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"L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N IVER5ITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 V. \ 
 
M ri SMITH 
 
 A PART OF HIS LIFE 
 
 BY 
 
 L. B. WALFOED 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 MDCCCLXXIV 
 
Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mrsmithpartofhis01walf 
 
^ iH/yyui 
 (/.I 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. MR SMITH, .... 
 II. WHO WAS TO BE THE FIRlST .' 
 
 III. A DRIVE IN THE DUSK, 
 
 IV. THRUST AND PARRY, . 
 V. can't you SAY THE T'si 
 
 VI. THE TEA-PARTY, 
 
 VII. Maria's day, 
 
 VIII. THE woman WHO OUGHT TO BECOME HIS WIFE, 
 IX. THE WOMAN WHO OUGHT NOT TO BECOME HIS 
 
 WIFE 
 
 X. THE WALK TO THE VIEW, . 
 XI. AN OLD FRIEND IS A YOUNG MAN, 
 XII. I THOUGHT IT WOULD NEVER END I 
 XIII. THE CHRISTMAS FEAST, 
 XIV. THE MISS BAINS, 
 XV. THE END OF THE FEAST, . 
 
 1 
 10 
 
 36 
 61 
 
 80 
 107 
 132 
 152 
 
 171 
 
 197 
 218 
 239 
 257 
 277 
 290 
 
MR SMITH : 
 
 A PART OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MR SMITH. 
 
 A SHORT, stout, grey man. 
 
 Mr Smith. 
 
 The butcher was disappointed that he wasn't a 
 family. He had been led to expect that he was a 
 family. All the time that house was building he 
 had made up his mind that it was for a family. 
 
 There was rooms in it as ought to have been 
 family rooms. There was rooms as meant roast-beef, 
 and there was rooms as meant saddles of mutton 
 and sweetbreads. In his mind's eye he had already 
 provided the servants' hall with rounds, both fresh 
 and salt; and treated the housekeeper to private 
 
 VOL. I. A 
 
2 MR SMITH: 
 
 and confidential kidneys. He had seen sick cliildren 
 ordered tender knuckles of veal, and growing ones 
 strong soup. He had seen his own car at the back- 
 door every morning of the week. 
 
 After all, it was too provoking to come down to — 
 Mr Smith. ' 
 
 The butcher set the example, and the grocer and 
 the baker were both ready enough to follow. 
 
 They were sure they thought there was a family. 
 Somebody had told them so. They couldn't rightly 
 remember who, but they were sure it was somebody. 
 It might have been Mr Harrop, or it might have 
 been Mr Jessamy. 
 
 Harrop was the innkeeper, and, with an innkeeper's ? 
 independence, denied the imputation flat. 
 
 He had never said a word of the sort. He had 
 never mentioned such a thing as a family. Least- 
 wise, it would be very queer if he had, seeing as how 
 he had never thought it. He always knew Mr 
 Smith was Mr Smith, a single gentleman with 
 no encumbrances ; but he must confess that, as to 
 the gentleman himself, he had been led to expect 
 that he was somehow or other different. Some 
 one had told him — he couldn't rightly remember 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 3 
 
 who at the moment — that he was a young, dashing 
 spark, who took a deal of wine, and kept a many- 
 horses. Likewise, his informant had stated, he had 
 a valet. 
 
 J. Jessamy, hairdresser and perfumer, 89 High 
 Street, corroborated the last statement. He didn't 
 know about his being young, but he understood 
 that he had been one as cared about his appearance. 
 At the very first sight of Mr Smith, with his thick 
 iron-grey whiskers and clean-shaved lip, Jessamy 
 threw down the box of sponges he was arranging, 
 and exclaimed aloud, " A man can't make his bread 
 off whiskers ! " 
 
 Mrs Hunt, the doctor's wife, from her window 
 over the way, saw the sponges fall, and caught 
 sight of Mr Smith. 
 
 In her private mind she was very much of the 
 innkeeper's opinion. The doctor might wish for 
 a family, but her desires took a different form. 
 A Mr Smith satisfied them very well, but he should 
 have been another sort of Mr Smith. 
 
 A Mr Smith of twenty or thirty, amiable, hand- 
 some, unmarried, was the Mr Smith she had fondly 
 hoped to welcome. 
 
4 MR SMITH: 
 
 But this old gentleman ? No. 
 
 Neither Maria nor Clare would ever look at him, 
 she was sure of that ; girls were so foolish. Those 
 silly Tolletons would laugh at him, as they did at 
 everybody, and Maria and Clare would join in 
 with them. 
 
 Her face grew gloomy at the prospect, as she 
 looked after Mr Smith walking down the street. 
 
 Many pairs of eyes followed Mr Smith walking 
 down the street that day. 
 
 He had arrived the previous night, and had not 
 been seen before. The disappointment was uni- 
 versal. This Smith was not the man for them. 
 That was the conclusion each one arrived at for the 
 present. The future must take care of itself. 
 
 The short, stout, grey man entered the post-office, 
 and inquired if there were any letters for him. 
 
 "What name, sir?" 
 
 "Mr Smith." 
 
 Mr Smith got his letters, and then the postmaster 
 came out to a lady who was sitting in her pony- 
 carriage at the door. 
 
 " Beg pardon for keeping you, my lady ; but had 
 to get such a number for Mr Smith." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 5 
 
 " So that is Mr Smith/' thought she, taking her 
 letters. " And very like a Mr Smith, too." 
 
 It was but a glance ; but the glance which enabled 
 her to ascertain so much, caused her to let slip a 
 letter from the budget, and it fell on the pavement. 
 
 Mr Smith, coming out at the moment, saw it fall. 
 Slowly and somewhat stiffly, but still before the 
 nimble groom could anticipate him, he stooped and 
 picked it up ; then slightly raising his hat, presented 
 it, seal uppermost, to the lady in the carriage. 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden felt a faint sensation of surprise. 
 There was nothing in the action, of course, but there 
 was something in the manner of performing it, which 
 was not that of a vulgar man ; and a vulgar man she 
 had predetermined the new proprietor to be. 
 
 She had to pass the house on the Hill every time 
 she drove into the village, and when she heard that 
 it was being built by a Mr Smith, and that Mr 
 Smith himself was coming to live in it, she thought 
 she knew exactly the sort of person he would be. 
 A short, stout, grey man, and vulgar. 
 
 Then she saw him face to face, and he answered 
 to the portrait precisely, except — no, not vulgar, 
 odd. 
 
6 MR SMITH: 
 
 After the affair of the letter, she never called him 
 vulgar. 
 
 Others saw the incident, but it caused no change 
 in their opinions. It by no means altered Mrs 
 Hunt's, for instance. Mr Smith looked none the 
 younger when he stooped down, and his age was her 
 only objection to him. The butcher recommenced 
 his grumbling. What was a Mr Smith to him ? He 
 didn't want no Mr Smiths. Mr Smith, indeed ! Wliy, 
 the very name Smith had a regular family sound. 
 
 A Mrs Smith, a young Smith, the Miss Smiths, 
 Bobby Smith, Jack Smith, Joe Smith, the Smith's 
 baby, and the Smith's governess, seemed to him only 
 the proper Smith connection. 
 
 Then the grocer and the baker recurred afresh to 
 their ideal, a Mr Smith of servants. Children they 
 set little store by, except as they gave rise to 
 servants. 
 
 Harrop lamented anew the Mr Smith of his 
 imagination, a mixture of the stable and the cellar ; 
 and Jessamy took up his sponges with a sigh, and 
 strove to efface from his memory the lost antici- 
 pations of waxed mustachios and scented pocket- 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 7 
 
 Dr Hunt met Mr Smith, and but that his house 
 of cards had long before this tumbled in the dust, 
 it would have done so on the spot. 
 
 Here was the man whom he had been looking to 
 as the embodiment of human ailments ! The Mr 
 Smith of measles, whooping-cough, and chicken-pox ; 
 winter sore throats, and summer chills ; a Mr Smith 
 of accidents it might be ; best of all, an increasing 
 Mr Smith. The family so ardently desired by the 
 villagers he would have been proud to present to 
 them. 
 
 There was the man, and where was such a 
 prospect? Tough as leather, and as unimpressible. 
 He would neither prove a patient himself, nor take 
 to him one who would. A place like that, too ! 
 Why, the practice of that house on the Hill ought 
 to have been a cool hundred a-year in his pocket. 
 Pish ! 
 
 There Mr Smith was, however, be he what he 
 might, or who he might, living in Mr Smith's 
 house, and receiving Mr Smith's letters. There 
 was no doubt that it was himself. If there had 
 been the faintest shadow of a doubt, not one, but 
 one and all, would have been glad to raise it. 
 
8 MR SMITH: 
 
 There he was,- think what they all might, say 
 what they all could. 
 
 They did not want him there, but they could 
 not turn him out. He had built his house, and he 
 meant to come and live in it. Why he had built 
 the house they could all understand. Was it not 
 their own neighbourhood, and had it its equal for 
 advantages in England? The estate had always 
 been a fine one ; it only needed a mansion-house. 
 
 And the village, or the town, as it had grown to 
 be, was so conveniently near ; and was wdthin an 
 hour and a half of London by train ; and it had 
 two daily posts and a telegraph office ; a railway 
 station, livery stables, and nursery gardens. 
 
 It was no wonder that Mr Smith should think 
 of building the house on the Hill ; but having done 
 so, they were unreasonably ill -pleased that he 
 should wish to come and live in it. 
 
 People said he had lived abroad. Well, why 
 could he not have gone on living there ? Others 
 would have made the property as good a specula- 
 tion for themselves, and a deal better for them as 
 had lived there before. 
 
 One thing, however, told in favour of the new- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 9 
 
 comer. He was rich. He had not met their 
 expectations in any other way, but he had not 
 failed in this. He really and truly was rich. 
 His fortune was there. It had not melted, as 
 money usually does, when too curiously pried 
 into. 
 
 The amount, indeed, had been difficult to settle. 
 At first it was thirty, but it passed through the 
 different gradations of twenty-five, and twenty, 
 to ten thousand a-year. 
 
 His servants deponed to its being ten. Several 
 of them had heard Mr Smith say so. 
 
 Upon investigation, it proved to have been, not 
 Mr Smith who said so, but his lawyer. The 
 lawyer's phrase was, "A man like you with ten 
 thousand a-year." And this, of course, as lawyer's 
 evidence, was even more conclusive than if it had 
 been given by their master himself. 
 
 The money was therefore secure, and they must 
 make what they could out of it. It at least had 
 not cheated them. They bowed low to the fortune. 
 Although it had been reported at thirty, it was 
 held to have stood the test well, when proved to 
 be ten. 
 
10 MR SMITH: 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHO WAS TO BE THE FIRST? 
 
 The next point was, who was to call on Mr Smith ? 
 
 Public expectation pointed first to the rector. 
 But the rector, between his sore throats, his daily 
 services, and his confidence that the new-comer would 
 prove an orthodox parishioner, since he had cushioned 
 and carpeted a church pew for his own particular use, 
 was slow to fulfil the requirements of society in the 
 present instance. 
 
 Mr Grey was a slow, but by no means a sui'e man 
 to trust to. On ordinary occasions nothing else was 
 expected from him. But then this was not quite an 
 ordinary case. An immense amount of curiosity, 
 conjecture, and anticipatory excitement had already 
 been spent on the new proprietor, and it would be 
 hard if all this outlay were to yield no return. 
 
 The sickle was therefore respectfully put into the 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. II 
 
 rector's hand, and he was dumbly requested to lead 
 the way and reap the first-fruits. 
 
 For a while he stood still with the sickle in the 
 hand. The house on the Hill was a noble building. 
 When he saw it first beginning to rise, a little of the 
 parish ferment had worked itself even into his pre- 
 occupied bosom. He felt a seething of surmise as to 
 its owner, and a bubble of anxiety lest he should 
 prove schismatic. 
 
 But Mr Smith spoilt all. 
 
 Before he himself appeared, the church pew was 
 applied for ; and when the furniture for the house 
 came down, the carpet and cushions for the pew 
 came down with it. 
 
 Mr Grey felt secure, and turned him over to the 
 curate. The curate was finishing his fortnight in 
 Wales, and to wait for him was impossible. 
 
 The eyes of the population were therefore turned 
 to the doctor, and if Mrs Hunt had had her way, 
 they would have been speedily gratified. 
 
 But Mrs Hunt, who had her way, if report spoke 
 truly, on a great many points where perhaps it 
 might have been as well if she had not, knew that 
 there were parts of her dominion into which even 
 
12 MR SMITH: 
 
 the sovereign was sometimes refused admittance. 
 She thought, she fancied this would be the case in 
 the present instance ; but she was brave, and she 
 determined to risk it. 
 
 At once the doctor showed his bristles. " Call on 
 Mr Smith, Polly ? Not I. No one has called yet." 
 
 " It is so soon," suggested she. 
 
 " Soon ? Of course it is. Kidiculously soon ! The 
 man hasn't been here two days. Until I have met 
 him. out, or until some reasonable time has elapsed, 
 I shall let him alone. March up there to-day ? No, 
 no, you'll not catch Eobert Hunt making such a fool 
 of himself." 
 
 " Oh dear, doctor, where's the fool ? You ought to 
 call as the doctor, if not as a neighbour. Think if 
 that Barton should get him ! " 
 
 The doctor turned round savagely. 
 
 "Call as the doctor? I'd sooner call as the 
 
 What do you mean by such nonsense?" cried he, 
 puUing up with a choke. " Haven't I told you times 
 without number that I'm not going to tout for busi- 
 ness like a railway porter, or a cabman ? If I want 
 Mr Smith I shall call as a neighbour ; if he doesn't 
 like me as a neighbour, he needn't return it." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 3 
 
 " I daresay lie'll be among all the county people ? " 
 hinted she. 
 
