^L I B RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 H35lkX 
 v.l 
 
The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons 
 for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from 
 the University. 
 To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 L161— 0-10% 
 
BLIND FATE. 
 
u 
 
 
 BLIND (fflBpTT E . 
 
 H 1Ro\>eL 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. ALEXANDER. 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 "THE WOOING O'T," 
 "A LIFE INTEREST," "MONA'S CHOICE," 
 BY WOMAN'S WIT," "A FALSE SCENT," &c, &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 London : 
 
 F. V. WHITE & CO., 
 
 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1890. 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, 
 
 AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. 
 
823 
 
 v.l 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. — Breaking Coyer ..... 1 
 
 II. — " Duncan Gray's Come Here to Woo " 48 
 III. — "Taking Sweet Counsel" ... 81 
 
 IY. — Mother Carey's Chickens . . .119 
 Y.— "A Change of Plan" . . . 157 
 VI. — After Life's Fitful Fever . . .193 
 VII.—" The Inquest " 221 
 
BLIND FATE. 
 
POPULAR NEW NOVELS. 
 
 Now Ready, in One Vol., the Seventh Edition of 
 ARMY SOCIETY ; or, Life in a Garrison Town. By John Strange 
 Winter. Author of "Booties' Baby." Cloth gilt, 6*.; also 
 picture boards, 2*. 
 
 Also, Now Ready, in Cloth Gilt, 25. 6d. each. 
 
 GARRISON GOSSIP, Gathered in Blankhampton. By JOHN 
 
 Strange Winter. Also picture boards, 2s. 
 A SIEGE BABY. By the same Author. Also picture boards, 25. 
 BEAUTIFUL JIM. By the same AUTHOR. 
 BY WOMAN'S WIT. By Mrs. ALEXANDER, Author of "The 
 
 Wooing O't." Also picture boards, 2*. 
 MONA'S CHOICE. By the same AUTHOR. 
 A LIFE INTEREST. By the same Author. 
 KILLED IN THE OPEN. By Mrs. EDWARD KENNARD. Also 
 
 picture boards, 2s. 
 THE GIRL IN THE BROWN HABIT. A Sporting Novel. By 
 
 the same author. Also picture boards, 2*. 
 A REAL GOOD THING. By the same AUTHOR. Also picture 
 
 boards, 2s. 
 A CRACK COUNTY. By the same AUTHOR. 
 STRAIGHT AS A DIE. By the same AUTHOR. Also picture 
 
 boards, 2*. 
 TWILIGHT TALES. By the same AUTHOR. Illustrated. 
 IN A GRASS COUNTRY. By Mrs. H. LOVETT-CAMERON. 
 
 Also picture boards, 2*. 
 A DEVOUT LOVER. By the same Author. 
 THE COST OF A LIE. By the same AUTHOR. 
 THIS WICKED WORLD. By the same AUTHOR. 
 THE OUTSIDER. By Hawley Smart. Also picture boards, 2s. 
 THE MASTER OF RATHKELLY. By the same AUTHOR. 
 SHE CAME BETWEEN. By Mrs. ALEXANDER FRASER. 
 THE CRUSADE OF THE " EXCELSIOR." By BRET HARTE. Also 
 
 picture boards, 25. 
 CURB AND SNAFFLE. By SIR RANDAL H. ROBERTS, Bart. 
 DREAM FACES. By THE HONBLE. MRS. FETHERSTONHAUGH. 
 THE HONBLE. MRS. VEREKER. By the Author of "Molly 
 
 Bawn," &c. 
 THE DUCHESS OF ROSEMARY LANE. By B. L. FARJEON. 
 
 F. V. WHITE & CO., 
 31, Southampton Street, Strand, London, W.C. 
 
BLIND FATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BREAKING COVER. 
 
 The last notes of an air from the 
 " Trovatore " were dying out over the 
 shining sea. The crowd which had 
 gathered on the pier to listen to the band 
 began to move and disperse, the music 
 being over for that afternoon, a fine 
 glowing August afternoon, tempered by the 
 fresh, soft air breathing across the bay, crisp- 
 ing the water here and there and bringing a 
 delightful saltness from the rippling waters. 
 The scene is Fordsea, a flourishing 
 
 South-Coast bathing place, not altogether 
 vol. i. 1 
 
2 BLIND FATE. 
 
 dependent for its prosperity on summer 
 nomads. Its attractions are of a more per- 
 manent character. Being in the close 
 neighbourhood of the Naval and Military 
 Station of Eastport, the officers of both 
 services are glad to establish their families 
 in the villas, terraces, crescents, which 
 border the grassy common intervening 
 between them and the beach. 
 
 At the end of this pleasant common, 
 furthest from the old grey fortifications 
 which encircle the town, a pretty two- 
 storied villa stood on an abrupt rising 
 ground, from which it commanded a view 
 over the wide bay to the towers guarding 
 the entrance to the port, to the steeples and 
 the tall masts over-topping the grey walls. 
 A verandah, its supports overgrown with 
 roses and honeysuckle, ran along the side 
 facing the sea, and a deep area, with 
 sloping grassy sides surrounded it, giving 
 
BREAKING COVER. 3 
 
 light and air to the basement. This 
 verandah was evidently used as a morn- 
 ing-room, comfortable lounging-chairs, a 
 work-table laden with books, bright- 
 coloured silks and wools, a doll and a cup 
 and ball lay about. 
 
 The carefully-kept garden was rich in 
 flowers for the time of year, and opened 
 by a rustic gate upon the common, here 
 narrowed into a mere strip of green inter- 
 vening between it and the sea. 
 
 On the beach in front of this dainty 
 mansion a young lady was sitting on a 
 ridge of shingle, bleached by sea and sea- 
 water to perfect cleanliness, which afforded 
 a comfortable resting-place. The young 
 lady seemed much at her ease. Her skirt 
 of blue serge was turned up over a second 
 skirt of white and blue and caught up at 
 the back in what used to be called " fish- 
 wife " fashion — the bodice fitting her slight 
 
4 BLIND FATE. 
 
 supple figure easily, perfectly ; a little foot 
 in a dark-blue stocking, and an incom- 
 parable shoe peeped forth as she supported 
 an open book on one knee, and a wide- 
 brimmed sailor hat almost hid her face as 
 she bent over the page. 
 
 A big brown boat drawn up beside her 
 made a shelter from the level rays of the 
 sinking sun. Altogether she presented a 
 pretty picture of quiet enjoyment. 
 
 As the last strains of the band died 
 away a gentleman in boating attire strolled 
 slowly across the grass, paused, looked 
 round as if searching for something, and 
 then came straight over the shingle towards 
 her. 
 
 She heard his step and looked at her 
 book with renewed attention, nor did she 
 move till he stood beside her. Then she 
 raised her face, an interesting, rather than 
 a pretty face, somewhat brunette in com- 
 
BREAKING COVER. 5 
 
 plexion, and pale, with a warm paleness — a 
 small, oval face, with a delicate chin and a 
 very slight downward curve at the corners 
 of the soft red mouth, that gave a pathetic 
 expression to her countenance when in 
 repose. Her eyes, too, which were her 
 best feature — large eyes, with long, dark 
 lashes, had a wistful, far-away look, more 
 suited to a saint than to their piquante 
 owner. 
 
 The man who paused beside her was tall 
 and slender, with a grace of movement not 
 usual in an Englishman. He was darker, 
 too, than ordinary Anglo-Saxons, who 
 rarely possess such blue -black hair and 
 flashing dark eyes as his. His well-cut, 
 refined, but determined mouth was un- 
 shaded by moustaches, though a strong 
 growth of black beard showed through 
 his clear olive brown skin. He smiled a 
 soft, caressing smile as he threw himself 
 
6 BLIND FATE. 
 
 on the sand at her feet, saying : " I 
 thought you had gone on the pier with 
 Callander?" 
 
 " No ; he has gone to the station to meet 
 Mr. Standish, and Mabel has had the honour 
 of a command from the Grand Duchess to 
 drive with her." 
 
 The saintly-pathetic expression entirely 
 disappeared, as she spoke with a swift, 
 arch smile, and a flash of scorn from her 
 " holy eyes." 
 
 " Ah," he returned, in an amused tone, 
 " why did you not go to meet your beloved 
 guardian ? " 
 
 " I never meant to go. I came out of 
 the way to listen to the band here. Music 
 is so charming as it comes fitfully on the 
 breeze, and I enjoy it most alone." 
 
 "Well, it is over now, so I may venture 
 to btay ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, if you like ! But I am tired of 
 
BREAKING COVER. 7 
 
 sitting here. I want to match some silks. 
 Do you mind, Mr. Egerton ? " 
 
 " Not at all. As Madame de Stael says, 
 ' etre avec ceux quon aime — — ' " 
 
 "It sounds just as well in English," she 
 interrupted, laughing. " ' To be with 
 those we love is all-sufficient, etc., etc , 
 etc.' — yes, it is a pretty sentiment." 
 
 " You are not in an amiable mood to- 
 day, Miss Wynn. What book is this ? Let 
 me carry it for you. Ah ! ' The Great 
 Lone Land.' " 
 
 " Yes, it is charming — thank you," 
 giving it to him. 
 
 " Don't you think it would be cruel to 
 waste this lovely evening matching silks in 
 a stuffy shop ? Let us go along the common 
 towards the pier. We may meet some of 
 your party returning." 
 
 " Yes, let us go along by the sea." She 
 turned as she spoke and directed her steps 
 
8 BLIND FATE. 
 
 to a low grassy embankment which pro- 
 tected the common on the shore side. 
 
 They walked awhile in silence, Egerton's 
 expression hardening as though his 
 thoughts were not pleasant. Presently he 
 began to speak on indifferent topics, and 
 suddenly, after a pause, Miss Wynn asked : 
 "Do you really think Colonel Callander 
 seems better ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do. I fancv the sunstroke 
 which knocked him down was not severe. 
 Good as an excuse to come home to his 
 wife, perhaps, and here she is ! " he ex- 
 claimed, interrupting himself, as a smart 
 victoria and pair came up at a brisk pace 
 and stopped beside them. 
 
 " I thought we might meet you," said 
 the elder of two ladies who occupied the 
 carriage, a stately-looking woman of per- 
 haps sixty or more, with iron-grey hair, a 
 thin-lipped, close-shut mouth, and eyes too 
 
BREAKING COVER. 9 
 
 light for her complexion. Her companion 
 was a beautiful young woman, exquisitely 
 fair, with soft blue eyes and light golden- 
 brown hair. Except on her ]ips she had 
 scarce a trace of colour, and her delicate 
 face expressed pensive weariness as she lay 
 back in the carriage. 
 
 "I thought we should meet you," re- 
 peated the elder lady, who was the 
 Dowager Mrs. Callander. "Now Mabel 
 can walk home with you, for I must 
 return to receive my niece, Henrietta 
 Oakeley. You ought to have come with 
 us, Dorothy, but no doubt you were better 
 engaged " 
 
 Egerton bowed, and raised his hat as 
 if he had received a high compliment. 
 Dorothy smiled and gave a saucy little 
 toss of her head as her sister alighted from 
 the carriage. 
 
 " I hope you will all dine with me to- 
 
10 BLIND FATE. 
 
 morrow, to meet Miss Oakeley," continued 
 the Dowager. " May I have the pleasure 
 of seeing you too Mr. Egerton ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; I shall be delighted! " 
 
 Mrs. Callander opened and upreared a 
 grand white, much-beflounced parasol, 
 bowed* graciously, and was whirled away 
 to her hotel. 
 
 "You do not look much the better of 
 your drive, Mabel ! " said her sister, look- 
 ing earnestly at her. 
 
 " I assure you Mrs. Callander was un- 
 usually amiable. I don't think she stabbed 
 me more than once or twice." She slipped 
 her arm through Dorothy's, and, turning 
 towards home, walked on slowly between 
 her sister and Egerton. 
 
 4p 9t * "«tC ?fe 
 
 Mabel and Dorothy Wynn were the 
 daughters of a military officer, who, in the 
 days of purchase, never had money enough 
 
BREAKING COVER. 11 
 
 to buy the next step beyond that of 
 captain. 
 
 When both girls were babies, Captain 
 Wynn lost his wife, and then in considera- 
 tion of his junior officers' wishes, expressed 
 in L. S. D., retired. He did not long 
 survive the combined loss of wife and 
 career. His daughters remained at the 
 school where he had placed them, in order 
 to acquire the means of adding to their 
 diminutive income. 
 
 They had apparently no relation save 
 their guardian, Paul Standish. He was a 
 distant cousin of the late Captain Wynn, 
 and his nearest friend — he was also ex- 
 ecutor to his kinsman's will, as well as 
 guardian to his children ; and very faith- 
 fully did he fulfil the duties he had 
 undertaken. The young orphans soon 
 learned to look upon him as an elder 
 brother, indeed to Dorothy, who was five 
 
12 BLIND FATE. 
 
 years younger than her sister, he seemed 
 in their childish days quite elderly. 
 
 One afternoon he brought a married 
 sister to see them. This lady invited the 
 two irirls to dine, and ^o to the theatre. 
 A supreme joy in itself, and productive of 
 important consequences. 
 
 At dinner they met Colonel, then Major 
 Callander, a grave, sedate man, who had 
 run the gauntlet of many garrisons with- 
 out any serious affairs of the heart ; and 
 now, in the most unexpected manner, he 
 fell utterly and absolutely fathoms deep 
 in love with the defunct Captain's lovely 
 daughter Mabel. 
 
 This he soon confessed to her guardian, 
 who, though pleased at the fair prospect 
 opening before a girl eminently unfitted 
 to take care of herself, recommended 
 caution in carrying out so suddenly con- 
 ceived a project, especially as it met with 
 
BREAKING COVER. 13 
 
 the most furious opposition from Callander's 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Callander senior was a woman of 
 large fortune, who had chosen her husband 
 from among various competitors ; first, 
 because he pleased her fancy, and was of 
 a yielding nature ; secondly, because he 
 was of an old county family. 
 
 Herbert Callander was her only child, 
 and she adored him with a narrow selfish 
 love, more bent on its own gratification 
 than the happiness of its object. Her son, 
 however, proved not to be of the stuff 
 women can tie to their apron strings. He 
 had a distinct will of his own, and having 
 inherited a moderate independence from 
 his father, he went his own way immove- 
 ably, though always treating his mother 
 with courtesy and affectionate respect, for 
 he was really fond of her. 
 
 When the purse-proud woman, who had 
 
14 BLIND FATE. 
 
 all a parvenus avidity for rank and dis- 
 tinction, found that her son, her only son, 
 was going to throw himself away on a 
 penniless nobody, worse than nobody (for 
 Mrs. Callander had ferretted out some 
 painful ante-nuptial story, respecting the 
 late Mrs. Wynn), her rage and mortifica- 
 tion knew no bounds. 
 
 Colonel Callander, however, carried out 
 his project, and Mabel, won by his quiet 
 kindness, and pleased at the prospect of a 
 home which he assured her she should 
 share with her sister, when that wilful 
 little personage was old enough to leave 
 school, consented with sweet frank readi- 
 ness, and in about six months after their 
 first meeting Mabel Wynn became Mabel 
 Callander, the object of her grave husband's 
 profound devotion, of her overbearing 
 mother-in-law's deepest dislike. 
 
 This event wrought a considerable 
 
BREAKING COVER. 15 
 
 change in the life of Mabel's sister. The 
 first grief of parting (which was keen and 
 deep) over, Dorothy found that many 
 pleasures and advantages had come into 
 her hitherto rather meagre existence. She 
 had prettier frocks, more abundant bonnets, 
 and more frequent expeditions to concert 
 and panorama with those better-off elder 
 girls whose superior lot she had hitherto 
 envied. 
 
 The Christmas and Midsummer holidays, 
 spent with Major and Mrs. Callander 
 wherever they happened to be quartered, 
 were glorious periods of fun and frolic, 
 and when, nearly two years after the 
 fortunate marriage, a little baby niece was 
 presented to her, her joy and exultation 
 knew no bounds. Towards her brother-in- 
 law she felt the warmest regard, not un- 
 tinged with awe, and her highest reward, 
 when she did resist her natural tendency 
 
16 BLIND FATE. 
 
 to idleness, and attained any school dis- 
 tinction, was Callander's grave approbation. 
 This halcyon period came to a close when 
 the baby girl was a few months old, and 
 the regiment being ordered to India, the 
 commanding officer retired and Callander 
 got his step. 
 
 But a warm climate did not suit his fair 
 wife, who was never very strong. After 
 the birth of a boy she was ordered home. 
 
 Dorothy, now close on the serious age of 
 eighteen, by Callander's wish, left school 
 to reside with her sister. The only draw- 
 backs to this blissful arrangement, was the 
 neighbourhood and supervision of Mrs. 
 Callander, the delicacy and depression of 
 Mabel. This, however, seemed likely to 
 pass away, as, in a month or two, Dorothy 
 gladly recognised an improvement in health 
 and spirits. 
 
 The winter was a pleasant one, for Paul 
 
BREAKING COVER. 17 
 
 Standish proved himself the best " guide, 
 philosopher, and friend " they could have 
 had. 
 
 The gaiety of their lives was consider- 
 ably increased towards Christmas by the 
 arrival in London of Egerton, who had 
 known Colonel and Mrs. Callander in 
 India, where he had gone for sport and 
 travel. He had left shortly before she did, 
 returning by the Persian Gulf and the 
 Euphrates, in order to visit the ruined 
 cities on the old caravan route. 
 
 He loaded the sisters with flowers, stalls 
 at the theatres, small presents, endless 
 attentions, managing at the same time to 
 stand well with the Dowager, who re- 
 spected his wealth and position. 
 
 In the spring, Mabel caught a severe 
 
 cold, and was recommended to try the 
 
 South Coast for change of air. Standish 
 
 found and secured for her the pretty villa 
 vol. i. 2 
 
13 BLIND FATE. 
 
 called "The Knoll," at Fordsea, where, 
 as in a quiet pool, the current of this true 
 tale at present seems scarcely to move. 
 
 Here their faithful squires came to and 
 fro, and brought them the echoes of the 
 world. 
 
 Mrs. Callander senior did not leave them 
 long undisturbed, for she followed before 
 the season was over, and established herself, 
 her maid- servants and her men-servants, 
 her horses and her carriage, at the Pier 
 Hotel. She was, however, unusually indul- 
 gent to those sinners, Mabel and her sister, 
 for it began to dawn upon her that Mr. 
 Egerton of Netherleigh was absolutely 
 paying attention to that plain insignificant 
 Dorothy. 
 
 The peaceful tenor of this tranquil period 
 was rudely broken by the news of Colonel 
 Callander's illness. He had received a sun- 
 stroke while on some military expedition, 
 
BREAKING COVER. 19 
 
 and though he made a fairly quick recovery, 
 he was ordered home, and had arrived 
 about three weeks before the opening of 
 this history. 
 
 But this long digression has out-lasted 
 the homeward march of the trio we left 
 strolling towards the Knoll. At the gate 
 leading into the grounds on the land side 
 they found a group, consisting of Colonel 
 Callander, another gentleman, the nurse 
 and children. Callander was a man about 
 Egerton's height, and more massively built. 
 He was dark and sunburnt, with a plain, 
 strong face and grave, earnest eyes. But 
 his was the darkness of an Englishman, 
 Egerton's of a foreigner. He was holding 
 his little girl's doll, while that young person 
 attempted to " climb up " the leg of the 
 other man, who was their expected visitor, 
 Standish, a fair and exceedingly Saxon- 
 looking individual, with light reddish- 
 
 2* 
 
20 BLIND FATE. 
 
 brown moustaches and well-trimmed hair 
 of the same hue. He was shorter than 
 either of the others, but well set up and 
 distinguished - looking. Though by no 
 means handsome, he had a pleasant sensible 
 face, with a rather large jaw and well- 
 shaped eyes of no particular colour, but 
 bright and keen. The nurse stood by, 
 holding Master Baby in her arms, while he 
 struggled and kicked vigorously as soon as 
 he saw his mother. 
 
 " Don't hold that boy, he is too heavy 
 for you ! " exclaimed Standish, as soon as 
 they had exchanged greetings, for Mrs. 
 Callander had yielded to her son's loudly- 
 expressed claim for notice — he tried to take 
 him as he spoke. 
 
 " Give him to his nurse," said the Colonel 
 quickly. "How long you have been! 
 You must be very tired." 
 
 " Well, Dorothy, you are blooming as 
 
BREAKING COVER. 21 
 
 usual, but the sun has been a trifle too 
 loving, eh? " said Standish. 
 
 " Oh, I know I am sunburnt ! and so is 
 little Doll, though we do our best to keep 
 her sun hat on. Just look," and lifting the 
 child's sunny curls, she showed the dif- 
 ference of the covered and uncovered por- 
 tions of her brow. 
 
 " Fair little puss ! she is the image of her 
 mother," and Standish lifted the child to 
 kiss her affectionately. 
 
 " I think it is almost time to dress for 
 dinner," remarked Callander, who had been 
 talking with Egerton while his wife and 
 Dorothy had devoted themselves to Standish. 
 
 " It is indeed, and I have to go back to 
 the hotel." Baising his hat, Egerton 
 walked briskly away towards the pier, 
 while the others entered the house. 
 ***** 
 
 Mrs. Callander's little dinner was a 
 
22 BLIND FATE. 
 
 greater success in her own estimation than 
 perhaps in that of her guests. She had 
 what she considered a distinguished party, 
 which included an Honourable Major St. 
 John, whose pretensions to exclusiveness 
 and superiority were upheld by masterly 
 taciturnity ; her niece, a much-travelled and 
 experienced young lady of good fortune, 
 and beyond the twenties, to whom the 
 Dowager once thought of marrying her son, 
 and who was nothing loth ; an eloquent 
 Low Church divine, the Rev. Septimus 
 Cole, wjio was her spiritual director, 
 Egerton, sundry nonentities, naval and 
 military, of good position, and her son 
 with his w T ife, who looked provokingly 
 elegant. Dorothy had been uncere- 
 moniously put off to make room for St. 
 John, who was especially asked for Miss 
 Oakeley's benefit, and as Egerton, who was, 
 Mrs. Callander thought, the greatest man 
 
BEEAKING COVER. 23 
 
 there, was more silent than usual, and 
 looked slightly bored, she began to fear 
 before dinner was over that she had made 
 a mistake in dispensing with that conceited, 
 insignificant chit Dorothy, for really Mr. 
 Egerton seemed to miss something, and 
 that something might be Dorothy. 
 
 The rest of the company, with the ex- 
 ception of Miss Oakeley, " made " con- 
 versation more or less stiffly. She rattled 
 away on all possible subjects to St. John 
 and Egerton, between whom she sat, being 
 divided between the desire to make an im- 
 pression on the latter and animate the 
 former. Colonel and Mrs. Callander re- 
 mained to the last, as he acted host, and 
 when the family party were left alone, Miss 
 Oakeley took a low chair beside her 
 cousin's wife. " I have not had the chance 
 of a word with you," she exclaimed, a and it 
 must be more than two years since we met. 
 
24 BLIND PATE. 
 
 I protest you are prettier than ever, but 
 paler and graver." 
 
 " Thank you, Henrietta. Please re- 
 member I have two babies to think of 
 now." 
 
 " Horrid little brats ! I hate children ! " 
 
 " Heretic ! they are sweet things, but 
 certainly troublesome. How do you 
 think Herbert looks ? " 
 
 " Oh, very well. I would not trouble 
 about him. Tell me, how do you come to 
 be such friends with Eandal Egerton? He 
 is the most exclusive of men, and never 
 allows himself to be bored." 
 
 " Then I suppose we do not bore him. 
 He was hurt when out tiger-shooting, and 
 carried into our bungalow, where we 
 nursed him. He fancied we saved his life. 
 Herbert is very fond of him." 
 
 " And Dorothy ? I fancy she has grown 
 pretty. May I come to luncheon to- 
 
BREAKING COVER. 25 
 
 morrow? I promise not to minder the 
 children if you show them to me. And 
 so Mr. Standish is with you. Why in 
 the world didn't my aunt ask him to 
 dinner? He is so agreeable and so 
 popular.'' 
 
 While Miss Oakeley chattered on, Mrs. 
 Callander was pouring a few grievances 
 into her son's ear. 
 
 " I am sorry Mabel was so bored at 
 dinner to-day, but I am quite aware of the 
 
 reason." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, I did not observe her 
 being bored, nor do I know why she should 
 be." 
 
 " Oh, I am the offender ! I did not ask 
 Mr. Standish to join us. He is, I confess, a 
 man I neither like nor approve." 
 
 " There is no accounting for taste. He 
 is a good fellow enough." 
 
 " A mere worldling. I fear his want of 
 
26 BLIND FATE. 
 
 faith has had an evil influence on Mabel 
 and Dorothy." 
 
 "Oh, come! If there are no worse 
 women in the world than my wife and 
 little Dorothy, it would not be a bad place! 
 — Mabel, it will be late before we reach 
 home." 
 
 The Dowager (as she liked to be called, 
 it somehow smacked of ducal rank) bade 
 them a glacial good-night, but Henrietta 
 ran down stairs to see them off. " You 
 will be at Mr. Eger ton's pic-nic on Tuesday, 
 will you not ? He has asked me and Aunt 
 Callander. Just fancy her yachting ! She 
 will bore and be bored. Mind you are 
 at home to luncheon, Herbert, I am 
 coming! " 
 
 " Certainly ! as to the pic-nic, nearly 
 everyone is going, ourselves among the 
 number. Good-night." 
 
 " I think Herbert looks rather £lum " 
 
BREAKING COVER. 27 
 
 said Miss Oakeley, when she returned to 
 her aunt, who was sitting very straight 
 up, with a frown on her cold face. 
 
 " You observe it too ? and I am not sur- 
 prised. Mabel is so greatly attached to 
 her guardian that his word is law. 
 Heaven knows I am the last to think 
 evil, but I cannot forget that her mother 
 married the late Captain Wynn during 
 the life-time of her first husband." 
 
 " Why, auntie ! " cried Miss Oakeley in a 
 tone of delighted excitement, " you do 
 not mean to say that she committed 
 bigamy ? " 
 
 " No, Henrietta, but what was as bad — 
 she left her husband for another man." 
 
 " Well, perhaps number one was a brute ; 
 to be sure I am not a strictly religious 
 high-toned woman. I should scent out 
 more wickedness if I were." 
 
 Meanwhile Colonel and Mrs. Callander 
 
28 BLIND FATE. 
 
 drove home in silence, and found that 
 Dorothy had gone to bed, but the lamp 
 was still alight in the pretty drawing- 
 room. Two or three letters, which had 
 come by the last post, lay upon the 
 table. Callander stood reading them be- 
 side the light. Mabel threw aside the 
 white Indian shawl in which she had 
 been wrapped, and watched him while 
 he read. He had aged certainly — there 
 was a heaviness about his brow that 
 used not to be there. Would he ever 
 be quite the same as he was before that 
 unfortunate sunstroke ? 
 
 Presently he laid down his letters with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " There is nothing unpleasant in them, 
 dear ? " asked his wife, coming timidly to 
 him, and, slipping her arm through his, 
 pressed her fair young head against his 
 shoulder. 
 
BREAKING COVER. 29 
 
 " Nothing whatever, they are of no im- 
 portance." He stood quite still, and 
 Mabel, still pressing against him, said : 
 
 " Does anything disturb or worry you, 
 
 Herbert ? I cannot help fancying " 
 
 she stopped abruptly. He looked down 
 into the sweet face uplifted to his so 
 gravely, that she could not continue — 
 and yet he made no movement to return 
 her caress. 
 
 " What is there to make me unhappy ? " 
 he asked in a cold, composed voice. "I 
 am with those I love — and who — I be- 
 lieve, love me. I have dear children, 
 and a sweet wife. Oh, how sweet and 
 fair," he exclaimed, with a sudden change 
 of tone, and, clasping her in his arms, 
 he gazed into her eyes as if he would draw 
 out the secrets of her soul. "Whom I 
 love too well — too well ! " She felt the 
 stron^ beating of his heart as he strained 
 
30 BLIND FATE. 
 
 her to him, and his lips clung to hers in a 
 long passionate kiss. 
 
