I thought men 
 did not mind." 
 
 ''I do not think they do," replied Keith, 
 drily, and still keeping his eyes fixed on 
 her face. But in the innocent look that 
 met his, there was such a transparent un- 
 consciousness of imprudence, that, being a 
 gentleman to the tips of his fingers, he felt 
 it would be taking a mean advantage 
 to encourage her to pursue llie subject. 
 But Jenny dropped it of her own accord.
 
 184 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 " I don't know much about under- 
 graduates," she said loftily, as if under- 
 graduates were quite beneath her attention ; 
 " I have no brothers, and know almost no 
 boys. Were you ever picked ? " and, seeing 
 Keith's look of bewilderment, " I ought 
 not to ask you that. I congratulated Mrs. 
 Luttrell once on her nephew being picked. 
 Picked soldiers, you know, are always dis- 
 tinofuished men, and I thouo-lit it was the 
 same with University — boys. And, poor 
 thing, she burst into tears. She had been 
 so proud of her nephew, and boasted so of 
 him ! '^ 
 
 " I suppose," said Keith, " that you mean 
 he was ' plucked ' ? " 
 
 " Plucked ! Oh yes, of course ; I re- 
 member now. Uncle Charley laughed at 
 me, and corrected me, but I forgot it again. 
 Well then, have you been plucked ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ! " returned the youth.
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 185 
 
 Fancy asking '' Moray of Balliol " if he had 
 been plucked ! He had, in fact, read for 
 honours, and had achieved brilliant success. 
 His little catechizer resumed — 
 
 '' What are you going to be ? A doctor — 
 a barrister — a " 
 
 " Guess," answered Keith, smiling ; '* what 
 do I look like ? " 
 
 And Jenny put her head on one side, with 
 a pretty, pet-birdlike gesture she sometimes 
 used, and after contemplating him gravely 
 for a moment, replied — 
 
 " I cannot guess. What are you ? " 
 
 " Not much as yet," said the young man. 
 " I live with a bachelor uncle, who is in 
 ill health, and I make myself useful to him. 
 But soon — when he can spare me — I sliall 
 join a scientific expedition into far-distant 
 lands — China, or Africa — for the advance- 
 ment of science and civilization." 
 
 " A traveller ? " inquired Genevra, much
 
 186 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 interested. " My father was a distinguished 
 traveller and naturalist ; he died, away from 
 us, from his home, in the deserts of the 
 Caucasus/' She stopped suddenly, and over 
 her face came the soft shadow which was 
 its sweetest and rarest charm. But she 
 was not then thinkinof of her father. Her 
 thoughts were not in the Caucasus, but 
 in the Zoo, where an elderly gentleman 
 had smiled kindly at her, and suggested a 
 joint excursion to see humming-birds in their 
 native lands ! How strange that almost the 
 next man she met should be, or be going to 
 be, a real traveller, like her father. Sir 
 Brian, after all, was no man of science ; 
 only a dilettante, at the best. 
 
 Keith naturally thought that her abrupt 
 silence and sadness of countenance was 
 caused by filial regret, and hastened to 
 change the subject, but could find nothing 
 better to say ou the spur of the moment
 
 A KATLWAY RIDE. 187 
 
 than — "Have you had a gay season in 
 town ? " 
 
 " Gay ? " echoed Jenny. " Anything but 
 gay. My aunt and cousin are in deep mourn- 
 ing, and could not take me anywhere. I 
 should have liked to go to a dance or two." 
 
 "And I," thought Keith, "would like to 
 be your partner at one." He little foresaw 
 what he would have to go through before 
 reachiug that desired consummation ! 
 
 "I have never," continued Jenny, "been 
 at any but Christmas and children's balls, 
 until last autumn, when I coaxed mamma to 
 take me to the Hunt Ball. Dear old Dr. 
 Stewart escorted us. Mr. Wyndham, the 
 Master of the Hounds, is my godfather, and 
 sent me a card, but sister Chatty told 
 mamma she must never take me again, 
 because I danced with scarcely any one but 
 the farmers' sons." 
 
 "How was that?"
 
 188 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 " Why," said Jenny, laughing, " I believe 
 I was not a success. For one thing, I was 
 badly dressed. My dress was made in the 
 village, and it certainly did look dowdy 
 among all the brilliant toilettes there.'' 
 
 " But," said Keith, a little surprised to 
 find himself drawn into a discussion on such 
 a subject, " you are very well dressed now." 
 
 And so she w^as. Her plain tailor-made 
 serge fitted beautifully on her slender but 
 ripely rounded form ; the accessories, from 
 the simple collar and tie to the neatly but- 
 toned gloves and the tiny boots, were 
 perfect ; and the hat, perched on her rich 
 braids of glistening hair, had certainly not 
 been bought at Wendholm. The young 
 man's eyes, as they dwelt upon her, took in 
 all these satisfactory details, and Jenny gave 
 him a little saucy nod. 
 
 " I ought to be well dressed," said she. 
 " Georgie took me to Madame — I forget
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 189 
 
 her name — her own milliner in town, and 
 made me promise that I would always, 
 henceforth, wear only what she made for me, 
 and sent to me and gave her directions 
 accordingly. Only fancy ! won't the jays in 
 the Oakland woods applaud me ! " and she 
 broke into a silvery chime of laughter, so full 
 of merry self-mockery, blended with playful 
 girlish exultation, that Keith thought it 
 the sweetest music he had ever heard. " I 
 can tell you the dressmaker's name," she 
 continued ; '^ I have got her card with me 
 somewhere." 
 
 Keith impulsively caught the little hand 
 as it was straying to her bag in search of the 
 card, but dropped it instantly, as if it had 
 been red-hot. 
 
 " Nt^ver mind the card," he smiled. *' I am 
 in no pressing need of a milliner's address. 
 But I think I have some right to ask your 
 name, as 1 have given you mine. May 1 i "
 
 190 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 " I am Genevra," answered the girl, 
 simply. 
 
 *' Genevra ? that is a lovely name, but 
 Genevra what ? You are Miss — -Miss " 
 
 But before Jenny could reply, the train 
 slackened speed, and the head of a ticket- 
 porter loomed over the window-sill. 
 '' Tickets, please." He took Keith's half 
 return ticket without remark, but, after 
 glancing at Jenny's, gave it back to her. 
 " Too late to catch the Oulton train, miss ; 
 an hour and twenty minutes to wait for the 
 next ; " and he vanished. 
 
 " What am I to do ? " cried the belated 
 one. 
 
 " Will no one meet you," inquired 
 Keith, '' or have you no friends in town 
 you can go to, to wait ? " 
 
 Jenny carefully put back her ticket in her 
 purse, and her purse in her pocket, before she 
 answered, " I do not know a human bein^:
 
 A RAILWAY RIDE. 191 
 
 in the town. The guard promised my aunt 
 to see me safe across the platform into the 
 Oulton carriage, and said I should not have 
 live minutes to wait. What shall I do ? 
 Mamma will send to Oulton to meet the 
 2.20 train ; it is five miles farther than the 
 Ketford station, but there are more con- 
 venient trains there." 
 
 " Shall I wire for you ? " asked Keith. 
 
 " Oh no," laughed Jenny. " A telegram 
 would frighten her to death ; but she will 
 send to meet the next train." 
 
 Here the guard looked in, and Keith 
 addressed him. 
 
 " I will take care of the lady," he said ; 
 '^ do you look after her luggage. Her train 
 
 goes- 
 
 " An hour and twenty minutes to wait, 
 sir. The luggage is labelled through to 
 Oulton ; it will be all right." 
 
 *' But what a horrible crowd there is
 
 192 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 here!" remarked Jenny, as the youth handed 
 her out of the carriage. 
 
 "It is the first day of the Eaces," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Oh, and you told me you were coming 
 to the Races, and 1 shall be left all alone ! " 
 
 " I don't care for the Races. I shall be 
 in time to see all I want of them. I will 
 take care of you, and see you safe into your 
 train first. Let me take you into the 
 w^aiting-room." 
 
 And, indeed, that was but common 
 humanity, for a down train had just dis- 
 charged upon the platform a mob of roughs 
 of all sorts and sexes ; and, as Keith guided 
 his little companion through them, he felt 
 her shrink and cling closely to his arm. 
 
 "Now," he said, as he placed her in 
 safety in the waiting-room, " I'll go and 
 find out all about tliis Oulton train, and 
 come back and tell you." . 
 
 And Jenny was left alone.
 
 ( 193 ) 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 
 
 When Keith suggested remaining with 
 Genevra until her train started, he was not 
 sure that he was not taking an ungenerous 
 advantage of the girl's inexperience, in pro- 
 posing a step w^hich a more worldly-wise 
 woman might have declined to take ; but 
 he forgot his scruples when, on returning 
 to the waiting-room, he found her seated in 
 a corner, with her eyes anxiously fixed on 
 the door, and near her a throng of gaily 
 attired "ladies," among whom she looked 
 like a reed violet in a bouquet of muslin 
 dafifodils. She sprang forward eagerly 
 when she descried her fellow-traveller. 
 