 " I daresay he'll be nothing of the sort." 
 
 " Oh, you may depend upon it, he will, my dear, 
 with a place like that. What is to prevent him ? " 
 
 "The very fact of his having that place. What 
 brought him here ? Nobody knows. Where does he 
 come from? Nobody knows. People won't be so 
 keen to call as you think, I can tell you." 
 
 " Well, I saw him speaking to Lady Sauffrenden 
 yesterday, at all events." 
 
 " Hang Lady Sauffrenden ! " 
 
 " Never mind Lady Sauffrenden, doctor ; the point 
 is Mr Smith." 
 
 " AVhat do you want with Mr Smith ?" 
 
 " Only to be neighbourly, I'm sure, and — have 
 him here sometimes, you know. With neither wife, 
 nor sister, nor any one belonging to him, he must be 
 often dull of an evening, and would like to come 
 down now. and then, I daresay. The girls would 
 amuse him." 
 
 " So that's what you're after, Polly. Why, the 
 man's as old as I am." 
 
 Having recovered from the first shock of this sus- 
 
14 MR SMITH: 
 
 picion herself, it behoved her, if she could not dissi- 
 pate the suspicion, at least to soften the shock, to her 
 husband. 
 
 "That's not so old either, Eobert. He's a fine- 
 looking man, and a bachelor's always younger than 
 other men." 
 
 " I don't see that. I think I'm as young-looking 
 
 as Smith any day. Stout, apoplectic " 
 
 " Oh dear, doctor, don't go and speak against him 
 — you might just as well give him a chance. Whaf s 
 a few years more or less ? And they do say he has 
 twenty thousand a-year." 
 
 "No, Polly, it's ten. It has come down to ten 
 since he amved. However, ten would be enough for 
 me. Humph ! " 
 
 " So you see you might just as well call as other 
 people," nodded his wife, knowingly. 
 
 " If I call now, ma'am, can't you see that it means 
 a doctor's call — a village doctor in search of patients ? 
 Do you think that that's a likely way to bring ]\Ir 
 Smith forward as a suitor for your daughter?" cried 
 he, with no subterfuge of language. ''I know the 
 world a little better than you do, Mrs Hunt ; it's only 
 those who have something to get by it w^ho rush at 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 5 
 
 every new man. I'll take care Smith doesn't go past 
 me, but I don't mean him to find that out. I'm no^ 
 going to be known as the village doctor to anybody. 
 What is the use of your fine connections if that is 
 the only footing we have to stand upon ? If I had 
 not taken the greatest care in the world we should 
 never have been where we are now. It is not every- 
 body in our position who has the footing we have. 
 Scarcely a house in the neighbourhood we don't go 
 to, once a-year at least. I mean to call on this Mr 
 Smith, of course ; but I shall wait a little, till some of 
 the other people have been. Then I call as a neigh- 
 bour, among the other neighbours. Then you may 
 try to hook him, if you can." 
 
 " I'm afraid the girls will laugh at him." 
 
 " What is there to laugh at ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know, but they are always quiz- 
 zing people, as they call it. They'll sfly he's a regu- 
 lar old quiz." 
 
 " They'll be great fools, then." 
 
 " It's the Tolleton girls that set them on." 
 
 "The ToUeton girls would be glad to catch Mr 
 Smith for one of themselves." 
 
 " That they would, Eobert ! That's what I say. 
 
l6 MR SMITH: 
 
 Old ToUeton will be going and calling there to-day, 
 — see if he doesn't !" 
 
 " I met him coming out of the gate just now/' said 
 the doctor, with a grin. 
 
 " There now ! Didn't I tell you ? They'll have 
 asked him to dinner as sure as eggs are eggs, and 
 he'll be there all day long 1 " 
 
 " You needn't put yourself about, for they haven't 
 done it yet, Polly. Mrs Tolleton, the old lady, is 
 just dead, and he was telling me how they couldn't 
 have any company just now on that account, but he 
 had been up to call. However, Smith was out." 
 
 " As if they couldn't have waited to call, and his 
 own mother barely buried ! " cried Mrs Hunt. " The 
 way some people will rush at everybody they think 
 a catch, in the very face of decency ! " 
 
 " It is just what you wanted me to do." 
 
 " No, indeed, doctor ; there's all the difference in 
 the world. Your mother has been dead these twenty 
 years; there's no reason in the world why you 
 shouldn't call at once." 
 
 " There's no reason why I should, and that's more 
 to the purpose. Who thinks anything of Tolleton, 
 just because he's always thrusting his card upon 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. \*J 
 
 everybody ? And if I did the same they would think 
 still less of me. The Tolletons are a cut above us. 
 You be patient, Polly, and I'll do the right thing at 
 the right time." 
 
 Mrs Hunt drummed her feet upon the floor. It 
 was hard to be patient, when a few minutes before 
 she had seemed so nearly victorious. When, too, he 
 had not been blind to her wishes, but had understood 
 and plainly spoken them out, yet had not, as many 
 an unreasonable husband would have done, forbidden 
 her to carry them into effect. 
 
 The Tolletons, if they had an end in view, gener- 
 ally managed to attain it, in spite of deaths, and other 
 inconveniences. Mr Smith would be there at dinner 
 ere long, — would perhaps be intimate at Freelands 
 before the Hunts even knew him. 
 
 The girls might laugh at Mr Smith, and caU him 
 an old quiz, as she had predicted, but that was no 
 reason why, as the doctor had rejoined, they would 
 not be glad enough to catch him if they could. 
 
 The worst of it was, that Maria and Clare, who 
 always did whatever the Tolleton girls did, would 
 laugh with them at Mr Smith, and call him an old 
 quiz likewise, but would never be able to detect if 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
l8 MR SMITH: 
 
 the other prophecy also came true, and the Miss Tol- 
 letons had a serious aim beneath their pleasantry. 
 
 She was already certain that such was, or would 
 be, the case. 
 
 If not, why had Mr Tolleton been the first to call ? 
 He always was the first to call on everj^body, it was 
 true, but it was his daughters who egged him on to 
 it. The way those girls did manage to scratch up 
 acquaintance with people by hook or by crook, really 
 was disgraceful. Anybody could get good society if 
 they chose to buffet their way into it, as they did. 
 
 There was Helen, when the autumn manoeuvres 
 were going on, driving about the heath all day long. 
 Tea at the camp — picnics — luncheon parties at the 
 Tolletons' every day of the week ; and old Tolleton 
 calling here and calling there, and fairly begging the 
 young men to come and drink his wine, and eat his 
 mutton. 
 
 Mrs Hunt did not reflect that the young men were 
 very easy to be entreated. 
 
 The wine and the mutton may have had some 
 share in attracting them, but undoubtedly the Miss 
 Tolletons had still more. 
 
 They were generally spoken of as handsome and 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I9 
 
 good fun ; but it was shrewdly suspected that among 
 the younger men there were not a few who, covering 
 with such light praise the name of Helen Tolleton, 
 went away smarting with a hidden wound. 
 
 Helen's pale face did infinitely greater damage than 
 the more blooming countenances of her sisters. 
 Why she was so pale, no one could imagine. She 
 was well, she was strong, she was if anything the 
 healthiest of the three. Exercise or excitement 
 would bring the colour to her cheek at once ; but 
 when under the influence of neither she was pale, 
 decidedly pale, and her cheek as well as her forehead 
 had a soft creamy tint. 
 
 Carry and Lily thought that they excelled their 
 sister in complexion, but they were ready to acknow- 
 ledge her superiority in feature. Her blue eyes, with 
 their long black lashes, were esteemed by the others 
 her best point, although with careless approbation 
 they were ready to acknowledge the symmetry of the 
 small high nose, and the exquisite dip in the upper lip. 
 
 They were proud of Helen's beauty, and frankly 
 repeated her compliments, but there was one thing 
 they did not like her to be called, and that was " deli- 
 cate." Her beauty was genuine, and they had no 
 
20 MR SMITH: 
 
 thought of jealousy on that point, but her delicacy 
 was a deception. She had neither Carry's headaches, 
 nor Lily's twinges of rheumatism, and yet she added 
 this refined touch to her other fascinations. 
 
 Helen was the one who made acq^uaintances for 
 the family. 
 
 It was she who went out walking before breakfast, 
 and met people by accident. She who brought in 
 strangers to see papa's collection of curiosities. Her 
 photograph-book was the show one ; and the photo- 
 graphs contained therein were so many, and so 
 frequently altered, that her sisters were often puzzled 
 to account for new phenomena. 
 
 All three made button-hole bouquets in perfection, 
 but Helen expected the first pick of the flowers. 
 The first pick of partners for croquet was hers also ; 
 and whenever any unexceptionable young chrysalis of 
 a husband appeared on the horizon, it was understood 
 that Helen would be the proper wife for liim. 
 
 If these privileges, however, were conceded by 
 the younger Miss Tolletons with ready grace, they 
 in their turn exacted demands from other young 
 ladies. 
 
 It is not every family who possesses a distinguished 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 21 
 
 beauty ; and Carry and Lily .felt that they might 
 themselves have reigned as suns in lesser spheres. 
 
 Had either of them been born in the doctor's 
 family, for example, she would have been the centre 
 of attraction. As it was, the doctor's daughters paid 
 due homage ; and it was no more than true what 
 Mrs Hunt alleged, that whatever the Tolleton girls 
 did, hers would do. 
 
 She had been, she still was, proud of the Tolletons' 
 friendship. She frequently boasted of her intimacy 
 at Freelands. She never refused an invitation to the 
 house, and she went there a great many times without 
 any invitation at all ; but then, you know, she thought 
 all that was one thing, and to love one's neighbour 
 as one's self was another. 
 
 " Those Tolleton girls are doing ours no good," 
 was a frequent remark in her mouth ; but when it 
 came to particulars, she had nothing more to say. 
 She had that ineffective way of inveighing against 
 things wholesale, which is at once so disagreeable and 
 so incontrovertible. She was always complaining, 
 but never suggested a remedy. " I suppose they have 
 been again with those Tolleton girls ? " she would 
 say, if hers were out late. " Which of the Tolleton 
 
22 MR SMITH: 
 
 girls did you get that tHng from?" if it did not 
 please her. Both remarks being uttered in a dis- 
 paraging tone, but no definite disapprobation ex- 
 pressed. In consequence, IMaria and Clare went on 
 just as they had done before. It was mamma's way, 
 and meant nothing. 
 
 They dearly loved the society of the Miss Tolletons. 
 Their mother thought that from it they got no good, but 
 widely different was their own opinion. They learnt, 
 they imagined, everything from these dear friends. 
 
 Thus in their dress. 'Now the IMiss ToUetons hav- 
 ing fine tall well-moulded figures, and inclinations 
 rather of the dashing than the gentle sort, affected 
 something of a masculine style. 
 
 They wore rough tight-fitting jackets with large 
 buttons, high plumy hats, and all sorts of belts and 
 buckles round their waists. 
 
 Whether it were to be admired or not, the style 
 was not one to be universally imitated. Least of all 
 should Maria and Clare Hunt have presumed to 
 copy. 
 
 They had no beauties of face or figure, and only 
 soft fabrics and delicately blended colours could, at 
 the best, have made them look neat and lady-like. 
 
A TART OF HIS LIFE. 
 
 This did not meet their views at all. They wished 
 to look trim, and bright, and sparkling, like Helen 
 ToUeton, who always wore a background of black to 
 set off her pale face, and to whom the addition of a 
 scarlet or rose-coloured shawl was like paint. 
 
 Accordingly the Hunts wore black and rose-colour 
 likewise. 
 
 They saved up their money and got sashes of the 
 same brilliant hue. They sewed buckles on their 
 shoes, and wore in winter furry things about their 
 wrists and ancles. 
 
 Thus they appeared, in their own eyes, faithful 
 copies of perfect models, but it is to be feared in the 
 eyes of impartial spectators, a pair of extraordinarily 
 ill-dressed and ill-looking young women. 
 
 See, Maria is just come in from her walk with 
 these chosen companions. Her mother knows she 
 has been with them, and is generally dissatisfied. 
 She looks her over, and begins to peck. 
 
 " I don't like that jacket, Maria ; it doesn't set 
 weU." ' 
 
 " Oh, mamma, I thought Miss Piatt had made it so 
 beautifully." 
 
 " No, she hasn't, or else it's the material. I can't 
 
tell which it is, but it makes you look as thick again. 
 It may be the trimming, perhaps. I don't like its 
 being open at the neck, either." 
 
 " Lily Tolleton says they are all being worn open 
 at the neck now ; no one ever thinks of wearing 
 them shut." 
 
 "You'll catch your death of cold," grunts the 
 doctor, who has not yet gone out after his conversa- 
 tion with his wife about Mr Smith. 
 
 " No, papa, I'm quite warm," beginning to cough 
 at the same moment. 
 
 "Why, you have a cold already, child." 
 
 '* I had that before I went out, papa. I felt it this 
 morning when I awoke, indeed I did." 
 
 " All the more absurd to expose your throat in a 
 cold wind. I never heard of such a thing ! Now, 
 look here, you'll have a mustard blister on to-night, 
 all over the place; keep it on some time too, and 
 close up that jacket before you wear it again. Do 
 you hear ? Now mind you do as I tell you. I'm 
 not going to have my daughters lose their health 
 for all the Lily Tolletons and fashion - books in 
 existence." 
 