 Suddenly he released her. " Are you 
 cold, that you shivered so ? " he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 " No, not at all — but — but you make me 
 a little uneasy. Do not thrust me away as 
 if I were a naughty child, Herbert. You 
 know I love you ! " She took his arm and 
 put it round her. 
 
 " If I did not believe it, chaos would 
 
 indeed be come again," cried Callander, 
 
 gathering her to him in a close embrace. 
 
 " Do not mind my variability of mood, 
 
 Mabel! Whatever I may seem, never 
 
 doubt that you are all the world to 
 
 me ! " 
 
 * # # # * 
 
 Paul Standish was a capital " aide- 
 de-camp " in organising a pic-nic, and 
 Egerton benefitted by his assistance. 
 
BREAKING COVER. 31 
 
 Standish was a man of good family, 
 very well known and popular in certain 
 London circles. Though generally con- 
 sidered a shrewd worldling, there was a 
 kindly core to his heart, and he deeply 
 enjoyed his quiet visits to the Knoll. 
 His work (he was in the Foreign Office) 
 had taken him much abroad, and he 
 liked the repose and refinement of Mabel's 
 home. Though no longer young, he had 
 still all the vigour and elasticity of youth, 
 and was not yet chilled by the effects 
 of a tolerably wide experience. 
 
 The day before that fixed for Egerton's 
 yachting party, not finding Dorothy in 
 the house or garden, Standish started in 
 search of her, and, knowing her haunts, 
 was not long in discovering his ward. 
 She was kneeling on the short, partially- 
 bleached herbage which covered a low 
 rising ground at some little distance 
 
32 BLIND FATE. 
 
 eastward from the Knoll ; behind it 
 the sun had already sunk, leaving the 
 waters of the bay somewhat dull and 
 mournful. 
 
 " I looked for you in vain," began 
 Standish, when Dorothy, her hands full of 
 the long grasses she had been gathering, 
 started to her feet with a low cry, a startled, 
 pathetic expression on her mobile face. " I 
 have frightened you," said Standish smil- 
 ing. " Why, where are your thoughts, 
 Dorothy ? " 
 
 " Not very far, Paul," beginning to tie 
 her grasses together. " They are never very 
 far from me at present." 
 
 " Hum ! That might be accounted for in 
 two ways." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " They may be occupied by Mabel. They 
 may possibly dwell on our fascinating 
 friend, Egerton." 
 
BREAKING COVER. 33 
 
 " Fascinating ! Do you think him 
 fascinating ? " 
 
 " Well, I am scarcely a judge ; but he is 
 a handsome, accomplished fellow." 
 
 " Yes, he is, and you are right. I was 
 thinking of him." She uttered these words 
 with the utmost composure. 
 
 Standish looked at her with steady 
 scrutiny, but she did not perceive it. " I 
 am waiting for further confessions," he said 
 at length. 
 
 " I have nothing to confess, Paul, at least 
 not at present." She paused, and then went 
 on : " Mr. Egerton's mother was a Spaniard, 
 was she not? " 
 
 "Yes, I believe so. He looks like a 
 Spaniard himself." 
 
 " He does, and I think he could be very 
 revengeful. I feel afraid of him some- 
 times." 
 
 " What, do you think he will plunge 
 vol. i. 3 
 
34 BLIND FATE. 
 
 a stiletto in your heart — because, oh, say 
 because you walked with me ? " 
 
 A faint colour rose in Dorothy's cheek, 
 but she laughed low and exclaimed : 
 
 " That would be too illogical ! You are 
 my guardian, and I have a sort of right to 
 you." 
 
 " A right I shall never question, 
 Dorothy." His voice grew soft as he spoke. 
 
 fc4 Thank you," she said gently. Then 
 she made a sudden movement. "Let us 
 go back," she exclaimed, " that dreary-look- 
 ing sea makes me sad." 
 
 " My dear Dorothy, you cannot be your- 
 self, or you would not have these sickly 
 fancies. You have everything in the world 
 to make you happy, so pray call up your 
 common sense, of which you have plenty." 
 
 "I will, Paul," said Dorothy laughing. 
 " Come, let us walk back, and we shall be in 
 time for tea." 
 
BREAKING COVER. 35 
 
 All hour later Colonel Callander and his 
 mother were taking a final turn upon the 
 pier. 
 
 Their conversation had not been pleasant f 
 or exhilarating. Mrs. Callander looked 
 more than usually severe, and her mouth 
 was rigidly closed save when she opened it 
 to speak. 
 
 Callander's face was white and set — there 
 was a dull burning glow in his eyes. 
 
 ' : You may turn a deaf ear to me if you 
 will," said the dowager — as they approached 
 the gate which led to the Esplanade, intend- 
 ing to return to the Hotel — " but I am 
 right, I know I am ! " 
 
 He made no answer — and they advanced 
 
 slowly — till, catching sight of a group on 
 
 the Common below, Mrs. Callander paused 
 
 and pointed to it. The group consisted 
 
 of Mabel, Standish and little Dolly — as 
 
 they looked Mabel took her ex-guardian's 
 
 3* 
 
36 BLIND FATE. 
 
 arm, and slackening her pace, seemed 
 to be conversing with profound interest. 
 "You see," said Mrs. Callander, "they 
 are never long apart. Be warned in time, 
 Herbert! You know what blood she 
 has in her veins — } r ou know her mother's 
 history ! " 
 
 " J3e silent ! " he interrupted in a strange 
 half-choked voice. "You do not know 
 what you are saying ! My wife is spot- 
 less — will be spotless so long as she lives ! 
 Never dare to touch upon this topic again. 
 Trust my honour to myself, I know how 
 to keep it clean." 
 
 To the imperious woman's surprise, he 
 
 turned, and leaving her to make her way as 
 
 she best could alone to her temporary 
 
 abode, walked rapidly forward to overtake 
 
 his wife. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The morning of the day which Egerton 
 
BREAKING COVEK. 37 
 
 had fixed for his party was bright and clear, 
 with a little more breeze than some of his 
 guests approved. The object of the voyage 
 was to visit the remains of an old Norman 
 castle, which crowned some picturesque 
 cliffs, about eight or nine miles east of 
 Fordsea — also to inspect a curious rock} 7 
 islet not far from it, on which a modern 
 Lighthouse replaced the Beacon of a Her- 
 mit, who in former days devoted himself to 
 keep it alive, and according to the Legend, 
 built himself a chapel without any human 
 aid. The ruins of this remarkable edifice 
 were still visible from the sea. 
 
 At breakfast — a slight change of plans 
 took place as Mabel suggested that she 
 feared she was too indifferent a sailor to 
 enjoy the excursion by sea— and with a 
 pretty coaxing air, asked Callander to drive 
 her to Eavenstone, which was nearer by 
 land than by water. He consented very 
 
38 BLIND FATE. 
 
 readily, and Standish undertook to escort 
 Dorothy. 
 
 The party was not very large, but bright 
 and sociable, though Mrs. Callander senior, 
 who honoured it by her presence, was some- 
 what snappish — " it was so thoughtless of 
 Mabel to expose her husband to the glare 
 and sun on that unsheltered road ! " she 
 said, " and for a mere whim ! " Egerton, 
 too, was rather silent and cynical, when he 
 did speak. 
 
 There was enough breeze to give life and 
 motion, the rippling waters glittered in the 
 sun, and the music of a band stationed amid 
 ships, made a delightful under- current of 
 harmony. Yet Dorothy looked thoughtful 
 and pre-occupied. 
 
 " Mrs. Callander has found it more con- 
 venient to go below," said Standish, placing 
 his camp-stool beside Dorothy as she sat in 
 the stern, watching the shadows of the 
 
BREAKING COVER. S« 
 
 swift-sailing clouds as they flitted over the 
 water. " Miss Oakeley seems to consider 
 it her duty to rouse St. John's dormant 
 mental energies, and the rest of the ladies 
 are neglecting their cavaliers, to amuse and 
 interest our fascinating host. So I beg you 
 will devote yourself to me, Dorothy ! " 
 
 " With pleasure ! " she returned, smiling. 
 
 " Are you still in the dolefuls ? " asked 
 Standish, looking keenly at her. 
 
 " No — yet I am uneasy ! I was so glad 
 Mabel decided to drive with Herbert to 
 Eavenstone, but I went into her room just 
 before I came away, and found Nurse giving 
 her sal- volatile — she had almost fainted ! 
 She seems to me to lose strength instead of 
 gaining it." 
 
 " That must be your fancy, Dorothy ! " 
 
 " I do not believe it is ! I told her she 
 ought to make Herbert take her quite 
 away from every one for a few weeks to 
 
40 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Scotland or Switzerland, or Sweden and 
 Norway. It would do them both so much 
 good ! " 
 
 " You are a wise little woman. I believe, 
 too, it w r ould be a complete cure." 
 
 " Mabel seemed to like the idea, and said 
 she would mention " 
 
 " Standish ! " said their host, interrupting 
 her — " Miss Oakeley is asking for you ; she 
 says you know the Legend of the Island 
 hermit ! I think she is getting a little tired 
 of her benevolent efforts ! " 
 
 Standish rose somewhat reluctantly, and 
 Egerton took his place, which he kept for 
 a considerable time. 
 
 When the voyage was accomplished, and 
 the yacht glided into the small rock- en closed 
 creek, at the foot of which nestled a few 
 fishermen's cabins, and the inevitable tavern, 
 they found Colonel Callander and Mabel 
 waiting on the rude little jetty — alongside 
 
BREAKING COVER. 41 
 
 which the yacht found ample depth of 
 water. It being luncheon time, Egerton 
 proposed having that meal served on deck, 
 before they attempted the steep ascent. His 
 suggestion was adopted unanimously, and a 
 gay repast ensued. 
 
 Mrs. Callander sat on her host's right, 
 apparently not much the worse of her 
 voyage, and supported on the other side by 
 the Eev. S. Cole, with whom she exchanged 
 from time to time a few words disapprov- 
 ing the fun and laughter going on around 
 her. Ultimately she preferred a comfortable 
 seat on deck, an early cup of tea, and the 
 society of her favourite divine to a long 
 fatiguing walk to inspect relics of the past 
 which did not interest her. 
 
 The rest set forth to make their way 
 upwards to the old Towers which frowned 
 above at so formidable a height. 
 
 Egerton took charge of Dorothy so 
 
42 BLIND FATE. 
 
 decidedly, that they were pretty well left to 
 themselves. 
 
 " What a strong place this was once," 
 said the latter, looking round when they 
 reached the grass-grown space which had 
 once been the Court-yard. " Its owner 
 must have been a King in his way. After 
 all, a Norman Baron had rather a good 
 time of it, at least he was Lord of those 
 around him, his word was law." 
 
 " Perhaps so ! but what a dreadfully bad 
 time his people — his dependants must have 
 had!" 
 
 " I daresay they got quite as much good 
 out of life as the people do now ! They 
 had fewer wants, and greater respect for 
 their rightful Lord." 
 
 " And they were a trifle nearer the 
 brutes ! which of course was of no conse- 
 quence so long as it made matters easier 
 for their masters." 
 
BREAKING COVER. 43 
 
 " What ! are you a raging Democrat ? " 
 exclaimed Egerton with a smile. "I had 
 no idea that Callander harboured such a 
 dangerous character ! " 
 
 " Oh ! of course you think me an idiot ; 
 perhaps I am, but I can't help having some 
 ideas about history ! " 
 
 " An idiot ! " repeated Egerton, with a 
 look full of admiration. " I wish I dare 
 tell you ichat I think ! " 
 
 " He is uncommonly handsome, and has 
 a nice voice," thought Dorothy, but she 
 only laughed and shook her head. 
 
 " It is a terribly ruined ruin," remarked 
 Egerton, when they had finished their 
 explorations, "come let us make our way 
 down. There is a pretty nook I want to 
 show you, — you have, I know, an artist's 
 eye for beauty." 
 
 Dorothy found then that they had 
 lingered to the last, and that Mabel had 
 
44 BLIND FATE. 
 
 taken her husband's arm, and was walking 
 away between him and Standish. 
 
 Dorothy was a little vexed that her 
 guardian had scarcely spoken to her since 
 Egerton had interrupted their conversation 
 in the morning, she was consequently more 
 disposed to be friendly with her host. 
 
 About half-way between the ruins and 
 the pier, a faintly marked footpath turned 
 to the left, leading apparently across the 
 face of the cliff — " Let me show you the 
 way," said Egerton, passing her. 
 
 c; Is there a footing ? " asked Dorothy. 
 
 " Trust me !" he returned, and following 
 him she soon found herself on a small 
 projecting platform, in front of which some 
 gorse bushes and several moss-grown 
 stones formed a natural parapet, while a 
 fragment of rock served for a seat — the 
 outlook over the sea, to the lighthouse 
 and chapel on the islet before-mentioned, 
 
BREAKING COVER. 45 
 
 made a delightfully tranquil, picturesque 
 scene. 
 
 " This is charming," cried Dorothy. 
 " How sweet and peaceful ! " 
 
 "Yes, it is sweet! do sit down for a few 
 minutes, and forgive me, if I am abrupt, 
 but I seldom have a chance of speaking to 
 you alone. I cannot lose this precious 
 moment. Will you listen to me? I want 
 to tell you what I think of you." 
 
 "Don't be too complimentary," said 
 Dorothy, with a little uneasy laugh, 
 
 "No, I shall speak the truth. Well, 
 then, I think you are the brightest, sauci- 
 est, most womanly girl that ever charmed 
 a man's heart — and the desire of mine, is to 
 call you my wife, sweet Dorothy ! " He 
 tried to take her hand ; she drew it hastily 
 away with a startled look. 
 
 " Will you not speak to me ? " he con- 
 tinued. 
 
46 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " I do not know how to speak to you, 
 Mr. Egerton," in a distressed voice. " I do 
 not — I do not seem able to believe you ! — 
 to believe that you love me, I mean, when 
 I do not love you, for, indeed, I do not." 
 
 " I know that only too well ! But let 
 me try to teach you ? If you love no one 
 else, I may succeed. Do you love anyone, 
 Dorothy ? " 
 
 " No ! indeed, I do not ! but somehow, 
 Mr. Egerton, I do not think I should ever 
 love you, nor do I feel I am the sort of girl 
 
 you ought to marry " She broke off 
 
 abruptly. 
 
 "I am quite old enough to know my 
 own mind," said Egerton, abruptly. " If 
 your heart is free, I will not accept your 
 present ' no ' as final. I am desperately 
 persevering, when my heart is set on any- 
 thing, as it is now, Dorothy." 
 
 " Still, Mr. Egerton, do not think me 
 
BREAKING COVER. 47 
 
 unkind, but — but I do not believe I shall 
 ever change." 
 
 " We shall see ! Now you are looking 
 uneasy. I do not want to keep you here 
 against your will. Eemember though, I 
 do not accept your refusal, give me a little 
 grace." He caught and kissed her hand, 
 holding it for a minute in his own. 
 
 " Do not keep me, Mr. Egerton," said 
 Dorothy, who was greatly distressed, "I 
 am more sorry than I can say to vex you 
 — and — and — I want to overtake . Miss 
 Oakeley!" 
 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 "DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 
 
 Egerton's words took Dorothy so com- 
 pletely by surprise that for some time she 
 was unable to think clearly. 
 
 Even the next morning, when she opened 
 her eyes, her first feeling was painful con- 
 fusion. 
 
 She had been wonderfully still and silent 
 all the way back, nestling close to Paul 
 Standish, who, after once asking " are you 
 all right, Dorothy ? " had left her to herself. 
 Egerton showed her much quiet attention, 
 and walked with her to the Knoll, giving 
 her hand a tender significant pressure at 
 parting. After a little talk with Mabel, to 
 which Colonel Callander listened in his 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 49 
 
 usual silent way, she went to her room, 
 and tired with the long day out-of-doors, 
 and the emotion of its latter half, she was 
 soon heavily asleep. 
 
 Egerton's avowal affected her curiously 
 — there was an odd element of fear in the 
 mixed feelings which impelled her to reject 
 him. 
 
 When he first appeared as the friend of 
 her sister, she liked and admired him ; but 
 gradually a sense of distrust grew up in 
 her heart — how and why she never 
 dreamt of analysing. The distrust, how- 
 ever, was very dim and instinctive. He 
 was still a pleasant companion. It was 
 only when he began to pay her marked 
 attention, and seek opportunities of being 
 alone with her, that it took anything of a 
 tangible form. For some occult reason 
 she had taken it into her head that he was 
 amusing himself at her expense, which 
 
 o 
 VOL. I. 
 
50 BLIND FATE. 
 
 roused her keen sensitive pride, and kept 
 her on the qui vive to notice the fascinating 
 Egerton's proceedings. That he should 
 have absolutely asked her to be his wife 
 left no doubt of his sincerity. Still her 
 heart was in no way softened to him — 
 rather a subtle terror crept into it. What 
 was his motive? Could it be really true 
 love, when she felt so hard and distrustful 
 towards him? Surely she would have loved 
 him had he really loved her — would she 
 indeed ? 
 
 This auestion she did not answer save 
 by a deep blush, even though alone brush- 
 ing out her long hair before descending to 
 breakfast. She longed to hear what Mabel 
 thought of the wonderful event — she must 
 tell Mabel ; Mr. Egerton would not mind 
 that ; but to everyone else she would be 
 mute — no one should know of his rejection. 
 
 But Egerton was by no means anxious 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 51 
 
 to conceal the fact that he had offered 
 himself — his old name, his fine estate, his 
 large investments — to this young, insignifi- 
 cant girl — " a mere nobody " — as the 
 Dowager Mrs. Callander was wont to 
 remark. 
 
 He did not present himself as early as 
 usual at " The Knoll " the next day, but 
 meeting Standish who had been strolling 
 on the pier at an hour when it was chiefly 
 in the possession of ancient mariners, he 
 passed his arm through that of Standish 
 with unusual familiarity, saying, " I was 
 on my way to have a little talk with 
 Callander. Will you come with me ? " 
 
 " Yes, if you like ; you'll be rather clever 
 if you get him to talk." 
 
 "He is certainly very taciturn, but he 
 
 always was — more or less. He hasn't quite 
 
 thrown oif his late attack, and has had a 
 
 touch of ague lately, which is very clepres- 
 
 4* 
 
52 BLIND FATE. 
 
 sing. But show him you want his help or 
 advice, and he is as much alive, as soundly 
 sensible as ever. I am just going to ask 
 his counsel in a matter which will interest 
 you." 
 
 "Indeed! " 
 
 " Yes, I am sure it will. Look ! There 
 goes the Ariadne" pointing to a smart 
 little gun-boat which was steaming out of 
 the harbour. " Fortescue did not think he'd 
 be off so soon. This afternoon, he said, 
 would be their earliest start. I suppose he 
 found fresh orders awaiting him when he 
 got on board last night." Talking on various 
 topics, with many a break — for Standish 
 did not feel quite at ease — they approached 
 the Knoll, at the gate of which they met 
 Colonel Callander. He greeted them with 
 more animation than usual. 
 
 "Where are you off to?" asked Egerton. 
 "I was going to have a swim. I have 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 53 
 
 not felt up to one before, but to-day I think 
 I may venture ; bathing is a favourite pas- 
 time of mine." 
 
 " I don't think you are fit for it by any 
 means," said Standish. " Take my advice, 
 give it up for this season." 
 
 " And / want your help and advice, in a 
 matter very vital to me. Come down on 
 the beach, where we are safe from listeners, 
 and I'll unburden my heart," said Egerton, 
 with a slight pleasant smile. 
 
 " Very well ! I don't fancy it is a matter 
 of life and death," returned Callander, look- 
 ing at him kindly, and they went leisurely 
 across the strip of common and sat down 
 on one of the ridges of shingle in front of 
 the villa. 
 
 "Give me your ears," began Egerton, 
 " and your best help, for you can help me if 
 you choose. I have just been rejected by 
 the girl I love ! I want your influence to 
 
54 BLIND FATE. 
 
 induce her to reconsider her decision, for 
 my fate is in the hands of Miss Dorothy 
 Wynn." 
 
 " Dorothy ! " repeated Callander. " I 
 am not quite taken by surprise. I see a 
 good deal what is going on about me. 
 Well, Egerton, you have my best wishes, 
 but as to influence, I do not think I have 
 much." Standish was silent. 
 
 " What do you say ? " added Egerton, 
 turning to him. " I trust you, as her guar- 
 dian will not also reject me." 
 
 " Get her consent and you shall have 
 mine," said Standish. 
 
 "Pray what reason did she allege for 
 rejecting you?" asked Callander, with 
 interest. " I should have thought you rather 
 an acceptable sort of fellow to a girl." 
 
 "She just simply said she did not like 
 me, and she never would. She put it 
 more politely, you know, but that was the 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 55 
 
 gist of it, and awfully sweet she looked 
 when she said so." 
 
 " There is a certain degree of obstinacy 
 in her," remarked Colonel Callander, as he 
 lit a cigar. " Bat she is an honest-hearted 
 little girl, and I should be very pleased to 
 see her married to you." 
 
 " I am afraid I was rather abrupt with 
 her, but I have been watching for an oppor- 
 tunity to speak to her for a long time. I 
 found it yesterday, and was not sufficiently 
 cautious. A man cannot always be master 
 of himself." 
 
 Standish muttered something the others 
 did not catch. 
 
 " Eh ! what is it ? " asked Egerton. 
 
 " Noth ing. But Dorothy is rather young, 
 don't you think so, Callander ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. Mabel was eighteen when we 
 married," he returned, with a queer far- 
 away look in his eyes. " But she was softer, 
 
56 BLIND FATE. 
 
 less' individual than Dorothy; she needed 
 support and protection." 
 
 " Yes, she is an angel ! " exclaimed Eger- 
 ton, " but it is the touch of spirit and self- 
 reliance in Dorothy that fascinates me. 
 Come, Standish, you have not spoken. I 
 trust you are on my side. I am asking 
 your consent formally, remember." 
 
 " If my ward accepts you," said Standish 
 somewhat coldly, "I could not possibly 
 object to you either personally or as regards 
 your position. You are an excellent match 
 for any woman, however high born, but 
 Dorothy must have ample time ; she must 
 not be pressed ! " 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " cried Egerton, with 
 feeling, " I think your charming ward a 
 great deal too good for me. I am quite 
 willing to wait her pleasure, but I want you 
 both — one as her guardian, the other as 
 her nearest friend — to understand my hopes 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 57 
 
 — my intentions — to give me what chances 
 you can of being with her ; of urging my 
 suit upon her, that is to say if you approve 
 it!" 
 
 " For my part I heartily wish you 
 success," said Callander, warmly. " It 
 is a marriage that would give me pleasure. 
 I feel my own health rather uncertain — 
 
 and " He paused abruptly, gazing 
 
 away out to sea with the far-away look 
 in his eyes which touched and struck 
 Standish. 
 
 " My dear fellow, don't croak ! " cried 
 Egerton. "I hope you will dance merrily 
 at my wedding before many months are 
 over. And you, too, Standish." 
 
 " As for me ! " said that gentleman, " I 
 can only repeat that when you win 
 Dorothy's consent — mine is at your 
 service ! " 
 
 " Thank you," returned Egerton. 
 
58 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " However, do not be too sure of her." 
 
 " I assure you I feel very properly un- 
 certain." 
 
 " And you may rely on our silence re- 
 specting your hopes and wishes until " 
 
 " I am by no means anxious that they 
 should be kept such a profound secret," 
 replied Egerton. " I think my taste does 
 me credit." 
 
 " The only person to w T hom I feel inclined 
 to confide so important a piece of intelli- 
 gence," said the Colonel thoughtfully, " is to 
 my mother. It is right she should know, 
 especially as it is probable we shall leave 
 Dorothy under her care when we go away." 
 
 "Go away! Who is going away?" 
 cried Egerton sharply, with a keen glance 
 like a stab. 
 
 " Don't suppose I am going to do any- 
 thing desperate," said Callander, with a 
 grave smile. " Mrs. Callander and I talk 
 
 
"DUNCAN GEAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 59 
 
 of going abroad for a month or two. I 
 want to have a look at the battle-fields on 
 the French frontier, and to go on into 
 Switzerland. Of course Dorothy will stay 
 here." 
 
 " It will do you a great deal of good," 
 said Standish. 
 
 " I am not quite so sure of that," added 
 Egerton hastily. " The cooking at these out- 
 of-the-way places is execrable, and may 
 upset you. Nothing like the comforts of 
 home when you are in a convalescent state. 
 I would not decide on this journey rashly." 
 
 " I shall be very careful, but I intend 
 taking the trip. Besides, Mrs. Callander 
 seems to like the idea of it." 
 
 " Does she ? " returned Egerton, with an 
 indefinable touch of surprise in his tone. 
 " I trust you may both be the better." 
 
 " You'll come in to luncheon, Egerton ? " 
 
 " Thank you, no ! I fancy Miss Wynn 
 
60 BLIND FATE. 
 
 would rather not meet me so soon. She 
 has not yet perhaps forgiven my abrupt- 
 ness. I'll keep out of sight to-day, but 
 will you both put in a word for me? 
 Assure her of my earnestness — my desire 
 to wait her time, and in no way press her." 
 
 " That is quite the line you ought to 
 take," said Callander. " Well let us see 
 you to-morrow, and you'll find Dorothy 
 reasonable, I am sure. Both she and Mrs. 
 Callander kept their rooms this morning. 
 I have not seen them yet. Now I am 
 going to call on my mother," added the 
 Colonel, rising, " for I don't think there is 
 anything more to be said or done as re- 
 gards my sister-in-law at present." 
 
 " Let me come with you," said Egerton, 
 throwing away the end of his cigar. " I 
 don't know exactly what to do with my- 
 self." 
 
 " Come then," was Callander's reply. 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 61 
 
 " And I am going to walk to the point," 
 said Standish. 
 
 The trio dispersed, Standish proceeding 
 along the beach to a long low spit which 
 stretched far into the waters. 
 
 He moved slowly, with little of his usual 
 firm alertness, nor did his quick, observant 
 eye roam as usual in search of the curious 
 or beautiful. 
 
 Egerton's proposal for his ward had 
 disturbed him in no common degree. Of 
 course, it was a sort of thing he must 
 expect as the guardian of an attractive 
 girl, and there was nothing to find fault 
 with in Egerton's straightforward honesty ; 
 yet there was something cut and dried in 
 his tone — an absence of the glow and 
 rapture, the eagerness, and self-doubt that 
 naturally betray themselves in a lover, 
 ardent enough to risk confessing failure, in 
 order, if possible, to secure co-operation. 
 
62 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " It will be a splendid match," he said 
 to himself, " and I never heard anything 
 against Egerton, yet I have a sort of idea 
 that his amusements have not been of the 
 most innocent description. I must try and 
 find out more of his history. What, in 
 heaven's name has kept the child from 
 falling in love with him? He is quite a 
 girl's ideal hero, and of late he has evi- 
 dently sought her. Does she love someone 
 else ? That is the only shield I know of 
 for so young and inexperienced a girl. I 
 wish she would speak openly to me. She 
 is not as confiding as she used to be. But 
 Mabel will tell me. Dorothy opens her 
 heart to Mabel. Miss Oakeley will be 
 delighted at this fulfilment of her pro- 
 phecies, She has always been declaring 
 that Egerton is in love with Dorothy. 
 Well, I suppose he is." 
 Meantime Callander and Egerton walked 
 
"DUNCAN GRAYS COME HERE TO WOO." 63 
 
 slowly towards the hotel where the Dowager 
 had established herself. Here Egerton left 
 him. 
 