 VOL. I. .. 13
 
 194 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 " You have an hour to wait yet," said he ; 
 "shall I order some refreshment for you 
 here ? " 
 
 *' I don't want any refreshment ; I have 
 eaten some biscuits my aunt gave me. I 
 want to go out of this odious station. We 
 have a whole hour, you say ? '' 
 
 A whole hour to spend together ! How 
 was it to be passed? At an hotel? But 
 Keith's instincts of propriety revolted 
 against such a breach of decorum. 
 
 " Let us go and see the Races ! " cried the 
 irrepressible damsel. 
 
 Bat Keith shook his head, and felt it 
 was clearly his "mission" to take charge 
 of the "wild maid of the woods," who 
 was as incapable of guarding herself against 
 worldly perils as a gannet or a penguin 
 on a island rock. But he did not now 
 say to himself that she was an " awful 
 fool." Suddenly a bright idea occurred
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 195 
 
 to liim. " Shall we go and see the 
 cathedral ? " 
 
 Genevra had no profound interest in 
 cathedrals, having no strong ecclesiastical 
 or architectural proclivities, but she did not 
 object ; and the hour passed very pleasantly, 
 while Keith, who could be very eloquent on 
 occasion, discoursed in his deep, melodious 
 voice, like another Coleridge, on art and 
 architecture, rood and reredos, spires, altars, 
 and tombs. And Jenny listened with such 
 rapt attention — rather, it is to be feared, to 
 the music of the voice than the topics dis- 
 cussed by it — that the orator, like most 
 orators, was charmed by the genius tliat 
 spoke in her silence, and would not have 
 inferred in her the possibility of ignorance, 
 though she had mistaken a cherub for a 
 gargoyle ! 
 
 But more than an hour had expired when 
 they regained the station. Keith darted to
 
 196 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 the ticket office, darted back again, and hur- 
 ried Genevra into the already steaming train. 
 
 *' We part here ? " she said regretfully. 
 
 But he sprang into the carriage, and took 
 a seat opposite to her. " I mean to see you 
 safe in your friends' charge," he said ; and 
 Jenny felt so grateful to him ! 
 
 This time the two were not alone to- 
 gether. There was an elderly gentleman in 
 the carriage ; and as Jenny glanced at him 
 as she entered, she was reminded of Sir 
 Brian, although, in point of fact, there was 
 no point of resemblance between them, 
 except a grey moustache, and she was 
 scarcely conscious of wondering whether 
 Sir Brian was really so old as that. 
 
 The young pair speedily resumed their 
 conversation, which had wandered from the 
 domain of art to that of literature, and of 
 course, since it was no longer a tete-d-tete, 
 it was natural that Keith should make it so,
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 197 
 
 by lowering his voice a little, and bending 
 forward, nearer and nearer, to catch her 
 more subdued replies. So that the elder 
 man glanced at them with the half-pitying, 
 half-amused sympathy which ancients give 
 to youthful lovers, and then returned to 
 his paper and forgot them. The train was 
 a slow one, but they had passed several 
 stations before the shout of the porter 
 proclaimed " Oulton," and, obeying a signal 
 from Keith, he threw open the door. The 
 young man sprang out, and offered his hand 
 to assist Genevra, who was looking round 
 her in perplexity. 
 
 " Did he say " she began. 
 
 " All right, miss. Look sharp ; all trains 
 behind time." 
 
 And before she knew what she was 
 doing, she had mechanically obeyed the 
 impulse of Keith's hand, and found her- 
 self lifted to the platform and drawn
 
 198 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 hastily aside from the departing train, 
 which steamed away, leaving the youth and 
 the maid alone on the platform, with one 
 porter lounging by an empty truck, and 
 another waiting for the tickets beside a 
 wicket gate. 
 
 " There is some mistake," said Genevra, 
 looking wistfully round her, " and I don't 
 see my luggage." 
 
 " It will be all right ; it was labelled for 
 Oulton." 
 
 *'But " 
 
 The ticket porter, tired of waiting, 
 had now drawn near. He received Keith's 
 ticket without remark, but on looking 
 at Jenny's, returned it to her, saying 
 briefly, " Wrong station, miss." 
 
 She turned reproachfully on Moray. 
 " It is your fault ; you hurried me out. I 
 was sure it was the wrong station. What 
 shall I do ? " she continued anxiously, for
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 199 
 
 the unmistakable consternation in the 
 young man's face alarmed her, she knew 
 not why. 
 
 '' I thought you said Oulton," he answered. 
 " You know I told you it was not much out of 
 my way. I had meant to stop at Stretford." 
 
 Jenny paid no heed to his excuses. 
 "How far is it to Woolton?" she asked 
 the porter. 
 
 " Woolton ? Oh, well, you are on the 
 wrong line ; you ought to have taken the 
 train at Stretford for Lytham Junction." 
 
 " Stupid blockhead that I am ! " cried 
 Keith ; '* I ought to have looked at your 
 ticket. Can you ever forgive me ? I shall 
 never forgive myself I " 
 
 His unfeigned distress seemed excessive 
 to Jenny, who did not understand, as he 
 did, the gravity of the situation, and she 
 endeavoured to console him. 
 
 " Well, never mind ; there is a later train
 
 200 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 to Woolton, and they will be sure to meet 
 every train till I come. We can go back 
 to Stretford and catch that, I dare say." 
 
 But Keith gazed round him at the 
 lonely third-class station, with its few 
 thinly scattered houses, and his heart died 
 within him ; while the porter confirmed his 
 worst fears. 
 
 " There's no train from here to Stretford 
 again to-day, miss. There's a goods train 
 at 7.40 this evening, and — yes, there's 
 a cattle train at eight, for Chingley Fair 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "How far to the nearest station, where 
 we might manage to get on the right line 
 somehow ? " 
 
 "Well, you could drive across country 
 to Lytham Junction ; the train from Stret- 
 ford could pick you up there." 
 
 Keith brightened. "How far to 
 Lytham ? "
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 201 
 
 " Ten miles or so. You could do it under 
 the two hours, if you went through Buck- 
 holt Wood." 
 
 " That will do ! " cried Jenny, joyfully. 
 "It is three o'clock now ; I should be at home 
 before seven. There's a fly to be had here, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 The porter stared helplessly at her. 
 
 " Bless your heart, there's no call for flys 
 here — no nearer than Colebrook, five mile 
 or more." 
 
 Even poor Genevra's countenance fell at 
 this cheerful announcement ; but Keith rose 
 to the occasion. 
 
 '* There must be a horse to be had. I 
 will ride over and bring back a fly, and 
 wire to Woolton for you." 
 
 " There's Joe Simmons of the Plough 
 yonder," suggested the porter, dreamily ; 
 "he's got a old horse and trap as could 
 take you to Lytham. If it's in the stable, he
 
 202 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 might let you have it ; but you'd have to 
 drive yourself, for there's not a man about 
 the place but himself, and he broke his 
 
 arm the other day, falling from " 
 
 But, without stopping to hear the tale of 
 Joe Simmons's misfortune, Keithhad bounded, 
 like a greyhound from the leash, across the 
 little meadow which divided the railway 
 from the hamlet, and Jenny was left in 
 charge of the railway official, who, expectant 
 of a coming gratuity, hovered round her 
 like a hen with a solitary chicken, until, 
 in less time than might have been anticipated, 
 though it seemed very long to her, Keith 
 reappeared at the gates of the crossing 
 on his triumphal car, the said car being 
 a decrepit " shandrydan," drawn by a 
 chestnut pony that had long since attained 
 to years of discretion, which Moray had 
 been obliged to harness himself, leaving 
 a deposit with the landlord of the Plough
 
 THE NEXT STAGE. 203 
 
 which would have covered the full value 
 of the whole equipage. Then, having 
 received directions from the porter as to 
 the way through Buckholt Wood to Lytham 
 Junction, Keith handed the young lady into 
 ''the trap" (ominous name !j, tipped the 
 porter to his heart's content, and merrily 
 the couple bowled away on this, the third 
 stage of their interminable journey.
 
 204 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTEK XTIL 
 
 OFF THE LINE. 
 
 Interminable indeed ! If they had only 
 known ! But these inconsiderate young 
 creatures neither knew nor cared. 
 
 *' Alas ! unmindful of their doom, 
 The little victims play ! " 
 
 The temporary difficulty surmounted, all 
 was forgotten. The May day was bright, 
 the road was good, the chestnut pony 
 stepped out gallantly, the fresh sweet air 
 was very exhilarating after the dust and 
 smoke of the engines and the close, stuffy 
 carriages. Jenny ceased to yearn after her 
 luggage, and readily accepted the hopeful 
 view suggested by Keith, that it would
 
 OFF THE LINE. 205 
 
 come right — it always did when the things 
 were labelled ; and, besides, when they 
 reached Lytham they could ''wire" all 
 necessary inquiries and directions. 
 
 Keith forgot all his habitual reserve in 
 the charm of this rapid intimacy, and 
 Genevra foro^ot — Sir Brian Carruthers ! 
 
 "This is not half a bad horse, after all," 
 remarked Keith, " though he has seen his 
 best days, poor old fellow ! It is just as well 
 you have not got your luggage ; he could 
 not step out so if he had much weight to 
 carry." 
 