 "I can put on the blister, papa, although it is 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 25 
 
 really hardly worth it, my cold is so little; but a 
 nice warm necktie would be far better than closinfj 
 up the jacket, it would spoil the whole shape," pleads 
 poor Maria, who with a little more cunning would 
 have said no more. 
 
 " Spoil it then ; it's a mad shape/' 
 
 " I can't do it, papa ; I don't know how. I don't 
 believe it can be done. Mamma, will vou tell him 
 it can't be done ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know. I don't like it myself. 
 I don't see what is to be done to it, I'm sure." 
 
 " I'm sure it looks very nice." (Maria, injured and 
 unbelieving.) " I meant it to be my best all winter, 
 and now you're all against it. It's very hard." 
 
 " Here, let me see ; perhaps I can make it better," 
 replies her mother, pulling open the offending 
 garment, and beginning to push and tug it about. 
 "Give me a pin; I daresay it could be brought 
 together." 
 
 "I don't want it brought together; I like it far 
 better open. Do leave it alone, mamma." 
 
 "You won't have it open. You may either 
 wear it close or not at all, Maria, so take your 
 choice." 
 
26 MR SMITH: 
 
 The doctor delivers his verdict, and stamps out of 
 the room. 
 
 Maria has the tears in her eyes. 
 
 "It's too bad. Why did you begin about it, 
 mamma? You might have known it would have set 
 papa off. He always complains of everything I wear." 
 
 " I'm doing all I can for you ; I wish you would 
 stand still," replies Mrs Hunt, still uncomfortably 
 tugging and pushing the jacket. "I don't know 
 what's the matter wdth it, I'm sure. It won't look 
 well any way." 
 
 "What is the matter with it, mamma? You 
 keep saying it doesn't look well, and it doesn't look 
 well, and you won't tell me where the fault is." 
 
 " It's just altogether, I think. It's too big for you, 
 and too thick. Somehow you look all of a bunch." 
 
 Maria twists herself out of her mother's hands. 
 
 " I do not look all of a bunch, mamma ; and I wish 
 you wouldn't be so disagreeable. Why don't you go 
 on at Clare about hers *? " 
 
 " I'm sure I do ; I'm always speaking to you both, 
 but it's of no use. Neither of you ever care for any- 
 thing I say. Where is Clare now ? " 
 
 With the Tolletons, of course. Clare had gone 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 2/ 
 
 down the street hanging anxiously on Lily Tolleton's 
 rear, who, in her good-nature, had promised her a 
 sight of Mr Smith. Maria confesses the fact, well 
 aware of what will follow. 
 
 " Humph ! 'What does she go with the Tolletons 
 for ? And where was Mr Smith ? " 
 
 Mr Smith had been seen at the station, and the 
 fortunate spectators had not been selfish, but had 
 desired to extend the privilege to their less happy 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Such was the substance of Maria's information ; 
 and Mrs Hunt humph s again as she hears it. 
 
 " What did they say of Mr Smith ? " 
 
 " Oh, they were laughing so about him. They 
 say he's a sort of old-young man — neither one thing 
 nor the other — the funniest combination." 
 
 " I knew they would ! Just like them ! And now 
 they'll be setting their caps at him as hard as ever 
 they can ! " 
 
 " At liim I Goodness, mamma, they say he is as old 
 as the hills 1 That was the fun of it." 
 
 " He's nothing of the sort, then ; he's not so old as 
 your father, who was fifty last ]\Iarch. He can't be 
 far on in the forties yet ; and that's nothing when 
 
28 MR SMITH: 
 
 there's twenty thousand a-year. Take my word for 
 it, Helen Tolleton will have a try for that twenty 
 thousand." 
 
 " Helen was the very one who joked about him, 
 and Miss Bain. She said he was the very husband 
 for Miss Bain." 
 
 " I knew it ! " exclaims Mrs Hunt, bitterly ; "1 
 said that was just what she would do. Get you and 
 your sister to laugh at him and snub him, and then 
 go and make up to him herself! Do you know 
 those girls set their father on to call to-day ? " 
 
 " They said he thought he, ought to call." 
 
 " He think ! he never thinks anytliing but what 
 they bid him," retorts the unsparing tongue. " That 
 is what they did, I can tell you ; and his mother just 
 laid in her grave." 
 
 " Mr Smith's mother ! " 
 
 "And why not, pray? Why should Mr Smith 
 not have a mother as well as other people ? But it 
 was the ToUetons I meant ; and ]\Ir Tolleton is many 
 a year older than Mr Smith, I imagine. I suppose 
 you think, because he dyes his whiskers, and wears a 
 wig, and pinches in his feet, that he is quite a young 
 man ! " 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 29 
 
 " He's a very uice man, mamma. I didn't sup- 
 pose he could be exactly young ; though he always 
 says nobody will believe that he can have three 
 grown-up daughters. But I don't believe he wears 
 a wig." 
 
 " It's the most barefaced wig I ever saw in my 
 life. It doesn't even come properly down to the 
 back of his neck. But any one of the Tolletons can 
 take you in." 
 
 "There were such a number of boxes for Mr 
 Smith at the station." Maria prudently changes the 
 subject. " Do you know, mamma, he has a picture- 
 gallery, and the Tolletons say it would make the 
 most splendid ball-room. They are goiug to get him 
 to give a ball in it." 
 
 "The impudence of those girls!" exclaims Mrs 
 Hunt, throwing back her cap-strings, and reddening 
 with wrath. " They get him to give a ball ! I'd lilvc 
 to hear them ask it. Wliat business have they with 
 him, or he with them, I should like to know? Com- 
 mon decency might have prevented them thinking of 
 such a thing — ^just now, at all events, with their poor 
 grandmother " 
 
 " Oh, that was what they said, mamma. They said 
 
30 MR SMITH: 
 
 it must not be just yet, because of old Mrs Tolle- 
 ton " 
 
 " And what has old Mrs ToUeton to do with Mr 
 Smith?" 
 
 "Why, you were saying this very moment, mamma, 
 how could they get him to give a ball when old Mrs 
 ToUeton " 
 
 " Maria, you are the stupidest girl ! What busi- 
 ness have the Tolletons to ask Mr Smith about a 
 ball, or about anything else ? It's not one thing 
 more than another ! What have they to do with him 
 at all? That's what I mean. Laying siege to him 
 in this way ; and actually taking possession of the 
 man before they have ever met him ! " 
 
 " They have met him ; Helen met him yesterday." 
 
 Mrs Hunt, fairly gasping — " You don't say it ; she 
 never has, surely ! Well, that beats all ! I would 
 hardly have believed that, even of Helen ToUeton ! " 
 
 " What in the world do you mean, mamma ? How 
 could Helen help it ? She was out riding past his 
 gate, and dropped her whip just as he came out ; so of 
 course he picked it up for her, and they got to talk." 
 
 " Oh, of course." Very bitter is this rejoinder. 
 " And of course she is in the habit of dropping her 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 3 1 
 
 whip ; and of course she laughed at him, and called 
 him old and fat and ugly ; and if she can manage to 
 be Mrs Smith before the year is out, she will." 
 
 " Well, I've seen Mr Smith ! " cries a fresh voice 
 in the doorway. " He's not so bad after all, I can 
 tell you. And fancy, mamma, he had such a grand 
 footman ! " 
 
 " Quite right, too, in a house like that. Most 
 people would have a butler." 
 
 " I don't know that he hasn't a butler ; but it was 
 a footman at the station. I didn't know that he 
 would come out in that style." 
 
 " What style did you expect ? All the people 
 round about have men-servants. 
 
 "But I didn't know he was going to be one of 
 them ; I thought he would be one of us." 
 
 " I hope there is no such great difference," says 
 Mrs Hunt, with an air caught from her hus- 
 band. 
 
 '' Well, we have only a maid ; and you know what 
 I mean, mamma. People always seemed to think Mr 
 Smith would belong to the village. I don't believe 
 he will now. Nobody would, who could go on as he 
 is going." 
 
32 MR SMITH: 
 
 "Don't get vulgar notions, Clare. I've always 
 warned you against that." 
 
 " But you haven't heard rne out, mamma. The 
 horses are to come next week ; and there are going 
 to ha such a lot of greenhouses ; and another avenue 
 along the low valley ; and a boathouse, and a foun- 
 tain, or grotto, or something, by the river. Oh, and the 
 out-door bell ! that huge thing was the bell, Maria." 
 
 All this is mingled sweet and bitter to Mrs Hunt. 
 It is delightful to see how much higher Mr Smith is 
 held in Clare's estimation than in Maria's. Clare 
 has not said one word in disparagement of Mr Smith, 
 and is excited and interested about him. She has 
 not repeated a single condemnatory clause of the 
 Tolletons. She is alive to the greatness of the 
 subject. 
 
 But then, what will become of all this most be- 
 coming eagerness, if it is permitted to grow cold and 
 die out for want of putting fuel on the fire ? What 
 is the use of her caring at all about Mr Smith, if the 
 Tolleton girls are caring likewise, and have got the 
 start of lier? The glories of the Hill had dazzled 
 Clare, and so far well ; but she almost wished that 
 they had not been so obvious, that they might 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 33 
 
 have had a chance of escaping the Tolletons' 
 eyes. 
 
 The doctor was really too provoking in his pride 
 and nonsense. Many a good thing he had lost, she 
 was sure, from holding his head too high. She was 
 always telling him so ; but it did no good. And 
 now she must wait, wait, while the Tolletons step 
 into the healing pool before her very eyes. 
 
 Thus mortifying were her reflections. 
 
 Dr Hunt had argued the point with her many and 
 many a time. 
 
 He had right on his side, and he argued strongly. 
 With the Tolletons pushing might succeed ; but it 
 would not with him. Witness that affair of the 
 Sauffrendens. Lord Sauffrenden never by any 
 chance passed him by, but would stop to chat, 
 and turn round and walk by his side in the most 
 friendly manner possible ; whereas he looked the 
 other way if there were any Tolletons coming. Now, 
 why is this ? Dr Hunt knows full well. He never 
 called at-the Castle when the bride and bridegroom 
 arrived from their wedding journey. He never re- 
 ceived, in reply, an envelope containing frigid cards, 
 delivered by a footman. He took care when he was 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
34 MR SMITH: 
 
 sent for to Sauffrenden to go promptly, and retire 
 swiftly. 
 
 And what is the consequence ? 
 
 The Tolletons having talked of the SanfFrendens' 
 coming, and of calling on the Sauffrendens, and of 
 the Sauffrendens' society, and entertainments in pro- 
 spect, could not so suddenly sink into absolute 
 silence on the subject, without that silence having 
 in it something ominous. 
 
 Everybody at once knew how it had been. 
 
 It had not perhaps been exactly forward in the 
 Tolletons to make some advances ; but they should 
 have done it more cautiously. They had visited at 
 the Castle in old times, whilst these three sprightly 
 girls were still in the nursery ; and the family had, 
 somehow or other, been held in higher estimation 
 than they were now. Perhaps they were justified in 
 supposing the old relations were to be maintained. 
 Who was to carry to their ears the description given 
 to the charming, severe, autocratic young bride ? 
 How were they to know she would toss her little 
 head on seeing their cards on her hall-table ? Or 
 how imagine she would be so particular and stupid 
 about girls' ways ? 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 35 
 
 The rebuff astonished and confounded them ; and 
 Dr Hunt, who had found out about it, thanked his 
 stars it had not been given to him. 
 
 He struggled to put himself on a level with the 
 ToUetons, and the Tolletons could not keep their 
 own. They allowed him to obtain a footing on 
 sufferance. 
 
36 MR SMITH: 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A DRIVE IN THE DUSK. 
 
 Mr Tolleton had a simple and not uncommon 
 method of estimating the merits of his fellow-men. 
 He measured them precisely in accordance with the 
 measure they took of him. 
 
 Astronomically speaking, as soon as a foreign body 
 made its appearance upon the horizon of his firma- 
 ment, he rushed at it, and if received vdth a corre- 
 sponding degree of warmth, if permitted to rank 
 himself among its satellites, his desires were satis- 
 fied, and he would placidly revolve around it in an 
 orbit more or less extensive. 
 
 If, on the other hand, a repellent force threw him 
 off, and he found himself fed with neither light nor 
 heat, he would rebound with a violent explosion. 
 
 It is but due to him to state that he consciously 
 exercised no repellent force in his own person. He 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 37 
 
 was willing, nay, lie was anxious, to be friends with 
 everybody ; and when with the utmost alacrity he 
 prepared for a new friendship, if he were not met at 
 least a quarter of the way, he felt reasonably aston- 
 ished and aggrieved. 
 
 As soon as tidings had reached him of a new pro- 
 prietor coming to the Hill, he had set his face 
 steadily in that direction, waiting for the new ap- 
 pearance, and therefore it was hardly true in Mrs 
 Hunt to af&rm that he would never have called had 
 it not been for his daughters. The very length of 
 time during which he had been anticipating this 
 visit, had served to inflate his mind with eager ex- 
 pectations ; and it was these even more than Helen's 
 hints which propelled him, with what might possibly 
 appear a little unseemly haste, into the arms of the 
 new-comer. 
 
 After all, however, he was not the first. 
 
 Captain Wellwood had been before him. Captain 
 Wellwood had walked up to the Hill just half an 
 hour before him; but neither he nor Mr ToUeton 
 had found Mr Smith at home. 
 
 Captain Philip Montgomery Wellwood, who 
 thought a good deal of liimself, and was of opinion 
 
38 MR SMITH: 
 
 that he had been thought a good deal of in the Blues 
 two or three years ago, was rather surprised at having 
 to go and call on a Mr Smith. 
 
 It was not his own idea to do so. In fact he 
 would never have thought of such a thing if it had 
 not been for Lord Sauffrenden. 
 