 There had been little intercourse between 
 Mrs. Callander and her son, since she had 
 ventured to express her suspicions of 
 Standish so plainty, she had been secretly 
 anxious to make matters smooth once 
 more, but it was not easy to approach him. 
 He was so silent and self-contained that 
 unless she began the subject, and that as 
 she well knew by retracting all that she 
 had insinuated, there was small chance of 
 getting him beyond the merest common- 
 place. To retract was impossible to her. 
 Towards her daughter-in-law she had a 
 quiet but immovable aversion. She was a 
 living memento of defeat, and Mrs. Callander 
 was perpetually on the look-out for faults 
 which she felt certain existed. Her theory 
 was, that Mabel's soft, tranquil manner 
 
64 BLIND FATE. 
 
 masked an iron will, profound dissimula- 
 tion, and unscrupulous plotting. Without 
 the lures of a fascinating siren, her son 
 would never have been drawn from the 
 allegiance due to a mother — without an 
 amount of designing self-control Mabel 
 could never have succeeded in avoiding a 
 quarrel with her mother-in-law. Mrs. 
 Callander's dearest wish was to have some 
 legitimate cause of complaint against her 
 son's wife, and rinding it impossible to 
 irritate her into incivility, she established 
 severe disapprobation of her affectionate 
 familiarity with her guardian instead. 
 
 Not that Mrs. Callander, in her heart, 
 for a moment suspected real evil — she 
 merely seized the only peg available on 
 which to hang a grievance. Had her re- 
 monstrances and insinuations roused her 
 son's wrath and jealousy, she would have 
 been satisfied, but to see him unmoved 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 05 
 
 roused her to exaggeration both of thought 
 and word. When at last she succeeded in 
 stirring him to speech, it was to speech of 
 a very different kind from what she de- 
 sired. In all this distortion of judgment 
 and cruelty of heart, she never doubted 
 her own righteousness — her own clear- 
 sightedness and sincere desire to do kindly 
 and justly both by son and daughter-in- 
 law, nor abated by a breath the ardour of 
 her prayers and thanksgivings, especially 
 for not being quite as other women are. 
 
 But though she firmly believed that her 
 feelings towards Mabel partook more of 
 sorrow than of anger, she did not hide 
 from herself the unmitigated dislike — nay 
 hatred — with which she regarded Standish. 
 
 He was poor, yet perfectly independent. 
 Coming of an ancient race and admitted 
 into the best society, he yet had no sound- 
 ing title which might be nourished in the 
 vol. i. 5 
 
66 BLIND FATE. 
 
 face of the world, and for all Mrs. Callan- 
 der's social circle knew, lie might be a 
 stock-broker, or a retired draper, or any- 
 thing else bourgeois and obscure, without 
 that gilding of wealth which makes any 
 bread pill acceptable ; and this nobody, a 
 mere clerk in the Foreign Office had a sort 
 of ineffable superiority that she could not 
 away with. He was perfectly polite and 
 well-bred — in the simplest manner — yet 
 she felt herself — she, Mrs. Bruce Callander, 
 with all her wealth, and church influence, 
 and admiring evangelical friends, dwarfed 
 into in significance when face to face with 
 this easy-going, good-humoured man, who 
 seemed to say everything that came upper- 
 most, yet never made a mistake, and in 
 whose presence she felt her own elaborate 
 dignity and careful speech, her heavy 
 politeness and covert allusions to her grand 
 acquaintance, and her all-sufficing wealth so 
 
DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 67 
 
 much unmanageable dead weight, more 
 likely to sink the vessel than to steady its 
 progress. 
 
 Then the doctrines held by Standish on 
 many points were utterly damnable. In 
 politics an advanced liberal — in religion a 
 free-thinker — she even darkly doubted that 
 he ever went to church ! Yet he dared to 
 argue with the Eeverend Horace Babbling- 
 ton, a man whom Lord Beaconsfield came 
 more than once to hear and had invited to 
 dinner, and was not a bit convinced by 
 that eminent divine's assertions and infer- 
 ences. In short he was a malignant of the 
 worst type — a malignant she was afraid to 
 tackle. Then the cool way in which he 
 seemed to take Mabel's extraordinary good 
 fortune as regarded her marriage — such a 
 marriage for her — was a deadly offence. 
 Indeed, as Mrs. Callander observed to her 
 
 much enduring companion, whose lips 
 
 5* 
 
68 BLIND FATE. 
 
 were supposed to be hermetically sealed 
 by the aristocratic will of her mistress, 
 " It is impossible to trust a man whose 
 ideas are so strange, whose views are so 
 extremely vague ! Mr. Standish is a person 
 of no fixed principle, and perfectly without 
 religion. It makes me shudder to think of 
 his roaming about my poor son's house, 
 unchecked and undetected. I earnestly 
 pray that no serious harm may come of it." 
 
 When Colonel Callander was ushered 
 into his mother's sitting-room he found 
 her as usual richly and elaborately dressed, 
 and knitting a huge coverlet, while Miss 
 Boothby read aloud the Times. 
 
 She gave a cold straight unresponsive 
 hand to her son. 
 
 " I hope you are all right after your long 
 day in the open air ? " he said, as he drew 
 a chair near her work-table. 
 
 " Thank you. I am as usual. I get 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 69 
 
 little sleep. My mind is too anxious to 
 permit of repose ! " 
 
 "That's bad," said Colonel Callander, 
 vaguely. 
 
 " You need not stay, Miss Boothby," said 
 the dowager. " I wish to converse with my 
 son." The meek companion rose with a 
 small smile and disappeared. 
 
 " I came to ask if you have any com- 
 mands, as I think of going up to town to- 
 morrow. I want to arrange one or two 
 matters before going North." 
 
 " North ! why, where are you going to 
 now?" querulously. 
 
 " Mabel and I think of taking a trip 
 through the Highlands, or to Switzerland. I 
 think she wants a change as much as I do." 
 
 " There I agree with you," observed Mrs. 
 Callander, significantly. " She has had a 
 worn, distressed look, ever since — I mean, 
 for a considerable time." 
 
70 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " You think so ? " said her son, with a 
 quick, fiery wrathful flash from his dark 
 eyes — a warning signal even his mother 
 dared not disregard. "I trust she has no 
 cause for distress or anxiety — at all events 
 she seems to consider the panacea for her 
 ills is a quiet journey with me." 
 
 "I am sincerely glad to hear it," with 
 pointed emphasis — " pray when do you 
 start ? " 
 
 "Early next week. May I ask what 
 your plans are ? " 
 
 " If you are going away there is no par- 
 ticular object in my remaining. I don't 
 suppose even when you return I shall see 
 much of you." 
 
 " There is no reason why we should not 
 be as much together as you like," returned 
 the Colonel drily. " However, if you are 
 comfortable here, and don't mind staying, 
 T should be glad if you would, because," 
 
"DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 71 
 
 lie stopped and seemed to have lost the 
 thread of his discourse — his eyes wandering 
 to the window, and evidently pre-oecupied 
 with some distant object visible to the 
 inner sense. 
 
 "Well!" said his mother at last, look- 
 ing up from her knitting with some sur- 
 prise, " why do you wish me to stay ? " 
 
 Her son looked at her with a bewildered 
 aspect, and then passing his hand over his 
 brow, exclaimed " I beg your pardon ! I 
 forgot what I was saying ! I wished you 
 to stay. Oh! yes, I wished you to stay, 
 because Mabel and I intend to be away 
 about six weeks or so, and Dorothy will be 
 here alone — that would be of no conse- 
 quence, but Egerton has just proposed 
 to me for her. It seems that Dorothy re- 
 fused him, but he very wisely will not take 
 a girl's first no. So he begs to be allowed 
 opportunities of pressing his suit — and — " 
 
72 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Refused him ! " said Mrs. Callander, in 
 a high key. "She must be out of her 
 mind ! He is a match for an Earl's 
 daughter. Why, it will be quite a distin- 
 guished connection. Of course she will 
 accept him ! she must. Dorothy has her 
 tempers, and is altogether wanting in a 
 knowledge of what she owes to us> but I 
 always thought there was some moral 
 worth in her." 
 
 " Ultimately she will do as she likes, but 
 Egerton ousht to have a fair chance. Now 
 if you are here he can see her with you, 
 under your chaperonage, and Henrietta 
 will probably also stay — otherwise — " he 
 paused. 
 
 " I never hesitate to sacrifice myself on 
 the altar of duty," said Mrs. Callander, in a 
 lofty tone, " or for the good of others, for I 
 cannot say I owe any duty to your sister- 
 in-law, but if it is an accommodation to 
 
" DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 73 
 
 you, my dear son, I will remain till you 
 return." 
 
 "You see there are no relations or 
 friends to whom we can send Dorothy." 
 
 "I am quite aware of that" put in his 
 mother, sharply. Callander did not heed 
 her. 
 
 " And," he continued, " even if Standish 
 could stay on here, he could not be the 
 sort of protection you can be." 
 
 " Nor do I suppose it likely he will 
 remain while you are away," remarked 
 Mrs. Callander, sweetly, 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried, " do you know how 
 cruel you are ? Do you know that my 
 life is bound up in Mabel's! in Mabel's 
 love and truth. Nothing you say touches 
 my faith in her — yet — yet — you torment 
 me. She is — she always will be spotless — 
 in the eyes of all men." 
 
 He sprang up and paced to and 
 
74 BLIND FATE. 
 
 fro rapidly, with occasional fierce ges- 
 tures. 
 
 "Spotless! my dear Herbert! I should 
 hope so!" returned Mrs. Callander, with 
 the obtuseness of a hard unsympathetic 
 woman. " Do you think I meant anything 
 beyond the necessity of attending to ap- 
 pearances ? When a man like Mr. Stand- 
 ish — a man of the world in the worst sense — 
 is seen morning, noon, and night with a 
 young woman whom some people consider 
 
 handsome. Why " 
 
 " Be silent ! " he exclaimed, harshly, 
 turning to face her, with such wrath in 
 his eyes that even the unimaginative old 
 woman cowered for a moment. " Under- 
 stand me ! unless you cease to insult me 
 by harping on these hideous possibilities 
 I will never see your face again ! I 
 should have broken with you before, 
 but that I dreaded that Mabel should be 
 
"DUNCAN GRAYS COME HERE TO WOO." 75 
 
 outraged by knowledge of the reason 
 why I dropped all intercourse with my 
 mother. God ! could you think that 
 sweet simple soul could ever be drawn 
 from her children — from me? Is such 
 a possibility comprehensible to you ? " 
 There was keen pain as well as burning 
 indignation in his tone. 
 
 " The wickedness of the unregenerate 
 heart is unfathomable," said his mother, 
 severely, " and I greatly fear Mabel does not 
 know w r here to look for strength. It's im- 
 possible to say where unguarded begin- 
 nings may lead poor weak creatures, and 
 your wife, though an amiable woman, is 
 no doubt easily influenced, in short, not 
 what you would call a person of strong 
 character." 
 
 " No — thank God, she is not ! How 
 should / have got on with a woman of 
 strong character? — I say, mother — enough 
 
76 BLIND FATE. 
 
 of this. I feel my head dizzy ! If we are 
 to be friends " 
 
 " I will never speak to you on the 
 subject again," said his mother, with an 
 injured and dignified air. " I have done 
 my duty, my conscience is clear. I have 
 not left you in ignorance ! Now, as re- 
 gards Dorothy ? " 
 
 Callander was again pacing to and fro — 
 his head bent down, lips moving slightly — 
 as if forming unuttered words. Then, with 
 an effort, he repeated as he paused opposite 
 her — "Dorothy! — Ay! We must not 
 forget Dorothy. Will you stay here and 
 let Egerton come to and fro, and see her 
 under your auspices ? " 
 
 " I shall be happy to further an alliance 
 calculated to reflect credit on you and 
 yours, Herbert." 
 
 " I don't want any reflected credit," he 
 returned impatiently. " I am obliged to 
 
' : DUNCAN GRAY'S COME HERE TO WOO." 77 
 
 you, however, and I will bid you good-bye 
 for the present. I am going to ride with 
 Egerton this afternoon, and dine at mess 
 with Tolhurst, of the 175th, this evening. 
 So I shall not see you till I return from 
 Town. Good-bye, and, remember ! " He 
 took her hand coldly enough for a moment, 
 and left the room — almost running against 
 the Eev. Thomas Gilmore, who was coming 
 up-stairs, as he often did about lunch hour. 
 But the rencontre did not suggest his 
 own luncheon to Callander. He wandered 
 away past the pier, to an old disused 
 landing-place, a relic of times when Fordsea 
 was in a very primitive condition. Here 
 he sat down, and, with fixed eyes, which 
 saw nothing round him, he reviewed the 
 past — or rather, the past came uncalled — 
 and unrolled its pictures, — vivid pictures ! 
 — glowing in the warm light of intense 
 thought thrown back upon the past. 
 
78 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Those first exquisite days of married 
 life — when he had to win his young wife 
 from the slight fear which gratified even 
 while it troubled him. Her growing 
 confidence, her timidity — the sweet peace 
 of their lives — the tender anxiet}^ for her, 
 when the languor and depression of delicate 
 health grew upon her ; the occasional 
 dread lest he were not quite young and 
 blithe enough for her ; the agony of 
 parting ; his mother's letters, full of hints 
 and innuendoes which he scarcely under- 
 stood ; the delight of returning after his 
 illness ; the gnawing, undefined fear that a 
 year's absence had, in some degree, undone 
 the work of the Past ; that a filmy some- 
 thing — he knew not what — had come be- 
 tween them — that she turned with more 
 confidence and familiarity to her guardian 
 than to himself ; that her old timidity had 
 come back to her ! If — if it were possible 
 
"DUNCAN GRAYS COME HERE TO WOO." 79 
 
 that the smallest chill had breathed on her 
 love— how was he to endure it ! He dared 
 not dwell on such a thought — he trembled 
 at the shadow of possible agony, which fell 
 on him at the suggestion. No I There 
 were moments when Mabel was her old 
 self — even more frankly loving. And, this 
 projected tour ! — they would enjoy a 
 heavenly tete-a-tete. He would again be all- 
 and-all to her — he would try to resist these 
 fits of irritation, which must terrify so 
 timid a soul — even though she herself was 
 sacred to him. His future complete re- 
 covery depended on himself ; and, for the 
 sake of those dear to him, he must regain 
 the self-mastery, once so strong. " God 
 only knows how hard the struggle is — and 
 will be," he muttered. " When we are 
 alone, I will tell Mabel all — all the curious 
 strain and burning anger, that beset me at 
 times ! She will be touched with womanly 
 
80 BLIND FATE. 
 
 pity — she will help me. Love will give her 
 courage — for she loves me. Yes ! I can 
 believe nothing, save that she loves me 
 well." 
 
 '^^WT^f 3 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 "TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 
 
 Colonel Callander had not looked so well 
 since he returned from India as the morn- 
 ing he started for London. He undertook 
 various commissions for his sister in-law, 
 but his wife had said she wanted nothing. 
 
 "I have everything I want, and more 
 than I deserve," she added, as she kissed 
 her husband tenderly at parting. 
 
 " I do not think so ! now rest and gather 
 strength to enjoy our ramble together, 
 for you look pale and feeble." He 
 was inclined to pour out words of passion- 
 ate endearment, but repressed them, as a 
 first effort of the self-control he felt it so 
 important to regain. 
 
 vol. i. fi 
 
82 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Dorothy had begun to forget the dis- 
 turbing effect of Egerton's avowal ; and as 
 he did not appear for two whole days, 
 hoped he would not renew the subject. 
 
 Standish had gone to dine and sleep at a 
 country house at some distance to meet 
 
 Lord E , his chief, so the sisters had 
 
 a very tranquil day. Its only disturbance 
 being a visit from the Dowager, who came 
 in unwonted good-humour. In the evening, 
 a little to Dorothy's dismay, Miss Oakeley 
 walked in just before dinner, to have a 
 little talk, she said, accompanied by 
 Egerton and Major St. John, who was, 
 Miss Oakeley thought, immensely struck 
 with her, whereas St. John was equally 
 sure he had made a profound impression 
 on Miss Oakeley, and was, in consideration 
 of her endowments, disposed to encourage 
 her attentions. 
 
 The sisters were sitting together in 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 83 
 
 sympathetic silence at that most witching 
 hour " the gloaming." 
 
 Dorothy had of course told Mabel of the 
 declaration with which Egerton had startled 
 her, and was somewhat surprised at the 
 manner in which Mabel had received her 
 confidence. She was not amazed, she 
 murmured something about his being nice 
 and interesting and a good match, then 
 she added, " Are you quite sure you could 
 not like him, dear ? " 
 
 " Yes, quite sure," was Dorothy's prompt 
 reply. " I used to like him ever so much 
 better before. I cannot think what put it 
 into his head to imagine he wants to marry 
 me ? " 
 
 " I don't think it is so extraordinary," 
 said Mabel, and dropped the subject. 
 
 " Dear me ! What a pair of forsaken 
 ones ! " cried Miss Oakeley, when she made 
 out the two figures sitting in the recess of 
 
84 BLIND FATE. 
 
 the window. " To see you watching the 
 waning light without your accustomed 
 attendants is quite affecting." 
 
 " I know Herbert went off this morning, 
 but what has become of Mr. Standish," 
 Mabel explained. 
 
 " Well, I am surprised at his quitting 
 his post in that fashion," resumed Miss 
 Oakeley. " As your guardian, he ought 
 to stay when Herbert goes." 
 
 " Considering the state of civilization' in 
 which we live, we may possibly be able to 
 take care of ourselves," said Dorothy, drily. 
 
 " Oh ! it is odious not to have some one 
 to take care of you, it makes one feel so 
 selfish! " exclaimed Miss Oakeley in a 
 sentimental tone. " I don't like to be 
 obliged to think about myself." 
 
 " That is rather weak, is it not ? " said 
 Major St. John, " self-preservation is the 
 first law of — of nature." 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 8r> 
 
 " A law that is rarely broken," put in 
 Egerton, carelessly ; " but, Miss Oakeley, 
 you are forgetting your benevolent 
 errand." 
 
 " No, indeed, I am not. Dorothy, I am 
 going to get up a concert in aid of the 
 funds of the Sailors' Home, and the schools 
 attached to it. We'll have it in the large 
 reading-room, and persuade Colonel Tryon 
 to send us some of the bandsmen. Now, 
 Dorothy, I want you to sing a duett with 
 me, and take part in a trio. Mr. Standish 
 has a good voice — a baritone, hasn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Sing in a concert ! Oh ! I don't think 
 I am equal to that." 
 
 " Yes you are ! You shall take the 
 second ! Your voice is contralto ! " 
 
 "Let me think about it." 
 
 " Think ! nonsense ! come and practice 
 with me to-morrow morning, at any rate ; 
 
86 BLTND FATE. 
 
 it will help me in my part, even if I have 
 to find another second." 
 
 " I am quite willing to help you so 
 far!" 
 
 " I knew you would be ! Then you play 
 nicely — you could accompany some of 
 them, every one must help. I don't know 
 what you can do ? " turning to St. John, 
 and contemplating him with a puzzled 
 look. 
 
 " Beat the big drum," he returned, with 
 an ineffable air. 
 
 "That requires a certain amount of 
 genius," said Dorothy. 
 
 "Sell programmes at the door, at six- 
 pence a-piece," suggested Egerton. 
 
 " No, I'll be your special aide-de-camp, 
 Miss Oakeley — or orderly — and do what 
 I am bid." 
 
 " Not a bad way to make yourself use- 
 ful," she returned, with a small, approving 
 
 
"TAKINO SWEET COUNSEL." 87 
 
 nod. "Now, Mabel, what can you con- 
 tribute." 
 
 " Some very humble work, Henrietta. 
 I think all I can promise is to act secre- 
 tary, or under-secretary." 
 
 "Very well! do ring for lights and I 
 will show you a rough sketch of our 
 manifesto." 
 
 While Miss Oakeley held forth with 
 animation, and Major St. John put in a 
 word at intervals, Egerton moved across 
 the room to where Dorothy was sitting, and 
 said in a low tone, " I ought not perhaps 
 to trespass upon you, but I want to ask 
 pardon for my precipitancy. Will you 
 forget my ill-judged haste, and let me come 
 and go, on the old terms ? I will not 
 offend again, not, at least, till I fancy I 
 may do so with less chance of rebuke. I 
 may never reach that happy conviction, 
 but let me try." 
 
88 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " I have no right to interfere with ycur 
 coming or going," said Dorothy, softly, 
 " but I do not like to give you any annoy- 
 ance, and I do not think I shall change." 
 
 Here both were called to share the con- 
 sultation, which w T as rather noisy, and 
 ended in an appointment for Dorothy to 
 practise with Miss Oakeley at noon the 
 following day. Then she declared she 
 would be late for dinner, a crime her aunt 
 would never forgive. 
 
 " There is a very amusing article on the 
 * ^Esthetics of Dress ' in the Quarterly 
 Review" said Egerton. "I forgot it, but 
 if you will let me bring it over this even- 
 ing, I'll read it to you" — he stood with his 
 back to Dorothy, speaking to her sister. 
 
 ' fc Oh ! yes, certainly — thank you ! " she 
 returned, with a little nervous catch in 
 her voice — raising her eyes to his and then 
 dropping them quickly. 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." SO 
 
 u Till we meet, then ! " He bowed and 
 followed Miss Oakeley. 
 
 " Oh ! Mabel dear ! Why did you let 
 him come ? " cried Dorothy, as soon as the 
 dpor was closed. "I should have enjoyed 
 a nice, quiet evening, and above all I don't 
 want him." 
 
 "How could I refuse?" asked Mabel, 
 pressing her hands together. <: He had 
 asked Herbert and Paul to let him come 
 and try his chance, and Herbert told 
 me." 
 
 " What ? did Paul agree to this ? " cried 
 Dorothy — a kind of sharp cry — "I thought 
 he knew me better! " 
 
 "Well, dearest, you know you are not 
 obliged to marry him." 
 
 " I am quite aware of that," said Dorothy 
 with decision, " but I object to be teased." 
 
 Mabel did not answer immediately, when 
 she spoke it was to say : " I thought 
 
90 BLI^D FATE. 
 
 Herbert looked more like himself than 
 usual this morning.'' 
 
 '" Yes, he did, and you will both be all 
 the better for your tete-a-tete tour. I see 
 your head is bad to-day." 
 
 " It is. I feel as if one of my old 
 neuralgic headaches were coming on again, 
 but a cup of tea will do me good." 
 
 Egerton did not fail to keep his promise, 
 lie was more than usually agreeable, 
 keeping under the strain of cynicism that 
 often tinged his talk. He read aloud well, 
 and his comments on the paper when he 
 had finished it were amusing, the reminis- 
 cences it evoked of the various fine ladies, 
 mistresses of the art of dress, interesting ; 
 he addressed most of his conversation to 
 Mabel, who said little, lying back among 
 her sofa cushions as if weary, while Dorothy 
 worked diligently at a highly ornamental 
 pinafore for her little niece, which was a 
 
"TAKHSG SWEET COUNSEL" 91 
 
 blessed occupation for her eyes. At length, 
 after a short pause, Egerton exclaimed in 
 an altered voice : 
 
 "I am afraid I am boring you, Mrs. 
 Callander. You are looking awfully ill." 
 
 " It is that horrid neuralgia ! " cried 
 Dorothy, laying down her work and going 
 to her sister. " She has been suffering all 
 day — would you like to go to bed, Mabel ? " 
 
 " Let me try mesmerism ! " urged 
 Egerton. "You remember the relief I was 
 able to give last spring in town. Let me 
 try." 
 
 " Would you like to try, Mabel ? " 
 
 " I would rather go to my room," said 
 Mabel faintly. 
 
 66 She'll have an awfully bad night, Miss 
 Wynn. I'll make a few passes. You'll see 
 how soon the look of pain will leave her." 
 
 "I don't half like it!" said Dorothy 
 doubtfullv. 
 
92 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Egerton came and stood beside the sofa, 
 his eyes fixed on Mabel, who did not make 
 the slightest resistance. Slowly passing his 
 hand over her face in the fashion usual 
 with mesmerisers, the tired eyes gradually 
 closed, the pained contracted expression 
 passed from her face, and she slept the 
 peaceful sleep of an infant. 
 
 " It is wonderful," whispered Dorothy, 
 who felt an indescribable impulse of pity 
 and tenderness towards the gentle, loving 
 sister who seemed so mysteriously oppressed, 
 — the tears were in her eyes, and her voice 
 faltered as she added, " T wish you could 
 give me this power, that I might enable 
 her to rest ! she seems so helpless." 
 
 " She is" returned Egerton in a deep 
 tone full of feeling. " But unless you have 
 the power I could not give it to you. I 
 did not know I possessed it till that strange 
 mystic Bohemian Grafin I told you about, 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 93 
 
 «whom I knew some years ago at Prague, 
 assured me I had it and made me experi- 
 ment on some of her people. I am half 
 ashamed of it. I would never use my 
 power save to give physical relief. There 
 is a prejudice against it too. Perhaps it 
 would be as well not to inform Mrs. 
 Callander for instance, that I was able to 
 give your sister some repose." 
 
 " Oh, certainly not ! " cried Dorothy. 
 " The less said the better, people are so ill- 
 natured. I hope my dear sister will not 
 want your aid any more. I shall sit and 
 watch her till she wakes, and so I must say 
 good-night now." 
 
 She held out her hand as she dismissed 
 him. 
 
 " Yes ! it will be best to let her rest till 
 she rouses of her own accord. I will call 
 early to-morrow to enquire," and in a cold 
 absent way, as if scarcely conscious to 
 
94 BLIND FATE. 
 
 whom lie was speaking, Egerton took her 
 
 hand and went noiselessly away. 
 
 Amid all her anxiety about her sister 
 
 Dorothy looked after him in surprise. All 
 
 trace of the lover had vanished from look 
 
 and manner. 
 
 " I wish I could understand him," she 
 
 thought. " I wonder what Paul really 
 thinks — is it possible he wishes me to marry 
 him for the sake of money and position ? 
 It is true he is a man of the world, but I 
 thought he had a heart too ! " 
 
 She drew a chair and sat looking at her 
 sleeping sister, her heart swelling with 
 tender memories. How gentle and forbear- 
 ing she had been to Dorothy's wayward 
 childhood. How untiring in her patient 
 attempts to help her in her lessons, to mend 
 and make for her and keep her out of 
 scrapes, and yet she, Dorothy, in her 
 frowardness, used to despise her a little for 
 
•'TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 95 
 
 the awe she was in of Miss Birch, their 
 rather rigid " Domina." Dorothy could 
 not understand such dread of any mere 
 human creature like herself. Her stronger 
 spirit could not understand the reverent, 
 timid, self-sacrificing nature of her sister. 
 But how deeply she loved her ! how 
 ardently she longed to be able to help her. 
 She was at once a mother to be respected, 
 a sweet, simple child to be guarded by her 
 younger sister. 
 
 The big tears rose in Dorothy's eyes as 
 she thought, and then flashes of summer 
 lightning-like wrath struck through her as 
 she thought of that refrigerated, funereal 
 dowager, worrying and oppressing so 
 delicate and tender a soul, and she planned 
 various retorts to be used when occasion 
 offered. 
 
 Her meditations were interrupted by the 
 quiet entrance of Nurse. 
 
96 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " If you please 'm," she was beginning, 
 when Dorothy's " Hush " stopped her. 
 
 Pointing to her sleeping sister, she 
 said in a whisper, " She is in such a nice 
 sleep. I think it must do her good. 
 She was in terrible pain, but Mr. 
 Egerton sent her to sleep with mesmeric 
 passes." 
 