 " Oh, my luggage would not have 
 oppressed him much," laughed Jenny. " I 
 dare say you fancy that girls must always 
 have such heaps of things on a journey ? " 
 
 '* They always seem to have," returned 
 Keith ; " but I do not know many ladies — 
 not young ones. My uncle is a bachelor, 
 and has no ladies belonging to him,"
 
 206 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 "And I," rejoined Genevra, "never have 
 known any young men, only old — no, middle- 
 aged ones." (Sir Brian would not have 
 unduly exulted at the form in which his 
 image at length rose to his little lady's 
 remembrance.) "But, Mr. Moray, are you 
 quite sure that this is the road through the 
 wood that the man directed you to ? " 
 
 " It must be, since there seems no other ; " 
 and Keith quitted the high-road, to enter 
 a beautiful miniature forest of beeches, now 
 in their first delicate spring verdure. 
 
 " It is a rough road," observed Genevra. 
 
 " It will be better by-and-by. They have 
 been carrying timber, and it is rather cut 
 up just here." 
 
 " I wish they were forbidden to cut down 
 trees anywhere; then all woods would be 
 as lovely as they are at Oaklands." 
 
 " And what is Oaklands ? " 
 
 "It is the most delicious wood in the
 
 OFF THE LINE. 207 
 
 world," cried Jenny, enthusiovStically. " Very 
 few people ever go through it, except the 
 gamekeepers, and /won't let them kill the 
 wild things." 
 
 Keith stared a little at this assertion, not 
 having hitherto found gamekeepers so easily 
 impressed by a young lady's humanitarian 
 views. 
 
 *' And so it is full of woodland creatures 
 and " 
 
 " Any game ? " queried the youth. 
 
 "Yes, swarms of pheasants, and rabbits, 
 and hedgehogs, and squirrels, and — oh, dear 
 little weasels with white breasts." 
 
 " Quite a happy family," smiled Keith. 
 " You must have immense influence over 
 your gamekeepers." And looking down side- 
 ways at the flushed and eager face, he ceased 
 to marvel at those gentlemen's docility. 
 
 " And," continued Miss Farquhar, " they 
 are oak woods chiefly, so not Hke this.
 
 208 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 I should think," reflectively, " there are not 
 so many ' Purple Emperors ' here." 
 
 " This," answered Keith, decisively, *' is 
 the most perfect scenery I ever saw in my 
 life." 
 
 At which statement a crimson- headed 
 woodpecker, that peeped at them behind the 
 rugged boles of the beeches, burst into a 
 shril], derisive laugh. 
 
 " See," he continued, raising his eyes, 
 which had before been fixed on his com- 
 panion's face — *' see the satin foliage 
 with " 
 
 But Jenny, not feeling at all sentimental, 
 interrupted him. " Satin foliage belongs to 
 artificial flowers." 
 
 " Still," replied Keith, " we are obliged, 
 sometimes, in describing nature, to borrow 
 the terms of art, however inadequate." 
 
 " But," insisted Jenny, *' satin is not art — 
 it is manufacture."
 
 OFF THE LINE. 209. 
 
 ''Then, admire the shining foliage — will 
 that do ? — with the lio^ht tricklinor through it 
 like emerald-tinted spray. You can almost 
 fancy that the moss beneath is moistened 
 by it." 
 
 " No, I can't," answered Jenny ; then, 
 relenting a little, ''But it is all very lovely ; 
 and those knotted stems, with the young 
 growth springing from them, they look " 
 
 " Like trees in knickerbockers," said 
 Keith, demurely ; and then the blended 
 laughter of the foolish pair rang out so clear 
 and glad, that the woodpecker was fain to 
 join in it. 
 
 *' Look," said Genevra, presently, *' there 
 is a much better road, and softer for the 
 pony's feet ; that must be our way," 
 pointing to a broad avenue of velvet swar(.l, 
 beyond which stretched a far vista of twink- 
 ling verdure. 
 
 But Keith demurred. " That is only a 
 
 yoL. I. 14
 
 210 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 ride/ and would lead nowhere. The porter 
 said ' straight through, and the road to the 
 left.' " 
 
 *' That is to the left," persisted Jenny. 
 " I am sure he meant that J' 
 
 A brisk and merry dispute ensued. The 
 youth stood firm for a time, but when his 
 companion dropped the imperative mood, 
 and " stooped to conquer " by entreaty, he 
 yielded to her wish, and left the rugged 
 road for the smoother path, merely 
 observing — 
 
 " It will take us to the high-road, no 
 doubt, but perhaps farther back than the 
 other path would have led us. However, we 
 have plenty of time." 
 
 Alas ! the promise of the emerald sward 
 was as deceptive as the treacherous allure- 
 ment of a morass. It grew narrower and 
 narrower, until there was no space to turn 
 in. Almost it threatened to dwindle into a
 
 OFF THE LINE. 211 
 
 bridle-path ! It wound gradually, almost 
 imperceptibly, among the low, sweeping 
 branches, until neither of the travellers 
 could discera the " bearings " of the road 
 they tried to reach. Keith's brow once 
 more wore a cloud of grave anxiety, and 
 the dimples round Jenny's mouth might 
 have been stolen by the twinkling beeches. 
 She was beginning to feel like a sleeper, 
 wandering endlessly in a dream. Suddenly 
 she uttered a cry of delight, as far and faint, 
 but quite distinct, came the sound of a 
 horse's hoofs trotting along a hard high- 
 road. 
 
 ^' I knew it would be all right," she cried 
 exultingly. '' I knew " 
 
 Not much more for the moment. The 
 pony stumbled in the deep ruts. Down 
 went horse and trap, and poor Jermy, 
 having started up in her excitement, 
 was pitched out, and lay senseless and
 
 212 THE STOllY OF A KISS. 
 
 motionless on the thymy bank bordering 
 the pathway, with her head in perilous 
 proximity to the forefeet of the struggling 
 liorse. In a moment Keith had sprung 
 to the pony, raised him carefully, and, 
 having extricated him from the broken 
 shafts, led him to a safe distance and tied 
 him by the bridle to a tree. That danger 
 averted, he returned to the still insensible 
 girl, and stood gazing down upon her, as 
 pale as herself. Then, stooping, he lifted 
 her light form in his arms, and carried her 
 tenderly to a soft bed of moss and heath, a 
 few steps removed from the rough pathway. 
 He looked round for help. Not a being was 
 visible. He shouted ; he listened. The 
 w^oodpecker's startled laugh was the only 
 answering cry.
 
 ( 213 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF, 
 
 Jenny's hat had fallen off, her hair had 
 escaped from its braids, and tlie always 
 rebellious curls, that now strayed over her 
 shoulders, the long fringed eyelids, and 
 parted lips from which the smile had 
 scarcely faded, gave her the look of a sleep- 
 ing child. As Keith stood looking down 
 on her, his heart ached with an anguish 
 of grief and pity, while tears, that did not 
 disgrace his manhood, dropped fast and 
 warm on the pale upturned face. But no 
 colour came to the sweet face ; no light 
 to the closed eyes. Hardly knowing wliat 
 he did, the young man bent over her. His
 
 214 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 own tears were glittering on her cheek. 
 He wiped them off, and tenderly, reverently, 
 as he would have kissed a young dead sister, 
 he touched her lips with his ow^n, and — her 
 lips trembled ! " Ce n'est que le premier 
 pas que coute.'' In a sudden revulsion of 
 feeling, from horror and despair to hope, 
 he kissed her again. 
 
 In the confused dawn of consciousness, 
 Genevra fancied herself in her own little bed 
 once more, awakened by the gentle motherly 
 caress which was never unreturned. Keith 
 kissed her, and she returned the hiss ! 
 
 The young fellow fairly lost his head ; 
 he knelt down beside her, he folded her 
 in his arms, breathing in a mingled rapture 
 of caresses and entreaty that for his sake 
 she would look up, and live, and love ! 
 
 Slowly the blue eyes opened, and turned 
 a doubting, wondering look on his eager 
 face, and then Oh, Keith ! the gods
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF. 215 
 
 have mocked you in granting but half your 
 prayer. Live she did, but love she didn't. 
 There was nothing less like love than the 
 angry flash of the blue eyes, as consciousness 
 fully returned in them ; nothing less like 
 love than the energy with which she 
 struggled to break from the arms that en- 
 circled her ; and as Keith withdrew them, 
 and rose to his feet, there was, not love, 
 but utter indignation and disgust in the 
 glance she shot at him, as he stood, 
 humilitated, abashed, and self-condemned 
 before her. Yet he had meant no harm. 
 No youth was ever purer in life and thought 
 and will than was Keith Moray. Pure as 
 the maiden knight himself, not from cold- 
 ness of temperament, but from the resolute 
 self-restraint which is the truest crown of 
 a noble manhood. 
 
 Yet now he cowered beneath the awfid 
 ferocity of Jenny Farqubar's gaze, feeling
 
 216 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 that she thought him, and that he deserved 
 that she should think him, an unmitigated 
 blackguard, a creeping, crawling cad. There 
 was a dead silence, broken only by the 
 derisive laugh of the jaffingale, which this 
 time had the joke to itself. Then Jenny 
 turned away her head, and tried to rise, 
 but fell back with a low moan, which, but 
 for her new-born sense of dignity, would 
 have been a piercing shriek of anguish. 
 Keith sprang to her side, but was inconti- 
 nently repulsed with ignominy. 
 