 It had been one of the favours Lord Sauffrenden 
 was perpetually asking. If he did you a good turn 
 one day, he would as cheerfully ask you to do him 
 one the next. He had no objection to be under an 
 obligation ; if anything, he liked it. Perhaps he real- 
 ised the truth that the blessedness of giving may 
 sometimes consist in the gift of that rare blessedness 
 to another. 
 
 With Philip Wellwood, however, his own old 
 comrade, his chosen companion still, his one familiar 
 friend, it was not a system of give and take. "What 
 Sauffrenden willed Philip would do, what Philip 
 willed Sauffrenden would anticipate. 
 
 The latter was now in town, and the request had 
 been conveyed in a letter to his wife — the same 
 letter, in fact, which Mr Smith had picked up at the 
 post-of&ce door, and handed to her as she sat in 
 the pony-carriage. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 39 
 
 The letter was very much the same as those she 
 usually received from her husband. Very badly 
 written, very little in it ; but as true, and frank, and 
 hearty as the writer was himself. 
 
 It was a disappointing one nevertheless. She had 
 hoped it would name the day of his return, and 
 instead of this it intimated that he was to be yet 
 longer absent. The business which took him to 
 town was still undecided, he was awfully sorry, it 
 was a dreadful bore, and he was dearest Milly's most 
 loving S. 
 
 Then came a postscript. " If Mr Smith has come 
 to his house yet, will you ask Philip to call. Ask 
 him from me. The Lorrimers know Smith, and they 
 say he is one of the best fellows in the world." 
 
 One of the best fellows in the world ! If it had 
 been Sauffrenden himself who said so — he knew 
 many of that description — but the Lorrimers ! 
 
 Sir George Lorrimer was as unlikely to pass such 
 a verdict as her husband was likely to do so. He 
 was a man whom it was difficult to please, and one 
 whom she herself considered weU worth pleasing. 
 If it were true that he had bestowed such an eulo- 
 gium, anything even that could be construed into 
 
40 MR SMITH: 
 
 such, when warmed up by Sauffrenden and put into 
 his own vocabulary, it said a great deal. 
 
 Had she owned the truth, she would hardly have 
 supposed Sir George would have recognised the ex- 
 istence of such a nobody as the builder of the house 
 on the Hill. A person of the name of Smith, and 
 there was no more to be said about him. 
 
 It was no wonder, then, that Lady Sauffrenden 
 was surprised. 
 
 She thought over Mr Smith, and could not think 
 of anything against him. He was a quiet-looking 
 man. He was unobjectionable. He was probably 
 unobtrusive. In fact he was undistinguishable in 
 any way. She would not have thought of him twice 
 but for that postscript. 
 
 If Captain Wellwood were asked by her husband 
 to call, of course it must mean that he himself in- 
 tended to do the same. And then IVIr Smith must 
 be asked to Sauffrenden. 
 
 And then she must know him. 
 
 Would it not be rather unfortunate ? "Was it not 
 putting him a little out of his place ? Could he be 
 at home among their people ? 
 
 Eelief, however, was at hand. He was at home 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 4I 
 
 apparently with Sir George LoiTimer, and that was 
 enough. 
 
 All this passed through Lady Sauffrenden's mind 
 as she trotted her ponies home from the village, 
 and fortunately she had gone some distance before 
 she met Captain Wellwood. A more immediate 
 meeting would not have allowed her to deliver 
 her message with so good a grace as she now 
 did. 
 
 If Philip felt any of the surprise, on hearing 
 the message, which Lady Sauffrenden did on read- 
 ing it, at least he showed none. 
 
 " I must go to-morrow, then," he said, " as I leave 
 next day for Ireland. I shall walk over to-morrow, 
 Lady Sauffrenden." 
 
 "Pray, don't trouble yourself, if you are going 
 away so soon. Sauffrenden would never expect 
 it. Any time will do." 
 
 "No trouble in the world, and I shall be away 
 some weeks, so I had better go at once. I am 
 going over in hopes of a little cocking — that is, 
 woodcock-shooting." 
 
 " I know what cocking is, and I wdsh you good 
 sport, but don't tease yourself about Mr Smith. 
 
42 MR SMITH: 
 
 He only arrived yesterday, so it cannot possibly 
 matter." 
 
 Captain Wellwood was the young man of the 
 neisrhbourhood. 
 
 He had once been the hope of Helen Tolleton — 
 her confident, comfortable hope. Then he changed 
 'uto her anxiety. Finally into her despair. 
 
 When he left the army two years before, he was 
 her hope. He was so handsome — which was hardly 
 correct, as he was rather plain ; so distinguished- 
 looking — which was nearer the truth, on account 
 of his height ; so well born — a fact ; so rich — a lie ; 
 that Helen declared she had lost her heart to him. 
 
 She had said this at least half - a - dozen times 
 before the possibility occurred to her of Captain 
 Wellwood not finding, or at all events not pick- 
 ing up, the lost possession. 
 
 It took some time to realise that such a thing 
 might be. 
 
 He came to the house, played croquet, shot 
 pheasants, talked, laughed, and admired, and then 
 — stopped short just where he ought to have gone 
 forward. 
 
 He did not indeed do those things which he 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 43 
 
 ought not to have done, but he left undone those 
 which he ought to have done. 
 
 It was inexplicable, and he became her anxiety. 
 What could be the drawback? Every art was 
 tried — and, alas ! she knew them all — but unsuc- 
 cessfully. And then, somehow or other, whatever 
 the cure was, ill-natured people would have said 
 that it was the discovery that instead of being 
 rich, he was rather poor; but with that we have 
 nothing to do — be the cure what it might, it came, 
 and was a perfect one. 
 
 Her anxiety died out, and he faded quite calmly 
 into her despair. " He was a melancholy-minded 
 man/' she said, ''who would never marry." And 
 that settled the question. 
 
 Mr Smith had once or twice met Captain 
 Wellwood, before finding his card on his hall- 
 table. He had come down in the train with 
 him from London, and they had afterward passed 
 each other in a doorway, and had crossed and 
 recrossed in the village. He knew very well 
 who he was, and thought it very kind both in 
 him and Mr Tolleton to come to the Hill so 
 soon. 
 
44 MR SMITH: 
 
 Mr ToUeton lie did not know by sight, but 
 as he placed the cards on the drawing-room card- 
 tray, something in the name seemed to strike him. 
 
 A moment after his eye brightened — he had 
 caught the clue. 
 
 "It must be her father. Now I know what 
 puzzled my thick old head. A good thing I re- 
 membered, too. One can't be particular enough 
 in these matters." 
 
 He had been called Brown once or twice in 
 his life, and it had hurt him. He would not 
 himself hurt the feelings of man, woman, or 
 child, for the world. 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden's card was not long in following 
 the others. He was at home before the end of the 
 week, and the day after his return, found liis 
 way to the Hill. 
 
 The visit was a pleasant surprise. The Lorrimers 
 had spoken to Mr Smith about the Sauffrendens, 
 but he had not supposed that they would speak 
 to the Sauffrendens about him. There was no 
 reason, he told himself, why Lord Sauffrenden 
 should seek his acquaintance. He did not sup- 
 pose he would trouble himself about it. It was 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 45 
 
 really too kind to call the very day after his 
 return from London. 
 
 For of course Mr Smith knew he had been in 
 London, and knew exactly the time of his return. 
 We all do know these things, unless we are pur- 
 blinded by want of sympathy and self- absorption. 
 He knew all about it, and felt a little justifiable 
 pride as he carried the card to the tray — but he 
 pushed it underneath the others. 
 
 Ah ! if that card had not been fresh and new, 
 but had been dirty and old, and deposited months 
 before, there are many card-trays on which it 
 would have found its way to the top, neverthe- 
 less ; but not in that house. 
 
 It was with agreeable anticipations that Mr 
 Smith prepared for returning his visitor's civility. 
 
 The walk in itself would be delightful that lovely 
 autumn day, and he was preparing to walk when 
 a thought occurred to him. Suppose he met Lord 
 or Lady Sauffrenden in the grounds. Suppose 
 they did not know who he was, and took him 
 
 for an intruder. Suppose He rang the bell, 
 
 and ordered the carriage; he could not face the 
 idea of such probabilities. Lord Sauffrenden might 
 
46 MR SMITH: 
 
 walk to call upon him, but he, plain John Smith,, 
 had better drive to call on Lady Sauffrenden. 
 
 There was something in the little homely man's 
 entrance which struck the lady of the house as she 
 rose to receive him. 
 
 She had called him vulgar-looking in that momen- 
 tary glance at the post-office door, and immediately 
 after had cancelled the expression, and substituted 
 odd. But he had not been sitting there many 
 minutes before she discovered that there was nothing 
 odd about him. He did everything that other 
 people did, and did it singularly well. He was, 
 strange to say, a gentleman. 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden looked more than once at his 
 wife with an " I told you so" in Ms look. She had 
 not been so ready as he thought she ought to have 
 been in believing that Mr Smith was one of the 
 best fellows in the world. The Lorrimers' authority 
 had gone far, but in her heart she believed it had 
 been stretched to its utmost limits. Sauffrenden 
 had declined to drive with her the day after he 
 came home, because he wished to call on Mr Smith. 
 It was really rather absurd. As if he could not 
 have waited a day ! And she had been cross, and 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 47 
 
 gone back to her former opinion of Mr Smith; and 
 if she had had a moment to think, she might have 
 put on her frigid air when he was announced at 
 Sauffrenden. 
 
 But she had been obliged to meet him with 
 politeness, and insensibly politeness slid into cor- 
 diality. 
 
 What a triumph for her husband ! He would 
 have made friends with every one, had he followed 
 the dictates of his heart, and when a man came 
 recommended by a friend ! He must show him his 
 kennels, his canoe, his photographic apparatus. He 
 must show him the tree that was struck by light- 
 ning. Would he take a turn now ? Then, to his 
 surprise, his wife rose, saying she would get her 
 hat, and accompany them. 
 
 It was not often she honoured a guest thus, for to 
 tell the truth at once, Lady Sauffrenden had the 
 reputation in the county of being a very haughty 
 and disagreeable young madam. 
 
 But then Lady Sauffrenden did not consider her- 
 self blest in her county neighbours. 
 
 The few whom she liked lived far away, and 
 those nearest to her she shuddered at the names of. 
 
4o MR smith: 
 
 Was it altogether her fault, then, that it was only 
 when alone with her husband, whom she loved 
 supremely, or with the chosen few, whom she 
 vaguely designated their "people," that the real 
 Millicent shone out sparkling, warm, and free ; and 
 that it was no more possible for her to show herself 
 at other times without the crust of formality and 
 reserve, than for an ovster to tear off its shell of 
 defence? 
 
 Her husband had no such shell, and was well 
 beloved by all ; but the few who were honoured with 
 the friendship of the wife felt, perhaps, that it was 
 the greater privilege. 
 
 He was hardly prepared to see her so soon 
 bestowing that privilege upon Mr Smith. He was 
 astonished beyond measure to hear her chattering 
 gaily as they went along, to see her cutting a 
 beautiful Cape jessamine for their guest's button- 
 hole, and still more, asking from him the name o£ a 
 sweet-smelling grass which her husband had seen 
 flourishing at the Hill, and spoken to her about 
 afterwards. 
 
 There were two plants of the grass, one on each 
 side of the front door. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 49 
 
 Mr Smith supplied the name, and then she wanted 
 to know if it throve in the open air all the year 
 round ? It did, and if Lady Sauffrenden had a fancy 
 for them, he had a number of young plants, and 
 would be happy to send her a pair. 
 
 And there was Milly actually accepting them — a 
 compliment indeed ! 
 
 " There now ! " exclaimed he, as the carriage drove 
 off. " You see there's nothing vulgar about him." 
 
 " Vulgar ! " repeated Lady Sauffrenden with ani- 
 mation. "He is one of the best-bred men I ever 
 met in my life." 
 
 The day had grown rather chilly, and the carriage- 
 ru£[ felt warm and comfortable as Mr Smith bowled 
 along in his carriage. 
 
 He too had been agreeably surprised with his 
 visit. The Lorrimers, in speaking of Lady Sauffren- 
 den, had called her stiff, and hinted that she needed 
 to be known to be liked. They themselves thought 
 none the less of her for this graceful buckram, which 
 they were disposed to consider not an uncalled-for 
 balance to her husband's pliability. 
 
 But they did not desire that it should be shown 
 to their friend, and thinking it not unlikely that 
 
 VOL. L D 
 
50 MR SMITH: 
 
 such would be the case, they had endeavoured to 
 prepare him. Lady Sauffrenden was stiff, but it 
 was merely in her manner, and would wear off on 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden, however, had been the very 
 reverse of stiff; she had been easy, gracious, and 
 charming. He looked forward to her nearer ac- 
 quaintance without feeling that there was anything 
 about her which required wearing off. 
 
 Mr Smith had decided this point long before he 
 reached the lodge gates, and as they clanged behind 
 him, his thoughts took a different channel. For 
 on the road in front he espied four young ladies 
 walking. They were the Miss ToUetons, as by this 
 time he knew, and an idea entered his mind. 
 
 The dusk was creeping on apace, and they were 
 still two miles and rather more from their own gate. 
 He would have his walk now, and send them on 
 in the carriage. At that hour, at this season of the 
 year, it was too late for girls to be walking alone so 
 far from their own grounds. In making the offer 
 he felt no scruples — might they not have been 
 his daughters? 
 
 Accordingly the carriage drew up beside the 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 5 1 
 
 walking party; and its occupant, alighting, was 
 warmly greeted by three of the girls, and intro- 
 duced to the fourth, Maria Hunt. 
 