 " I only wanted to ask about the sort of 
 tucks the missis would like in Miss Dolly's 
 new frock, an inch or inch and a half, but 
 it's no matter! Dear, dear, she do sleep 
 peaceful," advancing very softly to look at 
 her. " I hope she'll be the better of it. 
 Mark my words, Miss Dorothy, Mrs. 
 Callander wants a deal more doctoring 
 than the Colonel, she is weaker by a good 
 bit than when we first came home. Many's 
 the time I find her crying on the quiet in 
 her own room ! Now that's weakness, for 
 a young lady like her has nothing to cry 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 97 
 
 for. Hasn't she all the world can give 
 her ? " 
 
 She paused and looked with kindly 
 compassionate eyes at the young creature 
 w T ho lay all unconscious of her scrutiny. 
 
 " She is sound," resumed Nurse in a 
 whisper, " still, I don't hold with this sort 
 of thing — mesmerism as its called. It ain't 
 natural, it's a sort of witch-craft, and for 
 all Mr. Egerton is kind and nice and a real 
 gentleman and makes her sleep like a baby, 
 he never does -her any good." 
 
 " Well, you must remember he never 
 tried but once before and that in fun, when 
 we defied him. Mabel's neuralgia was not 
 really bad then." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Dorothy, Mr. Egerton has 
 
 put her to sleep oftener, twice to my certain 
 
 knowledge since the Colonel came home, 
 
 for he called me once to bring a pillow for 
 
 her head, and to stay by her till she woke, 
 vol. i. 7 
 
98 BLIND FATE. 
 
 and another time to fetch a shawl. I 
 never said a word to nobody I didn't, it's 
 a queer sort of thing to talk about. But 
 Miss Dorothy, I don't think it does her any 
 kind of good ! You just ask Mr. Egerton 
 not to try that cure any more, for if you'll 
 excuse me saying it, Miss, from all I can 
 make out, he'll not refuse anything you ask 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, I shall certainly ask him, indeed 
 forbid him," said Dorothy very low, while 
 an extraordinary thrill of horror shivered 
 through her at the idea of her sister being 
 thus reduced to helplessness by anyone — 
 even by her husband. The idea that 
 Egerton had exercised this power increased 
 her aversion — her innate though unacknow- 
 ledged aversion to him. " Go, dear Nurse, 
 bring me some wrap to throw over her ; 
 she must sleep her sleep out, and I 
 shall watch by her, she shall never have 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 99 
 
 another sleep of the same sort if I can 
 prevent it." 
 
 It was more than two hours before 
 Mrs. Callander awoke. How they passed 
 Dorothy could not tell. A dull, impalpable 
 sense of fear, of danger, seemed to hedge 
 her round and hide the future from her. 
 The future wdiich up to the last few weeks 
 had smiled so brightly upon her. She 
 longed to open her heart to some one wiser 
 than herself. Yet what had she to tell ? 
 That her sister suffered from neuralgia, and 
 that she was vexed and uneasy that Egerton, 
 who posed as her lover, had soothed 
 the pain by mesmeric influence ? No, she 
 could not, and would not speak of this to 
 mortal, she felt instinctively that Colonel 
 Callander would be irritated if he heard of 
 it Then she reproached herself for beino- 
 so fanciful, so ready to think, not exactly 
 evil but in the possibility of evil. And 
 
100 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Paul ! could it be that Paul was ready and 
 willing to give her to this man ? Paul who 
 had always seemed to understand and 
 sympathise with her ? He had been a hero 
 in her eyes for many a day, and when he 
 returned from a long absence when Lord 
 
 E , his chief had sent him on some 
 
 private diplomatic mission, how surprised 
 she had been to find him so young, so full 
 of animation. She had always thought of 
 him before as being ever so much older 
 than herself, now when she ran into the 
 room ready to embrace him an indefinable 
 something held her back, seeing which 
 Standish had laughed good-humour edly 
 and said : " I see you have developed into 
 a full-fledged demoiselle, who must be 
 treated with proper respect," then he 
 laughed again and kissed her hand. 
 Colonel Callander and Mabel had laughed 
 too at her sudden dignity. But it was not 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 101 
 
 dignity, it was — she could not tell what, 
 some inner instinct which even now 
 brought the colour to her cheek. How 
 happy they ail were then ! From that day 
 however, Standish had never offered her a 
 kiss in his old elder-brotherly way, and she 
 had to exercise a good deal of self-control 
 to keep up the cool, unembarrassed, 
 friendliness of manner which any un- 
 expected encounter with him always 
 disturbed. 
 
 "But if Herbert and Mabel go away, 
 Mr. Egerton cannot come here, and I 
 suppose Paul's holiday is nearly over ! 
 How dull it will be ! However life ought 
 not to be all pleas are and self-indulgence. 
 I can find plenty to do, and when we all 
 meet again things will go on in their old 
 happy way. Mr. Egerton will be tired of 
 his whim of marrying me, and probably 
 we shall see no more of him," were her 
 
102 BLIND FATE. 
 
 final reflections. Then Mabel stirred, 
 shivered, and opened her eyes with a look 
 of fear in them which changed to one of 
 relief as they fell on Dorothy. She 
 stretched out her hand to her, murmuring 
 her name. Dorothy stooped over and 
 kissed her tenderly. 
 
 " Is he gone ? " whispered Mabel. 
 
 " Yes dear! Mr. Egerton is gone. You 
 are safe with me. Are you better ? " 
 
 " Yes, much better ! " and she burst into 
 a fit of hysterical weeping which almost 
 frightened Dorothy. With some difficulty 
 she persuaded her to go to bed, and then 
 called Nurse to arrange a sofa for her own 
 accommodation as she determined not to 
 leave her sister alone at night so long as 
 Colonel Callander was absent. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Next morning, however, the sun was 
 shining. Mabel declared herself better, 
 
TAKING SWEET COUNSEL" 103 
 
 but consented to breakfast in her own 
 room. 
 
 A pleasant letter from one of her former 
 school- fellows, inviting her to spend October 
 in a large, pleasant, country house where 
 a goodly company was to be gathered for 
 the pheasant-shooting, awaited Dorothy at 
 breakfast, and the buoyancy of youth 
 suggested that much of her melancholy 
 musing the previous evening was attribu- 
 table to nervousness and nightfall. 
 
 As Mabel seemed more cheerful, and 
 promised to drive with Paul Standish when 
 he came as usual after breakfast, Dorothy 
 set off to keep her appointment with Miss 
 Oakeley, and, their diligent practice over, 
 several idlers dropped in to lunch, among 
 them Major St. John and Standish. 
 
 Lunch finished, Dorothy refused a 
 pressing invitation to drive with Miss 
 Oakeley. 
 
1C4 . BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Well, if you will not come, pray take 
 this programme to your sister and the 
 advertisement. I have just put down what 
 I want to say, she must polish them up, 
 I have no turn for grammar ! There," 
 straining her neck to look out of the 
 window (she had secured a suite of rooms 
 on the ground floor looking to the sea), 
 " there goes Aunt Callander in state. 
 Lady-in-waiting, lap-dog and all ! I know 
 she is going to enquire for Mabel, and 
 inspect her proceedings ! Where is Mr. 
 Egerton to-day ? I have seen nothing of 
 him since, oh ! since yesterday ! " 
 
 " Well, you warned us all oil the premises 
 as you wanted an uninterrupted morning. 
 I was afraid to show myself even at one 
 o'clock, until Standish gave me a lead," 
 returned St. John. 
 
 " Well I must run away now ! I am 
 going to drive over to Beech Hall. I want 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 1C5 
 
 to persuade Lady Geraldine to play the 
 violin at my concert, she would be a great 
 catch. Will you come with me ? Do — do 
 Dorothy.'' 
 
 " I am very sorry, but I cannot, Miss 
 Oakeley. I must go back and support 
 Mabel." 
 
 " What a formal little thing you are, 
 Dorothy ! I think I might be ' Henrietta ' 
 by this time. Shall you dine at home 
 to-day ? " 
 
 "Yes. That is we have dined. While 
 Herbert is away we dine with the 
 children." 
 
 " This indifference to the sacredness of 
 the dinner hour is a fatal flaw in female 
 character. Women will never be in it as 
 they ought until they take a more personal 
 interest in food," said Standish. 
 
 " What a low-minded speech," cried Miss 
 Oakeley. " I was going to say, Dorothy, 
 
103 BLIND FATE. 
 
 that I would come over this evening and 
 try that duett again, with Mabel as accom- 
 panist, then Mr. Standish might look in 
 and we could go over the trio, too/' 
 
 " We shall be delighted to see you." 
 
 " Very well, about eight thirty. Are you 
 going ? " 
 
 " I will walk across the common with 
 you," said Standish, following her into the 
 hall. 
 
 'Yes, do please," she returned, feeling 
 a sense of strength and comfort in his 
 companionship, and longing to be able 
 really to pour out her heart to him — if it 
 were possible to put her vague uneasiness 
 into words. Even if she were — but 
 Standish was speaking. 
 
 " You are quite right to hurry back to 
 poor Mabel's rescue. She is by no means 
 equal to encounter her mother-in-law single 
 handed." 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 107 
 
 "Yeu are right. I don't think she is 
 equal to anything," said Dorothy, sadly. 
 
 " What ! " he exclaimed, struck by her 
 tone, " you are not seriously uneasy about 
 her ? " 
 
 " There is no reason I should be, but — 
 oh ! I can't explain my indefinable 
 anxiety — I daresay you would laugh at me 
 if I could." 
 
 Here they were interrupted by a young 
 lieutenant of St. John's regiment, a warm, 
 though silent, admirer of Dorothy, who 
 turned with them unasked under the plea 
 of imparting the project of a regimental 
 ball, for which he hoped Miss Wynn would 
 hold herself disengaged. 
 
 They were almost at the gate of the 
 Knoll before he left them, and they did not 
 resume their conversation. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Callander in ? " asked Dorothy 
 of the man who answered the bell. 
 
108 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " No, miss. Mrs. Callander — the Dowager 
 Mrs. Callander — called before she had 
 finished luncheon — she and Mr. Egerton — 
 and they all went out in the carriage to- 
 gether." 
 
 "Did not my sister drive this morn- 
 ing ? " 
 
 "No, miss. The mistress went out with 
 nurse and the children. Mr. Egerton came 
 back with her." 
 
 " It is probable she will not be back for 
 some time," said Standish. " Let us go 
 down on the beach, Dorothy, you look as if 
 you too wanted to be taken care of, and the 
 open air will do you more good than 
 sitting in a room." 
 
 " Very well," and she turned from the 
 house to go through the garden. " But I 
 am quite well, only a little worn out with 
 my practice and two whole hours of Miss 
 Oakeley's enthusiasm." 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 109 
 
 " I can imagine it. High pressure — 
 hey?" 
 
 " Yes, very high." They walked on 
 
 silently till they reached the water's edge, 
 
 when Dorothy instinctively turned her 
 
 * back on a more frequented part of the 
 
 common and exclaimed : 
 
 " Let us get as far from the madding 
 crowd as possible." 
 
 " By all means, especially as I want a 
 little private talk with you." 
 
 " Do you ? " in an alarmed tone, i: I hope 
 not a scolding ! " 
 
 " Do I ever scold you ? " reproachfully. 
 
 " Well, no ! But just now I always 
 anticipate evil." 
 
 " The terrors of an awakened conscience, 
 1 suppose ? " 
 
 " I think I am more imperfect than 
 wicked," said Dorothy, with a sigh. 
 
 Standish laughed. 
 
110 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Conscience is hard at work, I see. No, 
 I am not going to scold — why should 
 I ? You are really a very good girl, so far 
 as I see. I am going to cross-examine 
 you." 
 
 "That is bad enough," and Dorothy bent 
 her head, her naturally pathetic little face 
 looking so sad, that Standish involuntarily 
 drew closer to her. 
 
 " You don't imagine, my dear Dorothy, 
 that I would willingly distress you ? I 
 think you can trust me ! Now," with a 
 change of tone — " tell me ; are you aware 
 that I have received overtures for a matri- 
 monial alliance with my charming ward 
 from an unexceptional paHi ? " 
 
 "I am," very seriously. 
 
 " It seems you have refused Egerton. 
 May I ask the why and wherefore ? " 
 
 " I don't like him." 
 
 " But why ? " urged Standish. 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." Ill 
 
 " Curious fool, be still ! Is human love 
 the growth of human will ? " quoted 
 Dorothy, with a wonderfully sweet, bright 
 smile. 
 
 " What a pretty creature she is some- 
 times ! " thought Standish, while he said, 
 " Bad study, Byron, for young ladies ! 
 Come, Dorothy, you must have some 
 method in your madness, for madness it 
 would be considered by most women to 
 refuse such a man ! Handsome, fascinating, 
 clever — yes, I decidedly think him clever, 
 rich, young, with the world before him 
 w 7 here to choose, wisely picking out this 
 humble, sweet, obscure violet." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Paul ! I am not a bit 
 humble, and I am not a sweet violet. If I 
 am anything in that line, I am a rose, with 
 many thorns. Now go on, and do not 
 laugh." 
 
 " I will be quite serious. I consider it 
 
112 BLIND FATE. 
 
 my duty as your guardian to point out the 
 advantages of such a match." 
 
 " Match ! I hate the word — it only 
 applies to lucifers and carriage horses." 
 
 " Well, marriage, then. Of course, 
 Egerton's wife would have a capital posi- 
 tion, and everything the female heart can 
 wish, including a handsome husband. 
 Moreover, he is, I can see, rather a fasci- 
 nating fellow, and as he has evidently been 
 devoted to you for some time, I am a little 
 puzzled how you have come to steel your 
 heart against him." 
 
 Silence on Dorothy's part, her large, 
 dark grey eyes looking out over the sea 
 with a dreamy, soft expression. 
 
 "Yes, I confess myself puzzled," re- 
 sumed Standish, watching her. " I don't 
 want to force any confidence — but — is the 
 fortress impregnable because a stronger 
 than Egerton is already in possession ? " 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL." 113 
 
 Dorothy started, the warm colour 
 mantling in her cheek, but still she did 
 not speak. 
 
 " I only suggest the notion, because your 
 happiness is very precious to me, and — and 
 — I would promote it by all means in my 
 power. Come, my dearest Dorothy, be 
 confidential. Can you not tell me the 
 secrets of your, proud, fiery heart ? " 
 
 "Yes, most of them, but, Paul, would 
 you like to give me to this man ? " 
 
 " No — by heaven, no ! " cried Standish, 
 with unnecessary energy. " I would 
 rather have you at hand to soothe my de- 
 clining years, and give me my last cup of 
 gruel, but I am bound to place the advan- 
 tages of such a marriage before you, and 
 your indifference to what would charji 
 most women half alarms me. Come, my 
 dear ward, your reasons ? " 
 
 " I think," began Dorothy, thoughtfully 
 vol. i. 8 
 
114 BLIND FATE. 
 
 and slowly, " that Mr. Egerton might be 
 charming — perhaps irresistible, if he loved, 
 but somehow or other I feel quite con- 
 vinced that he does not love me ! " 
 
 " My dear Dorothy, what an absurd im- 
 pression. Why should he ask you to 
 marry him ? Why seek you at all, were 
 he not strongly attracted? you have no 
 particular advantages of rank or wealth — 
 indeed, Egerton wants nothing of that 
 kind." 
 
 " Yes, it is all very curious, I know it 
 seems absurd to say so, but I feel quite 
 sure he does not care a straw for me." 
 
 " How do you know ? What is at the 
 bottom of this preposterous conviction ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all that any sensible per- 
 son would consider proof," returned 
 Dorothy in a deliberate tone, dwelling on 
 her words, " but there is no love in his 
 voice or his touch — or — oh, no ! " breaking 
 
"TAKING SWEET COUNSEL/' 115 
 
 off suddenly, " there is no love in him for 
 me, or I could never be so indifferent to 
 him ! " 
 
 " Do you mean to say," looking at her 
 rather sternly, " that you would love any- 
 one whom you felt or fancied loved 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, Paul ; but if I felt that a man was 
 really in love with me, I should be sorry 
 for him, and feel kindly towards him, and 
 
 wish I could make him happy and " 
 
 she stopped. 
 
 " You feel none of these amiable emo- 
 tions towards Egerton ? " 
 
 " ,Not one ! I do not like him. I used. 
 I thought him delightful when we were in 
 London, but I did not feel the least bit in 
 love with him, you understand ? " 
 
 " No, I do not — not half as well as you 
 do. Why, how have you acquired such an 
 extraordinary amount of heart-lore." And 
 
116 BLIND FATE. 
 
 he looked very steadily at her with a 
 slight smile on his lip. 
 
 " By an extensive and profound study of 
 novels, I suppose, for I have seen very little 
 of life." 
 
 " And instinct, my dear child ! Have 
 you not tried your 'prentice hand or eyes 
 on any of the charming young fellows, red, 
 blue and green, who abound here ? ' 
 
 " Why, Paul ! how could I P Since 
 Herbert came home we have never gone 
 anywhere, or invited anyone." 
 
 " True ; but before he came, and ever 
 since ? for many a quiet game has been 
 played, of which the lookers-on have little 
 idea." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Dorothy ab- 
 sently ; then returning to the original 
 current of her thoughts, she added, gently, 
 " Well, my dear guardian, I have never 
 tried them." 
 
"TAKINC* SWEET COUNSEL." 11T 
 
 " I believe so," he returned heartily. " I 
 think you are strong enough and proud 
 enough to steer pretty straight through the 
 life that lies before you — all before you, you 
 happy young thing ! " he added with a sigh. 
 "But don't give away your heart too 
 readily ; the whole colour of your life, of 
 the lives of such women as you are, 
 depends on that first venture." 
 
 " Oh, I'll take care," said Dorothy, with 
 an arch smile. " And now you will pro- 
 mise not to trouble me any more about 
 Mr. Egerton — that is finished." 
 
 " I suppose so. I will not trouble you, 
 Dorothy, but Egerton will ; and Callander, 
 he is rather keen about the affair. For my 
 own part, I am a little disposed to be on 
 your side. Still, I think the fellow is in 
 love with you." 
 
 " And I— though I cannot argue about 
 it— feel sure he is not." 
 
118 BLIND FATE. 
 
 There was a pause. Then Standish, as if 
 to change the subject definitely, turned to 
 face the water, and, stretching out his 
 hand, said, " That's some foreign craft there 
 you see, with brown sails, tacking across 
 the bay. She completes the picture, doesn't 
 she ? " 
 
 " Yes. How do you know she is 
 foreign ? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell you, but she doesn't 
 look like a Britisher." 
 
 " Ah ! You accept intuitions, too ! " cried 
 Dorothy, a mischievous smile changing her 
 face completely. 
 
 " I do not act upon them," he returned, 
 laughing. After watching the vessel for a 
 few minutes they went slowly back to the 
 villa in pleasant confidential conversation. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 11 mother carey's chickens." 
 
 Colonel Callander prolonged his stay in 
 Town for a few days, as he wished to con- 
 sult Dr. D , the great specialist for 
 
 nerves, and had to wait for an appointment. 
 His letters, however, were cheerful, and full 
 of small details, which showed that he was 
 fast regaining his normal condition of mind, 
 and powers of enjoyment. 
 
 His wife wrote to him every day. Long 
 epistles which excited Dorothy's surprise. 
 " What can she have to write about ? " 
 she said to herself. "For though it is 
 pleasant — our life here — one day is like 
 another." 
 
 Since her confession of doubts respecting 
 
120 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Egerton to her guardian, she had felt 
 happier. She was, perhaps, a little too 
 ready to quarrel with him, but she was 
 always restless till she made friends again. 
 
 Mabel did not rally from her attack of 
 neuralgia as quickly or as completely as 
 Dorothy hoped and expected. 
 
 In vain the younger sister urged her to 
 join the Colonel in Town, and avail herself 
 
 of Dr. B 's skill. She refused, with a 
 
 degree of impatience that astonished 
 Dorothy. 
 
 Meantime, the practisings and prepara- 
 tions for Miss Oakeley's concert went on 
 with much vigour. The Dowager called 
 every day, and insisted that Mabel should 
 take what she called an " airing " in her 
 agreeable company, and poor Mabel dared 
 not refuse. 
 
 Egerton contrived to be a good deal with 
 Dorothy, and as he always talked like a 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 121 
 
 pleasant friend, and seemed to have laid 
 aside the lover, she had no excuse for 
 quarrelling with him, while she was some- 
 what irritated by the quiet ingenuity with 
 which he contrived to appropriate her, 
 while everyone else evidently made way 
 for him, always excepting Frank Selby, the 
 young rifleman aforementioned, who, with 
 a certain boyish fun and audacity, boldly 
 tried to gather all the crumbs that fell 
 from Egerton's richer table. It pleased and 
 amused Dorothy to assist him as much as 
 possible. 
 
 At all this Standish looked with much 
 interest, seeing very clearly that Dorothy 
 did not even like Egerton as well as she once 
 did. Indeed, the young lady's moods and 
 conduct puzzled him a good deal at this 
 time, and he was somehow less lenient in 
 his judgment on her than formerly. 
 
 Miss Oakeley, whose imagination never 
 
122 BLIND FATE. 
 
 suggested a picture of repose as a thing to 
 be enjo} r ed, was always " making up 
 parties," " organising picnics," or gather- 
 ing together somewhat noisy collections of 
 young people to dine or sup. She enjoyed to 
 the full the liberty which wealth, and wealth 
 only, bestows on an unmarried woman. 
 Though willing to be thought much 
 younger, Miss Oakeley supported her pre- 
 tensions to originality by proclaiming 
 aloud that at thirty a girl (!) might venture 
 to dispense with chaperones. In many 
 ways she was a thorn in her austere aunt's 
 side. Nevertheless, she could bear with 
 much from a girl whose innate purity and 
 rectitude is guaranteed by the possession of 
 four thousand a year ! And then, Herbert 
 had behaved so heartlessly to her ! In 
 short, Mrs. Callander senior could not 
 shut her heart against a creature so 
 endowed. 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 123 
 
 " My dear Mabel," cried Miss Oakeley, 
 walking unceremoniously into the drawing- 
 room of The Knoll one cool, grey morning, 
 as Dorothy was singing a German sleeping 
 song to her little niece, who stood beside 
 her, trying to join, while Mabel was play- 
 ing with her boy on the sofa, " my dear 
 Mabel, what an idyllic scene ! and I am 
 come to drag you away from your babies. 
 I want you to come back with me to 
 luncheon. Major St. John and Mr. Standish 
 are coming, and we will ask Mr. Egerton if 
 we meet him. Then they are to escort me 
 to the port. There is a Spanish or Portu- 
 guese ship there, and they have a wonder- 
 ful parrot who speaks several languages. 
 I want to buy it. I shall teach it English, 
 and complete its education. I should like 
 to get on board, and see what sort of a 
 place the ship is. Now I want you and 
 Dorothy to come, too, it will be an expedi- 
 
124 BLIND FATE. 
 
 tion. I believe there are some curious old 
 streets about the port, too." 
 
 " They are shockingly dirty," said Mabel, 
 " and I have promised to go out with 
 Mrs. Callander, she has deigned to ask the 
 children, and I think Herbert would be 
 annoyed if I refused ; but Dorothy will go 
 I daresay." 
 
 " My dear Mabel," returned Miss 
 Oakeley, composing her round, good- 
 humoured face and restless black eyes 
 to a serious aspect. "What do you do 
 with yourself all day ? You never join 
 in anything or go anywhere. Do you 
 lie on the sofa from morning till night 
 reading novels ? I do not wonder at your 
 looking pale and woebegone ! Why, you 
 are making an old woman of yourself! 
 Isn't she, Dorothy ? " 
 
 " I don't think she is very strong," said 
 Dorothy, leaving the piano, and coming 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 125 
 
 to sit beside her sister ; " at all events, she 
 must not be scolded ! I should like to see 
 the foreign ship, Henrietta. I will come 
 with you. Let me go and change my 
 dress." 
 
 " That is a good girl, don't be long." 
 
 " I hear you are as gay as the means 
 of little Fordsea permit," said Mabel, 
 making room for her cousin on the sofa 
 beside her by gathering up her baby boy 
 in her arms, and hushing him gently to 
 sleep. 
 
 " It isn't half a bad little place," re- 
 turned Miss Oakeley, u and there are so 
 few people to give parties or keep the ball 
 rolling, that they are grateful to any one 
 who will — every one is very nice to me, 
 indeed I do very much what I like. — Why, 
 that was Mr. Egerton who passed the 
 window, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " I did not see ; but very likely it was." 
 
126 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Of course he is here a good deal. How 
 are matters going on ? " 
 
 '• Oh ! I do not know," wearily. 
 
 "Nonsense, Mabel, you must know. 
 Surely she will not be such a goose as to 
 refuse.''' 
 
 " Mr. Egerton," announced Collins, the 
 Colonel's soldier servant. 
 
 "Oh! we were just talking of you, Mr. 
 Egerton. I want you to come back to 
 lunch with me. I have two or three men 
 guests and Dorothy. We are all going 
 down to the port after to see what curios 
 we can pick up from the Spanish sailors. 
 They have a wonderful parrot on which 
 I have set my heart. I suppose one could 
 hardly find a real Mantilla among these 
 people? The captain would not have a 
 wife on board who would be willing for 
 a consideration to part with her best/ go to 
 meeting ' Mantilla ? : ' 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 127 
 
 " No, I think not," he said, turning from 
 Mabel, with whom he had exchanged 
 greetings. " I have seen some of these 
 people, they are rather rough specimens, 
 there are only a sprinkling of Spaniards, 
 some are from Valencia, my mother's 
 country." 
 
 " Ah ! yes to be sure ! You must be our 
 interpreter. I wish Dorothy would come, 
 I am burning to get luncheon over and 
 attack these people." 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot join you at lunch. 
 I have a particular engagement with my old 
 skipper. I have some thoughts of buying 
 the Gitana if the owner satisfies me on one 
 or two points." 
 
 " But you really must ! " 
 
 " I am infinitely distressed to be obliged 
 to refuse you," said Egerton airily ; " but 
 I'll try to meet you at the dock. I believe 
 that Portuguese schooner is lving alongside. 
 
128 BLIND FATE. 
 
 I'll be very ' happy to translate for you, 
 though my Spanish is growing rusty. I 
 used to speak it as much as I spoke 
 English while my poor mother lived." 
 
 " Oh thanks ! a thousand thanks," cried 
 Miss Oakeley. " Then I feel sure of the 
 parrot. Ah! here comes Dorothy. How 
 long you have been beautifying ! You must 
 scold this obstinate man, he will not come 
 to lunch, and Dorothy will be obliged to 
 depend on Mr. Selby for an escort." 
 
 " No ! Mr. Standish will be there, and I 
 have a sort of vested right to my 
 guardian," said Dorothy, laughing. 
 
 " Come," repeated Miss Oakeley, kissing 
 her hand to Mabel, " we'll bring you a 
 fairing," and she walked briskly out of the 
 room, while Egerton holding the door open 
 whispered to Dorothy as she passed : 
 
 " Standish is a far more formidable rival 
 than Selby ! " 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 129 
 
 Dorothy gave him a startled glance and 
 coloured crimson, saying coldly : 
 
 " I cannot understand you." 
 
 She hurried after Miss Oakeley, her veins 
 
 tingling with vexation and a sort of fear. 
 
 "Was it possible that Egerton perceived and 
 
 dared to hint at what she herself shrunk 
 
 from perceiving ? That hint turned the 
 
 scale, and as she walked on briskly beside 
 
 Miss Oakeley, hearing, without listening to, 
 
 her animated chatter, she made up her 
 
 mind that she both disliked and distrusted 
 
 Egerton, that there was something cruel 
 
 and relentless in his fine dark eyes, that he 
 
 tried in some way to dominate her. At the 
 
 thought, her spirit rose defiantly. He 
 
 should find he had no fool to deal with ! 
 
 Why did he pretend to pose as her lover 
 
 when he did not care a straw for her? 
 
 What was his object ? 
 
 The luncheon party was merry and noisy, 
 vol. i. 9 
 
13) BLIND PATE. 
 
 they chaffed each other, and talked all 
 together, and told stories, more or less 
 credible ; but Miss Oakeley cut them short 
 and expressed her anxiety to start in search 
 of the much desired parrot. 
 