 '* I do not wish for your help ; go and 
 put the trap to rights, and harness the horse 
 again." 
 
 Keith obeyed without a word, and Jenny 
 followed his movements with glowering eyes, 
 which met his with redoubled sternness 
 when he looked sadly towards her and said, 
 "The horse is all right, but the trap is 
 useless ; the shaft is broken."
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF. 217 
 
 " And, pray, liow do you propose to take 
 me to Lytham ? " 
 
 " If I had apiece of string," replied Keith, 
 humbly, " I think I could mend it so as 
 to get to Lytham, but " feeling help- 
 lessly in his pockets. 
 
 " But," snapped Jenny, *' you haven't 
 got any, and how long am I to sit here 
 
 while " She broke off, with a stifled 
 
 moan, and then resumed : " You were very 
 stupid to upset the trap. You are the very 
 worst driver I ever saw in my life ! " 
 
 At any other time this cruel and most 
 unmerited accusation would have driven 
 Keith Moray to defend himself, but now 
 he felt a gloomy pleasure in laying himself 
 beneath her trampling feet. He answered 
 meekly — 
 
 " The high-road cannot be f\ir off ; I will 
 run and get assistance. You will not mind 
 heincr left alone for a few minutes ? "
 
 218 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 "I shall very much prefer it" — with 
 crushing emphasis. 
 
 And away flew Keith, leaving Jenny 
 seated where he had placed her, with dim, 
 unseeing eyes fixed on the broken trap 
 and the quietly grazing pony. But the 
 fictitious energy inspired by anger was fast 
 ebbing away ; her thoughts grew confused, 
 her head swam, and once more she fell back 
 insensible. She was aroused by a frightful 
 pang, and opened her eyes w^ith a low cry. 
 An elderly man, apparently a doctor, was 
 examining her injured foot, from which, 
 already inflamed and swollen, he had cut 
 ofl" the boot with a penknife. Keith stood 
 by, looking on, with a world of sorrowful 
 sympathy in his dark eyes. Jenny only 
 wished he would leave her with the doctor, 
 and not stand staring there. 
 
 ^'She will be all right," said the old 
 gentlemen, cheerily. " No bones broken ;
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF. 219 
 
 just a sprain. Want to get home ? Certainly, 
 my dear ; you shall be safe in your bed by 
 sundown. Lytham station ? Yes, yes. On 
 the way to Lytham myself, to meet a friend, 
 when your husband stopped me. Don't try 
 to speak," added the good man innocently, 
 unobservant of the confusion with which 
 he had overwhelmed the young couple. 
 "You are a little faint, and your husband 
 has told me everything." ("Scarcely," thought 
 Keith.) He had turned aside to examine 
 the broken trap, and now looked up. " It 
 will be impossible to use this thing ; the 
 wheel, as well as the shaft, is splintered." 
 
 Poor little Jenny broke into a piteous 
 wail. " I must go home ! Please take me 
 to the station, doctor ; I won't go with 
 him " — with a pretty gesture towards Keith. 
 
 " liost confidence in his driving, eh ? " 
 laughed the doctor. " Well, I don't know 
 how he got you into such a road as this —
 
 220 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 would break any carriage. Now then, 
 young fellow ; you must carry your good 
 lady to my trap, and I'll drive her to 
 Lytham and start her safe homewards. I 
 can't offer to take you, because I can't spare 
 my groom. You will have to see after the 
 damage here ; there's an inn not far from 
 where you hailed me, where you can get 
 help. Now, be quick ; we have no time to 
 lose ; " and away hurried the doctor, with- 
 out even offering his assistance in conveying 
 the sufferer to the road, which he saw that 
 the stalwart youth before him was quite 
 capable of doing by himself. 
 
 Genevra opened her lips to demur very 
 strongly to the arrangement, but Keith 
 clearly perceived that there was, as Dr. 
 Goodwin had said, " no time to lose " in 
 prudish hesitation ; so, regardless of the 
 damsel's hostile attitude, he took her up in 
 his arms as easily as if she had been a tiger
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF. 221 
 
 kitten (" Swooping upon me/' said Genevra 
 to herself later, 'Mike a kite upon a dove," 
 though it was a great deal more like a dove 
 swooping on a kite!), and bore her swiftly 
 and tenderly to the doctor's trap, which 
 awaited them on the road to Lytham, a 
 very short distance from the woodland path 
 in which the upset happened. She was 
 placed on the seat, as comfortably as possible, 
 the doctor supporting her and the groom 
 taking the reins. Keith handed the doctor 
 his card. 
 
 " Let me hear from you to-morrow," he 
 said. " I was not taking the lady further 
 than Lytham." 
 
 "What's this?" said the doctor. ''No, 
 no, my dear sir, my services are not 
 professional ; wayfarers must help eacli 
 other." But on Keith pressing his fee on 
 him, he yielded. 
 
 The youth turned a vainly appealing look
 
 2^22 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 on the resolutely averted face, now white 
 and drawn with pain, and stood bareheaded 
 in the road until the trap vanished round 
 the corner. He picked up his card, which 
 in the slight contest with the doctor 
 had dropped in the road. Then he pro- 
 ceeded to the inn, to give directions about 
 the pony and the broken cart, and, having 
 hired another conveyance, followed the 
 doctor and his charge to Lytham. 
 
 " She may miss the train," he said 
 inwardly, " and I can get back to town to- 
 night vid Lytham to Stretford." 
 
 But the first hope, if it was a hope, was 
 dissipated by the doctor's reappearance 
 shortly before he reached the junction. 
 Keith sprang from his trap, and stood wait- 
 ing for him on the road. 
 
 ** Make yourself quite easy, my good 
 fellow," said the old gentleman, kindly ; " I 
 had time enough to bandage her foot
 
 KEITH FORGETS HIMSELF. 223 
 
 properly in the station room, and put her 
 into a ladies' carriage, in charge of a 
 motherly looking woman who was going the 
 same way. She will be met at her journey's 
 end, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," answered Keith. " But did 
 she tell you " 
 
 *' Poor child, she could tell me nothing — 
 I could not allow her to speak — but she had 
 
 her ticket all riofht from " Here his 
 
 horse showed signs of impatience ; and, 
 repeating "All right," the "good Samaritan ' 
 was whirled away, and Keith resumed his 
 journey, his last inward utterance being, 
 " She said I was the worst driver she ever 
 
 saw; I know she never saw a better, and 
 
 Oh, by Jove ! she never told me her 
 name ! "
 
 224 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar herself met Genevra at 
 Woolton, having been alarmed and anxious 
 at her non- arrival by the earlier train. It 
 was a six miles' drive to the Grange, so that 
 it was dark before she was undressed and 
 laid in her own little bed, with racking 
 pains in her injured foot, and the sound of 
 a whole factory full of engines whirring and 
 pulsing through her aching head. To her 
 mother's anxious questions she had given a 
 simple answer — the truth, but not the whole 
 truth. " She had taken the wrong train at 
 Stretford, and had been obliged to hire a 
 dog-cart to drive across country to Lytham.
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 225 
 
 The driver had upset her, and she had 
 sprained her foot," and so on. The expla- 
 nation was perfectly satisfactory to her 
 friends, " the driver " suggesting merely the 
 inn-servant, or cabman, and before morn- 
 inor the increasing fever and inflammation 
 alarmed both Mrs. Farquhar and her sister 
 too much to leave any room for curiosity as 
 to minor details. Dr. Stewart was sent for 
 with special urgency, and, fearing that there 
 miofht have been some slis^ht concussion of 
 the brain, ordered the utmost quiet and 
 silence to be maintained in the patient's 
 room, from which even Mrs. Burnes was 
 excluded. 
 
 " That woman Carruthers,'^ she said, 
 '^ ought to be ashamed of herself, sending 
 a young girl alone on a long railway journey, 
 without even a maid to take care of her ! 
 If the worst happens, it must be laid at her 
 door." 
 
 VOL. r. 15
 
 226 THE STOHY OF A KISS. 
 
 "But, my dear," suggested Charley, "a 
 maid could not have prevented the accident 
 with the trap/' 
 
 " A maid would have seen that there was 
 no mistake about the train, when there would 
 have been no occasion for the drive at all." 
 
 " True, my love. You are always right." 
 
 " And if the worst happens, I shall never 
 cease to reproach Juliet for not having 
 attended to my advice to send Dinah to 
 bring Genevra home." 
 
 '' A cheerful look-out for Juliet," thought 
 Mr. Burnes ; but he only said, " Let us 
 hope, my dear, that this is the worst that 
 will happen. It is bad enough, I am sure." 
 
 "So it is," assented the lady ; " but I do 
 not believe that her head is injured a bit. 
 Dr. Stewart is such a croaker ; he delights 
 in frightening people, but he cannot 
 frighten me ? " 
 
 " Brain ? Stuff ! Girls' brains are too fluid
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 227 
 
 to be injured by a tumble ! Nothing but 
 fright. Doctors do make such a fuss about 
 trifles. / could bring her round in a day or 
 two, with just a cold-water compress and a 
 dose of salts." 
 