 The three dark beauties had the glow of health 
 and exercise in their cheeks, and ready smiles on 
 their lips for the proprietor of the Hill. 
 
 If he had guessed that these were the near neigh- 
 bours at whose names Lady Sauffrenden shuddered ! 
 
 "I am going to walk home," said he. "Can I 
 induce anybody to make use of the empty carriage ? 
 There are seats for all, you see." 
 
 A simultaneous chorus of " Oh, thank you," and 
 looks of indecision, responded. 
 
 Then Maria Hunt spoke. " Helen, you said you 
 were tired when the carriage came in sight. As 
 Mr Smith is so kind, should you " 
 
 Helen did not look particularly grateful, and 
 replied rather quickly — " Maria ! I was only joking ! 
 Never imagining for a moment that it was your 
 carriage, Mr Smith, I said I wished somebody would 
 offer me a seat in it. Eeally it was no more than 
 a jest. I can walk very well indeed. The others, 
 perhaps, may be glad to accept your kind offer, but 
 I shall walk." 
 
 LIBRARY • — 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 
52 MR SMITH: 
 
 " But why should you walk, my dear young lady ? 
 You would not like to be separated from them." 
 
 " I could not think of turning you out like that." 
 
 " It is not turning me out, I assure you. A walk 
 will do me all the good in the world, for I have 
 had no proper one to day. Let me put you in," he 
 urged. 
 
 "No, indeed." Helen was resolute. 
 
 " Or perhaps Mr Smith will join us in our walk," 
 suggested Carry. 
 
 "And then Helen could drive," put in Maria 
 Hunt again. 
 
 Helen again did not look grateful, but the next 
 moment her brow cleared, and she answered gently 
 — " I will drive, since Mr Smith is so very kind, but 
 only on one condition, that he does the same. 
 Ah," she continued, turning to him with an arch 
 smile, "you cannot say now you would prefer to 
 walk, after a request like this." 
 
 No, of course he could not say so, but it was 
 rather embarrassing, and he did not know exactly 
 what to say instead. He looked at Helen, looked 
 at the others, and wondered what was expected 
 from him. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 53 
 
 "Perhaps Mr Smith really does prefer it," said 
 Carry. 
 
 "He dares not say so, if he does," said Helen, 
 turning her eyes npon him full of laughter and 
 defiance. "Yes, Mr Smith, I am tired, very tired, 
 and have had quite enough walking for to-day ; 
 but I will not get into your carriage on any other 
 condition. Say, will you come, or not ? " 
 
 He looked at her, smiled, bowed his acquiescence, 
 and she sprang into the carriage. 
 
 "Would not another sister " but the other 
 
 sisters had walked on. 
 
 " I think," said Helen, brightly, " that theij really 
 do prefer it." 
 
 She had gained her point. She meant to have Mr 
 Smith's company, and she meant to have it alone. 
 The means by which this end was attained she did 
 not regard. It would be odd indeed if she could 
 not do as she chose with a fusty old bachelor, 
 and make him think it all right. Now, she had 
 settled, he might as well begin to fall in love 
 with her. 
 
 Her eyes sparkling with fun and triumph, she 
 saw him take his seat opposite, and away they 
 
54 MR SMITH: 
 
 rolled, poor Maria looking rather wistfully after 
 them as they passed. 
 
 "Just fancy ! " was Miss Tolleton's greeting when 
 her sisters arrived home, and ere they could rally 
 her on her successful management. " He had been 
 at the Castle." 
 
 "At the Castle!" 
 
 "And he must have been there more than an 
 hour, for I saw the carriage go by quite early/' 
 
 "At the Castle!" 
 
 " Yes, indeed. I thought you would be surprised. 
 Lord Sauffrenden had called on him last week, and 
 he was returning the visit to-day." 
 
 "DidheteUyou?" 
 
 " Not until I made him, and I had to be careful 
 how I did it too. They must have been as good to 
 him as possible, for they had taken him all over the 
 grounds and gardens, and he seemed quite charmed." 
 
 "How very odd, isn't it?" said Lily, doubtfully. 
 "After the way they behaved to us. "VMiat could 
 have made them treat us so ? I thought they would 
 do the same to every one." 
 
 " Fortunately he never asked if we knew them," 
 continued Helen ; " I daresay he took it for granted. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 55 
 
 It is really very awkward sometimes, and very tire- 
 some. I shouldn't care half so much about it, if it 
 weren't for what people must think." 
 
 " Never mind — let them think what they please/' 
 said Lily, rallying. "They'll think a certain lady 
 has a little touch of the ' green-eyed monster ' about 
 her, perhaps. Now about Mr Smith, the point is, 
 what he thinks?" 
 
 Helen lausjhed. "How can I tell what he 
 thinks?" 
 
 " You can tell well enough, Nelly, when you like. 
 Come, now — did you make the desired impression ? " 
 
 " I am not vain enough to be certain of it." 
 
 "I know you are, though. You think you did 
 wonders, or you wouldn't be in such good-humour. 
 Well, we shall see. There's plenty of time to work 
 him up, as artists say. It all fitted in so well — even 
 poor Maria's blundering speeches turned to good 
 account. But I was afraid she was going to get 
 in herself." 
 
 " Clare would, I believe, but Maria can always be 
 managed. You have no idea what a nice carriage it 
 is, Lily, so delightfully hung, we seemed to be going 
 over velvet all the time." 
 
$6 MR SMITH: 
 
 " I should not have disliked the drive at all," said 
 Lily. " My boots were too tight, and I was far 
 more tired with the walk than you. It was rather 
 hard on me to have to like walking best." 
 
 All this time Carry looked sulky. It was all 
 very well for Helen to appropriate the most spark- 
 ling young officers, and the most devout and 
 dreamy curates ; but of a commonplace old fogy like 
 Mr Smith, she did think she ought to have had a 
 fair chance. Old fogies might just as well take to 
 her as Helen. She was not tired like Lily, and 
 did not on that account care to have a seat in the 
 barouche ; but she would have liked a chance of 
 making that barouche her own. 
 
 Her next speech betrayed a little of this feeling. 
 
 " I'm afraid Mr Smith must have seen that you 
 wanted to go alone with him." 
 
 " So I did, and he was very welcome to see it." 
 
 " He wouldn't think it nice of you." 
 
 " Would he not ? He ought, for it was very nice 
 of me ; most particularly nice, and kind, and com- 
 plimentary. It would be very ungrateful in him to 
 think anything else." 
 
 Helen was not to be put out of humour. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 57 
 
 " Did you meet anybody ? " 
 
 " Not a single creature. I was in hopes of meet- 
 ing Mrs Hunt. I would have given anything to 
 have seen her face." 
 
 " She'll think we're past hope now," said Lily. 
 
 " But seriously, however," said Helen, " we must 
 take a little care with her.* If she asks either 
 of you about it, this was the way — I really was 
 rather overdone, and would have been thankful to 
 any one who offered to take me home. Maria 
 won't be too communicative, will she ? " 
 
 "I can hardly answer for her. You see it was 
 rather unfortunate. But I impressed it on her how 
 tired you really were, and how well she had done 
 in persisting that you should drive. That was the 
 point I pressed home most, and she was quite 
 pleased, and proud of herself at last. The only 
 thing I am afraid of is, that she did not quite see 
 why no one else could have gone too. I think 
 she would have liked to get in, dearly." 
 
 " And what had you to say to that ? " 
 
 " Only that Mr Smith had never suggested it. 
 That he had offered us the empty carriage, but 
 that when we insisted he should not turn jout him- 
 
58 MR SMITH: 
 
 self, he had not pressed more than one to accompany 
 him." 
 
 " He did, however, just as you walked off/' 
 
 "Ah, but Maria never heard that. She thinks 
 he did not want us. What fun it will be if she 
 goes and tells her mother that!" 
 
 Helen laughed again, her excited, successful 
 laugh. The colour was in her pale cheeks now. 
 " It really was great fun. Poor Maria ! She looked 
 so bewildered. And now, isn't it a pity that poor 
 grandmamma should have died just at this time ? We 
 must have Mr Smith here somehow ; who knows 
 what may come of it ? " 
 
 "I don't believe anything will come of it," said 
 Carry. 
 
 " Don't be cross. Carry ; if I don't want him, you 
 shall have the next chance. You would make a 
 famous Mrs Smith." 
 
 " Not much of a compliment in the abstract, what- 
 ever it may be in this particular instance," said 
 Lily. " But I want to be Mrs Smith too." 
 
 " No, you don't, Lily ; you have plenty of time 
 to wait. Carry shall have him before you, if she 
 doesn't make herself disagTeeable." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 59 
 
 " I think he would suit Carry a great deal better 
 than you." 
 
 " Perhaps he might, but I can't let her have him 
 yet ; I must be allowed to try my powers. He is a 
 new sort of subject, and I'm tired of boys," says 
 Miss Helen, saucily. 
 
 " Boys, yes ; but there are degrees, gradations." 
 " All very well in their way, Lily, but the fact is, 
 I have taken this into my head to do, and I mean 
 to do it." 
 
 "You have been so idle lately, I believe this is 
 the mischief found for your ' idle hands to do.' Go 
 on, my friend — go on and prosper. All I want to 
 know is, when you have obtained your victory, what 
 will you do with it ? " 
 
 " When I have obtained it, I will let you know, 
 lily." 
 
 " You would accept him ? " 
 " You will see when the time comes." 
 More than this was not to be won from her. 
 She nodded, and laughed, and looked brimful of 
 audacity and mystery, but she would say no more. 
 She was going to dress — it was quite time, the bell 
 must have rung — and it was no use teasing her ; and 
 
60 MR SMITH: 
 
 then she tossed off her hat, and putting her hand to 
 her hot cheek, sat down, and forgot where she was 
 going to. 
 
 Carry, who glanced every now and then at her 
 sister, could not help wondering what Mr Smith had 
 really thought of Helen. Of course he thought her 
 handsome, but had he been struck by her ? Had 
 he merely approved, admired her, or had he been 
 penetrated ? 
 
 Helen had never looked better in her life. For 
 one thing, she always did look remarkably well in 
 her hat. It was a dark shady felt, very high 
 crowned, with a sable plume falling over her hair at 
 the back. It suited her ; it formed just the proper 
 contrast to the glowing face beneath. 
 
 But would Mr Smith be alive to this ? She 
 doubted it. She doubted his susceptibility, his im- 
 pressibility. Old men don't care about such things. 
 Ten to one he would not think of Helen, and twenty 
 to one Helen would tire of him. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 6 1 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THRUST AND PARRY. 
 
 Mr Smith, however, had thought more than once 
 about Helen. Carry made a mistake in what she 
 said about old men. 
 
 When papa asks some of his dear old cronies to 
 dinner, and they come in high neckcloths and out- 
 of-date black coats, and you girls fancy it does not 
 much matter what you put on — the limp muslin 
 that hangs awry, or the good gown that never did 
 fit well, but which it would be a shame to put away 
 — don't for a moment imagine that they do not 
 see it. 
 
 If you have an ugly and easy way of doing up 
 your hair, keep it for another occasion. It will 
 pass better with young Foodie, who may take it for 
 the new style, than with these old gentlemen. He 
 will bear with it, perhaps even approve of it, if he 
 
62 MR SMITH: 
 
 has only never seen it before; but they will wonder 
 what in the world the child has done to herself. 
 
 No more observant spectator in the world than 
 your silent, unimpressible - looking, innocent old 
 gentleman. 
 
 Mr Smith, who was fifty, although Mrs Hunt 
 denied it, could hardly be called old. He had 
 attained his fiftieth year a few months before he 
 came to Eastworld, and what he was capable of 
 appreciating might therefore be still an open 
 question. 
 
 Driving home with Helen, he had realised the 
 fact that he was in company with a handsome 
 woman. He had seen her delicate profile cut out 
 against the dusky autumnal sky, and felt the fire 
 of her laughing eyes playing upon him, with a cer- 
 tain sense of pleasure. He had noticed the con- 
 trast formed by the shady hat and plume, and had 
 even gone so far as to be impressed with a vague 
 admiration of the slender w^ist, and long white 
 fingers, which the wily maiden took off her glove 
 to display. 
 
 The fingers were industriously engaged in twisting 
 something wrong into right about the hair; and being 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 63 
 
 SO busy, how should it ever occur to him that there 
 was no special need of their services ? Several thick 
 gold rings, having turquoises set in them, showed 
 off by their delicate blue the pure white skin, and 
 he even noticed that. He thought he would never 
 hold turquoises cheap again. On the whole, he 
 had regarded his fair companion with a very reason- 
 able amount of admiration. 
 
 Her tongue did not spoil her beauty. When she 
 spoke, her voice was soft and pleasant, and she knew 
 when to be silent. 
 
 The impression she left was favourable, and she 
 was conscious of it. 
 
 But Mrs Hunt went up to call on the Tolletons 
 next day. 
 
 " Mrs Hunt, wishing to know how !Miss Helen is," 
 announced Corker, generally known as the butler 
 who drank, at Freelands. 
 
 He had come to the dining-room, where the sisters 
 were sitting at luncheon. 
 
 "Who wishes, Corker?" 
 
 " Mrs Hunt. What am I to say. Miss ? " 
 
 " Show her into the drawing-room. What is she 
 come for now?" said Helen, as the man departed. 
 