 " What's the matter, Dorothy?" asked 
 Standish, as they sallied forth. " You 
 have neither eaten nor talked." 
 
 " Don't mind, dear," cried Miss Oakeley, 
 who overheard the remark. "He is to 
 meet us presently, you know," and with 
 an insufferably knowing smile, she fell 
 back to allow of Major St. John joining 
 her. 
 
 Standish laughed. 
 
 "That is what may be called delicate 
 tact," he said ; " I'm glad eyes cannot kill 
 or it would be all over with our dear 
 Henrietta! I never thought you would 
 develope into such a fierce — what shall I 
 sav, warrior angel." 
 
''MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 131 
 
 " Paul, you are unkind ! and you do not 
 care that I am annoyed and worried ! " 
 
 " Why, Dorothy, what is there to worry 
 you ? No one can force you to do what 
 you don't wish, and I must say your annoy- 
 ance does not suggest indifference. " 
 
 " Indifference," she repeated in a low 
 earnest tone. " No ! indifference is merged 
 in dislike." 
 
 " I never knew you unreasonable, that is, 
 decidedly unreasonable, before ? " 
 
 " I suppose, on the whole, that is a com- 
 pliment," said Dorothy drily. Further 
 private conversation was prevented by Mr. 
 Selby, who attached himself to Dorothy. 
 She was very quiet and silent, but her 
 young admirer was quite willing to do all 
 the talking himself. 
 
 Standish was guide. He had rambled 
 much about the older parts of Eastport 
 during those early hours when his usual 
 
132 BLIND FATE. 
 
 companions were either in bed or at break- 
 fast, and he now led them through narrow 
 streets of red-roofed irregular houses with 
 many a projecting window and deep porch 
 thickly studded with taverns and public - 
 houses adorned by curious quaint signs, 
 past a very old red-brick, two-storied 
 church, with dormer windows in the roof, 
 and an ivy-grown square tower that 
 boasted some fine bells, altogether a re- 
 markable mixture of the dwelling house 
 and the sanctuary, past an evil-smelling fish 
 market where wonderful " old tars," male 
 and female, for the fish wives were scarcely 
 womanly, and through groups of fishy sea- 
 faring men, down to a small dock, its walls 
 much battered and grey with age and 
 weather, into which the sea ran at high 
 water, receding as the tide fell and leaving 
 an abyss of mal-odorous mud behind. This 
 was the only harbour for craft unconnected 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 133 
 
 with the navy, and all the small fry of 
 vessels which brought foreign merchandise, 
 and they were not many, went into it. 
 
 " Look on this picture — and on this," 
 said Standish, with a slight nod in the 
 direction of an ancient " purveyor of fish," 
 who invited them to buy, and whose coarse 
 tanned upper garment was turned back, 
 showing a much stained striped and ragged 
 petticoat, and then touching Dorothy's 
 dainty costume. " The force of idealising 
 could no further go." 
 
 " Yet that poor old thing must have been 
 pretty once," said Dorothy, glancing kindly 
 at her. " How terrible the old age of the 
 poor must be. When they can no longer 
 work they become burdens, and I am afraid 
 their relatives do not disguise the fact." 
 
 " Yet there is a wonderful amount of kind- 
 ness from the poor to the poor, and granted 
 the difference of habit and manner between 
 
134 BLIND FATE. 
 
 social grades, I don't suppose one class 
 is much harder to its poor old dependents 
 than another. It is the absolute physical 
 needs of poverty-stricken old age that are 
 so sad. I don't think we have half enough 
 refuges for the aged. Suggest this source 
 of occupation and excitement to your 
 friend, Miss Oakeley. A set of almshouses 
 on the hill behind the town there, would 
 look picturesque — or might look pic- 
 turesque — and give comfort and rest to 
 some poor worn-out toilers." 
 
 "Pray mention the plan yourself; you 
 have a good deal more influence than I 
 have." 
 
 " There is the dock and there is the ship. 
 It is the same we saw standing across the 
 bay the other evening, you remember." 
 
 " I do. How picturesque the old place 
 looks, and the masts and cordage against 
 the soft grey sky, the general leaden hue, 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 135 
 
 and the bright red caps of those sailors 
 who are grouped round that gentleman. 
 Why, it is Mr. Egerton ! " 
 
 " Yes, there is Mr. Egerton,'' cried Miss 
 Oakeley, coming up with them as they 
 paused. " I was sure he would be before 
 us." 
 
 A few minutes more brought them to the 
 spot where Egerton stood talking with 
 some of the swarthy crew. " Well ! " he 
 exclaimed, coming forward to meet them ; 
 " I have been sounding some of my demi- 
 semi compatriots, and they are ready to 
 sell you everything, their ship and them- 
 selves into the bargain, but they are a little 
 uncertain about the parrot. It belongs to 
 a Portuguese fellow called Guiseppe, who 
 speaks a little English, so is gone into the 
 town to market. The crew are chiefly 
 Portuguese, with a sprinkling of Moors and 
 Spaniards. I must say my Spanish cousins 
 
136 BLIND FATE. 
 
 are the only good-looking fellows among 
 them. I am rather proud that they under- 
 stand me. There, that tall sailor, who is so 
 terribly in need of an outfit, he comes 
 from my mother's part of the country, and 
 recognised some of my expressions as 
 Valencian." He signed to the man to 
 approach, which he did, with a graceful, 
 haughty bow. 
 
 While Egerton spoke to him, Dorothy 
 looked earnestly at the strong, active form, 
 the swarthy face of the sailor, with its 
 glittering dark eyes, massive cruel jaw, and 
 somewhat overhanging brow. The mouth 
 was hidden by a thick jet-black moustache, 
 through which the strong white teeth 
 showed when he spoke and smiled. 
 
 " Yes, he is good-looking — very hand- 
 some indeed ; but I should be afraid of 
 him. He looks as if he would murder 
 anyone for sixpence." 
 
'•MOTHEK CAREY'S CHICKENS." 137 
 
 " Sixpence ! No, two-and-sixpence, per- 
 haps," said Egerton, laughing. "But I 
 assure you, Spanish peasants are very fine 
 fellows. I used to like them immensely 
 when I stayed in the country some years 
 ago. I don't know much of the seafaring 
 population. I don't suppose they stick at 
 trifles, — Miss Oakeley," he continued, " I 
 have asked the men to bring any curiosities 
 they may have out here, I don't think 
 the ship is exactly the most cleanly or 
 agreeable spot to drive a bargain in." 
 
 Here some eager talk and pointing of 
 hands towards the town among the sailors 
 drew his attention to a short, broad man 
 coming towards them, a net full of vege- 
 tables slung over his shoulder, a broad, 
 brawny, good-humoured faced man, with 
 black ringlets, and a smiling mouth never 
 quite closed over his brilliantly white teeth. 
 Hastening his steps at the general cry of 
 
138 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Guiseppe," he deposited his net in their 
 midst, took off his cap and bowed with 
 much deference. 
 
 " You ought to be more lenient to my 
 friend Diego," said Egerton aside to 
 Dorothy. " He has asked me who the 
 fair, beautiful angel is ; if she is my — 
 sister." 
 
 " I am much obliged to him. Even his 
 nattering approbation does not change my 
 opinion." 
 
 Meantime, Miss Oakeley, rinding that 
 Guiseppe spoke English, began negotiations 
 with him at once. 
 
 The Portuguese was all that deferential 
 politeness could demand, but asked an 
 exhorbitant price for his parrot and stuck 
 to it. His broken English amused Miss 
 Oakeley, and she prolonged the bargaining 
 to make him talk. Guiseppe vowed that 
 the bird was as dear to him as a brother ; 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 139 
 
 that it had a most extraordinary history. 
 " Once," said its proud owner, " he had 
 been wrecked, and contrived to escape to 
 an uninhabited island, where he sud- 
 denly found himself addressed by this 
 parrot, who was perched on a tree — in 
 Spanish, too ; rather curious Spanish — 
 and the bird had attached itself to him, 
 had accompanied him when he was 
 rescued. They had never been parted 
 since. Stay, he would fetch it to show 
 the lady. It was a wonderful bird. No 
 money would pay him for it." He 
 picked up his net of vegetables and went 
 on board the ship. 
 
 " He is going to ask a big price," said 
 Egerton to Miss Oakeley. " Don't give 
 it." 
 
 "But I should like to have the bird," 
 she exclaimed. " It is such a curious 
 story. Why, it may be a hundred years 
 
140 BLIND FATE. 
 
 old. You know, they live to an immense 
 
 " Indeed ? " 
 
 " Oh, you are horribly incredulous." 
 
 " It is a picturesque group," said Standish 
 calmly scrutinising the figures before him, 
 Ci these dark desperadoes, the accurately- 
 dressed Englishmen, Miss Oakeley, and 
 yourself, and the background of grey sea 
 and sky. You seem to have fascinated 
 Egerton's Yalencian friend. He is gazing 
 in wonder and admiration at you." 
 
 " I think he is very like Mr. Egerton ; 
 or rather Mr. Egerton would be very like 
 him in the same clothes." 
 
 Standish laughed heartily. " Fancy 
 Egerton in those rags. I cannot say I see 
 the likeness." 
 
 " Well, I do ! " returned Dorothy, with a 
 shudder. 
 
 Standish looked at her surprised. 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 141 
 
 " Have you caught cold, Dorothy ? " he 
 asked with more earnestness than the 
 occasion seemed to need. 
 
 "Yes — I suppose so — I feel chilled to 
 the heart," said Dorothy, as if the words 
 escaped her involuntarily. Standish looked 
 round. 
 
 " I wish there was some wrap here to 
 put round you ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Stand near me ! " murmured Dorothy. 
 " I — you will think me foolish — but I do 
 not like these people." 
 
 "You are far more fanciful than you 
 used to be, but if you wish me near you, 
 no one shall come between us," and he 
 drew closer to her. " See," he continued, 
 "here comes Guiseppe and his parrot. It 
 is no great beauty to look at." 
 
 Then the chaffering began. Guiseppe 
 vowing at last that no money would tempt 
 him to part with his dear tried companion, 
 
142 BLIND FATE. 
 
 but he could refuse the beautiful lady no- 
 thing, so he would give it to her, and she 
 should give him what little token of 
 acknowledgment she liked. 
 
 " What a nice, generous little man," she 
 cried. "Well then, will five pounds be 
 enough ? " 
 
 With a gesture of resignation he said, 
 " whatever the lady likes," and scratched 
 his Poll's head with a sentimental air. 
 
 " Do find out what will satisfy him," said 
 Miss Oakeley to Egerton. 
 
 " If he is not satisfied he ought to be," 
 he returned. 
 
 " Will you bring the parrot to me early 
 to-morrow to the Pier Hotel," she con- 
 tinued, " there is my card, you and I will 
 settle the matter between us. I will have 
 a nice new cage ready. You must tell me 
 what the dear thing eats and drinks ! 
 Poor Poll, pretty Poll ! " — she attempted to 
 
"MOTHER CAREYS CHICKENS." 143 
 
 stroke it, but the " pretty creature " made 
 a fierce determined attempt to bite the 
 caressing hand and uttered a volley of 
 choice epithets which did credit to the 
 resources of the Spanish tongue. 
 
 The sailors laughed unrestrainedly and 
 even Egerton smiled. 
 
 " 'Tis because he is in my hand, signora," 
 cried Guiseppe. " He will love you in a 
 week, and I leave myself to your 
 generosity." 
 
 " It's all over with you, Miss Oakeley, 
 if you bargain with the Devil single- 
 handed." 
 
 "But don't you see there will be no 
 bargaining ! He leaves everything to me." 
 
 Egerton shrugged his shoulders, and 
 Guiseppe with a bow and an air of humility 
 stepped back to make way for a gaunt, 
 grizzled, Jewish-looking man who offered 
 an old dagger with a curiously wrought 
 
144 BLIND FATE. 
 
 silver hilt and scabbard, frightfully in want 
 of plate brush and powder, while another 
 produced some bits of gold filagree. These 
 last Dorothy admired, and Standish bought 
 immediately — these were all the curios that 
 could be found, and after some further talk 
 with the smiling gesticulating Guiseppe, 
 Miss Oakeley and party moved off, while 
 the foreign sailors closed up and continued 
 to talk and laugh loudly among themselves. 
 Egerton took his place beside Dorothy, 
 with the evident intention of accompanying 
 her home, and Standish, reminded by a 
 glance of his promise to keep near her, 
 held his position at her other side. After 
 a friendly good-bye from Miss Oakeley, and 
 an explanation that they could not meet 
 again that day, the party divided, and 
 young Selby went disconsolately away to 
 solace himself with a game of pool before 
 dressing for dinner. 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 145 
 
 On reaching The Knoll Dorothy bid both 
 her companions good-bye. 
 
 " I am too tired to talk any more," she 
 said with a pleasant arch smile, that took 
 all asperity from her words, " and as Mabel 
 appears to have gone out I will not ask 
 you to come in." 
 
 Standish shook his head. " You must 
 remember my holiday is nearly over. I 
 shall come to-morrow early. Why, I haven't 
 seen Mabel to-day ! " 
 
 " I dare not take such liberties," said 
 Egerton, ' ; but I hope to have a glimpse of 
 you both to morrow." 
 
 "Auf wiedersehn" cried Dorothy, waving 
 her hand before disappearing into the 
 house. 
 
 The two men walked away silently for a 
 
 few paces. They were by no means as 
 
 congenial as formerly. Standish could not 
 
 account for it. Egerton was always agree- 
 vol. i. 10 
 
146 BLIND FATE. 
 
 able and obliging, but of late he had been 
 less cordial — more reserved. Whenever he 
 found Standish installed in Mabel's drawing- 
 room, he seemed, with all his tact in mask- 
 ing his feelings, to be too irritated to resist 
 uttering stinging though veiled allusions to 
 the extraordinary conscientiousness with 
 which Standish performed his duties as 
 guardian or watch-dog. 
 
 " Can it be that I create any jealous 
 feeling in his mind?" thought Standish. 
 " Does he think that a bright fastidious 
 and rather romantic young creature like 
 Dorothy, would give more than a friendly 
 thought to a fellow old enough, or nearly 
 old enough, to be her father ? — who has been 
 pretty well battered in the struggle for life, 
 and with a host of not exhilarating memories 
 behind him. God foi- bid that such an idea 
 should ever be suggested to her, to tarnish 
 the happy familiarity of our intercourse, 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 147 
 
 or check her frank confidence in me ! Yet 
 in some ways she is older t}ian Mabel, 
 bolder, stronger, riper, she has grown more 
 womanly of late too, very much more ! 
 Handsome, wealthy, well-born as he is, I 
 doubt if Egerton is worthy of her," he 
 glanced at his companion. His brows were 
 knit, and his mouth set with a hard ex- 
 pression, catching Standish's eyes he laughed 
 a slight good-humoured laugh, his expres- 
 sion changing completely. 
 
 " You think I am the picture of a 
 rejected lover," he said with an air of frank 
 confidence. " The fact is I am both riled 
 and disheartened. Your fascinating little 
 ward is so resolutely cold ! If I thought 
 she had given her heart to anyone else — of 
 course I would not annoy her by pressing 
 my suit. But I don't think she has. She 
 amuses herself with that boy Selby, it is 
 
 the instinct of the cat-like feminine nature 
 
 10* 
 
143 BLIKD FATE. 
 
 to torment any mouse that lets itself be 
 caught. Why should she not fancy me ? 
 I have always got on very well with 
 women ? It's some girlish whim, and I 
 assure you I am convinced that patience 
 and perseverance are levers which shall lift 
 her resistance and shiver it to atoms, 
 especially as I am sure of your consent 
 when T can win hers ! What a dainty 
 charming little witch it is. Her gravity, 
 her apparent pensiveness is so piquante, 
 when you know what a dash of the Devil 
 there is under it ! To inspire such a 
 creature as that with a real downright 
 passion, would be worth a good deal of 
 trouble, don't you think so ? " turning 
 sharply and looking full into his com- 
 panion's face. 
 
 Standish suddenly flushed under his 
 tanned skin, and met Egerton's eyes with 
 a cold grave look. 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 149 
 
 "The love of such a woman is doubt- 
 less well worth the trouble of winning," 
 he said seriously. " Win it if you 
 can." 
 
 " Do you know there's a touch of 
 defiance in your tone ? " returned Egerton, 
 laughing. " I don't think you are as 
 heartily on my side as Callander is." 
 
 " Why should I not be on your side ? 
 You are what all match-makers would call 
 an unexceptionable parti" 
 
 " Oh ! there is no knowing the depths of 
 inscrutable motive in so experienced an 
 old fellow as you are ! " Then drawing out 
 his watch, he went on, " Five-thirty ! I'll 
 have time to catch the six-forty -five express. 
 I think I'll run up to town for twenty-four 
 hours. There are various things to be 
 attended to which I have neglected. You'll 
 excuse my leaving you so abruptly, but I 
 have to dress and give my man some 
 
150 BLIND FATE. 
 
 directions. Good-bye till to-morrow. 
 Make my excuses at The Knoll." He 
 jumped into an open fly which was 
 crawling near and which he had hailed, 
 and ordering the man to "Beach House 
 Hotel," drove rapidly away. 
 
 Standish looked after him, a curious ex- 
 pression contracting his brow. " She is 
 right," he said to himself. " He does not 
 love her, there was not a note of love or 
 even passion in his tones. What can his 
 game be, and what magic has opened 
 Dorothy's eyes to the truth? — it is all be- 
 yond my comprehension." 
 
 Mrs. Callander came back from her 
 walk looking, as Dorothy thought, un- 
 usually well — with more than her ordinary 
 colour. "I met Mrs. Markham and we 
 took a stroll on the beach together. She 
 is very amusing, and told me some droll 
 stories of the people she had known at 
 
•'MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 151 
 
 Naples and Palermo, when her husband 
 was on the Mediterranean station. Eeal 
 life seems much more extraordinary than 
 the life of novels," said Mabel, as she sat 
 with her sister at their evening meal. 
 
 " I daresay it is. Henrietta Oakeley and 
 I had a glimpse of the romantic — the 
 roughly romantic — side of it to-day," and 
 Dorothy proceeded to describe their visit 
 to the old dock and their interview with 
 Guiseppe. 
 
 " What quantities of money Henrietta 
 must spend," said Mrs. Callander. " She 
 is very generous and good-natured. But 
 I cannot believe Mr. Egerton could be like 
 a common sailor, Dorothy." 
 
 "He was, I assure you, but the man 
 was not a common sailor. He was very 
 handsome, though wicked looking — just 
 what Mr. Egerton might have been if he 
 had not been educated and trained and 
 
152 BLIND FATE. 
 
 taught his catechism and made an English 
 gentleman of." 
 
 " He certainly is more an English gen- 
 tleman than anything else." 
 
 " Goodness knows," returned Dorothy. 
 
 There was a pause. Then with some 
 hesitation, Mabel said in a soft, caressing 
 voice, " Are you sure, dear Dorothy, that 
 you do not — cannot love EandalEgerton?" 
 
 " Yes ; quite sure," returned Dorothy 
 promptly. "Would you wish me to marry 
 him?" 
 
 " I only wish for what would make you 
 happy — happy as a dream, dear, dearest 
 sister. Don't you know how I love you? 
 Nearly as well as my children ; but, oh ! 
 I envy you, Dorothy." 
 
 " Envy me ? Why ? " smiling and stretch- 
 ing out her hand to her sister. 
 
 " Oh, because you are so much stronger 
 than I am. If you do not like or approve 
 
"MOTHER CAKEY'S CHICKENS." 153 
 
 anything, you can say no. You cannot 
 fancy how impossible it is to me to say no 
 to a person who asks me to say yes! " 
 
 " Well, fortunately you have not much 
 trouble in that way, Mabel, for you have 
 all you want, and " 
 
 " Oh, Dorothy ! I have my troubles too 
 — just now, I mean. I have been writing 
 to say 'no' to Herbert this morning." 
 
 " What about ? " asked Dorothy, startled 
 and greatly amazed. 
 
 " About this expedition to Switzerland, or 
 wherever he wanted to go. I really do 
 not feel equal to it. I do not feel as if I 
 could go." 
 
 Her big blue eyes looked imploringly at 
 her sister. Dorothy grew very grave. 
 " He will be awfully vexed. What has in- 
 duced you to give it up ? " 
 
 " Just what I told you. I cannot go." 
 
 " Dear Mabel ! I wish you had talked to 
 
154 BLIND FATE. 
 
 me first. I wish you had not done this. 
 It will be such a blow to Herbert. A 
 quiet journey with you would have done 
 him so much good. Have you posted the 
 letter ? " 
 
 " Yes ; he will get it this evening." 
 " Ah ! that is the worst time. I do wish 
 you had not written. Unless you are 
 really unwell (and I have been very uneasy 
 about you) you could surely manage to 
 bear a little travelling, and it would do 
 you good, I am sure. You have had such 
 a strained, dazed look lately. I am sure 
 your neuralgia has been worse than you 
 admit. This will be a great blow to Her- 
 bert. I feel it will be. Do telegraph to 
 say you will be ready to start — that you 
 are better. Do, dear, dear Mabel. You 
 
 know in his state of health it might " 
 
 " That is just it," interrupted Mabel, with 
 tremulous eagerness. " Suppose he were 
 
"MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS." 155 
 
 taken ill when I was alone with him ? I 
 should not know what to do. I should be 
 quite unnerved " 
 
 " Mabel ; this is not like you. You 
 ought not to have refused. I am dread- 
 fully distressed. ' 
 
 "Ah, Dorothy," cried Mabel, pressing 
 her hands tightly together ; " you must 
 not desert me. You must keep on my 
 side. We have always loved each other 
 and you must back me up about this 
 horrid journey. Why need Herbert go 
 wanderiijg about ? The tranquillity of his 
 own house is better for him than noisy 
 hotels and rapid journeys ! I will do all I 
 can for him here, and then, you know him, 
 if he thinks I do not want to go he won't 
 care about it. He must be a great deal 
 better from his report of what Dr. B. 
 says — that a few months' care and quiet 
 will entirely restore him — and he was 
 
156 BLIND FATE. 
 
 much more cheerful before he went to 
 town." 
 
 " That may all be true, still — Oh, Mabel! 
 how had you the heart to disappoint him ? " 
 
 Mabel's only answer was to rise, and 
 approaching her sister, who was standing 
 near the window, she threw her arms 
 round her, and laying her head on her 
 shoulder pressed her closely till Dorothy 
 felt the strong beating of her heart, her 
 quick, sobbing breath. "You do not 
 know. You cannot understand ." 
 
 " I cannot, indeed, unless you tell me. 
 Why do you keep anything from me, dear- 
 est ? I am not very wise, but it is well to 
 look at things sometimes through other 
 people's eyes. Oh, that I had some magic 
 to draw back that letter before it reaches 
 Herbert's hands. I wish you had never 
 written it! " 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 A CHANGE OF PLAN." 
 
 Doeothy was inclined to think that she had 
 allowed her imagination to cheat her into 
 unnecessary terrors, when after two days 
 of vague indescribable anxiety Colonel Cal- 
 lander wrote in reply to his wife. He 
 simply remarked that as she was indis- 
 posed for the trip she had suggested, it 
 was better to give it up, but that he was 
 sorry to do so. " I shall return about the 
 5th," he added, " and as I have a touch of 
 fever and ague, both of which are worse at 
 night, you had better have my own room 
 made ready for me." 
 
 " How thoughtful he is," cried Dorothy. 
 " He is so afraid of disturbing you." 
 
158 BLISD FATE. 
 
 " Yes ! He is good — very good ! I am 
 glad lie thought of it though ! I am feverish 
 and restless enough myself. I cannot 
 breathe unless I have my window open all 
 night." 
 
 " That is not safe, Mabel ! " 
 
 " Why, what could make it unsafe ? 
 with that wide area around the house it is 
 like being on the" second story." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, safe enough in that way. I 
 thought of the night air ; your chest is not 
 too strong ! " 
 
 " I am strong enough — physically," said 
 Mabel, with a sigh. 
 
 Callander was better than his word, and 
 the da}^ before the date he had fixed for his 
 return, he presented himself at the Hotel, 
 when his mother was resting after her 
 drive, before retiring to her room to dress 
 for dinner." 
 
 " Why, Herbert ! I did not know you 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 159 
 
 had returned," she exclaimed ; "you were 
 not expected till to-morrow." 
 
 " I though I had better break awa} T , as I 
 have had a reminder from my old enemies 
 fever and ague, and every day something 
 turned up to delay me . " 
 
 " I thought you were feeling much 
 better. I can't say you look it." 
 
 " I was greatly better, but the bad 
 nights I set now are against me. I found 
 an empty house, so I came on here." 
 
 "Exactly! any port in a storm," said 
 Mrs. Callander, with a dry laugh. " Yes the 
 whole party are out in Mr. Egerton's yacht. 
 They are coming back to some sort of 
 supper at your house. They generally end 
 their very Bohemian excursions there." 
 
 66 I suppose so," he returned. "Mabel 
 ought not to send her friends empty 
 away." 
 
 " You are a most indulgent husbairl, my 
 
160 BLIND FATE. 
 
 dear son ; indeed, Mabel ought to think 
 herself the happiest of women ; probably 
 she does. We have seen somewhat more 
 of each other since you were away. I 
 have frequently taken her out to drives, 
 and I think if she were away from that 
 very flippant sister of hers, she " 
 
 " I see no room for improvement in my 
 wife," returned Callander, coldly. " Of 
 course I should like her to be a daughter 
 to you." His mother sighed obtrusively. 
 
 " I am sure I am her truest friend if she 
 would believe it." Then Mrs. Callander 
 wisely digressed to some other topics con- 
 nected with friends and acquaintances, 
 and got little more than monosyllabic 
 replies to her questions. 
 
 " Mr. Egerton is still in close attendance 
 on your sister-in-law," she said presently. 
 k ' It is time I think that — that the engage- 
 ment were announced, for while she is free 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 161 
 
 Dorothy thinks she has a right to amuse 
 herself with every one and anyone. There 
 is a young subaltern in Major St. John's 
 regiment whom she encourages in a way 
 / do not approve." 
 
 " I suppose all women are pretty much 
 alike where admirers and admiration are 
 concerned." 
 
 " No, Herbert, not all women ! " 
 " Well, Look at Henrietta Oakeley, she 
 is an unlimited flirt." 
 
 " Henrietta Oakeley ! " said Mrs. Cal- 
 lander, in a dignified tone, " is in a very 
 different position from Dorothy Wynn." 
 
 " True, and considerably older into the 
 bargain." 
 
 " She is more impulsive than I like, but 
 she is a right minded and reliable gentle- 
 woman for all that." 
 There was a pause. 
 
 " Will you join me at dinner, Herbert ? " 
 vol. i. 11 
 
162 BLIND FATE. 
 
 asked his mother. " You will get nothing 
 to eat till late at home. I know the 
 evening repast is generally ordered to be 
 served at eight or nine o'clock by Mr. 
 Standish, who is master of the house in 
 your absence, and is, I must say, strangely 
 domineering." 
 
 " Of course, as my wife's former 
 guardian, he is naturally her referee and 
 protector when I am away. He generally 
 gets on very well with women, why don't 
 you like him ? " Callander who had kept 
 his eyes on the carpet suddenly raised 
 them and looked full at his mother, who 
 unimaginative as she was, was startled by 
 their expression. 
 
 " You need not be so angry, Herbert," 
 she said. " I don't like Mr. Standish be- 
 cause he thinks quite too much of him- 
 self, in the first place; and in the second, 
 guardian though he is, he is still too young 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 163 
 
 to be seen perpetually with Mabel ; we may 
 know it is all right, but society will put 
 an evil con " 
 
 " Stop ! " said Callander, putting up his 
 hands up as if bodily to repel the idea. 
 "This is a subject on which I will not 
 hear you. You exaggerate ; it is not for 
 me to listen. Drop this subject or we 
 shall cease to be friends. Now, I shall 
 leave you. The children at least will 
 have returned, and I have brought them 
 some presents which I should like to give 
 them myself." 
 