 Once more, as Charley triumphantly 
 affirmed, Mrs. Burnes proved herself to be 
 " always right." In a few days the feverish 
 symptoms had passed ofi", the local inflam- 
 mation had subsided, and, thousfh it misfbt 
 be two or three weeks before the patient 
 would be able to move from her chamber, 
 there was no longer any danger to be 
 apprehended. Still, there was great weak- 
 ness and languor, and Dr. Stewart, who had 
 known the girl from her infancy, was a little 
 puzzled to account for it. So comparatively 
 slight an injury, in a constitution so 
 thoroughly healthy as Genevra's, ought not 
 so to have quenched her natural vivacity, or 
 kept her so long listlessly irresponsive to all
 
 228 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 her mothers loving efforts to amuse her, 
 as she lay for hours on her couch, or with 
 her eyes riveted on some book whose pages 
 she never turned. 
 
 But at last the mystery was explained, 
 or Jenny's people imagined that it was. 
 Lady Carruthers had been written to, 
 immediately on her niece's return. Mrs. 
 Burnes had volunteered to announce it to 
 her, but with such severity of blame for the 
 neglect which had indirectly caused the 
 misfortune, that it was not surprising that 
 her letter was not acknowledged. Ten days 
 later, came a letter to Mrs. Farquhar from 
 Sir Brian Carruthers, written in evident 
 ignorance of the intelligence that had been 
 communicated to his aunt-in-law, as he 
 expressed some surprise at not having 
 received from Miss Farquhar the permission 
 she had promised to send him to address 
 her mother, on her arrival, and requesting
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 229 
 
 leave to present himself at the Grange, and 
 receive her assent to the proposals which 
 he had done himself the honour, etc., etc., 
 and which the young lady had done him 
 the still greater honour of accepting, subject 
 to Mrs. Farquhar s approval. 
 
 Happily for Mrs. Farquhar, both Mr. 
 and Mrs. Burnes were with her when this 
 most unexpected communication reached 
 her, and the shock of surprise and bewilder- 
 ment was softened by being shared. For 
 even the self-possessed sister Chatty was 
 startled by such a revelation, and read the 
 letter twice over, before she handed it to 
 her husband, and took up her parable thus : 
 
 " Commend me to the girls of the period I 
 So this is the meaning of Miss Jenny's 
 languishing reverie, is it ? Has she never 
 confided the precious secret to you, Juliet ? '' 
 
 *' No, indeed. She has never breathed a 
 word of it to me."
 
 230 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 '^ Perhaps she was ashamed of herself. 
 She well may be — a mere child ! Neither 
 you nor I, Juliet, ever dreamed of lovers at 
 her age." 
 
 " But, Chatty, do you infer from this 
 gentleman's note that Jenny has already 
 accepted him ? " 
 
 "Accepted him? Of course she has! 
 Why, if you two were worldly wise, instead 
 of looking so scared at little Jenny's con- 
 quest, you would be dancing for joy at the 
 prospect of such a match for her ! " 
 
 Here Mr. Burnes, who had been shaking 
 with suppressed laughter over the letter, 
 now interposed. 
 
 " With an old gentleman who might be 
 her grandfather ! " said sister Chatty. 
 
 " That is her affair. The Dowager Lady 
 Carruthers jilted him in her youth for his 
 old uncle, and Jenny jilts nobody ; while 
 he has the same advantages that his uncle
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 231 
 
 had in those days — same title, same fortune, 
 without the drawbacks for Jenny of a step- 
 son as old as herself, and a young lover 
 discarded." 
 
 " Lady Carruthers I " repeated Mrs. 
 Burnes, with a sniff in alto. "I do not 
 think that her marriage was so successful 
 that we should care to make it a precedent 
 for Jenny's." 
 
 " But," said Mrs. Farquhar, '* what am 
 I to do ? How am I to answer this letter ? " 
 
 '' You had better consult your daughter," 
 said Charley, still laughing. 
 
 " I dare not excite her in her present 
 state by broaching such a subject. I would 
 much rather wait until she speaks of it 
 herself, which she is sure to do, as soon as 
 she is equal to it." 
 
 ''Perhaps," said Charley, "the old gentle- 
 man has mistaken her." 
 
 " At all events " — from Mrs. Burnes — '' he
 
 232 THE STOKY OF A KISS. 
 
 could not see her yet, as I suppose he will 
 wish to do if he comes down. Write and 
 tell him how ill she is, Juliet, and that you 
 cannot see him at present. Possibly, when 
 she gets better, she will give you her full 
 confidence." 
 
 The resolution was adopted nem. con., and 
 Mrs. Farquhar sat down, and then and 
 there penned a few courteous lines to the 
 elderly wooer, informing him of Genevra's 
 illness (which, in her confusion of mind 
 and desire to be brief, she called " a railway 
 accident"), which would confine her for 
 some time to her room, and render unadvis- 
 able any discussion of a nature that could 
 not fail to agitate and excite her. Con- 
 sequently, her mother requested Sir Brian 
 to defer until her recovery the visit with 
 which he proposed to honour her. 
 
 " AVill that do, Chatty ? " she asked, hand- 
 ins: her letter to her sister.
 
 A FIRST EESULT. 233 
 
 " Well, yes," answered Mrs. Burnes, 
 rather doubtfully, " that is, if you mean to 
 allow him to come here at all." 
 
 " How can I refuse ? He says Jenny has 
 accepted him. I have no authority over 
 her in such a matter." 
 
 "More's the pity. But this is only a 
 draft of your reply ; there is more than one 
 correction in it ? " 
 
 " I will copy it fair, presently, if you can 
 suggest no alteration ? " 
 
 Mrs. Burnes suggested none ; and when 
 she and her husband had quitted the 
 Grange, Mrs. Farquhar took up both letters, 
 put them into her pocket, and proceeded to 
 her daughter's room, where, to her dismay, 
 she was greeted by the direct question — 
 
 " Whom have you had a letter from, 
 mamma ? " 
 
 " No letter for you, my darling," answered 
 Mrs. Farquhar, evasively, but reddening so
 
 234 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 guiltily that Genevra was aware at once of 
 some concealment — the more suspicious, it 
 may be, from the consciousness of her own 
 reserve. 
 
 '' Are you hiding some secret from me, 
 mother?" she said rather irritably. "I 
 shall worry myself more by trying to 
 guess it than you could harm me by 
 telling it." 
 
 A less cogent argument than this would 
 have prevailed to win Mrs. Farquhar to 
 break silence. She was only too glad to do 
 so ; and, bending tenderly over her darling, 
 she said softly, '' Have you withheld no 
 secret from me, my child ? " 
 
 Genevra turned on her with all her old 
 vivacity. ''He has written to you?" she 
 cried eagerly. " How dared he ? " 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar smiled, and answered a 
 little mischievously, " Perhaps, Jenny, lovers 
 are not so timid as you fancy they ought
 
 A FIEST RESULT. 235 
 
 to be — when they have had Sir Brian's 
 experience." 
 
 " Sir Brian ! " repeated Jenny, and fell 
 back upon her pillows as if she had been 
 flung there. 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar stood still in a dismayed 
 silence. She was chilled, she knew not 
 why, at the strange tone in w^hich the 
 girl had repeated the name " Sir Brian." 
 It was almost as if she had expected some 
 other suitor ; but, of course, that was im- 
 possible ! 
 
 Genevra was the first to speak. *' You 
 have had a letter from Sir Brian ? Tell me 
 all about it." 
 
 And her mother, as usual, obeyed her 
 little autocrat's commands not only by read- 
 ing to her the lover's letter and her reply, 
 but adding all the commentary which it 
 had evoked from herself and from both 
 the Burnes. It w^as not until she had
 
 236 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 exhausted all slie had to say or to ask, and 
 obviously " paused for a reply," that Jenny 
 said — 
 
 " Forgive me, mother. I always meant 
 to tell you about Sir Brian, but I thought 
 there was time enough. I did not care to 
 talk about — such things yet." 
 
 '* Of course, my love, I understand. We 
 will not talk about them until you are 
 stronger. I did not mean to say a word, 
 only you pressed me so." 
 
 "Mamma, I wish you to enclose a note 
 from me in that letter of yours." 
 
 "Are you strong enough to write, dear ? 
 Shall I not give a message for you 
 instead ? " 
 
 " No " — very peremptorily. 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar stooped down, and, caress- 
 ingly smoothing the invalid's hair, whispered, 
 " Do you love Sir Brian Carruthers, 
 Jenny ? "
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 237 
 
 " Love him ? " was the astounding reply* 
 " I hate him 1 " and down she sank again. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Farquhar was utterly be- 
 wildered. " Then he had not your per- 
 mission to address me ? " 
 
 '^ I don't know," answered the fickle fair 
 one, pettishly. " Well, yes ; I did tell him 
 he might come." She added, "I was 
 wrong to say I hate Sir Brian. I like him 
 very much ; but I cannot marry him." 
 
 " My love, we do not wish you to marry 
 him. You are too young to think of 
 marriage, and this gentleman is too old for 
 you. 
 