64 MR SMITH: 
 
 " It is too bad to come at luncheon-time. Can it l3e 
 anything about yesterday ? " 
 
 " It must," said Lily ; " Maria has done it. It is 
 well Maria is not with her ; I think we can manage her 
 alone. Get a shawl, Nelly — you may as well be a little 
 overdone, you know ; and Carry, mind what you say. " 
 
 Helen rushed up- stairs, and met them in the hall, 
 the shawl over her shoulders. ' 
 
 All three then went into the drawing-room, for what- 
 ever might be their internal differences, they were 
 united in presenting a common front in time of 
 battle, and in Mrs Hunt's presence Carry was to 
 be relied upon. 
 
 "I came to inquire after Helen, but the man 
 seemed quite surprised at my doing so," began the 
 doctor's wife, as soon as she had shaken hands. 
 " He made me repeat the question." 
 
 *' Yes, I daresay, seeing her going about as usual," 
 said Lily, looking affectionately at her sister. " You 
 are all right to-day, aren't you, Nelly ? But she was 
 a little overdone yesterday, as perhaps Maria told 
 you?"— to Mrs Hunt. 
 
 Mrs Hunt looked solemnly at Helen. "Maria 
 told me she was ill." 
 
A TART OF HIS LIFE. 6$ 
 
 " Oh no, not ill ; not ill, or I should certainly 
 have sent for the doctor," said. Helen, sending her 
 shaft with a sweet languid smile. "Eeally there 
 was nothing to make a fuss about, thank you, Mrs 
 Hunt ; only these two would have it I had been doing 
 too much. I am really sorry you should have taken 
 the trouble to come all this way. It was very kind." 
 
 Mrs Hunt winced at the mention of the doctor. 
 It suddenly occurred to her how angry her husband 
 would have been, if he had known it could be sup- 
 posed that she had come to see why he had not been 
 summoned. 
 
 " Oh no, not the doctor. Yes, of course it's best 
 
 not to make a fuss. I never do. I, in fact " In 
 
 fact, she did not know what she was saying. She 
 had meant to find Helen in the full tide of health 
 and spirits, and utterly discomfited by the notion of 
 her reported illness — for although Maria had faith- 
 fully narrated the event in the light the sisters had 
 shown it to her, and had neither exaggerated nor 
 misinterpreted, so far as she knew, Mrs Hunt had 
 made her own tale of it. 
 
 The fatigue was illness, that was her first improve- 
 ment ; and had she not taken the false step of making 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
66 MR SMITH: 
 
 her inquiries at the door, instead of waiting to put 
 them in the drawing-room, she might certainly have 
 gained some advantage from it. 
 
 But that mistake put the enemy up to her move. 
 Helen came in with her shawl, looking also white 
 and colourless, since the morning had been wet, and 
 she had been kept to the house. It had been easy 
 to assume a languid air, and the tables were turned. 
 
 Then came the side blow at the doctor, still 
 further to confuse his wife. 
 
 " Well, I'm glad to see you better. You look very 
 well, at any rate," said she, making an effort to re- 
 cover herself. "And the others, too, they had a 
 longer walk still? It was a pity no more of you 
 took advantage of the carriage." 
 
 "Oh, we didn't mind about ourselves — we liked 
 it ! " cried Lily. " We were only so sorry afterwards 
 that we had not made Maria get in. You see, Maria 
 would not own that she was tired till it was too late, 
 because she was so good; she did not like to seem for- 
 ward, when Mr Smith had not expressly asked her." 
 " I understood he did ask her." 
 " Oh no, he didn't. Not so that any of us could 
 accept the offer, at least. He offered us the whole 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 6y 
 
 carriage, yoii know, most kindly, and wanted to 
 jump out and walk the rest of the way himself. As 
 if we could have allowed that! If he wanted to 
 walk, why was he driving ? So then, seeing Helen 
 looked pale, he pressed her, and we made her go. It 
 would have been foolish to make a fuss, you know." 
 
 This was Lily's version of the story. 
 
 Helen, with her cheek still resting on the long 
 white fingers, in the proper attitude of one a little 
 overdone, could not help glancing at her other 
 sister. 
 
 But Carry was faithful. She did not confirm 
 Lily's version ; but neither by word nor look would 
 she throw discredit on it. Helen drew a breath of 
 relief. 
 
 " Well, really, you must have had a pleasant 
 drive," said Mrs Hunt, turning again to her, with a 
 little lauoh. 
 
 " I was very thankful to get it," said she, mildly. 
 
 " And Mr Smith made himself very agreeable, no 
 doubt." 
 
 " No doubt ; but really I was not able to judge. 
 Feeling disinclined to talk, his attentions rather 
 bored me, to tell the truth." 
 
6S MR SMITH: 
 
 " Dear ! An old man like that ! One would not 
 have imagined his attentions could have been so 
 very overwhelming." 
 
 Mrs Hunt gave another little laugh, not nice to 
 hear. 
 
 " He was so very kind." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; it was so very kind of him to stop 
 at all," chimed in LUy. " I am sure he had not even 
 been coming our way, if he had not seen us. He 
 said as much. He came on purpose to offer us the 
 carriage. We had no idea he was anjnvhere about, 
 for we had seen him go by that way hours before." 
 
 "And had you seen him come back?" signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 "Oh dear, no, Mrs Hunt; we had never looked. 
 We had forgotten all about him." 
 
 Lily, you see, did not mind making gratuitous 
 statements. That they were false Mrs Hunt knew, 
 and longed to tell her so, boldly ; but she could only, 
 restrained by the decencies of polite intercourse, ex- 
 press her disbelief in looks, and this naturally fretted 
 her the more. 
 
 " Maria told me " — always poor Maria, the scape- 
 goat — "that you had several disappointments from 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 69 
 
 other carriages that seemed like his in th^ dis- 
 tance." 
 
 "Yes, Maria was disappointed. She thought it 
 was never coming, and we told her probably it had 
 passed long before. But she would not believe us. 
 I can't think what she wants to see, I am sure, in the 
 outside of the barouche." 
 
 " At any rate, that was all she did see of it." 
 
 For her life Mrs Hunt could not repress so much, 
 though even as the words escaped her lips, she knew 
 they were unwise. 
 
 She was fast losing ground. She was saying 
 things she never meant to say. They seemed to be 
 wrung out of her without her consent and against 
 her will. She gave Lily a step at every turn, and 
 Lily was not slow to take it. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Mrs Hunt ; you seem to think we 
 ought to have made Maria get in. I am sure I wish 
 we had, it would have been so much pleasanter for 
 Helen too. How could we be so stupid ? I am sure 
 I would gladly have gone myself," continued she, 
 getting into the regions of truth at last ; " for my boots 
 were too tight, and I was tired besides; but really I did 
 not see how to do it without appearing to intrude.' 
 
70 MR SMITH: 
 
 On the whole, Mrs Hunt gained nothing by her 
 visit. She and Lily had had a passage of arms, 
 and Lily had come off the victor. 
 
 The facts remained the same, and she had acquired 
 additional certainty that the Tolletons were acting 
 up to her prediction. 
 
 On this point she pronounced emphatically, as soon 
 as she returned home. 
 
 Maria and Clare peevishly demurred. Whatever 
 the Tolletons did, mamma was down upon them. 
 The Tolletons never spoke against her, as she did 
 against them. Why could she not let them 
 alone? Mamma went and cross-questioned them, 
 Maria and Clare, and then made up all sorts of 
 things they had never said, and it was very hard, 
 and the Tolletons would think it very unkind of 
 them. 
 
 Mamma always fancied the Tolletons meant all sorts 
 of things they had never even thought of ; and Clare 
 even went so far as to revolt, and declare she would 
 never tell her mother anything again, if she went 
 making mischief in that way. 
 
 Clare, however, had threatened this before now. 
 She and Maria had long since learnt that it was their 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 7 1 
 
 best policy to keep quiet about a number of things 
 the Tolletons did. 
 
 They never saw the sinister meanings so plain to 
 their mother's eye. They never spied out nasty 
 motives and sneers, and things behind the scenes, as 
 she did. In short, Mrs Hunt told them bluntly, that 
 they could no more put two and two together than 
 if they were blind bats and deaf adders. 
 
 They, in their turn, thought her bitterly unjust. 
 They would fain have shielded their friends from her 
 undeserved vituperations. They would have hidden 
 them from her arrows. 
 
 This, however, was a vain hope. Do what they 
 would, they could not keep the Tolletons out of their 
 mouths. If they had an opinion to oflfer, it had been 
 gained at Freelands. If there was a book to be read, 
 a picture to be seen, a concert, a lecture, anything 
 they wished to go to, she knew who had told them of it. 
 It followed that she then scoffed at the Tolletons, and 
 went to the lecture. The lecture, or whatever it was, 
 was all very well, but those girls must be gadding 
 about for ever. It wasn't one thing or another, but 
 they were always finding out this and that, instead of 
 staying at home, and minding their own business. 
 
^2 MR SMITH: 
 
 Up to the present time this general strain of con- 
 demnation had been all wherewith she blighted the 
 Tolletons. She had had no specific complaint to 
 make of them. Whatever they did she disapproved, 
 of course ; but far from carrying her disapprobation 
 any further, she was perhaps the only mother in the 
 neighbourhood who permitted her daughters unre- 
 strained intercourse with the free and fast Miss 
 Tolletons. 
 
 A new era, however, had now set in. She had 
 grounds on which to base her disapproval. The 
 Tolletons meant to have Mr Smith for Helen, and 
 she meant to have him for Maria. This was, as it 
 appeared to her, the unvarnished statement of a 
 truth. She could not say so, of course, aloud — the 
 latter part of the statement, at least ; but it sank 
 into her mind, and whenever she now spoke of the 
 Tolletons, it was rarely without connecting their 
 names with that of the new landlord at the Hill. 
 
 " Vulgar woman ! " exclaimed Helen, passionately, 
 as soon as their visitor had departed. "She got 
 quite insolent at last. We shall have to put a stop 
 to this. I wonder you had the patience to answer 
 her, Lily ; I am sure I couldn't." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 73 
 
 " I think I answered her pretty well," said Lily, 
 with modest confidence. 
 
 " Indeed you did. But it was as well, perhaps, 
 that she had left Maria behind." 
 
 " I wouldn't be poor Maria when her mother goes 
 home. She won't know what to make of it at all. 
 But she really did want to see the barouche, and she 
 will stand to that, I know." 
 
 "She would stand to anything she thought we 
 wanted," said Helen, " so long as we could persuade 
 her it was the truth. The worst of Maria is, you 
 have to be so dreadfully particular with her. I am 
 sure, to make her believe one story, I often have to 
 tell such a number, that she ought to be held respon- 
 sible for them all. But she is a good creature, and 
 would do anything for us, if it is only pointed out to 
 her, so that she can't mistake the way. After all, 
 Lily, I am almost sorry we did not let her come with 
 me yesterday. It would have saved appearances ; 
 and she is such a nonentity, you know, she would 
 have been no more than a block of wood sitting by. 
 The poor thing would have enjoyed it so much, I 
 really wish we had let her." 
 
 " I had reasons for being determined," said Lily. 
 
74 MR smith: 
 
 " I wasn't only helping your little flirtation, Miss 
 Helen. You won't tell me what you are up to, but 
 I suspect there may be a serious end to this, and I 
 approve," nodding significantly ; " so now I mean to 
 give my poor assistance, and you will see I am no 
 mean ally either." 
 
 ^'But what were your most sapient reasons for 
 excluding Maria ? " said Helen, laughing. 
 
 " I'll tell you. It was not so much for her inter- 
 ference as this. You see the Hunts don't know Mr 
 Smith yet. Now, if he had driven Maria home, of 
 course Dr Hunt must have called at once. The only 
 reason he has not done it yet, is because he thinks 
 it best to hang back at first, being the doctor. He 
 hates to be thought professional, you know. But 
 all the time he is dying for some excuse to take him 
 to the Hill. I know, by the way he questioned us 
 yesterday, and tried to find out who had been and 
 who had not. " 
 
 " How could he expect you to know ? " 
 
 " I suppose he thought I could watch who went 
 by ; as if I cared to do that. JNIrs Hunt would, I 
 daresay ; she is always at that bow- window of hers." 
 
 " But we can't see the road." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 75 
 
 " Yes, we can, from our window, and he knows 
 that well enough ; for he stood looking out that day 
 I was ill, and remarked about the Fultons' waggon- 
 ette, don't you remember ? That's not what I want 
 to say, however. The thing is, to keep him as long 
 as possible from knowing Mr Smith." 
 
 "And I can't imagine why. Do you think I'm 
 afraid of the fair Maria's charms? What can it 
 matter whether he knows him or not ? " 
 
 "It matters because Dr Hunt never did like 
 papa. You know how papa can't bear him; and 
 he always takes these dislikes to people who are bad 
 to him. He must have heard something of the sort, 
 for he was quite ready to be friends at one time. 
 So, if Dr Hunt goes to Mr Smith and laughs at papa, 
 
 it would be a great pity, supposing, you know " 
 
 nodding again with emphasis. " Now, can't you see 
 why it is best these two should be kept apart a little 
 longer, if possible ? " 
 
 In two things Lily was right. She was right in 
 saying' that Dr Hunt did not like her father, and 
 also that he was very desirous of becoming ac- 
 quainted with Mr Smith. He had ascertained that 
 others, besides Mr Tolleton, had called at the Hill. 
 
j6 MR SMITH: 
 
 Mr Eodney, the curate, had returned from Wales, 
 and had called immediately on his arrival. The 
 Deanes had called. Captain Wellwood had called. 
 More than all these, Lord Sauffrenden had called. 
 He felt that the time had come when Dr Hunt might 
 call. 
 