 " To-morrow, then, will you and Mabel 
 dine with me?" 
 
 "With, pleasure, if she is disengaged." 
 
 The children were at tea when the 
 
 Colonel reached the Knoll, and received 
 
 him with rapture. Little Dolly was made 
 
 quite happy because " Father " sat down 
 
 beisde her, and took some sips out of her 
 
 11* 
 
164 BLIND FATE. 
 
 cup. Then the new toys were produced, 
 and Callander seemed a very different man 
 from Mrs. Callander's taciturn visitor of 
 half an hour before. 
 
 yfc 3if ^ 3i£ v 
 
 When, after dusk, Mabel and her guests 
 reached home, Callander was most warmly 
 greeted by the whole party, and much 
 desultory conversation ensued in which 
 he took his part. Then Miss Oakeley 
 took possession of him, declaring she had 
 some business . matters to discuss, and 
 they, or rather she, talked for a consider- 
 able time in a dim corner of the drawing 
 room till Standish announced that he 
 was quite ready to escort Miss Oakeley 
 to her Hotel. Callander seemed to have 
 communicated his talent for silence to 
 his friend Egerton, for he scarcely spoke. 
 
 Dorothy felt infinitely relieved when 
 they were alone. As soon as she had 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 165 
 
 made a few affectionate inquiries as to 
 Callander's health, she bid them good- 
 night, hoping that a little private talk 
 would clear away any shadow of mis- 
 understanding between husband and wife. 
 
 Next day Callander ' produced some 
 trinkets for each sister, and after looking 
 at the papers, went off to join the 
 children on the beach. As soon as 
 Dorothy was alone with her sister she 
 asked, " Is it all right with Herbert ? " 
 
 " Yes, quite right. I told you he would 
 not mind. We will try and make him as 
 comfortable as possible now." 
 
 " Yes, of course ! but, Mabel, he looks 
 awfully bad." 
 
 " He does, poor dear fellow. It is this 
 horrid ague. When I bid him good-night 
 he was trembling all over. It is some time 
 since he has had such an attack. We must 
 get his old prescription made up. I will 
 
166 BLIND FATE. 
 
 join him presently on the beach. What 
 are you going to do, Dorothy ?" 
 
 " Oh ! there is the everlasting practice 
 with Henrietta." 
 
 " Then I will tell Paul to go and take 
 you away at one o'clock. Herbert would 
 like to see you at luncheon." 
 
 Dorothy sped away with a light heart. 
 The clouds she fancied so threatening were 
 breaking, and behind them lay clear, blue 
 sky. 
 
 The holiday so much enjoyed by Paul 
 Standish was nearly over. Egerton con- 
 trived to prevent anything like tete-a-tete 
 interviews between him and his ward 
 during the last few days, to Dorothy's 
 great disgust. There was such a thorough 
 sense of companionship between the two, 
 that any third person spoiled their frank 
 intercourse, and Egerton's third was par- 
 ticularly unpleasant to Dorothy. 
 
"A CBANGE OF PLAN." 167 
 
 It was, then, a great relief to her mind 
 when Paul presented himself, unaccom- 
 panied, in Miss Oakeley's sitting-room at 
 the time appointed, and they walked 
 leisurely back to " The Knoll," talking 
 pleasantly of many things. 
 
 " So Callander took his disappointment 
 about his intended second edition of the 
 ' Honeymoon ' very calmly," said Standish. 
 
 "Very kindly and calmly, though I 
 think he was woefully disappointed. Per- 
 haps he is better at home, as he has had 
 return of fever and ague. He is a dear. 
 I think Mabel is so lucky to have found 
 such a husband ! " 
 
 "I think she is. What shall I do 
 when you marry too ? My occupation 
 will be o'er, without a wilful ward to 
 manage." 
 
 " You can find some occupation in Dolly. 
 She has a very pretty little will of her 
 
163 BLIXD FATE. 
 
 own ! But don't fancy you will get rid of 
 me so soon." 
 
 " I suspect I shall. I don't think 
 Egerton is a man to be easily beaten, and 
 I believe greatly in the effects of persever- 
 ance, especialty where the object to be won 
 has a warm heart, a grateful nature." 
 
 " Thanks for your good opinion," said 
 Dorothy, colouring, " but I don't find any 
 especial gratitude in my nature towards 
 Mr. Egerton. You know what my belief is 
 as regards his professions. I do not think 
 he cares for me. If he did, some electric 
 current of sympathy would make me con- 
 siderate for him, instead of feeling as I do 
 as hard as flint." 
 
 "It is a most extraordinary impression, 
 and I cannot share it," he returned, 
 thoughtfully. " You will find out your 
 mistake some fine day, then there will be a 
 revolution in your mind. Keep me posted 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 169 
 
 up in the interesting history, Dorothy. I 
 shall look for your letters. If you hold out 
 against Egerton, there is but one way of 
 accounting for it." 
 
 "You are wrong on all points," said 
 Dorothy, hastily, shaking her head but 
 smiling archly. " We'll discuss this when 
 we meet in town." 
 
 " Very well. When do they talk of 
 coming up ? " 
 
 " Oh, if Herbert is well enough, they 
 are going to General Urquhart's for some 
 shooting in November. I am to remain 
 here till they find a house in Town, and 
 then we join forces." 
 
 " Well, I am obliged to go to Berlin to 
 amuse myself for some little time next 
 week. I shall be home again before you 
 come up to Town." 
 
 These words brought them to the house, 
 and in the hall they found Nurse (Mrs. 
 
170 BLIND FATE. 
 
 McHugh) looking for one of Miss Dolly's 
 gloves, which she had lost. 
 
 " Has Mrs. Callander come in ? " 
 
 " No, Miss ; she was going out to meet 
 the Colonel early, but just as she was 
 putting on her hat in the hall, two outland- 
 ish men came to the front door — by good 
 luck I hadn't gone out, so I waited with 
 the missus, for I must say they were ugly 
 customers. They belong to that foreign 
 ship there, and I say they ought not to be 
 let rampage about, frightening respectable 
 people. One was a great, tall, wild-looking 
 fellow with eyes like a tiger, in a manner of 
 speaking, the other, a fat little chap, with 
 curls, both nearly as dark as niggers ; the 
 little one spoke a queer sort of English." 
 
 " What did they want, Nurse ? " asked 
 Standish. 
 
 " Well, sir, they came inside the door as 
 bold as brass, and the little fellow, he asks 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 171 
 
 for the ' other young lady.' So I up, and 
 says, ' what young lady ? ' for I saw my 
 missus was frightened, and he says, " the 
 young lady as came to the ship with the 
 gentleman what speaks Spanish.' ' She's 
 not at home,' says I. ^' Then,' says he, 
 c maybe this lady would look at what my 
 comrade here has to show.' With that the 
 tall one pulled off his red cap, and took a 
 little bag all sewn with gold and silver, but 
 that dirty, and took out a queer green 
 stone all covered over with figures. ' This 
 is a something,' I can't remember the word, 
 6 a charm,' says the little man, ' that 
 belonged to the Moors.' Now I knew 
 that was a lie, for the Moores are an old 
 Irish family, my mother's people, and no 
 such things as that ever came out of 
 Ireland." 
 
 " What did my sister do ? " asked 
 Dorothy. 
 
172 BLIND FATE. 
 
 u Oh, she took it, and looked at it, and 
 asked if the young lady wanted it. So the 
 little man said the young lady wanted 
 curiosities, and they had none, for they 
 had forgotten this thing, which hung round 
 one of their filthy necks, it seems ; any- 
 how Mrs. Callander was taken with it, but 
 when the little man asked two pounds for it, 
 I first told her it was throwing away good 
 money. So we bargained a bit, and they 
 agreed to let us have it for twenty-five 
 shillings. Then the missus says, ' stay here, 
 Nursy, I'll go fetch my purse.' Then, back 
 she comes, and gives the gold piece and 
 five shillings, with a sweet smile, and says 
 she, so gentle and sweet, ' I hope it will 
 bring me good fortune/ says she. ' How long 
 are you to be here ? ' and the little man 
 answers that they might sail any day. 
 All this time the big, black-looking sailor 
 never took his eyes off her. I saw him 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 173 
 
 glance at her beautiful rings. I can tell 
 ) r ou I was right glad to see the back of 
 them." 
 
 " Poor men ! why should you make up 
 your mind that they are thieves, because 
 they look shabby ? " 
 
 " Well, Miss Dorothy, they looked more 
 than that, they look thorough cut- 
 throats." 
 
 " Don't say so, Nurse," said Dorothy, 
 smiling. " When I spoke to these men — I 
 am sure they are the same — I thought the 
 tallest very like Mr. Egerton." 
 
 " That ragamuffin," cried Nurse, indig- 
 nantly. " God forgive you, Miss Dorothy, 
 an elegant gentleman like him ! " 
 
 Egerton was Nurse's beau-ideal of a high 
 bred open-handed squire of high degree, 
 " not a bit proud, ready to say a kind 
 word," etc., etc. 
 
 " But there, I must be going ! that girl 
 
174 BLIND PATE. 
 
 will be letting the children turn the nursery 
 upside down." 
 
 " Servants and dogs seem to have an in- 
 stinctive objection to rags," said Standish, 
 laughing, as Mrs. McHugh walked briskly 
 away. 
 
 " Nurse is rather kindly and charitable 
 to beggars. I fancy it was Mabel's fright 
 that annoyed her. Mabel is terribly nervous. 
 I wish she had not given such a price for a 
 thing I daresay I shall not care to have," 
 said Dorothy. 
 
 " If it is a real Moorish amulet it is a 
 curiosity, and worth having, even if all the 
 Moores in Ireland repudiate it," observed 
 Standish. " Mabel is late, it is half-past 
 one." 
 
 " Here she is," cried Dorothy, as Mrs. 
 Callander slowly ascended the steps and 
 crossed the threshold. 
 
 " Is Herbert not here ? " were her first 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 175 
 
 words. "I missed him, I suppose, by 
 stopping to talk to those strange sailors, 
 and I cannot see him anywhere. We had 
 better go to luncheon, for I am so tired I 
 can hardly stand. Herbert will come in 
 before we have finished. I wonder he did 
 not wait for me." But luncheon passed, 
 and Callander did not return. 
 
 " I must show you your amulet," said 
 Mabel, when they returned to the drawing- 
 room, and she took it from the drawer of 
 her work-table. It was a dark green stone 
 roughly shaped in the form of a beetle, and 
 covered with tiny hieroglyphics, and some 
 square, primitive-looking characters. One 
 end was perforated from side to side, as if 
 for a chain. 
 
 " It looks Egyptian ; it is very curious," 
 said Standish, examining it. " You ought 
 to wear it constantly, Dorothy. It may 
 bring you untold good fortune." 
 
176 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " It ought, after costing such a price," 
 said that young lady. 
 
 " Never mind, dear ! Accept it as a 
 present from me," cried Mabel. 
 
 After awhile, Standish left them, to make 
 some valedictory visits, as he was obliged 
 to leave, he said, by the last train to- 
 morrow, to be ready for harness early next 
 day. 
 
 " You will come to dinner, will you not ?" 
 asked Mabel. 
 
 " Too gladly ! Where else could I spend 
 the last evening of my holiday — a holiday 
 you have made so delightful ? " 
 
 Neither of the sisters left the house 
 any more that day, as the sky grew 
 clouded, and a thick fine rain began to 
 fall. 
 
 Colonel Callander did not reappear till 
 close on dinner-time, when he confessed that 
 he had forgotten his appointment with his 
 
'■A CHANGE OF PLAN." 177 
 
 wife, and wandered he scarce knew 
 
 where. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The " last day " smiled benignly on 
 Standish. A bright blue sky, flecked with 
 fleecy clouds, a flood of golden sunshine, a 
 clear, invigorating atmosphere, fresh with 
 the first crispness of autumn, made breath- 
 ing a pleasure. 
 
 Dorothy readily assented to a long tete- 
 a-tete walk, which was the more easily 
 managed because, for some reason or other, 
 Egerton did not make his appearance that 
 morning. 
 
 Guardian and ward had a long, delight- 
 ful ramble. They discussed books and 
 people, and future plans. Standish was 
 unusually sympathetic, and not the smallest 
 catspaw of difference rippled the smooth 
 surface of their confidential intercourse. 
 
 Standish parted with Dorothy at The 
 
 VOL. 1. 12 
 
178 BLIND PATE. 
 
 Knolls gate, and she entered the house 
 with a profound sense of depression weigh- 
 ing her down. To morrow ! How lonely 
 and empty to-morrow would be! What 
 months must come and go before she 
 should enjoy another uninterrupted talk ! 
 But she was too silly and weak ! She must 
 learn to be sufficient to herself ! 
 
 In an absent mood she went to her own 
 room and laid aside her hat and mantle, 
 and hearing from Collins that Mrs. Cal- 
 lander was out, she descended to the draw- 
 ing-room, determined to occupy her mind 
 by an hour's diligent practice. 
 
 As she approached the piano, which 
 stood near one of the windows leading into 
 the verandah, the sound of voices, speaking 
 low, met her ear. 
 
 She thought she distinguished Egerton's, 
 and paused to make sure, intending to 
 retreat if convinced that it was. Then 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 179 
 
 some words caught her ear, which seemed 
 to turn her to stone, and for the moment to 
 deprived her of volition. 
 
 u You know I love you," he was saying, 
 in low, deep tones full of passion. " But 
 how intensely, how wildly, your nature, 
 perhaps, forbids you to comprehend." 
 1 1 Then Mabel's voice murmured something, 
 and Egerton replied, " No, Mabel ; I will 
 not be fooled ! You have let me see that I 
 am of importance to you. You have given 
 me hope." 
 
 " I fear you, I do not think I love you," 
 said Mabel more distinctly, " and I cannot, 
 dare not, cut myself off from everyone, 
 everything that makes life worth living. 
 No, no, I cannot," her voice broke off into 
 sobs, suppressed sobs. 
 
 " You will drive me mad ! Existence is 
 
 torture ! The thought of your husband 
 
 makes me capable of any crime, to think of 
 
 12* 
 
180 BLIND FATE. 
 
 your belonging to another sets my blood 
 on fire ! You are miserable, too. He is 
 cold and indifferent. Leave him ! Listen. 
 Eather than suffer disappointment — rather 
 than see you his, I would crush out your 
 life, beloved as you are ! " The tone of his 
 voice was deadly. 
 
 Dorothy's senses came back to her with 
 a wild thrill of horror, of rage against the 
 man who dared to insult and threaten her 
 sister. And Mabel listened to him — had 
 listened to him ! How strange it seemed 
 that she now felt what the formless shadow 
 was which had lain upon her. 
 
 What should she do ? She must not 
 drive that fierce, bad man to desperation. 
 She must appeal to Mabel, and strengthen 
 her — save her. She stole softly away, and 
 stood for a moment by the stair -head 
 window. 
 
 This sudden revelation of the abyss of 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 181 
 
 treachery, of baseness, of cruel sinful 
 passion, yawning under the fair, smooth 
 surface of their innocent daily life, made 
 her faint and sick, as though a glimpse of 
 some hidden hell had been forced upon her. 
 Then her spirit rose in righteous wrath, 
 and she felt brave enough to face the Evil 
 One himself. She burned to speak to her 
 sister. It was not, it could not be of her 
 own free choice that Mabel had listened to 
 him ! No, he had exercised some devilish 
 spell. It wanted two hours to dinner-time. 
 If only he would go, she might have time 
 to warn, to entreat, to insist. Oh ! she 
 did not fear the result — she would save 
 Mabel ! 
 
 Eestless, fevered, she left her room, and 
 wandered into the day-nursery, which 
 looked to the front, there she looked round 
 at the toys, the pictures, the various 
 nursery treasures, and thinking of those 
 
182 BLIND FATE. 
 
 sweet, unconscious children of the gen- 
 erous, true-hearted father, the type of a 
 straightforward English gentleman, she 
 broke down, and wept bitterly. 
 
 The sound of the outer gate closing 
 loudly roused her, and, starting to the 
 window, she saw Egerton walk rapidly 
 away towards the town. 
 
 Dorothy did not delay a moment. Eun- 
 ning downstairs, she tried to enter her 
 sister's room. The door was locked. 
 
 " Let me in, Mabel. I want you. I am 
 ill— oh, very ill!" 
 
 In another moment Mabel opened it. 
 Dorothy closed and re-locked it, then stood 
 an instant, gazing at her sister, whose eyes 
 had a terrified, strained look. Her face 
 was deadly white. 
 
 Then, clasping her closely, she exclaimed 
 brokenly, with heaving breast, "Mabel, 
 what are you going to do ? Could you let 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 183 
 
 that devil draw you to destruction? I 
 have heard him just now — I wish I could 
 have struck him dead ! " 
 
 " Heard — what — where ? " stammered 
 Mabel, her eyes growing vacant as if too 
 overdone to understand anything. 
 
 " There in the drawing-room, when you 
 were in the balcony. " 
 
 " He said there was no one there," gasped 
 Mabel, and she trembled so violently that 
 Dorothy hastily led her to a chair lest she 
 should fall. 
 
 " I came in and heard enough, Mabel ! 
 What are you going to do ? " 
 
 " I wish I were dead. I do not want to 
 yield — I — oh, Dorothy ! can you bear to 
 look at me — to touch me ? " 
 
 " I love you with all my heart and 
 soul ! " cried Dorothy, kneeling down and 
 clasping her waist, while she laid her head 
 against her bosom, u and before that vile 
 
184 BLIND FATE. 
 
 wretch succeeds in his sorcery, I would kill 
 him. You are not yourself, Mabel ; you 
 are under a spell. Throw it off ; defy him ! 
 What can he do ? Would you forsake your 
 own true husband for a traitor like this ? 
 Where are your senses ? Forbid him to 
 come near you. Let me be with you every 
 moment of the day, and I will exorcise 
 this unholy spirit." 
 
 "I am unfit to stay with my husband — 
 my children," sobbed Mabel. " I ought 
 not to have listened." 
 
 " You are fit — quite fit ; I tell you so. 
 You are not acting by your own will ; you 
 are under the will of another." 
 
 " I do not want to go. Oh, Dorothy ! 
 help me. Eandal Egerton always interested 
 me, and I can scarcely tell how I came to 
 like him. I fear him now. I wish I had 
 never let him mesmerise me. But if I 
 refuse him, what — what will he do ? any- 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 185 
 
 thing for revenge — even something desperate 
 to Herbert." 
 
 " No, Mabel ; he dare not. Never fear 
 to do right. Tell him to leave you ; that 
 you have come to your senses. / will give 
 him the letter." 
 
 " I have written to him, yesterday, and 
 he came, you see, all the same. Oh, you 
 do not know him ! " 
 
 "If you are true to yourself, Mabel, 
 you can shake him off! " cried Dorothy, 
 rising and stamping her foot. " How 
 dare he persecute you ! How dare he 
 practise his villainy on you ! Write 
 again, Mabel. / will give the letter into 
 his hand." 
 
 " Let me collect myself a little and you 
 shall help me to write it. Now, if you 
 stand by me, I shall have strength to do 
 right. But the idea of having so far lost 
 myself, will poison all my life." 
 
186 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Mabel, dear, put your hand to the 
 plough and never look back." 
 
 *' If — if only Herbert never suspects. I 
 will devote myself to him. Oh, can I ever 
 atone ? " 
 
 Some more energetic persuasion on 
 Dorothy's part, a few words here and 
 there indicative of reviving hope and 
 courage on her sister's, and they started to 
 find how late it was. 
 
 " We must try to look as usual," said 
 Dorothy. "If you would like to keep 
 quiet and not see anyone, I will darken 
 the room and say you have a headache. 
 / can face them all for you, sweetest, 
 dearest Mabel." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; do, Dorothy." 
 
 With the strength and firmness which 
 true affection gives, Dorothy prepared 
 herself to play the part of hostess at 
 dinner. She was infinitely helped by a 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 187 
 
 message from Egerton to the effect that he 
 could not join them. 
 
 Colonel Callander said he would not 
 disturb his wife as she was trying to 
 sleep. Dorothy wished he would. A few 
 tender words at this juncture might, she 
 felt sure, produce a great effect. 
 
 Dinner passed heavily. Then came the 
 moment of parting. Colonel Callander 
 excused himself with, what Dorothy 
 thought, cold politeness from accompany- 
 ing Standish to the station. 
 
 "Good-bye, my dear ward," he said, 
 pressing her hand in both his own. " It 
 seems to me that you have been a good 
 deal disturbed by something. There is a 
 tragic look in your eyes. Will you tell 
 me when we meet again ? " 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Dorothy, trying to 
 smile. " Oh, I am so sorry you are going ! " 
 Standish bent down and kissed the wavy 
 
188 BLIND FATE. 
 
 braids into which her hair was divided 
 above her brow, kissed them lightly and 
 tenderly, and was gone. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The next day Colonel Callander stayed 
 indoors for the greater part of the day 
 writing and arranging his papers. 
 
 This gave the sisters time to study what 
 was best and strongest to say in Mabel's 
 note to Egerton. 
 
 " You must get it from him as soon as 
 he reads it," was her final injunction to 
 Dorothy as she put it in her pocket. 
 
 " Oh, Mabel ; if you think this necessary, 
 how could you dream of deserting us all 
 for him? " 
 
 " 1 cannot tell. I — I was not myself. 
 I fancied I saw a change in Herbert. If 
 he suspected me, I could not face him. 
 Ever since we spoke of that tour, Randal 
 was like a madman." 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 189 
 
 " Don't call him by his Christian name. 
 Did he make you refuse to go?" Mabel 
 bent her head, and then covering her face 
 cried quietly but bitterly. 
 
 " Do not despair, all will be well yet, 
 Mabel, if you are firm now." 
 
 " Can I ever regain my self-respect ? Oh, 
 Dorothy, let us try never to name him 
 again." 
 
 But E^erton did not present himself on 
 this day nor the next until dinner-time, 
 when he and Miss Oakeley joined the party 
 at The Knoll. 
 
 The presence and vivacity of Miss 
 Oakeley, seconded as she was by Egerton, 
 helped to cover not only the taciturnity of 
 the host and hostess, which was not 
 unusual, but Dorothy's remarkable absence 
 of mind. At last Miss Oakeley had 
 exhausted herself and her subjects, and 
 departed. " What a dark night," she 
 
190 BLIND FATE. 
 
 said, as Egerton and Callander assisted to 
 put her into her carriage. " Yes, dark as 
 a wolf's mouth," said Egerton. 
 
 " The moon will be up later," said 
 Callander. 
 
 " Can I give you a lift, Mr. Egerton ? " 
 
 " A thousand thanks, no." 
 
 "Are you going?" asked Callander. 
 
 " Yes, I want a smoke. Something 
 stronger than a cigarette ; and, Callander, 
 do you feel all right? You seem to me 
 not quite yourself." 
 
 " I have rather a bad headache, but I 
 am subject to them since I came home. 
 A good night's rest will be, I hope, a 
 cure." 
 
 "Then I wish you a very good-night. 
 Make my excuses to Mrs. Callander," and 
 Egerton set out into the soft darkness of a 
 balmy September night, and not long after 
 the lights disappeared from the windows of 
 
"A CHANGE OF PLAN." 191 
 
 The Knoll, from all at least, save that of the 
 nursery, where the careful Mrs. McHugh 
 kept a shaded lamp burning through the 
 silent night watches. 
 
 The next morning broke fair and bright. 
 Colonel Callander rose, as he generally did, 
 at cock-crow, and wrapping himself in his 
 dressing-gown, sat making entries in his 
 journal, and adding a few pages to a work 
 begun long ago on some military subject. 
 Gradually the sounds of movement below 
 told him the household was astir. Presently 
 the Colonel's factotum brought him his 
 early cup of tea. 
 
 Colonel Callander laid down his pen and 
 slowly drank it. He rose, and was moving 
 towards the door, when it was suddenly 
 dashed open, and Mrs. McHugh, her eyes 
 wide open as though strained with horror, 
 her outstretched hands shaking, her whole 
 aspect disordered. 
 
192 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Oil ! my God, sir ! Come, come ! My 
 dear mistress is lying dead, murdered in 
 her sweet sleep, and us lying deaf and dull 
 and useless all about her ! " 
 
 " Woman, you are mad ! " exclaimed 
 Callander, in deep hoarse tones. 
 
 "Come and see. Oh, would to God I 
 were in her place ! " and turning, she went 
 rapidly away, followed by her incredulous 
 master. 
 
 ^=t T<*— iHl— £) S^ 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER. " 
 
 When Callander reached his wife's room 
 he made at once for the bed, where she lay 
 upon her left side, with one white hand 
 slightly clenched outside the clothes. He 
 bent over her and looked intently into her 
 face. 
 
 " She seems to sleep," he said hoarsely 
 to Nurse, who had followed him. " But," 
 touching her hand, " she is quite cold." 
 
 " Ah ! cold enough. Look, sir. Don't 
 
 move her. Come round here. Look where 
 
 the villain struck her ! " With a trembling 
 
 hand she pointed to a deep wound in the 
 
 back of the neck, just below the skull, 
 
 from which some blood had flowed — not in 
 vol. i. 13 
 
194 BLIND FATE. 
 
 any large quantity — upon her nightdress 
 and pillow. 
 
 Callander uttered an inarticulate ex- 
 clamation, and kneeling beside the bed, 
 gently turned back the clothes and felt her 
 heart ; then, with a wail of despair, " Oh ! 
 dead! dead! dead!" he cried. " My 
 beautiful darling ! my pearl ! No evil can 
 touch you now ; none can hurt you ! " He 
 pressed his brow against the bed-clothes, 
 and muttered, " None to save her though 
 in the midst of those who would have given 
 their lives for her ! " He stopped as if 
 choked. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! it's plain enough how the 
 wretches got in. The window is open, 
 and we used to leave the middle bit of 
 the outer shutters open, with the bar 
 across inside — she always wanted air. See ! 
 the bar is hanging loose, and there is the 
 ladder they got across by.' 7 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 195 
 
 Callander rose and followed her to the 
 window — there, across the area which sur- 
 rounded the house, resting on the top of 
 the bank at one side, and the window- 
 ledge at the other, was a ladder — a ladder 
 which Nurse recognised as belonging to the 
 place. Callander dropped into a chair and 
 covering his face with his hands, moaned 
 piteously. " They have made a clean 
 sweep," she continued, looking at the 
 dressing-table ; " she laid her rings, and 
 watch and chain and purse there last night, 
 for I brushed her hair for her, my poor 
 dear lamb, and they were there when I left 
 her. Why, why did I ever leave that 
 shutter open ? " and she wrung her hands. 
 " What are we to do, sir ? " But Callander 
 was past heeding her. He rose, and again 
 throwing himself upon his knees beside the 
 bed, his face in the clothes, while deep sobs 
 shook his frame. 
 
 13* 
 
196 BLIND FATE. 
 
 By this time the whole household had 
 crowded into the room and stood with 
 bated breath. 
 
 " Oh ! don't stand there doing nothing," 
 whispered Nurse in great agitation, to 
 Collins — " You run and tell the police. 
 Don't you see the poor master has lost his 
 head, and no wonder." 
 
 " I'll run, Mrs. McHugh, and fetch the 
 doctor too. Here " — in a horrified voice 
 — " Here's Miss Dorothy ! " 
 
 " Ah ! don't let her in, for God's sake ! " 
 — But Dorothy was in their midst while she 
 spoke. 
 
 " What can be the matter ? " she asked, 
 in her usual tone, " every one seems run- 
 ning. Oh, Mabel," interrupting herself, 
 " Is Mabel ill ? Why, Herbert ! " Callan- 
 der never moved. Before they could pre- 
 vent her, Dorothy rushed forward, and laid 
 her hand on her sister's brow ; then draw- 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 197 
 
 ing back with a look of wild terror, " Is 
 she dead? Nurse, dear Nurse, is she 
 dead?" 
 