 ''Miles too old ! " insisted Jenny emphatic- 
 ally. In fact, through some unexplained 
 mental process, the figure of the hapless 
 baronet appeared to her imagination as if 
 relegated to the dust of remotest antiquity ; 
 but she never asked herself how a few days 
 could have effected such a chauge in her
 
 238 THE STORY OP A KISS. 
 
 estimate of age. " Still," she continued, 
 *'he is very nice and kind, and a perfect 
 gentleman, and" — with a sudden fierceness 
 — " he never kissed me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar stared at the speaker 
 in renewed perplexity, and then said, '* I 
 think I can understand, my darling. You 
 had been excited by new scenes and new 
 society, and could not realize what Sir 
 Brian asked of you, nor what you promised 
 him ; but, this being so, had I not better 
 explain it to Sir Brian, and decline his visit 
 in your name, and altogether ? " 
 
 *' No," said Genevra ; "I will w^ite to 
 him myself. Come to me in half an hour, 
 and you shall have my note to put inside 
 yours, but you must not read it." 
 
 " Very well," sighed the indulgent mother, 
 and left the damsel to write her note alone. 
 She returned to find that, with some efibrt, 
 she had accomplished her task, and was
 
 A FIRST RESULT. 239 
 
 looking pale and weaiy, but more satisfied 
 than she had hitherto seemed to be. 
 
 " Now, mamma," she said, " please do not 
 talk any more about my visit to Aunt 
 Carruthers. It was all very tiresome, and 
 I am so glad to be at home with you again."
 
 240 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTEK XYI. 
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 
 
 Sir Brian had returned to town, and was 
 seated alone, as it chanced, in the smoking- 
 room of his club, enjoying the flavour of a 
 choice cigar, and not particularly enjoying 
 the meditations that floated through his 
 brain, or the anxieties which he could not 
 expel with the smoke. The truth is, how- 
 ever reluctantly the very youthful of either 
 sex may receive it, that, at the first blush, 
 even an accepted proposal of marriage is, 
 to a middle-aged lover, not all unqualified 
 rapture or even all- engrossing. He had 
 been so occupied with business matters
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 241 
 
 while visiting his new inheritance, that he 
 had awaited without impatience the promised 
 permission to address Mrs. Farquhar. The 
 late baronet had, as has been mentioned 
 before, let Brackensfell for two years to a 
 millowner whose own house the builders 
 (not contractors) had promised should be 
 completed within that period. But (not 
 an unusual occurrence) they found them- 
 selves unable to fulfil this engagement, and 
 Mr. Askew had requested an extension 
 of his term of tenancy. Sir Brian had 
 characteristically replied that he must take 
 a week or two to consider it, feeling that 
 his young bride and her mother should at 
 least be consulted as to his plans for her 
 future home. Hence his apparently lover- 
 like precipitance in writing to Mrs. Far- 
 quhar, without waiting for Genevra's consent, 
 as he had agreed to do. And now, as he 
 mused on the decisive step he had taken, 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 his reflections would in words have been 
 thus expressed — 
 
 " Well, I am in for it now, and no mis- 
 take ! It is rather a leap in the dark ; but 
 so marriage always is, more or less ; and it 
 is a leap I was bound to take, sooner or 
 later, and it is best not to wait until old 
 age. I have escaped the snares of pro- 
 spective mothers-in-law, and she is a sweet 
 little girl, as fresh and pure as a daisy, 
 innocent of worldly wiles, and will live 
 happily with me in a pleasant climate, 
 where there are birds and flowers — and 
 monkeys. Quite a country girl, says my 
 quondam sweetheart and present aunt. You 
 were no country girl, my lady, when you 
 jilted me for a title. Girls ' in society ' 
 know the value of such things. I don't 
 believe my little Jenny knows the difierence 
 between a baronet and a knight or a justice 
 of the peace ! Still, I wish I had gone
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 243 
 
 down to see her among her people before I 
 committed myself. What the deuce made 
 me in such a hurry ? " 
 
 And poor Sir Brian felt much as a person 
 does who, in descending the stairs, misses 
 the last step, and comes to the floor with 
 a jar. He had reached this point in his 
 meditations, when a waiter entered, and 
 presented him with a letter marked " Im- 
 mediate." In taking Mrs. Farquhar's note 
 from the envelope, he did not observe the 
 tiny one from Genevra which nestled be- 
 neath it, and read with real concern that 
 his little lady was sufi'ering. 
 
 " Kail way accident ? " he repeated. " I 
 saw no notice of any railway accident at 
 the time in the paper. It could not have 
 been serious, or it could not have been 
 hushed up. Hullo ! here's a note in the 
 envelope from my little girl herself — I hope 
 to say there is no cause for alarm."
 
 244 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 He opened Genevra's note, and this is 
 what he read : — • 
 
 "Do not think me ungrateful, dear Sir 
 Brian, for the honour you have done me. 
 I am not ungrateful. I know I was never 
 worthy of it, and — it cannot be. You 
 must forget all about it, for indeed I am 
 not what you would have me. I am not 
 worthy. 
 
 " Genevra." 
 
 Certainly Jenny could not be suspected 
 of having formed this abrupt and incoherent 
 note on the model of any " elegant epistle," 
 and Sir Brian read it over two or three 
 times before he could gather its full im- 
 port ; but when he did, he dashed it down 
 on the table beside him, and muttered ve- 
 hemently between his teeth, " Jilted again, 
 by Jove I " 
 
 Presently he took it up once more, and
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 245 
 
 applied himself to the renewed study of it. 
 Small blame to him that he could make 
 nothing of it ! " Not worthy ! " How was 
 she less worthy than when she accepted his 
 offer ten days ago ? If she had pleaded 
 some objection on the part of her friends ; 
 if she had even hinted at the existence of 
 some previous attachment, which she had 
 formerly denied ! But " not worthy " 1 
 That phrase, from some girls to some men 
 would have had but one significance, but 
 Sir Brian only glanced once at it to reject 
 it decisively. " Not that," he said ; " the 
 child is as pure as snow. She is ignorant, 
 from sheer innocence, of the construction 
 that might be placed on her foolish words, 
 but she has evidently not written at the 
 dictation of her mother. No mother would 
 have suffered such a letter to be sent if she 
 had read it. Now, what am I to do about 
 it?"
 
 246 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 A " swain of Arcady " (Midlands), on 
 being asked how he would act if suddenly 
 confronted by some agricultural dilemma (I 
 forget what), replied, " I'd take it home and 
 champ it" {Anglice, '^chew," think over 
 it). Sir Brian was an intellectual ruminant, 
 and " champed " everything, even his love- 
 letters. So he took Jenny's note, which 
 was hardly a love-letter, home with him to 
 his hotel, and "champed it." The result 
 was a few lines to Mrs. Farquhar, enclosing 
 fewer still to Genevra. To the mother he 
 merely expressed the conventional regrets 
 for the young lady's illness, with an en- 
 treaty to be informed of her progress to 
 recovery. To Jenny he said that he was 
 sure that her note was written under the 
 temporary excitement of nervous irrita- 
 bility, and would be susceptible of a very 
 easy explanation when she was well enough 
 to receive him. Until then, he would not
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 247 
 
 SO mucli as remember it, and afterwards 
 they would both forget it together. 
 
 Mrs. Farquhar thought the lover's letter 
 a little cold ; but then, what might Genevra 
 not have said to him in hers ? After a 
 little hesitation, the girl silently handed 
 her his reply to her enigmatical note. 
 
 "It seems, my dear," said the mother, 
 "that, after all, he does not accept your 
 dismissal. He thinks, perhaps, that you do 
 not know your own mind ? " 
 
 Genevra vouchsafed no rejoinder to this 
 very probable suggestion ; but in a subse- 
 quent conversation between Mrs. Farquhar 
 and her sister, Mrs. Burnes fully concurred 
 in it. "At least," she said, "the man is 
 right to insist on clearing up the muddle, 
 whatever it is, by a vivd voce explanation. 
 Genevra could not possibly have assigned 
 any rational excuse for accepting him one 
 week, and refusing him the next. But
 
 248 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 did she show you her letter to him, 
 Juliet ? " 
 
 *'She did not," answered the mother, 
 reluctantly. 
 
 "Then, in fact," pursued Mrs. Burnes, 
 " we are just proceeding in the dark. Per- 
 haps she never accepted him at all. She 
 may have been too confused to know 
 exactly what answer she gave to what must 
 have been a totally unexpected proposal, 
 and Sir Brian misunderstood her alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " It may have been so," assented Mrs. 
 Farquhar, adding brightly, " and that 
 would explain her reserve with me. She 
 was too ill to enter on such a subject, 
 when there was no immediate necessity for 
 it. It is more difficult to believe that she 
 intended me to hear of it first from this 
 gentleman himself." 
 
 But sister Chatty always liked to study
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 249 
 
 both sides of a question. " Or," she re- 
 sumed, " she may not have positively re- 
 fused him in the letter she wrote. Perhaps 
 there was some misunderstanding between 
 them, which she wished cleared up." 
 
 " It was too early for misunderstanding,'* 
 objected Mrs. Farquhar. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Something may 
 have occurred to her, upon reflection, after 
 they parted. By the way, Juliet, does 
 Genevra know that, by her fathers last 
 wish, she is forbidden to marry till her 
 eighteenth year "? " 
 
 " I have never named such a condition 
 to her, Charlotte. You know we both 
 agreed that the subject of marriage need 
 not even be alluded to until she had 
 arrived at her eighteenth year. How could 
 we ever dream of a lover presenting him- 
 self to her before that age ? He never 
 would," added the mother, piteously, " if I
 
 250 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 had kept her at home, which is, after all, 
 the only safe place for a young girl." 
 