 The only drawback to his doing so now, was his 
 wife. She never knew when to let well alone ; and 
 having seized on the definite project of her husband's 
 going to the Hill, so chafed and worried him by her 
 perpetual harping on the subject, that he had done 
 as she desired, a whole day, before he would give 
 her the satisfaction of knowing it. Mrs Hunt said it 
 was too bad of him, but she said it with a sparkling 
 eye. Now, indeed, she felt that she had entered 
 the lists. 
 
 Helen Tolleton was a formidable foe, and her heart 
 had sunk within her bosom when she left Freelands 
 after the passage of arms before narrated. But she 
 thought, nay, she felt sure, that during the succeed- 
 ing week, at the end of which the doctor had left his 
 card, nothing more had passed between Mr Smith 
 and their neighbours at Freelands. 
 
 The Tolletons had not asked ]\Ir Smith to dinner. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 7/ 
 
 or if they had, he had not gone. For once in her 
 life she inclined to the more charitable view, and 
 believed they had not asked him. But it was hardly 
 from charity, so much as from instinct, that she be- 
 lieved it. She felt uncomfortably certain that if he 
 had been asked he would have gone. And she was 
 right. He would have gone, with a great deal of 
 pleasure. 
 
 But the Tolletons had not asked him, although 
 it was now nearly three weeks since their grand- 
 mother's death. They had consulted with each 
 other, and felt that it was better not. 
 
 Not having been at home when Mr Tolleton 
 called, Mr Smith, it is true, knew nothing of the 
 recent loss in their family ; but it had so happened 
 that during his drive with Helen, he had made some 
 remarks which made her feel sure he would be par- 
 ticular on a point like this. She had herself led to 
 these remarks. She wished to find out what he 
 thought. 
 
 All through the drive, even when she was most 
 engaged in rendering herself engaging, she was care- 
 fully studying her companion. Would he only do 
 for a passing hour, or was it worth while to think of 
 
78 MR SMITH: 
 
 the future ? She was twenty-one, and tired of being 
 Miss Tolleton. This man might suit her, and if so, 
 everything else was all that she desired. 
 
 Now, how about her suiting him? For a short 
 tete-a-tete her first appearance was sufficient. She 
 was not vain of her looks — not one half as vain as 
 many a one without a tithe of her beauty ; but she 
 had learnt, as she could hardly help learning, its 
 value. 
 
 That Mr Smith should be struck at first sight — that 
 he should be more than struck, stricken, in a sober, 
 middle-aged, helpless sort of way — was what she ex- 
 pected ; but she must look to her weapons if she 
 meant to subdue him further. After her second 
 interview, she knew that she had so far succeeded. 
 
 As they rolled along, sitting opposite to each 
 other, she swiftly felt convinced of this. She knew 
 that he was looking at her. She knew that when he 
 turned his face to notice the sombre sky with its 
 thin struggling sunset, he was furtively watching 
 her face instead. 
 
 He was not young nor handsome, but he knew 
 how to talk, and he knew how to look. He was not 
 insensible, nay, he was creeping within her influence. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 79 
 
 All this was deligMful. She enjoyed it as a new 
 sensation. She must have him. All that remained 
 to be determined was, whether he should have her. 
 
 This was the under-current which gave a reality, 
 a depth, to the drama. This was the doubt, the 
 wonder, the exciting, alluring theme which absorbed 
 her thoughts. She had not made up her mind, nor 
 did she mean to make it up hurriedly, but she would 
 wait and see. 
 
 Ten thousand a-year ! That meant a great deal. 
 London seasons. Continental tours, presentations, 
 honours, and pleasures. That was what ten thousand 
 a-year would give her, and she knew of nothing 
 better that life could yield. 
 
 Then, on the other hand, a little plain elderly man, 
 not insignificant, and by no means disagreeable. 
 She thought it might do. If it came to anything. 
 This was her feeling — a feeling between jest and 
 earnest, which caused her to look back upon that 
 dusky drive in the November twilight as to one of 
 the most curiously pleasant things in her life. 
 
80 MR SMITH: 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 can't you say the T'sf 
 
 When Dr Hunt had left his card at the house 
 on the Hill, he had relieved his mind of a great 
 weight. 
 
 Now he could talk to Mr Smith when they met 
 one another. Now he could overtake him coming 
 out of church, and jump into the same railway- 
 carriage. Now he could look forward with a very 
 sure and happy confidence to many a snug bachelor 
 dinner in that snug bachelor dining - room, for 
 which, even with its extra surreptitious glass of 
 port afterwards, he would have no opposition to 
 face from his wife. She would be ready to forward 
 all friendly intercourse of this kind, and he, in 
 return, would make her welcome to get Mr Smith 
 for a son-in-law, if she could. 
 
 He saw nothing degrading to her, his daughters, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 8 1 
 
 or himself, in such a proceeding. As long as his 
 one foible was regarded, he was careless of the 
 rest. As long as he was met on equal grounds, 
 and was not called " doctor," he was satisfied. 
 
 It was an old offence of Lord Sauffrenden's, this 
 calling him " doctor ; " but he could pardon in Lord 
 Sauffrenden what he could not in any other man. 
 No one else did so. Whether Dr Hunt merely 
 told anecdotes in which his friends called him 
 " Hunt," or whether he more distinctly conveyed 
 it to the minds of his auditors that so he liked to 
 be called, matters not ; his end was attained. 
 
 Mr Smith, who could not call him " Hunt " at 
 this early period in their acquaintance, at least did 
 not call him "doctor;" and when, in the course 
 of conversation, he alluded to his companion as a 
 neighbour, Dr Hunt's ambition was fully satisfied. 
 To be regarded as a neighbour was the desire of 
 his life. To be neighbourly included his entire 
 creed. '' And I hope you like the neighbourhood?" 
 was invariably his third question. 
 
 To this Mr Smith had replied that, so far, he 
 liked the neighbourhood very much indeed. 
 
 Less, indeed, it would have been difficult to say 
 VOL. L F 
 
82 MR SMITH: 
 
 witli politeness, but his manner expressed sincerity. 
 The neighbourhood, so far as he knew it, was 
 peopled by Lord and Lady Sauffrenden, and the 
 three Miss Tolletons, and he liked them all. He 
 would have said, at all events, unhesitatingly, that 
 he liked them all, but the truth was that he had 
 barely exchanged half-a-dozen words with any but 
 Helen. He had called at Freelands, of course, and 
 they had sat demurely by while she talked, and had 
 risen, and given him their hands politely afterwards. 
 That was all he knew of them. 
 
 Mr Eodney he had only seen in church, the 
 Deanes he had missed likewise, and Captain Well- 
 wood was still away among the woodcocks. 
 
 One afternoon, however, shortly after this, he met 
 Philip himself, just arrived by the train. Ha^dng 
 been a little surprised at being obliged to call on 
 Mr Smith, and having since forgotten all about him. 
 Captain Wellwood was naturally again a little sur- 
 prised at being greeted by a stranger in his native 
 place. He remembered, however, almost instantly, 
 who he was. They met in a lonely part of the 
 road. The other passengers were far advanced 
 in front, and there was a momentary awkward- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 83 
 
 ness. Then Mr Smith raised his hat and 
 stopped. 
 
 " I was sorry to be out when you kindly called on 
 me, Captain Wellwood " (he had not forgotten that 
 Captain Wellwood was the first of his new neigh- 
 bours who had done so), " and to find you were from 
 home afterwards. You have your gun-case — good 
 sport, I hope ? " 
 
 " Well, no ; very bad. No frost, and no hope of 
 it." Captain Wellwood was not in the best of 
 humours. 
 
 " Ah, indeed ; very warm here, too. Quite un- 
 seasonable." 
 
 " The hounds been doing well ? " 
 
 " There was a fine run several days ago, but they 
 didn't kill. I had the whole hunt up about my 
 house for upwards of an hour, and then the}^ 
 went round by the river, and across the country 
 beyond." 
 
 " Where did they lose him ? " 
 
 " Beyond Mentonharst, but I am not certain 
 where." 
 
 " You were not with them ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry to say I don't hunt. I had not the 
 
84 MR SMITH: 
 
 chance when I was young, and I hardly fancy 
 beginning now." 
 
 " Oh, better late than never. Lots of fellows 
 don't take to it just at first. Lord Sauffrenden's 
 home again ? " 
 
 " Yes. Don't let me keep you standing here in 
 the cold wind. You have not been walking as I 
 have. Good morning. I hope we may have many 
 other " 
 
 " Good morning. Oh yes, certainly." 
 
 What in the world had made the Sauffrendens 
 ask him to call ? Not Sauffrenden, of course ; he 
 did not wonder at him. He would make friends 
 with every odd-come-short within a hundred miles 
 if he could, but his wife was different. He had a 
 great opinion of Lady Saufii-enden, partly owing, per- 
 haps, to the fact that she, like himself, was apt to pick 
 and choose her acquaintances. Sauffrenden would 
 have walked arm in arm with a street scavenger if 
 he happened to take his fancy, and readily rubbed 
 shoulders with far more trying people — those half-and- 
 halfs whom it is regarded by many as particularly 
 necessary to keep at a distance, if they themselves are 
 to remain the immaculate things Nature has made 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 85 
 
 tliem. Such an idea would have been scouted by 
 Sauffrenden. What ! a guinea become silver by rub- 
 bing against a shilling ! Only silver-gilt rubs off. 
 
 Captain Wellwood could not be compared to 
 silver-gilt. He was gold — true gold — but not the 
 22-carat gold of his friend. There was some alloy 
 in him. He said to himself that it was all very well 
 for Bob Sauffrenden, who was now a peer and a 
 great man, to do as he chose in such matters, but 
 for him it was different. He had no handle to his 
 name to show who he was, and consequently every 
 low fellow without eyes to see the difference, unless 
 pointed out by Burke, thought he had a right to 
 hang on to him in a way that could not be done to 
 •' a lord." Sauffrenden was a nuisance in that way, 
 and, but for his wife, would have been twice as bad. 
 Philip had often cause to bless her, and there was 
 only one point on which they were at issue. 
 
 She would not know the ToUetons, and he 
 would not give up knowing them. 
 
 Until lately the Tolletons had known everybody, 
 and Captain Wellwood among the rest. Like other 
 people, he talked of the girls as handsome and 
 good fun, and like other people he stopped there. 
 
86 MR SMITH : 
 
 Marry tliem ? He thought not. 
 
 He liked to go to the house. Everything there 
 was pleasant. Old ToUeton gave a capital dinner, 
 and there was a nice cover for pheasants, which 
 some were ill-natured enough to say he kept on 
 purpose for his daughters' lovers. 
 
 The young man had never declared himself a 
 lover, and showed no intentions of doing any- 
 thing of the kind; indeed it was alleged that had 
 these been demanded of him, he would have declared 
 they were not forthcoming ; but still he was made 
 welcome to the pheasant-shooting. He had not 
 fulfilled Helen's hopes, but he remained perfectly 
 good friends with her in her despair. Before the 
 Sauffrendens, as the Sauffrendens, existed, he had 
 gone to Freelands openly and often. Half admir- 
 ing, half scoffing, it is true, but without a thought 
 of hindrance. 
 
 The girls were very young — they were hardly 
 grown up ; there was but a year between each ; 
 and had they been like most others, it is probable 
 the youngest would have been still in the school- 
 room. But who was to keep her there? Not 
 Helen; she found Carry dull company, and eman- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 8/ 
 
 cipated Lily the moment she desired it. Not 
 their father ; he got rid of the expense, and took 
 their word for it their education was complete. 
 Mother they had none. She had died when they 
 were little more than infants. The only guidance 
 they received of any sort came from their father's 
 sister, who, worldly, ambitious, proud of her nieces' 
 looks, and impatient for the success which should 
 attend her chaperonage of them, hurried on their 
 accomplishments, filled their minds with ideas of 
 future triumphs, impressed on them rules and 
 maxims such as might have originated from the 
 lips of Lord Chesterfield, and then died at the 
 very commencement of the season which should 
 have seen Helen launched on her career. 
 
 The prospect was all changed. Now there was 
 no opening left. Every year, it is true, they 
 went to London, but each time the expedition was 
 felt to be a failure. They preferred to run riot at 
 home. 
 
 They 'chattered and flirted, and men encouraged 
 and admired. They grew reckless, and came to 
 be talked about. That was their history. 
 
 Nobody spoke to them, nobody reasoned with 
 
88 MR SMITH: 
 
 them, or counselled them, or tried to lead them 
 into better ways ; they only either whispered about 
 them, or laughed at them. 
 
 They were bold, forward girls, and should never 
 be intimate at their house. They would come to 
 no good. They would marry scapegraces. 
 
 But still people went to Freelands, and w^ere 
 glad of the Miss ToUetons to grace their balls. 
 It was not till Lady Sauffrenden came, that the 
 false smile changed into a frown. She refused 
 their acquaintance, and immediately everybody 
 who had it, felt ashamed. Some boldly threw 
 them over at once ; others gradually cooled. But 
 the most continued to keep on a sort of contra- 
 band trade with the house, avoiding all public 
 recognitions, and invariably looking round before 
 they entered the avenue gates. If their names 
 were mentioned, even though Lady Sauffrenden 
 were not present, a guilty look invariably appeared 
 on the faces of the company. If she were, they 
 appeared suddenly stricken deaf and dumb. 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden confided the case to Captain 
 Wellwood. "She says the girls are forward, and 
 that sort of thing. Between ourselves, she was dis- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 89 
 
 gusted with Lily's behaviour at the ball we had 
 when the manoeuvres were going on. They are bad 
 style, you know, and anyway she won't have them 
 at Sauffrenden." 
 