 " Ay, my dear, it has pleased God to 
 take her to himself," said Nurse, breath- 
 lessly, striving to keep the horrible fact of 
 the murder from her. "It was awfully 
 sudden ; but we have sent for the doctor, 
 and don't you stay ! If you'll look after 
 the children a bit, Miss Dorothy, for I'll 
 want Hannah to help me." 
 
 While Nurse spoke, she pushed her 
 to the door. 
 
 " Why do you try to send me away ? " 
 cried Dorothy. " There is something you 
 do not want me to know." Breaking 
 from the agitated woman, Dorothy caught 
 sight of the blood upon the pillow. With 
 a scream, she darted to the bed, and clasp- 
 ing her hands above her head, cried, " She 
 has been murdered — basely, cruelly mur- 
 
198 BLIND FATE. 
 
 dered ! Oh ! my sister ! my sister ! was 
 there no one to save you ? Oh ! come 
 back to me ! Oh, Herbert, is she quite, 
 quite dead ? " Still Callander remained in 
 a kind of stupor. 
 
 " We can't rightly tell till the Doctor 
 comes, and this is no place for you my dear 
 young lady. I'll tell you the minute I 
 know what the doctor says. You can do 
 her no good. My own head is going 
 round, and — Mary ! Mary ! help me to 
 hold her, will you ? " 
 
 The awful shock, the terrible sense that 
 the dear, dead woman might have been 
 saved had any one of the household been 
 near her, was too much even for Dorothy's 
 strong vitality. With a deep sigh she sank 
 senseless into Nurse's arms, who was thank- 
 ful to assist in taking her back to her own 
 room, where she left her in charge of the 
 children's maid. 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 199 
 
 Then, the terrible silence broken, the 
 women servants burst into tears and ex- 
 clamations. They called for justice on the 
 murderer and bewailed the fate of their 
 gentle mistress. 
 
 But Colonel Callander rose from his 
 knees, and at the sight of his ghastly horror- 
 struck face, they retreated, dimly conscious 
 of being in the presence of a grief almost 
 too great for sympathy to touch. 
 
 The leaden minutes dropped slowly away 
 in miserable waiting. At last Collins drove 
 up with the police inspector and the doctor. 
 
 Dorothy came gradually to her senses, and 
 as the dreadful knowledge of her sister's 
 tragic death returned to her, she rose up, 
 and attempted to leave the room. 
 
 " Oh, no, Miss Dorothy,'' cried the little 
 maid. " Mrs. McHugh said you were not 
 to be let go down stairs. She says you'll 
 just be breaking your heart, Miss, and 
 
200 BLIND FATE. 
 
 you can do no good. The police and the 
 doctor are there now, and Mrs. McHugh, 
 she'll come up as soon as she has anything 
 to tell. Do, do lie down again." 
 
 " Ah, no ; I can indeed do no good ! 
 No one can do any good," cried Dorothy 
 wringing her hands. " Who could have 
 hurt her ? She had not an enemy in the 
 world. Was it some wretch who wanted to 
 rob her ? " 
 
 " I heard Mrs. McHugh say that all her 
 jewels were gone." 
 
 Dorothy walked to and fro, remembering 
 confusedly the events of the last few days 
 — the painful scene between her sister and 
 herself. 
 
 That the sweet sister she so dearly 
 loved should be snatched by violence from 
 the difficulties and dangers out of which 
 Dorothy had hoped to deliver her, was too 
 agonising a finale to the drama of which 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 201 
 
 they had both been the centre. Then the 
 picture of the bereaved husband, of the 
 motherless little ones, grew distinct to her 
 imagination, but her torn heart found no 
 relief ; horror was too strong for tears : 
 she was too stunned by the cruel tragedy 
 to think clearly. Life seemed at a stand- 
 still. She threw herself into a chair, and 
 sat with wide-opened eyes gazing at the 
 deep wound which seemed still before her. 
 At last Nurse softly opened the door and 
 approached her, her own eyes streaming, 
 her face haggard. "My poor dear," she 
 said in low, hurried tones, " the doctor 
 thinks she must have been dead these four 
 or five hours. The blow, he says, must 
 have killed her at once. It somehow 
 struck the spine, though it looks as if it 
 were on the back of the head. He doesn't 
 think she felt any pain or fright. She 
 looks like a peaceful infant. The master, 
 
202 BLIND FATE. 
 
 — God help hiin ! — would let no one touch 
 her but himself. His face is set like an 
 iron mask." 
 
 "The coroner's come now, and Mr. 
 Egerton. Ah ! he has a feeling heart ! I 
 thought he'd have dropped when he came 
 into the room, for all he is a tall strong 
 man, he was trembling like a leaf, and his 
 eyes looked like to start out of his head. 
 Oh ! what a day of sorrow ! My dear 
 beautiful angel of a mistress ! To think 
 of them foreign devils stealing in on her 
 sweet sleep to take her innocent life ! and 
 it will be hard to catch them ! They say 
 the ship was away at dawn this morning, 
 no one knows where." 
 
 Here Nurse utterly broke down, and 
 sinking into a seat threw her apron over 
 her face, and rocked herself to and fro. 
 
 " Where are these blessed children ? Go 
 Peggy, my girl," to the nursemaid, "go 
 
"AFTER LIFES FITFUL FEVER." 233 
 
 see to them, they'll be wanting some bread 
 and butter. Oh ! here is Miss Oakeley ! 
 thank God ! " 
 
 It was indeed Henrietta, pale and tearful. 
 She ran to Dorothy and kneeling down, 
 clasped her arms round her. 
 
 " I have only just heard ! Dorothy, my 
 dear Dorothy. Let me stay with you. 
 It is too — too cruel," and pressing the 
 silent half-unconscious girl closely, she 
 burst into hysterical weeping — for once, 
 Henrietta Oakeley forgot herself, her 
 " part," her pretensions to originality, 
 everything, save the human anguish round 
 her ! Dorothy returned her embrace 
 mechanically. 
 
 " Have they sent for Paul — Paul Stan- 
 dish ? " she whispered. 
 
 " I don't know, dear ! but Mr. Egerton is 
 with Herbert and he will do all he can," a 
 convulsive shudder passed through the 
 
204 BLIND FATE. 
 
 slight form in Henrietta's arms and 
 Dorothy clung to her with a sudden 
 movement. 
 
 " Oh ! send for Paul ! Do not leave us 
 defenceless here without Paul Standish ! 
 He will not have left London yet," and with 
 feverish eagerness she pushed Henrietta 
 from her. 
 
 " Has anyone telegraphed for Mr. Stan- 
 dish ? " she asked, looking at Nurse. 
 
 " I don't know, miss," said the grief- 
 stricken woman, " Til go and ask ? " 
 
 " Telegraph for him at once," said 
 Henrietta. 
 
 " Yes, Miss, Collins knows his address," 
 and Nurse went feebly from the room 
 
 Alone with the dazed terrified Dorothy, 
 Henrietta was alarmed at the wild distress 
 of her tearless eyes — if she could only 
 bring her the solace of tears ! 
 
 Come away, dear, come to those poor 
 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 205 
 
 little children, they will be so miserable 
 shut up all this morning. Let us go and 
 keep them company. The nursemaid will 
 never stay with them when all this excite- 
 ment is going on." 
 
 Dorothy, whose will and full conscious- 
 ness seemed to be temporarily in abeyance, 
 rose obediently and followed her. 
 
 The usually neat nursery was in some 
 disorder, the remains of the children's 
 breakfast was scattered on the table, the 
 little girl was kneeling on the window 
 seat beside Peggy looking at the people 
 coming and going, the crowd which had 
 collected about the gate and the police- 
 man stationed beside it to prevent any 
 unauthorized person entering, on the floor 
 lay the baby boy laughing, and kicking in 
 the joy of pure healthy existence, and 
 battering a rag doll against the carpet. 
 At the sound of the opening door, the 
 
206 BLIND FATE. 
 
 little girl jumped down and ran to cling 
 round her aunt. 
 
 " Where is Mammy ? she has never come 
 this morning," cried the child, " and that 
 naughty Peggy won't let us go down stairs ! 
 1 want to see dear mammy." 
 
 Hearing this demand, the boy began to 
 repeat, " Ma-ma," most vigorously. Then 
 the sweeter note of grief was struck, and 
 Dorothy clasping the motherless little girl 
 to her heart, burst into a flood of tears, her 
 whole frame quivering with the violence of 
 her sobs. 
 
 # * * * * 
 
 Many a page might be filled with the 
 sad details of such a scene, the formidable 
 police inspector unmoved by dismay and 
 sorrow about him, made notes, and search- 
 ing inquiries ; the doctor, who examined 
 the fatal wound, the coroner viewing " the 
 bodv," the lingering crowd outside in- 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 207 
 
 creasing every moment as the startling 
 news spread, the disorganized servants 
 wandering about tearful and excited ; are 
 they not all repetitions of what has been 
 but too often enacted before ? though 
 to the immediate sufferers, it all seemed so 
 harrowing and desecrating ; this tearing 
 away of all that shields the sanctities of 
 home from the rude hard eyes of the outer 
 world. To the policeman there is no holy 
 of holies, into which he will not direct the 
 vulgar glare of his bull's eye ! 
 
 The extraordinary self - mastery of 
 Colonel Callander struck every one. He 
 let no hand save his own touch the fair 
 form he loved so well, when both doctor 
 and coroner made their examination. He 
 seemed upheld by the marvellous force 
 and tenderness of love. He could not be 
 persuaded to leave the presence of the 
 dead. His stern composure overawed the 
 
208 BLIND FATE. 
 
 lookers on. Egerton was much more 
 unmanned. 
 
 He seemed scarce able to support him- 
 self when he first gazed at the sweet calm 
 marble face of the murdered woman. He 
 reeled like a drunken man to a seat, and 
 appeared to have almost lost consciousness. 
 When he rallied, he was untiring in his 
 attentions to the bereaved husband, in his 
 thoughtful assistance and suggestions to 
 the police. But it was evident what the 
 effort to be of use cost him. 
 
 No one seemed to think of sending for 
 Standish. Callander's whole soul was 
 centred in his wife, even the natural 
 desire for justice, that is vengeance, on her 
 murderers seemed merged in the tender 
 care with which he paid the last tribute of 
 love and respect. 
 
 While Egerton went to and fro, like a 
 man but half recovered from a severe fall, 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 209 
 
 Callander was rigidly composed, and per- 
 fectly clear in his orders and directions. 
 
 As soon as a rumour of the fatal event 
 reached Mrs. Callander, she was speedily 
 on the scene of action. 
 
 Dorothy was quite unable, and, strange 
 to sslj, her son decidedly refused to see her. 
 This appeared to agitate her greatly. She 
 demanded an interview with Egerton, who 
 when he came scarcely seemed to know 
 what he was saying. 
 
 It must be admitted that the hard husk 
 of the worldly old woman was pierced at 
 last, and she showed more feeling than the 
 onlookers expected, though the idea of 
 police prowling about, of a coroner's in- 
 quest, of the details which every newspaper 
 would set forth with morbid elaboration, 
 was a source of bitter mortification. 
 
 After obtaining as much information as 
 she could from Mrs. McIIugb, she drove 
 vol. i. 14 
 
21D BLIND FATE. 
 
 back to her hotel and spent the rest of the 
 day in the company of her reverend friends, 
 who were indefatigable in their efforts to 
 comfort and console her. 
 
 The emotion which this tragedy called 
 forth in Henrietta Oakeley seemed to make 
 a new creature of her ; the inner depth of 
 her nature, which had hitherto lain dormant 
 under the mass of luxuries and frivolities with 
 which it was overlaid, was roused to activity, 
 and for the moment her nickering follies 
 were quenched. Dorothy shrank from en- 
 countering her brother-in-law, even through 
 the shock and horror of the morning, the 
 recollection of his face and its stony grief 
 remained with her, and she feared to meet 
 him for both their sakes. She was so near 
 and dear to his murdered wife, how could 
 he bear to look upon her ? 
 
 But Henrietta had no such scruples, she 
 went boldly to him, and he endured her 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 211 
 
 presence and answered her questions 
 respecting the children. For Nurse sug- 
 gested their being taken to their grand- 
 mother, as the house was not a fit place 
 for them. 
 
 Then she assisted (under Mrs. McHugh's 
 directions) to prepare them, and herself 
 escorted the poor motherless babies to Mrs. 
 Callander, who willingly accepted the 
 charge. 
 
 It was a relief to Dorothy when they 
 were gone. The sound of their innocent 
 laughter was too agonising when she 
 thought of the beloved mother lying in 
 everlasting silence — murdered — below. 
 
 The dreadful day dragged through. Mrs. 
 Callander asked Dorothy to stay with her 
 during this sad time, but she refused, say- 
 ing that so long as her sister's lifeless form 
 was under the roof she would not leave it. 
 
 " I do hope Herbert's brain will not give 
 
 14* 
 
212 BLIND FATE. 
 
 way under this cruel blow," murmured 
 Miss Oakeley as she sat holdiog Dorothy's 
 hand in the deserted nursery while the 
 evening grew darker and night stole on 
 them. "He is wonderfully composed, 
 though there is something awful in his 
 face. Mr. E^erton is far more overcome. 
 I only caught a glimpse of him, and he 
 really did not look sane ! It is the intense 
 grief in Herbert's expression that affects 
 me so. I can hardly keep back the tears 
 when I look at him. You have not seen 
 Egerton ? " 
 
 " Oh, no — no ! " cried Dorothy with 
 almost a scream of pain. " How shall I 
 ever stand to be questioned, if I am to 
 be dragged before those dreadful people 
 to-morrow? If I could throw any light 
 on " 
 
 " Miss Dorothy ! " interrupted Mrs. 
 McHugh opening the door hastily. "Mr. 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 213 
 
 Standish is below, and the master won't see 
 him ! I went and asked him myself (the 
 others don't care to go near him) but he 
 refused, he was quite angry when I per- 
 sisted. Will you come and speak to Mr. 
 Standish miss ? He looks terrible bad." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Nurse ! I will come," and 
 she rose with alacrity, then pausing she 
 asked tremulously, " Where*— where is Mr. 
 Egerton?" 
 
 " Gone away to his own place for a bit. 
 I'm sure he looks that wore out. I don't 
 know what the poor master would have 
 done without him." 
 
 Dorothy was out of the room before she 
 ceased to speak. 
 
 "Where is the Colonel?" asked Miss 
 Oakeley. 
 
 " Always in the same place, beside her" 
 returned Nurse sadly. 
 
 When Dorothy opened the door and saw 
 
214 BLIND FATE. 
 
 her guardian standing in the window of the 
 dimly-lighted dining-room, she forgot in 
 her great sorrow, all the womanly con- 
 sciousness which used to hold her back, 
 and darting to him she threw her arms 
 around his neck as in her old childish 
 days. 
 
 " My poor child," said Standish tenderly, 
 " What is this horror ? I had Collins' tele- 
 gram about three hours ago and know 
 nothing, except that Mabel is dead— he 
 says murdered." 
 
 " Oh ! Paul, thank God you are come ! 
 It is all too terrible ! " She brokenly 
 recounted what had occurred — still cling- 
 ing to him. 
 
 "I cannot understand it. Burglars 
 seldom murder, save in self-defence," he 
 exclaimed, " and poor dear Mabel could 
 be no object of fear to any one." 
 
 " I don't know what to think, Paul ! 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 21c 
 
 dreadful conjectures thrust themselves on 
 me. Oh ! if 1 could stop thinking ! " and 
 she hid her face against his shoulder. 
 
 Standish gently turned her to the lamp 
 and his face grew very grave. 
 
 " You must not add imaginary horrors 
 to the reality of this dreadful affair, my 
 dear Dorothy. It is too much fcr you. 
 Later you can open your heart to me ! 
 What could be the object of this hideous 
 crime r 
 
 " Nurse says that her purse and the 
 jewels which lay on the dressing-table are 
 all gone," said Dorothy. "They might 
 have taken those ; but why put her to 
 death ? " — she withdrew her arms from 
 him but still held his hand in both hers, as 
 if unwilling to lose touch with a stronger 
 than herself — " and she seemed as if lying 
 in peaceful sleep, no look of terror or dis- 
 turbance." 
 
210 BLIND FATE. 
 
 "Sit down, Dorothy, you can hardly 
 stand," and he led her to a sofa. " Tell 
 me more ! " 
 
 " T know so little, but what cuts me to 
 the soul is, that in the night, I don't know 
 what hour — something woke me — I heard 
 a noise — a dim faint noise, a little like 
 metal falling. I was so cruelly dull and 
 sleepy that I was not frightened, I did not 
 think of getting up, and they were murder- 
 ing her then — my own dear sister ! You 
 know I have the room over hers. Oh, Paul, 
 I might have saved her ! " 
 
 " Or been murdered yourself ! " said 
 Standish, drawing her to him as one might 
 a sorrowful child. 
 
 " Better me than her," returned Dorothy 
 with trembling lips. cc Who can replace her 
 with her children, her husband ? Oh, 
 Paul ! must I tell all this to-morrow ? " 
 
 " At the inquest ? Yes, my dear Dorothy. 
 
"AFTER LIFERS FITFUL FEVER." 217 
 
 You must tell the whole truth — the least 
 omission might lead to the failure of justice 
 — and Mrs. McHugh's theory is that one or 
 both the foreign sailors committed this foul 
 deed ? " 
 
 " Yes, she thinks so." 
 
 " It is not improbable ! some of them 
 looked equal to any villainy. My God ! 
 they might have spared her life," cried 
 Standish with deep emotion. " I should not 
 wonder if Callander lost his reason after 
 such a fearful blow ! Egerton of course 
 has been with him. Have you seen him ? " 
 
 " Oh ! no, no ! Do not ask me. I cannot 
 — I will not," she exclaimed breathlessly, 
 again hiding her face against him. " You 
 will stay with me Paul ! you will protect 
 me, you are my only friend, except poor 
 Herbert, and I am half afraid of him now." 
 She trembled so violently that Standish 
 was almost alarmed. 
 
218 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Poor little soul, the shock has been too 
 much for her," he muttered to himself. 
 
 " I shall not always be a selfish coward," 
 she whispered. " I shall try and do what 
 my hand finds to do diligently. But 
 to-day, I am not myself." 
 
 " That's a brave heart," said Standish 
 softly. " I know you are not a coward, 
 Dorothy. You must think of the children 
 and their desolate father ! " There was 
 silence for a moment. Dorothy's small 
 hands still clasped his arm with more 
 force than he though they possessed. 
 Cs I suppose Callander will see me to- 
 morrow ? " resumed Standish. " I almost 
 dread meeting him. I fancied he would 
 be glad to know I was here. But I 
 suppose he is not at all himself. Poor 
 fellow." 
 
 " I thought, too, he would be comforted 
 bv having you near." 
 
"AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER." 219 
 
 "Who have you to keep you com- 
 pany ? " 
 
 " Henrietta Oakeley. She is wonderfully 
 kind. Oh! here she is." 
 
 In fact Mrs. McHugh had some difficulty 
 in keeping her from interrupting their 
 interview long before. 
 
 Some further talk respecting the cir- 
 cumstances of the tragedy which had 
 befallen them. Then Standish said he 
 would leave them. "I am going to see 
 the doctor and hear his account. Should 
 Herbert express any wish to see me, I 
 shall be at Egerton's hotel. I want to 
 hear what he has to say." 
 
 When he named Egerton, Dorothy's hand 
 closed on his with a convulsive pressure. 
 
 " I trust in Heaven she will get some 
 sleep," he said, looking at Henrietta. 
 
 " I asked the doctor to look in this 
 evening, and prescribe a composing 
 
220 BLIND FATE. 
 
 draught," she returned. " I don't know 
 what will become of Dorothy unless she 
 gets some sleep. Come away, Dorothy." 
 
 " I cannot thank you enough for your 
 kind care of the poor child." 
 
 " You will come early to-morrow, Paul ? " 
 said Dorothy, letting him go with reluc- 
 tance. 
 
 "Trust me," was his reply as they left 
 the room. 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 "THE inquest." 
 
 Eastport had rarely, if ever, been so 
 shocked and excited as by the murder of 
 the charming °and admired Mrs. Herbert 
 Callander. Though she had not mixed 
 much with the local society, she was well 
 known, and everyone who could find 
 standing room crowded to hear the 
 evidence given at the inquest. 
 
 The facts of the case, as succinctly 
 recorded by the inspector, were first read 
 over, and the doctor's evidence taken, 
 then Mrs. McHugh was called. The deepest 
 interest was evinced as she advanced to the 
 place vacated by the doctor. Many present 
 recognised her, for her severely respectable 
 
222 BLIND FATE. 
 
 figure and solid black silk gown was 
 a familiar object on pier and sands as she 
 watched over her pretty, well-dressed 
 charges, accompanied by her humble 
 satellite, the nursemaid. 
 
 Not the most thrilling play ever mounted 
 by Irving or acted by Bernhardt can stir 
 the pulses like a trial of this description, 
 where the question of guilt or innocence, 
 the materials for arriving at a conclusion, 
 the hesitations, fears, hopes, are actual 
 realities. The mystery in the present case 
 was an additional fascination, for gossip 
 was disposed to reject the theory of robbery 
 as too simple a solution. 
 
 Mrs. McHugh preserved a decent com- 
 posure. She would as soon have brushed 
 her hair in public as shed tears, and 
 flourished a pocket-handkerchief, in the 
 face of a jury. 
 
 She recounted very distinctly her having 
 
"THE INQUEST." 223 
 
 carried a cup of tea to her mistress as 
 usual at seven o'clock, and was a little 
 surprised to see the blind unfastened. It 
 was Mrs. Callander's habit to leave one 
 window open, and also the centre part of 
 the outer shutter. The shutters were at 
 once blinds and shutters ; they folded in 
 two at either side, and had an iron bar 
 which fastened within after they were 
 closed. Mrs. Callander lay on her right 
 side, and seemed just the same as usual. 
 
 As her mistress did not stir, witness set 
 down the tea, and stooping over her ob- 
 served that there was more than the still- 
 ness of sleep in her attitude. She touched 
 her mistress and found she was cold and 
 dead. 
 
 " Did you go at once to Colonel Cal- 
 lander ? " asked the coroner. 
 
 " No, sir ! I moved the clothes a little, 
 intending to feel her heart, when I saw 
 
224 BLIND FATE. 
 
 blood on the pillow. Then I was afraid to 
 touch her. I went round to the other side 
 of the bed and perceived that her head was 
 bent forward, and at the top of the neck, 
 just below the hair, there was a wound. 
 Colonel Callander was sitting at his writing- 
 table when I went in. He didn't seem to 
 understand me rightly when I told him ; 
 but he went away sharp to the missis' 
 room. It was then I saw the ladder lying 
 across the area, resting on the top of the 
 grass bank at one side and the window- 
 ledge on the other." 
 
 One of the Jury : " Was Colonel Cal- 
 lander's room next his wife's? " 
 
 " No, sir ; it was to the front of the 
 house, and there was a passage between 
 the two rooms leading to a door that 
 opened on the stable-yard. There is a gate 
 leading from it into the garden. Mrs. 
 Callander's room was on the left of the 
 
"THE INQUEST." 225 
 
 house, and one window looks out over the 
 bay." 
 
 " Was the gate between the yard and 
 garden kept locked ? " 
 
 "I don't know, sir. I daresay it was 
 not, as we had no horses or carriage ; any- 
 way it was wide open that morning. He 
 forgot to shut it, I suppose." 
 
 "He! Who?" 
 
 " The murderer. He must have got the 
 ladder from the shed in the yard, where 
 it was always kept." 
 
 "I am told some sailors came to offer 
 curiosities for sale to your late mistress ? " 
 
 " They did sir. I was with her while she 
 spoke to them." 
 
 " Where were you when they came ? " 
 
 "In the hall." 
 
 " What passed ? " 
 
 " There were two of them, sir. One 
 spoke a little English, the other a tall, 
 
 VOL. I. J 5 
 
226 BLIND FATE. 
 
 black-browed, wicked-looking man, had a 
 bit of a stone to sell. My mistress bought 
 it. She did not like to be left alone with 
 them, so she went herself for her purse. 
 She left her door open. The window 
 is right opposite, and a little table by it 
 where her jewel case stood. She took the 
 purse and came back, leaving the door wide 
 open. I saw the black-looking fellow stare 
 after her, as if he'd draw the purse out of 
 her hand and the rings off her fingers with 
 his eyes." 
 
 " And you saw no more of these men ? " 
 " No, sir ! but Collins, the Colonel's man, 
 did." 
 
 Collins being called, said he remembered 
 the day in question. He was in the pantry, 
 which looked out on the yard, and observed 
 two men enter it from the garden — queer- 
 looking chaps. One with a red cap spoke 
 broken English. He (Collins) came out 
 
"THE INQUEST." 227 
 
 and asked what they wanted. The shorter 
 of the two was very polite, and explained 
 that they came through the garden by 
 mistake, and wanted to be shown the way 
 out ; — thought it very strange when he 
 heard that they had been selling things to 
 his mistress in the hall, as the entrance to 
 the lawn in front was opposite the door. 
 
 Mrs. McHugh recalled, said the last 
 person who had seen Mrs. Callander alive 
 was the upper housemaid, Mary Stokes. 
 She usually attended to her mistress at 
 night, as she (Mrs. McHugh) did not leave 
 the nursery after nine o'clock. 
 
 Mary Stokes, who was tearful and con- 
 fused, stated that, on the fatal night she had, 
 at her mistress' request, lit a night-light. 
 Mrs. Callander did not always have a night- 
 light, only when there was no moon, — she 
 put it beside the bed. The bed stood near 
 
 the window, which was always kept closed. 
 
 15* 
 
228 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Then Mrs. Callander bade her good-night. 
 "And the dear sweet lady never spoke 
 again," exclaimed the girl with a burst of 
 tears. 
 
 The coroner asked who occupied the 
 room over Mrs. Callander's. 
 
 " It is the day-nursery." 
 
 " The room next to that nearest to Mrs. 
 Callander's ? " 
 
 " That's Miss Wynnes, the poor dear lady's 
 sister." 
 
 Both Standish and Callander had done 
 their best to spare Dorothy the pain of 
 being publicly questioned, but in vain. 
 
 The coroner said he was bound to ques- 
 tion all persons who could throw the least 
 light upon the terrible tragedy, and possibly 
 Miss Wynn had heard or noticed some- 
 thing which might give a clue, however 
 faint, to guide the jury. Trifles often led 
 to strange discoveries. 
 
"THE INQUEST." 229 
 
 It was a fearful trial to Dorothy. She 
 heard the suppressed murmur, the expec- 
 tant rustle which ran through the closely- 
 packed room as she advanced, clinging to 
 her guardian's arm, and feeling scarcely 
 able to support herself. Miss Oakeley ac- 
 companied her, but was not allowed to 
 stand near. 
 
 Dorothy was deadly pale, the scared, 
 grief-stricken expression of her large, soft 
 grey eyes, brought tears to those that 
 looked at them. Her voice was very low, 
 and at times seemed on the point of break- 
 ing; but she controlled her emotion and 
 answered clearly. In reply to a leading 
 question from the coroner, she said that on 
 the night of the murder she had retired to 
 rest t as usual, and, feeling tired, soon fell 
 asleep. After what seemed to her a long 
 time she woke with a sort of confused idea 
 that a sharp noise, as if of some metal 
 
230 BLIND FATE. 
 
 falling, had roused her. She had been 
 dreaming that her little niece was knock- 
 ing the garden-roller with a stone, for which 
 she had had to correct her a few days 
 previously, and thinking that, — that it was 
 all a dream, she resisted her first startled 
 impulse to call Nurse. " If I had done so, 
 we might have saved her," she added, 
 in a broken voice, with quivering lips. 
 