 " But," said Charley, who was present at 
 this conference, " I should like to know 
 what Lady Carruthers and her daughter 
 say about this business. Have you heard 
 nothing from them, Juliet ? " 
 
 "Not a syllable." 
 
 " Perhaps it is a secret from them 
 also?'' 
 
 " That can hardly be, when they only 
 met in Lady Carruthers' house." 
 
 " I don't know," said Charley, laughing. 
 " You see, this Sir Brian was a lover of 
 the old lady's formerly. He might have 
 felt a little delicacy — eh, my Kosebud ? " 
 
 "Nonsense, Charles," said his wife 
 sternly. " Whatever they were formerly, 
 they are aunt and nephew now. Well, 
 we know nothing about the affair, except 
 that there seems a ridiculous mystery about
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 251 
 
 it. The sooner it is cleared up the better, 
 or best of all, perhaps, cleared away." 
 
 "It would be a grand marriage for 
 Jenny, though," persisted Charley. 
 
 "Jenny is in no need of a grand mar- 
 riage with an old man," answered Mrs. 
 Burnes. "She is not a destitute orphan, 
 Charles ; and, if she were, I hope she would 
 not consider matrimony as merely a means 
 of livelihood." 
 
 " Do you disapprove of it altogether. 
 Chatty ? " inquired Mrs. Farquhar, timidly. 
 " You know that as regards her marriage, 
 as everything else, I am expressly forbidden 
 to thwart my Genevra's inclinations." 
 
 " If we could only ascertain what her 
 inclinations are ! " answered Mrs. Burnes ; 
 " but even Sir Brian himself seems rather 
 at a loss there." 
 
 " Ought I to write to him again, as he 
 begs me to do ? " said Juliet.
 
 252 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 " No, if I were you, I should leave him 
 alone ; let him come or not, as he likes and 
 when he likes, or not at all. We none of 
 us want him here." 
 
 " I do," said Charley. " I should like to 
 have a look atj Jenny's first sweetheart ; and 
 besides, my dear Chatty, since Juliet has no 
 authority to dismiss him, and Jenny does 
 not deny that she has given him the per- 
 mission to visit her — whether she wishes 
 to withdraw it or not — Juliet is bound to 
 treat him with courtesy. I should advise 
 her to answer his letter, and just say that 
 her illness is not so severe as to call for 
 regular bulletins — if he hears no more, he 
 must infer that she is progressing favourably ; 
 and leave them to settle their differences 
 between them, without interference." 
 
 The Vicar's counsels prevailed, and the 
 '' young people," as he called them, were 
 left to make their own arrangements. For
 
 JILTED AGAIN. 253 
 
 some little time there was no further advance 
 on Sir Brian's part, while Genevra main- 
 tained a resolute reserve, and refused to 
 believe that he would make any further 
 advance at all. But the leisurely lover was 
 merely waiting until she should be supposed 
 to be sufficiently recovered to receive his 
 visit ; and as, after Mrs. Farquhar's first 
 brief letter, he was left to determine this 
 point by conjecture, the crisis did not 
 appear imminent.
 
 254 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HURSTLEIGH. 
 
 And in the mean time, what has become 
 of our young Romeo — if a Romeo can be 
 imagined to an unresponsive Juliet ? At 
 least, Sir Brian's unconscious rival had for- 
 feited his claim to be called a Sir Galahad ! 
 Keith Moray had returned to Hurstleigh — 
 not his native place, but to which it was 
 confidently believed that he would one day 
 be heir. It would not, by itself, be a wealthy 
 inheritance. 
 
 Hurstleigh was an estate of some fourteen 
 hundred acres, most of which, with the 
 exception of those immediately surrounding 
 the house, were barren, treeless sheep -farms
 
 HUKSTLEIGH. 255 
 
 on the bleak Sussex downs ; and even the 
 plantations round the house, although care- 
 fully planted and tended, and sheltered in 
 a sunny hollow from the wild sea-winds, 
 repaid but scantly the pains lavished upon 
 them in profitable herbage or timber. But 
 the heights above it, and the openings 
 around it, gave partial glimpses of the sea, 
 and everywhere the chalk downs were lovely 
 with the varying beauty of light and shadow 
 for ever sweej)ing over them. Hurstleigh 
 was no ancestral domain, though so dearly 
 valued by its present owner, James Moray, 
 whose father, Dunlop Moray, had been one 
 of the senior partners in a wealthy City firm. 
 Dunlop Moray had married a still wealthier 
 City heiress, who died shortly after the birth 
 of her son, on whom, by settlement, her 
 whole fortune was to devolve on his father s 
 death. The boy was his father's idol and 
 pride ; but when only nine years old, riding
 
 256 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 beside him on his little pony, the horse 
 suddenly shied, and flung him against a 
 kerb-stone, the result being an injury to 
 the spine, which, without actually crippling 
 him, would render him hopelessly an invalid 
 for life. 
 
 During the first years of his marriage, 
 Mr. Moray had purchased Hurstleigh, then 
 only a large sheep-farm, and had rebuilt, 
 enlarged, and embellished it for a country 
 seat ; and here, by the advice of his 
 physicians, the boy was taken for the benefit 
 of the pure sea-breezes, and here he had 
 lived ever since. Mr. Dunlop Moray married 
 again, and his wife followed her predecessor 
 in a few years, leaving, like the first Mrs. 
 Moray, only one child, a son. But the 
 parallel ended there. Raymond Moray, the 
 younger son, grew up a healthy, active 
 youth, fond of all the pleasures of society, 
 with no taste whatever for the seclusion in
 
 HUESTLEIGH. 257 
 
 whicli his brother entrenched liimself, and 
 with a decided indifference no less to his 
 person than to his pursuits. They seldom 
 met, and never corresponded. The father 
 died when James was thirty-two and 
 Eaymond eleven years younger, and shortly 
 afterwards the younger brother received a 
 commission in a regiment ordered to India, 
 and departed with scarcely a farewell to tlie 
 sickly sufferer, who had frequently paid, out 
 of his own fortune, the debts which Ray- 
 mond's extravagance had accumulated, re- 
 ceiving hardly an acknowledgment in return. 
 Not until six years after his departure did 
 any communication from the brilliant ofHcer 
 reach the lonely recluse, and then it was 
 a startling one ! It came in the shape of a 
 beautiful black-eyed boy of some five years 
 old, who was sent down to Plurstleigh in 
 charge of an Indian ayah, and the following 
 letter of introduction : — 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 *'Dear James, 
 
 " I was glad to hear from 
 Symonds that when he left England, you 
 were as well, or as ill, as usual, in that 
 dreary old hermitage of yours ; but as I am 
 sure you must be confoundedly dull, I send 
 you a nephew to amuse you. I dare say 
 he'll be a lively companion, though the 
 little beggar hates the sight of me, and I 
 return the compliment. Knowing that you 
 were always strait-laced, I send him with 
 a copy of madam's 'marriage lines,' from 
 which you may infer that he is my lawful 
 son, though it is more than I feel sure 
 of myself, which may account for the 
 rather ' overstrained relations ' between us. 
 The whole business was a blunder. When 
 I first came out, a mere boy, as you know, 
 I was fascinated by a very beautiful girl a 
 few years younger than myself, and in an
 
 HURSTLEIGH. 259 
 
 inferior social position. She was, besides, 
 of Indian descent, so that marriage should 
 have been out of the question, and would 
 have been, had I been a little older and 
 wiser. As it was, I was enticed into a 
 marriage, which I had just sense enough to 
 insist upon keeping secret until I could take 
 or send her to England, where her Indian 
 blood would not have been a disgrace. A 
 few months later this lad was born, and, my 
 regiment being ordered up the country, I 
 had to leave her and the brat for two years. 
 Before I returned the jade had eloped with 
 some French trading fellow, leaving the 
 child a mon adresse, and I never had tale 
 or tidings of her until a year afterwards, 
 when I learnt that she and her companion — 
 d — n them both !— had been drowned in the 
 ship in which they had sailed for Bordeaux. 
 She had taken care to leave her marriage 
 certificate secure in the hands of one of her
 
 260 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 friends before she bolted, so I could not 
 disown my son ; but feeling no paternal 
 stirrings of heart towards him — little black 
 ])rute ! — I took no notice of him beyond 
 paying for his provender, until, when 
 Symonds told me that you were still at 
 Hurstleigh, and taking no steps to provide 
 an heir of your own, it occurred to me that 
 mine might be useful to you, and I forward 
 him accordingly. If you won't have him, 
 send him to an orphanage, or to the work- 
 house, if you like ; anything but send him 
 back to me. He shows too much of the 
 nigger to do any good here, and is too like 
 his dam to please me, though that should 
 be saying that the whelp is good looking 
 too. You may as well send back the ayah ; 
 she was only hired for the job, and knows 
 nothing of my little family secret, which 
 you may as well keep to yourself The 
 mother being submerged, nothing more need
 
 HUESTLEIGH. 261 
 
 be said of her. If you are questioned for 
 ' further particulars,' inquire of 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 '' R M. 
 "The boy has been named 'Keith.' A 
 copy of his baptismal register and that of 
 his birth is enclosed, all in ' regular 
 form,' as you are such a prig." 
 