 " You think the noise was real ? " 
 
 " I do. I believe it was the bar which 
 secured the outer blinds of — of my sister's 
 room." 
 
 " Have you any idea at what hour this 
 occurred ? " 
 
 " I have not. I had no light, and after 
 the first moment, I felt so sure that it 
 was only a dream which had startled me, 
 that I soon went to sleep again, little 
 
 thinking " she stopped abruptly, and 
 
 pressed her hands tightly together. 
 
"THE INQUEST." 231 
 
 "It is unusual for a burglar to commit 
 violence in trying to secure booty, but I 
 presume there could be no possible motive 
 but theft to account for the crime ? — no 
 spiteful, discharged servant urged by 
 morbid feelings of revenge to " 
 
 " Oh — no — no ! " interrupted Dorothy, 
 somewhat losing her self-control ; " every- 
 one loved her, she was so kind — so good ! 
 and she had all the same servants who have 
 been with us since she came home from 
 India last year." 
 
 " Then you believe that these foreign 
 sailors or some other robber committed the 
 crime ? " 
 
 " What else can I think ? " 
 
 At last she was released, and Standish, 
 who understood the anguish and effort in 
 her every tone, led her quickly away to the 
 carriage which was waiting. 
 
 Colonel Callander was next questioned. 
 
232 BLIND FATE. 
 
 He had little to tell, but told that little 
 with a kind of deadly, hopeless calm, 
 which gave the hearers a profound im- 
 pression of the depths out of which he 
 spoke. 
 
 The cook was then interrogated, and 
 even the " boy " who came diurnally to 
 clean boots and knives was examined re- 
 specting the ladder. 
 
 " It was not very long," he said, " not 
 long enough to reach from the flag- stones 
 which surrounded the house at the bottom 
 of the area, to the windows of the drawing 
 and dining-rooms. He had tried when they 
 wanted cleaning. He should have said it 
 was not long enough to reach across from 
 the bank to the window, but it was not 
 laid from the top though, the end of the 
 ladder was forced into the grass and 
 mould, a little below, and sloped up to the 
 lady's window." 
 
"THE INQUEST." 233 
 
 " It must be difficult to approach the 
 window in that way ? " 
 
 81 Well, yes, rather — but not to a sailor ; 
 they can well nigh dance on nothing." 
 
 The doctor's deposition was clear and 
 decided. He was one of the best known 
 practitioners in the place. He had found, 
 he said, a deep incision at the juncture of 
 the spine and skull, penetrating the sub- 
 stance termed medulla. 
 
 Death must have been inflicted while the 
 victim slept ; for the slightest resistance or 
 movement on her part would have frus- 
 trated the attempt to stab her in that parti- 
 cular spot. The cavity or opening at the 
 top of the spine is well defended by bone 
 above and below, it was probably more ac- 
 cident than knowledge that guided the 
 murderer's knife or dagger. 
 
 The instrument used must have been 
 keen and narrow in the blade, for the 
 
234 BLIND FATE. 
 
 wound was small and clean cut. Very 
 little blood was drawn. By the Coroner — 
 The deed was probably done some four or 
 five hours before its discovery, that is, 
 about two or half-past two in the morning. 
 Death must have been instantaneous, there 
 was no sign of a struggle. The room was 
 undisturbed, the bed-clothes smooth and 
 unruffled. 
 
 The whole of the evidence conveyed an 
 idea of the peace, kindliness, and harmony 
 reigning in the fair home so cruelly broken 
 up. 
 
 Finally the Coroner, having nothing fur- 
 ther to elicit, addressed a few words to the 
 jury, and they found the only verdict pos- 
 sible was, " Murder, by some person or 
 persons unknown." 
 
 It was a subject of some comment that 
 Egerton had not appeared at the inquest. 
 Of course the bereaved husband had an 
 
"THE INQUEST." 235 
 
 older and closer friend to stand by him in 
 his wife's guardian, and it was rumoured 
 that Egerton, a very excitable man, was 
 too seriously affected by the blow that had 
 fallen on his friends to be able to bear the 
 pain of listening to the details drawn forth 
 in the examination of witnesses. 
 
 All Eastport and Fordsea were dread- 
 fully disappointed and indignant at having 
 to put up with a mere commonplace 
 story of robbery with violence, instead of 
 — well, they did not know what. But 
 tremendous revelations had been expected 
 and when this " lame and impotent con- 
 clusion " was arrived at, every one felt 
 him or herself shamefully cheated. 
 
 Many and varied w T ere the solutions 
 suggested, and profound were the theories 
 respecting the Callander Tragedy, which 
 supplied materials for many an interesting 
 conversation among visitors at Fordsea. 
 
233 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Standish was fortunately able to remain 
 for a few days with the sorrowful sister 
 and husband, but the time when he must 
 leave was near at hand, and he could not 
 make up his mind to desert his young ward 
 without finding someone to protect and 
 support her during his absence. It was 
 unfortunate that Egerton had raised the 
 question of their possible marriage, as it 
 might make Dorothy reluctant to accept 
 his assistance or derive comfort from his 
 society. It was strange that Egerton had 
 absented himself from the inquest. How- 
 ever, it would be well to see him, and 
 ascertain his readiness to aid his afflicted 
 friends. 
 
 Egerton was pacing his sitting-room 
 when Standish was shown in. His dark 
 face was lividly pale, his large black eyes 
 looked sunken, his whole aspect that of a 
 man oppressed by horror as well as grief. 
 
"THE INQUEST." 237 
 
 He seemed surprised, and not quite 
 well pleased, when Standish came in. 
 
 " As I did not see you yesterday, I have 
 come to consult you about our unhappy 
 friends." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! In fact, I am so completely 
 unmanned I could not face the hideous 
 vulgarities of the inquest," interrupted 
 Egerton. " Besides I could throw no light 
 on the matter ! I only know the facts 
 from hearsay, like yourself," interrupted 
 Egerton, not heeding the hand Standish 
 held out. "In fact, the horror of the 
 whole affair has almost shaken my 
 reason. To think of that angel — but 
 I must not speak of it. Tell me, what 
 can I do ? " 
 
 "You can help me in various ways. 
 First, Callander is so completely prostrate 
 that I cannot consult with him as to what 
 steps ought to be taken to trace these 
 
238 BLIND FATE. 
 
 Spaniards, for there is strong probability 
 that they are the murderers. " 
 
 " It is quite as likely to have been 
 English as Spanish sailors. There are 
 scoundrels of all sorts in such a town as 
 Eastport." 
 
 " Granted, but these are the only men of 
 whom we have the slightest suspicion. Of 
 course the absence of an extradition treaty 
 with Spain would be an hindrance even 
 should we succeed in finding the men. 
 Still, I know our Foreign-office people will 
 do their best, and I know from experi- 
 ence that the Spanish and Portuguese 
 authorities are by no means willing to 
 screen a murderer. Now Mrs. Callander — 
 the mother, I mean," for Egerton started, 
 " wants to offer a thousand pounds reward 
 for any information which may lead to the 
 discovery of the murderer." 
 
 " Make it two," said Egerton hoarsely, 
 
"THE INQUEST." 239 
 
 throwing himself into an arm-chair, and 
 leaning his head on his hand in an attitude 
 of utter despondency. " I would gladly give 
 
 many thousands if we could punish Oh, 
 
 God ! what a fearful ending of so sweet and 
 holy a life." 
 
 Standish looked at him a good deal moved, 
 and also surprised. His incoherency, his 
 extraordinary forgetfulness of Dorothy, 
 seemed as if he were off his balance. 
 
 "Yes," resumed Standish, after a mo- 
 ments' pause. " It is too dreadful to bear 
 thinking about. I am fearful of the effect 
 the tragedy will have on Dorothy, It will 
 be long before she can shake off the 
 impression." 
 
 This allusion to the girl he had professed 
 such an ardent wish to marr} r , did not seem 
 to reach Egerton's sense, he took no notice 
 of it. 
 
 " I propose to send copies of this placard 
 
240 BLIND FATE. 
 
 offering the reward to our Consuls in 
 every port in Europe, the Levant, and the 
 Cape, with a description of the men 
 wanted. Of course, if the fellows can be 
 taken anywhere, not in Spain (in Hamburg 
 for instance), we can bring them here, and 
 try them." 
 
 " What wasted time and energy it all 
 will be," exclaimed Egerton. " We'll never 
 find out the truth, and if we did, would 
 it restore her? would it atone for our 
 irreparable loss ? " 
 
 " Of course not ! Still, it is our bounden 
 duty to leave nothing undone to bring 
 the miscreants to justice. I shall act for 
 Callander almost without consulting him, 
 and this brings me to another point. I 
 am seriously uneasy about Callander. You 
 know he has not been in too sound a 
 mental condition since his return, though 
 immensely better lately, and this fright- 
 
"THE INQUEST." 241 
 
 ful business may have a very fatal affect. 
 He sits for hours brooding in utter 
 silence, he hardly eats. He will not see 
 the children, and hardly notices Dorothy. 
 His cousin, Miss Oakeley, is the only 
 person who can do anything with him. 
 His mother, who is in great distress, 
 is most anxious he should be taken 
 away. Will you be so kind and self- 
 sacrificing as to go with him ? he must 
 not go alone." 
 
 " Why do you fix on me?" cried 
 Egerton, starting up, and beginning to 
 pace the room again. "Why not go 
 yourself with him ? " 
 
 " Because he has for some time shown 
 anything but a preference for my society ; 
 now, he always liked you, and enjoyed 
 being with you. Then you are not con- 
 nected with his poor dear wife, or his 
 
 first meeting with her as /am; so in 
 vol. i. 16 
 
242 BLIND FATE. 
 
 every way you are the fittest companion 
 for him, especially as he was so ready 
 to back you up with Dorothy." 
 
 " Dorothy — ay — Dorothy ! " repeated 
 Egerton, absently. " You set me a dreadful 
 task," he resumed, after a short pause. 
 " I should rather do anything else in the 
 world. Let me think. Oh ! if I must — I 
 must, I suppose. It is all awfully hard 
 to bear ! When does Callander think of 
 starting ? " 
 
 "We'll try and get him off as soon 
 as we can, after the funeral — you know 
 it is fixed for to-morrow, I suppose ? " 
 Egerton bent his head, and pausing in 
 his troubled walk stood staring at Stan- 
 dish with vacant eyes, which were evi- 
 dently filled with some very different 
 image. 
 
 "Arranging for the funeral is the only 
 thing that has roused Callander. He ordered 
 
"THE INQUEST." 243 
 
 that the grave should be prepared in a 
 little old burial-ground which, it seems, 
 they passed the day they drove over to 
 Eookstone, you remember? I wish to 
 Heaven they had carried out their plan 
 of a trip to the Highlands, or anywhere. 
 She would have been with us now, had 
 she gone." 
 
 "How do you know that?" cried 
 Egerton, almost fiercely. " If it were her 
 destiny, how could she escape? What 
 puppets we are in the grasp of fate." 
 
 " I think you want to get away yourself, 
 Egerton," said Standish, a good deal sur- 
 prised at his tone. 
 
 u Can you expect anything else ? Was 
 ever a more tragic ending to a fair young 
 life ? I haven't your Saxon phlegm " 
 
 " I wish I had a little more," exclaimed 
 
 Standish, in a voice full of emotion. " Do 
 
 you suppose it has not cost me an effort to 
 
 16* 
 
244 BLIND FATE. 
 
 keep my head clear, my mind composed, 
 among such scenes as I have gone through 
 for the last few days ? But these poor 
 souls haven't anyone to guide or assist 
 them, save myself and — you — if I may 
 count on your friendship. By Heaven ! 
 I am almost unnerved when I look at Cal- 
 lander, bowed down by speechless sorrow ; 
 at Dorothy, chilled by the touch of such a 
 horror in her sunny youth. She will out- 
 grow it, however. My deepest sympathy 
 is for Callander. We must do all we can 
 for him." 
 
 Egerton sat for a moment without speak- 
 ing, then he rose and moved restlessly to 
 and fro. " You are right," he said at last, 
 in a more collected tone than he had yet 
 used. " I ought to be ashamed of my un- 
 strung nerves. It is womanish to be over- 
 powered as I am. I did not think I was 
 such a poltroon. But the awfulnes.s 
 
"THE INQUEST." 245 
 
 of " He stopped short and shuddered. 
 
 " Yes, I'll do what I can for Callander. 
 Only get him out of this as soon as you 
 can. It is punishment too much for the 
 worst criminal (God ! I can think of 
 nothing but crime !) to stay here in the 
 
 scene " he stopped again. " The scene 
 
 of our former happy life. Settle what you 
 like. I am at your disposal." 
 
 " Thank you. I felt sure you would do 
 your best for us. Then we must get 
 Dorothy away. It is pitiable to see her sad 
 white face." 
 
 Egerton was too much absorbed in his 
 thoughts to heed what was said. 
 
 This indifference greatly surprised Stan- 
 dish. " Have you seen her since ? " he 
 
 was beginning, when Egerton interrupted 
 him — " No ; she absolutely refused to see 
 me, refused most abruptly, and I shall not 
 ask again. Did she suppose that with the 
 
246 BLIND FATE. 
 
 shadow of such a grief over us I should 
 have been in a mood to make love to her?" 
 
 " If you loved her you would bear with 
 her more patiently. 
 
 " I shall never intrude on her again. I 
 only want to get away from this wretched 
 place." 
 
 " I must leave you now," said Standish, 
 rising. " We shall meet to-morrow, I sup- 
 pose t 
 
 " We must ; we must," returned Eger- 
 ton. " I will be present." He compressed 
 his lips as he spoke, and his brow con- 
 tracted with an expression of agony. 
 
 " I have forgotten to tell you," said 
 Standish, looking at him with some com- 
 passion, " that as soon as I got the telegram 
 summoning me to the sad scene, I went to 
 find a very clever detective who has done 
 some remarkable things. I was just in 
 time to catch him before he undertook any 
 
"THE INQUEST." 247 
 
 other job. He is making as close an ex- 
 amination of the premises as he can. I 
 am anxious to hear his report and will let 
 you know what he says. 
 
 " A detective ! What is the use of 
 letting one of those fellows ransack the 
 belongings of a delicate woman ? " cried 
 Egerton. " He will not bring her back to 
 us, nor find out anything fresh. Who 
 could have had the heart to hurt her but 
 a brutal ruffian, whose greed was excited 
 by the sight of her jewels. Why a detec- 
 tive will want to turn everything inside 
 out!" 
 
 " There is no reason why he should. He 
 will only look through the premises, and 
 glean what can be learned out of doors. I 
 agree with you that there is small chance 
 of his tracking the murderer " 
 
 " Don't speak of him," said Egerton, half 
 closing his eyes. 
 
248 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Come and dine with me. You are not 
 fit company for yourself/' 
 
 "Nor for anyone else," he returned. 
 " Thank you, no. I shall be calmer 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Standish walked slowly away to the 
 printer who was to strike off the first 
 supply of handbills offering the reward of 
 which he had spoken. He was strongly 
 impressed by the strange condition of mind 
 in which he had found Egerton. 
 
 Well versed in the world's ways and 
 having more than once discovered what 
 dark depths can lie hidden under the fair 
 seeming of innocent and honourable lives, 
 he was a good deal disturbed by the ideas 
 which Egerton's grief and agitation sug- 
 gested. 
 
 The man was suffering horribly. But 
 how was it that no thought for the girl 
 whom a week ago he had eagerly sought, 
 
"THE INQUEST." 249 
 
 seemed to occur to him ? Had Mabel not 
 been almost child-like in her guileless inno- 
 cence, he might have suspected some ugly 
 secret — but, no, that was out of the 
 question. He turned indignantly from the 
 base thought. Egerton was sensitive and 
 impressionable, his blood was mixed with a 
 fiery, eager strain, too strong for the 
 Englishman in him to control or resist. 
 Still, he was glad that the handsome, 
 attractive master of Netherleigh had failed 
 so signally to fascinate Dorothy — poor dear, 
 broken - hearted little Dorothy. Dorothy 
 deserved a different kind of mate from this 
 grand, golden eagle. The gold for her 
 should be rather in the heart than in the 
 pocket. Then his thoughts turned to 
 some of the many matters which claimed 
 his attention, and quickening his pace he 
 soon reached his destination. 
 
250 BLIND FATE. 
 
 It was already dusk when Standish re- 
 turned to the villa. The burden of all that 
 needed attention was upon him, and he was 
 eager to complete every arrangement, as 
 the days for which his chief had consider- 
 ately spared him were slipping away, and 
 he ardently desired to see Dorothy and 
 Callander too removed from the scene of 
 their cruel loss before he, himself, left 
 England. 
 
 Daylight therefore scarcely sufficed for 
 all he had to do. As he walked back from 
 Eastport he thought over the terrible event 
 which had robbed Callander of his dearly 
 loved wife. How happy they had been 
 together ! What a simple sinless life, full 
 of kind thoughts for others, they had led ! 
 Then he looked back to a passage in his own 
 earlier days, when a beloved woman had 
 been nearly all to him that Mabel was to 
 Callander, save that she ended by marrying 
 
"THE INQUEST." 251 
 
 another. What would it have cost him 
 had she been wrenched from love and life as 
 ruthlessly ? Could any vengeance have 
 satisfied him ? Yet poor Callander seemed 
 too unmanned by giief to be capable of 
 seeking justice. Weakened by illness, this 
 blow had completely crushed him. Then 
 the scenes of his own bygone love-story 
 came back to him freshly enough. Could 
 he be the same being who loved so pas- 
 sionately and suffered so acutely fifteen or 
 sixteen years ago ? Was it possible he had 
 so completely outlived all the feelings of 
 that remote period, which was not so very 
 remote after all. 'Ah, it was a glorious 
 time ! but the awakening had been bitter 
 enough. However, that intense early fever 
 had secured him a fair share of immunity 
 ever since, and now, though almost middle- 
 aged as regarded years, he felt absurdly 
 young — perhaps dangerously young. 
 
2T>2 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, sir," said a voice at 
 his elbow. The speaker was a slight and 
 rather delicate-looking man of very un- 
 certain age, pale and freckled, with sandy 
 hair ; his quiet, almost sleepy steel grey 
 eyes were shaded by reddish lashes, and 
 brows of the same colour overhung over 
 them heavily. 
 
 He wore a very high, narrow hat, still 
 glossy from its silver-paper covering, while 
 his clothes, also new, and of superfine cloth, 
 had a clumsy, solid, provincial look as to 
 cut and fit. He was clean shaved, and his 
 wide> rather shapeless mouth had a soft 
 smiling expression, suggestive of innocence 
 and credulity. 
 
 " Can I speak with you a bit ? " He said 
 " spake," but as Irish matters, Irish 
 members, Irish diamonds, and Irish pro- 
 perties generally, are at a discount and out 
 of fashion, these slight Hibernian pecu- 
 
"THE INQUEST." 253 
 
 liarities of accent shall be left to the ima- 
 gination of the reader. 
 
 " Yes, by all means, Dillon Come on 
 with me to the house. I have not had a 
 minute to speak to you. What have you 
 been doing ? " 
 
 " Not much, sir. I have been loitering 
 about the old dock enquiring if there is a 
 decent public to be had at a fair rent, and 
 I have picked up a trifle or two not worth 
 talking about now — not, anyhow, till I 
 can link them on to something more. The 
 funeral's to be to-morrow ? " 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " After that, I can examine the room, 
 every inch of it ? " 
 
 "You can." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Standish, sir, will you give 
 strict orders that no one is to touch it or 
 clean it, inside or out, till I have it to 
 myself a whole day ? " 
 
254 BLIND FATE. 
 
 " Certainly, Dillon." 
 
 " I did make so bold as to talk to Mrs. 
 McHugh, and she promised that ne'er a 
 maid among them should lay a duster, even 
 on the outside of the door." 
 
 "You could not have chosen a better 
 ally." 
 
 " She is a responsible sort of woman," 
 said Dillon reflectively, " and might be a 
 help ; but then, you see, the ladies will 
 talk, instead of letting people talk to 
 them." 
 
 The two men walked on in silence. Then 
 the detective said : 
 
 "The Colonel sent for me to-day, after 
 you had gone out. He asked me what 
 steps I intended to take, and all, to that — of 
 course I couldn't tell him. I must make the 
 steps before I take them. Then he ordered 
 me to spare no expense, and seemed too 
 tired to speak any more. Ay ! he's a 
 
"1HE INQUEST." 255 
 
 broken man, though IVe seen widowers 
 with one foot in the grave, and despair in 
 their hearts, rally, and come round in a 
 wonderful way. This is a bad case, though, 
 I never knew a worse. It isn't like these 
 bulgarious fellows to murder, they know it 
 just sets every man's hand against them, 
 and with a timid, real lady like this one, 
 why, they might have gagged her, tied her 
 to the bed-post, muffled up her head, or 
 any little thing like that, and made off with 
 the booty ; but to stab her in her sleep ! (if 
 she did sleep through the unfastening and 
 opening of them blinds). There's some- 
 thing in it that sets me a-thinking. I wish 
 I could track the bloodthirsty dogs ! — beg- 
 ging the dogs' pardon, I ought to say 
 wolves. But I'm afraid it won't be easy, 
 they having been away on the high seas 
 before anyone found it out. Pray, sir, who 
 is the gentleman Mrs. Hugh tells me knew 
 
256 BLIND FATE. 
 
 the men whom she suspects — who talks 
 their lingo ? " 
 
 64 Oh, Mr. Egerton ! An intimate friend 
 of poor Mrs. Callander and her husband. 
 He is frightfully cut up." 
 
 " Well, that's not to be wondered at. He 
 might know where these sailors came from. 
 I'd like to have a word with him, and a look 
 at him." 
 
 " Well, so you can. He will be at the 
 funeral to-morrow." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I am going to have a 
 cup of tea with Mrs. McHugh in the house- 
 keeper's room, if you should want to speak 
 with me before I turn in for the night." 
 
 " All right," returned Standish, and he 
 ascended the steps of the entrance, while 
 Dillon went round to the side- door before 
 mentioned. 
 
 In the hall Dorothy awaited Standish. 
 She was dressed in the deepest black, which 
 
"THE INQUEST." 257 
 
 made her wan face look even whiter than it 
 really was. 
 
 " I saw you from the nursery window," 
 she said, leaving her hand in his. " Hen- 
 rietta went out to Mrs. Callander's, and I 
 have been so awfully lonely. I get so 
 terrified sometimes. It is weak and foolish. 
 I must resist this dreadful feeling." 
 
 " Yes, you must, my poor, dear little 
 girl," said Standish, tenderly. " You are 
 trembling. You seem to be always 
 trembling." 
 
 " No, not always, but very often." 
 
 " Come into the drawing-room, and sit 
 by the fire with me, Dorothy. Tell me, 
 how have you got through the day ? " He 
 drew a low chair to the fire for her, and 
 kneeling upon the rug, put on some logs 
 of wood. 
 
 " 1 scarcely know. I have been several 
 times to look at her! It comforts me to 
 vol. i. 17 
 
268 BLIND FATE. 
 
 see her look so calm and beautiful. Paul, 
 she could not have been hurt or frightened, 
 or she would not look like that." 
 
 "No, certainly not," he returned, still 
 kneeling beside her chair. 
 
 " Death without fear or pain is not 
 dreadful. I should not mind it ! And 
 after — God is so good ! " Half-unconsciously 
 she stretched out her hand for Pauls, and 
 clung to it with both her own. " Herbert 
 spoke to me to-day," she resumed. " He 
 was walking to and fro in the dining-room, 
 oh ! for hours, and when he passed me, he 
 stopped suddenly, and said, ' Poor child, 
 poor child ! You have been robbed of your 
 best friend ! But if I live, I will do my 
 best for, you, and you — you'll be good to 
 the babies for her sake.' " She paused, and 
 the sweet, sad mouth quivered. " I shall 
 be better and stronger to-morrow. Oh, I 
 dread to-morrow ! " 
 
"THE INQUEST." 259 
 
 " So do others. I have been talking to 
 Egerton to-day, and he " 
 
 " Is he coming too ? " cried Dorothy, 
 starting up, and grasping the mantel- 
 shelf, the tension of her slender fingers 
 showing how closely she gripped it. "Oh, 
 can you not prevent him ? I want to be 
 with my darling Mabel to the very last ! — 
 but to have him, too, beside her, is more 
 than I could bear ! Dear, dear Paul, do 
 not let him come ! " 
 
 " It is impossible to prevent it, Dorothy. 
 But I do not think you need fear his 
 troubling you in any way." 
 
 " He ! he will trouble me no more ! But 
 I do not want to see him." 
 
 " I will endeavour to keep l\im out of 
 your sight, my dear But by and by, when 
 time has soothed your grief, you must tell 
 me the secret of your aversion to Egerton." 
 
 For all answer, Dorothy, relaxing her 
 
260 BLIND FATE. 
 
 grasp of the mantel-shelf, sank back in her 
 chair, covering her face with her hands, a 
 shudder passing through her as though she 
 had touched some noxious thing. 
 
 " You have sorrow enough, my dear 
 child, without letting fancies afflict you," 
 said Paul, possessing himself again of her 
 hand. "Try and think of the poor little 
 ones to whom you can be so much." 
 
 Dorothy did not speak for a few minutes. 
 Then she asked in an altered voice : 
 
 " Who was that man walking by you ? " 
 
 " It was Dillon the detective. If any one 
 can find a trail and follow it like a sleuth- 
 hound, he is the man." 
 
 " And what does he think ? " 
 
 " That it is a difficult case." 
 
 " Ah yes, how difficult, he will never — 
 never find out the truth." 
 
 " Have you any reason, any purpose in 
 what you say," Standish was beginning 
 
•'THE INQUEST." 261 
 
 when JVIiss Oakeley came in, and the con- 
 versation turned on the children and their 
 grandmother. 
 
 & 
 
 The first act of this sad drama was closed 
 next day by the funeral of the fair young 
 victim. 
 
 It was long since Eastport had such a 
 sensation. Wreaths, crosses, pyramids of 
 flowers hid the coffin, every one who had 
 an equipage and the slightest acquaintance 
 with Colonel or Mrs. Callander sent their 
 carriage to swell the long procession. The 
 bells tolled, and the streets through which 
 the cortege passed were crowded with on- 
 lookers. 
 
 It was a soft grey day, as if nature 
 mourned tenderly for the brief young life, 
 so ruthlessly cut off for mere base greed, in 
 the midst of its bright morning. 
 
 The resting-place selected by Callander, 
 
2fi2 BLIND FATE. 
 
 was the burial-ground attached to an old 
 chapel on the hillside between Fordsea and 
 Eookstone ; an ancient grey wall, breast- 
 high and lichen grown, surrounded it ; 
 great masses of gorse breathed a perfume 
 of their honey-sweet blossoms in spring 
 from the grassy slope above, while beneath 
 spread out the restless waters of the bay, 
 with the towers and spires of Eastport 
 beside them. The fresh winds from sea 
 and land swept over it, and the blessed 
 silence of the quiet country seemed to keep 
 all sounds hushed, lest they should trouble 
 the last sleep of those weary ones who 
 found rest beneath its grassy mounds. 
 The spectators (and many had walked or 
 driven the dusty five miles from Fordsea), 
 were greatly moved by the scene, and 
 deeply impressed by the dignified self- 
 control of Colonel Callander, by the deep 
 despair of his set face. Also by the pallid 
 
THE INQUEST." 26,'] 
 
 grief of the friend who stood beside him, 
 whose unsteady step as he approached the 
 grave, showed how hard was the struggle 
 not to break down. 
 
 Standish devoted himself to support 
 Dorothy, but she bore up better than lie 
 expected. 
 
 It was all over at last, and as Dorothy 
 drove back, her hand in Henrietta 
 Oakeley's, she felt indeed alone — worse 
 than alone — burdened with a secret con- 
 viction which for potent reasons she must 
 not speak, with a bitter sense of wrong for 
 which she must seek no sympathy. 
 
 END OF VOL. i.