 It cannot be said that either the tone or 
 the substance of the epistle was calculated 
 to increase «Iames Moray's esteem for his 
 half-brother ; but to his lonely and saddened 
 life the child came as a Heaven-sent oift. 
 The little Keith was a shy, sensitive boy, 
 who seemed to have been quite unaccus- 
 tomed to kindness, and he soon repaid his 
 uncle's affection with an ardour of grateful 
 love that poured a flood of sunshine into 
 the secluded home. In a few weeks iVIr. 
 ]Moray wrote to Raymond, offering to bring
 
 262 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 up his son as his own heir, provided that 
 all the rights and authority of a father were 
 unconditionally transferred to him. Captain 
 Moray was but too glad to assent to this 
 arrangement, and thenceforth took no notice 
 of either his boy or his brother, and, 
 beino; killed not long- afterwards in a 
 skirmish with a rebel tribe, Keith became 
 the undisputed possession of his English 
 relative. 
 
 Day by day, year by year, the bond 
 between the boy and the invalid grew closer 
 and tenderer, until, when Keith was about 
 twelve, a circumstance occurred which not 
 only riveted that bond as nothing else could 
 have done, but permanently influenced his 
 character and modes of thought and feeling. 
 
 The only fault in him which caused grave 
 anxiety to Mr. Moray was the ungovernable 
 fury to which he would occasionally give 
 way. He was not often or easily provoked,
 
 HUKSTLEIGH. 263 
 
 but when offended lie lost for the time all 
 power of self-restraint, and was capable in 
 his frenzy of excesses which, for days after- 
 wards, he would passionately regret and 
 deplore. He had been annoyed one day by 
 the insolence of a young page-boy, whom 
 Mr. Moray had lately taken into his service, 
 and who had refused to obey some order 
 that Keith had given him. Hoping to 
 arrest the tide of passion that he saw was 
 rising, the uncle commanded the page to 
 leave the room ; but as he obeyed, before he 
 closed the door, he made an insultine: 
 grimace at his young master, who instantly 
 darted after him, and a free fight ensued on 
 the landing. Mr. Moray hurried out to 
 part the combatants, who were pretty well 
 matched in size and age, but Keith was 
 the more energetic of the two. He had 
 thrown his adversary to the ground, and 
 might, in his fury, have seriously injured
 
 264 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 him, though boys seldom do lasting harm 
 to each other in their battles ; but he was 
 more like a tiger-cub at that moment than 
 a human being. When Mr. Moray went to 
 rescue his prey from his clutches, he aimed 
 a furious kick at him. In stepping back- 
 Avards to avoid this practical amenity, the 
 invalid lost his balance, and fell to the 
 bottom of the stairs, where he lay senseless, 
 and, as the horrified Keith believed, lifeless. 
 He recovered consciousness after some hours, 
 l;)ut chronic ill health is not improved by 
 the sujBferer being kicked downstairs. For 
 many weeks he lay between life and death, 
 having received, the doctors said, an internal 
 injury wdiich would render him for ever 
 unable to leave his couch for more than a 
 few hours at most. For some time Keith 
 was not permitted to enter his room, but 
 he could not be prevented from watching 
 outside the door, night and day, like a dog ;
 
 HURSTLEIGH. 265 
 
 and sucli was liis agony of grief and remorse 
 that when the doctors pronounced Mr. 
 Moray out of danger, their anxiety for him 
 seemed likely to be transferred to his 
 assailant. But Mr. Moray found a way of 
 turning all this pain and sorrow into lasting 
 profit. 
 
 " Keith, dear boy," he said to him one 
 day, when he had been passionately bewail- 
 ing the injury he had done to his benefactor 
 and dearest friend — '' Keith, whatever be 
 the wrong you accuse yourself of towards 
 me, you can more than repair it — you can 
 make of it a joy and a blessing to me, if 
 you are capable of a great and persistent 
 etibrt, and willing to make it for my 
 sake." 
 
 " I am capable of any ejQfort," answered 
 the boy, fixing his dark eyes on the speaker, 
 with all the fire of his nature glowing in 
 an intensity of resolve. " I would die a
 
 266 THE STOEY OF A KISS. 
 
 thousand deaths in making it, to lessen your 
 pain for a day." 
 
 " I ask you not to die, my Keith," re- 
 joined his uncle, "but to live worthily, by 
 learning to practise a resolute self-restraint 
 in everything, till you have subdued the 
 brute passion which will otherwise conquer 
 and degrade the manhood in you, until even 
 your noblest aspirations become the mere 
 fitful impulse of the hour. It will be a 
 hard fight, my son, and possibly a lifelong 
 one. Will you engage in the struggle for 
 love of me ? " 
 
 The boy did not speak, but he knelt down 
 beside the suff'erer's couch, and laid his brow 
 against his head ; and when he rose to his 
 feet again, Mr. Moray knew that a vow was 
 registered that would never be broken, and 
 though the battle might sometimes go 
 against him, he would never yield nor fly. 
 
 Nor did he. He was human and young,
 
 HUKSTLEIGH. 26? 
 
 and might, under sudden temptation, some- 
 times falter, but one glance at the beloved 
 form lying in patient endurance on its couch 
 of anguish, or even the memory of it, 
 would suffice to nerve him to renewed effort 
 to curb his passion, and to keep unfailiug 
 watch over himself, until he had gained so 
 resolute a self-mastery that few of his asso- 
 ciates even suspected what it cost him to 
 maintain it. And as the man grew feebler 
 and more suffering, the boy stronger, more 
 beautiful, more manly, the relation between 
 them w^as more like that of mother and son 
 than of uncle and nephew ; and to his need 
 of tenderness and sympathy, Keith's cha- 
 racter owed much of the almost feminine 
 softness which tempered its masculine energy 
 in a home where there was no female in- 
 fluence to mould it. 
 
 Wise with the truest wisdom of ud selfish 
 love, Mr. Moray felt that the seclusion
 
 268 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 which was unavoidable for himself would 
 be to the last degree injurious to a youth 
 who would have a place to fill among the 
 activities of the world. So Keith passed 
 through the usual curricidum of well-born 
 and wealthy lads, and passed, too, with 
 credit and honour from Rugby to Oxford, 
 always returning from the scenes of his 
 boyish sports or manlier triumphs to bring 
 the freshness of joyous healthy youth into 
 the quiet chamber of the sickly student at 
 Hurstleigh, who never failed to welcome him 
 with loving, indulgent sympathy and counsel. 
 Although he rarely quitted his uncle's home 
 for more than a few days, he was frequently 
 surrounded by young men of his own age — 
 old schoolfellows or college friends — who 
 were invited, at Mr. Moray's express wish, 
 to share his open-air amusements, fishing, 
 hunting, or shooting. But his chief com- 
 panion and closest friend w\as Harry Stan-
 
 HURSTLEIGH. 269 
 
 forth, the young man whom Genevra had 
 seen in his company at the railway station. 
 They had been friends from their earhest 
 school-days, although Harry was two years 
 younger than Keith. He was the son of an 
 otticer who had died on his way out to 
 India, and the second marriage of his 
 mother had left him for some years practi- 
 cally an orphan, as his stepfather, while 
 charging himself with his liberal education 
 and maintenance, had declined any personal 
 intercourse, not from unkindness, but be- 
 cause, as he passed his time in foreign 
 travels for the benefit of his health, a 
 young child would at first have been an 
 "encumbrance" in every sense, and would 
 later have been injured, rather than ad- 
 vantaged, by sharing his parent's roving 
 life. 
 
 Possibly it was this shadowy bond of 
 sympathy that at first attracted Keith Moray
 
 270 THE STORY OF A KISS. 
 
 to his young schoolmate, and induced him 
 to take him back with him to Hurstleigh to 
 spend his lonely holidays. But from that 
 time forth the boys grew up like brothers, 
 although totally unlike in tastes, character, 
 and disposition. Hurstleigh was Harry 
 Stanforth's home for years, and seemed 
 likely to remain so even longer, when the 
 return of his mother to England, once more 
 a widow, had renewed their long-suspended 
 relations, and from a lonely orphan he had 
 been summoned to take the position of only 
 son and heir. On the day Jenny saw him 
 at the station, he had been about to escort 
 Lady Dalton to a friend's house for a short 
 visit, which he had not been invited to 
 share ; and, having left her there, he rejoined 
 Keith Moray at Hurstleigh about a fortnight 
 later, as warmly received by the uncle as 
 the nephew. For although Harry Stanforth 
 possessed no personal beauty, nor any re-
 
 HURSTLEIGH. 271 
 
 finement of manner and intellect, he was so 
 full of life and unfailing vivacity, so gene- 
 rous and warmhearted, so ready with admi- 
 ration and sympathy and cordial help wlien- 
 ever needed, that he was universally beloved 
 and everywhere gladly welcomed. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PRINTED BV WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITfiD, 
 
 LONDON AND BKCCLES. C, C. &* Co.
 

 
 
 
 
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