 After that Philip had never enjoyed the pheasant- 
 shooting without a sense of guilt. He did not 
 mean to give it up, and felt utter contempt for 
 such as had renounced their friends at the will 
 of another ; but he had a little, a very little, of 
 the contraband sensation. 
 
 He went as often as before to Freelands, but 
 hid the fact at Sauffrenden. It is hard if a man 
 may not have his pheasant-shooting because the 
 girls are bad style. He did not flirt. He had 
 given them early notice that none of the three 
 need expect to be asked to become Mrs Philip 
 Wellwood ; and the result was, that he was accus- 
 tomed to have his day's sport, his good dinner, and 
 musical evening, all very pleasantly — the parties 
 understanding each other, and taking the agree- 
 ment in 'good part. Helen, when Captain Well- 
 wood became her despair, or in other words her 
 platonic, cool admirer, found he was still worth 
 a bouquet for his button-hole, and a flower in her 
 
90 MR SMITH: 
 
 own hair. The other two, finding him not so 
 engrossed with the beauty as might have been 
 expected, were pleased to share his general atten- 
 tions. Mr Tolleton, who would not have dared 
 to say "No," if his imperious young friend had 
 demanded the hand of a daughter in marriage, 
 being entirely submissive to these daughters' sway, 
 was nevertheless well pleased that there was no 
 such poor prospect, either for his darling Helen, 
 or for her sisters. He had no inclination to dis- 
 pose of the comfortable eight or ten thousand he 
 could leave to each of them, where there were only 
 as many hundreds a-year to meet them half-way. 
 
 Any idea of demanding Captain Wellwood's in- 
 tentions never entered his head. 
 
 Accordingly, the more certainly indifferent Philip 
 became, the better he seemed to get on with each 
 and all at Freelands, and the more he enjoyed going 
 there. He was good friends, and nothing further. 
 
 All this was very pleasant, but it gave umbrage 
 to Lord Sauffrenden. 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden, in his sociable, w^himsical, kindly- 
 affectioned, perfectly proper and respectable way, 
 yearned after the Tolletons. He could not bear to 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 9I 
 
 hear of other people going where he did not go. He 
 hankered after their parties, carefully watched their 
 movements, learnt what they did, and where they 
 went. He had never spoken to one of the three in 
 his life, but he knew which was which perfectly 
 well, and, better than any one else did, what each one 
 was. He knew that Carry was stupid, and that 
 Lily was clever ; that Lily drew like an artist, and 
 that Helen sang only rather well. 
 
 He knew that Lily was the one who chiefly 
 brought the family into disrepute, and that Helen 
 could behave herself as well as anybody when she 
 chose. 
 
 How he knew what he knew, it would have been 
 difficult to guess. All he needed to know was — 
 themselves ; and that knowledge was unattainable. 
 
 It was Lady Sauffrenden, as we have said, who 
 made it so ; and it was the only point on which she 
 and Philip differed. He wondered if Mr Smith were 
 to be another. He saw nothing in Mr Smith but a 
 little stout man turning grey, whose having ten 
 thousand a-year was rather an offence to him. If 
 he were to be set up as anything else, it would 
 be simply ridiculous. 
 
92 MR SMITH: 
 
 " Nice fellow that Smith, isn't he ? " began Lord 
 SauJBTrenden, soon after his friend appeared at the 
 Castle. " Milly told me you called — thanks. I think 
 we shall find him an acquisition." 
 
 " I called, as Lady Sauffrenden asked me," with 
 a touch of significance. 
 
 " Yes, well, I asked her. The fact is, the Lorrimers 
 spoke to me to get him well introduced." 
 
 " Is he a friend of the Lorrimers ? " 
 
 "Oh, by George! yes. The greatest friend they 
 have. Stayed with them, travelled with them, lived 
 with them, in fact, for years. They think there's 
 nobody like him." 
 
 This, of course, had all to be sifted ; but even after 
 that process, there remained a good deal of extra- 
 ordinary matter. 
 
 " Milly was delighted with him too," Lord Sauf- 
 frenden ran on. "Were you not, Milly? Wliat 
 was that you said about him? She hit him off 
 exactly, Philip, but I forget what it was." 
 
 " So do I," said Milly, smiling. " It is too much 
 to expect me both to say wonderful things, and to 
 remember them afterwards." 
 
 " Well, I don't know. At any rate you liked him." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 93 
 
 " I did like him, very much." 
 
 " The Lorrimers have put her up to it," reflected 
 Philip. 
 
 " Seen the house, PhH ? " 
 
 "When I went to call." 
 
 " Splendid rooms, I'm told." 
 
 " There ought to be. It's a large building. What 
 will he do with it ? " 
 
 " Do ! Marry and settle. That's what he ought 
 to do, at all events. I have been racking my brains 
 to find a wife for him." 
 
 " My dear SaufFrenden 1 " exclaimed his wife, 
 laughing. " Was that why you were going over all 
 the daughters of the land the other day ? I had no 
 idea you had this in your head. AVhy, he is quite an 
 elderly man." 
 
 " All the more reason why he should look sharp. 
 Elderly? He's nothing of the sort. Nobody is 
 elderly till he's sixty or seventy nowadays. Of 
 course that was what I was thinking of, and if he 
 does not help himself soon, I shall make bold to 
 help him." 
 
 " He is not thinking of helping himself, I should 
 say." 
 
94 MR SMITH: 
 
 " That shows how little you know about it, Milly. 
 You don't keep your ears open, as I do. I say, if he 
 does not find a wife quickly, you and I must find 
 one for him." 
 
 " And where am I to find one ?" 
 
 " Ah, that's your business. He would be a good 
 match for anybody. But wait a little ; perhaps he 
 will do without our assistance. Come along and 
 take a turn, Philip." 
 
 So saying, and nodding sagaciously. Lord Sauf- 
 frenden closed the door. 
 
 " I'll tell you more about that, now we are by our- 
 selves," said he, when they had taken down caps and 
 sticks. " I have my own reasons for what I said 
 just now. Wait a minute. Don't go that way ; I 
 want you to come and see the new dog. He's here, 
 and I think promises well." 
 
 " Where have you kennelled him ? " 
 
 "Next door to Gyp. Look now, what do you 
 think of his head? First-rate, isn't it? Well 
 marked, too. I think he'll do, eh ? " 
 
 " If he does as well as he looks, I should say he 
 would. It's the same you bespoke in September, 
 isn't it?" 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 95 
 
 "Yes, from Bushe. But he only came on Thurs- 
 day. Well done, old boy, well done ! Knows me, 
 you see. Yes, I think he'll do, on the whole. Then 
 here are the pups." 
 
 The pups were duly seen and handled, and no 
 more was said about Mr Smith. 
 
 They were at some distance from the house, and 
 Philip, to whom the subject was indifferent, had 
 forgotten it altogether, when his companion suddenly 
 began — '' But I was to tell you about Mr Smith. 
 Oh, and first, have you seen the ToUetons since you 
 came back ? " 
 
 Yes, he had. The truth was, that he had met Mr 
 ToUeton the day before, who, as a matter of course, 
 invited him in to dinner. With the choice between 
 good cheer and good company, and poor fare with 
 none to share it, the temptation had been irresistible. 
 He had gone to Freelands, not intending to mention 
 it at Sauffrenden. 
 
 Gone, however, he had, and Lord Sauffrenden's 
 face fell. 
 
 Why could he not go? Why should his friend 
 go where he did not? Why should the Tolletons 
 be considered a sort of forbidden fruit, of which 
 
g6 MR SMITH: 
 
 Philip miglit eat and not be harmed, whereas it 
 would be unwholesome for him ? 
 
 He felt, like every one else from Eve downwards, 
 that there was something inexpressibly alluring in 
 the forbiddenness, and it did seem hard that others 
 should partake of what he was debarred from, even 
 if it had to be done under the rose. 
 
 This complaint, however, could not be uttered 
 aloud. 
 
 Philip made his confession with the guilty air 
 which inevitably accompanied it, and Sauffrenden 
 did his best to receive it with a look of absolution. 
 
 "Ah, indeed! Yoa have seen them? Then 
 perhaps you know all about it already? Perhaps 
 you can guess how they have been amusing them- 
 selves since you went away ? " 
 
 '' No, indeed ; they did not tell me. Anything in 
 particular ? " 
 
 ''Why, yes. It's too good a joke not to be some- 
 thing in particular. They have been setting their 
 caps at Smith ! That was what I meant in the 
 drawing-room." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " 
 
 "It's a fact. I can tell you all about it. But 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 97 
 
 don't make mention up there, you know," pointing 
 to the house. "There's no need for her to know 
 anything about it. She likes Smith, and it might 
 put her against him. I don't want that done." 
 
 Philip was laughing loudly. 
 
 "But listen — you haven't heard the half," proceeded 
 the narrator, with the keenest relish. "I can tell 
 you all that took place. He was up here one day, 
 and drove. Well, he was on his way home, when he 
 overtook the three walking, and the upshot was that 
 Helen got into the carriage, and drove off alone with 
 him ! " 
 
 " You don't say so ! " 
 
 " I tell you it's a fact.'* 
 
 "But who told you?" 
 
 ''The best person in the world, Dr Hunt. His 
 girls were there too, or one of them was, and she 
 went straight to her parents with the story. Of 
 course one can't tell how much to believe, but the 
 fact remains that she did it. That I can swear to, 
 for Hislop met them." 
 
 " And what did he say ? " 
 
 "I asked him if he had seen Mr Smith yet. I 
 knew he had, you know, for I went down the road 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
98 MR SMITH: 
 
 to meet him soon after Smith left, so he must have 
 passed the carriage somewhere. He said ' Yes/ with 
 a broad grin, and that he must be a kind-hearted 
 gentleman, for he was giving a young lady a lift. 
 However, he couldn't tell me which of them it was, 
 or anything more, so I went off next day and met 
 the doctor, who spontaneously gave me the whole 
 history. Helen was the one." 
 
 ''I daresay she asked him." 
 
 "I daresay she did. But the doctor's tale was 
 that they were all invited, but none of the others 
 would accept. His girl, at any rate, declined." 
 
 "What a thumper!" 
 
 " Of course. Smith knows better than to ask her 
 — a spotty-faced thing, like a ferret ! " 
 
 <'Well done, Helen!" ejaculated Philip. "WeU 
 done, fair Helen ! brave Helen ! I couldn't have be- 
 lieved it, even of Helen ! " 
 
 " But mind you don't let it out to Milly." 
 
 " Who ? I ? What should I let it out for ? How- 
 ever, if it comes to anything, she will hear of it fast 
 enough." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. But then it may not come to 
 anything, and there would be no harm done." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 99 
 
 " Do you think it will ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? You know them ; I don't." 
 
 Philip winced. ''You would know them too, 
 Sauffrenden, if it were not for your wife." 
 
 " Of course I should, my dear fellow ; I'm not say- 
 ing anything as to that. Bachelors know lots of 
 girls they couldn't if they had wives." 
 
 " But after all, you know, it is but fair to say they 
 are not worse than numbers of others. They don't 
 manage to keep it dark, as some do ; but in reality 
 they are not half as bad as they're made out. I must 
 
 say I think it's rather a shame of some people " 
 
 Here he stopped suddenly, remembering that Lady 
 Sauffrenden was one of the people he was refer- 
 ring to. 
 
 " Well, I think it is. But, you see, Milly's at the 
 bottom of it," said her husband, frankly. "She's 
 rather sharp on girls ; and, of course, she would not 
 like that about Smith." 
 
 Philip was silent. He did know, and he could not 
 deny it: it chafed him. Sauffrenden, who would 
 know people in spite of everybody, who had intro- 
 duced him to many an acquaintance he would fain 
 have avoided, had one elevation on which he took 
 
100 MR SMITH: 
 
 his stand superior — and that ground was the Tol- 
 letons. 
 
 He knew that Sauffrenden longed after the ToUe- 
 tons. He knew that all the time he plumed himself 
 on abstaining from intercourse with them, it was be- 
 cause he felt this to be the only compensation for 
 their loss. And when he had called on Mr Smith, 
 on purpose to please his friend, he did feel it to 
 be rather hard that it was through Mr Smith the 
 naughty girls were now in fresh disgrace. 
 
 Therefore he was silent. 
 
 By the time they had come under the drawing- 
 room windows again, however, he had thought of 
 something to say. 
 
 " After all, you know, the Tolletons " 
 
 "Take care," interrupted Sauffrenden quickly, 
 and glancing up at the windows ; " don't say the 
 name so loud. Can't you say tlie Ts, and then no 
 one will know who it is ? " 
 
 " What does it signify ? " 
 
 "Why, you see," with a little of the guilty air 
 himself, " she's always catching me at it. I don't 
 know how it is, but as surely as I happen to say a 
 word about them — the — the Ts, you know — a bird in 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. lOI 
 
 the air carries it all over the place. So, of course, 
 she thinks I'm always at it. There now, you see." 
 For at this moment out stepped Lady Sauffrenden 
 from the conservatory — a bunch of flowers in one 
 hand, and a pair of garden scissors in the other. 
 
 " Well, dear," said her husband, accosting her 
 rather anxiously, "who are these for? Not me, I 
 know ; you never give me bouquets now." 
 
 " You get one nearly every day," retorted the little 
 lady, good-humouredly. " And you don't deserve 
 them for telling such stories. These are for the 
 drawing-room." Then to Captain Well wood — " Have 
 you any engagement for Friday ? " 
 
 No, he had none for any day. 
 
 " What's Friday, Milly ? " Her husband arrested 
 the invitation. 
 
 " Mr Smith is coming to dinner, and the Fultons, 
 and one or two others. I hope Captain Wellwood 
 will come too ? " 
 
 " Will you come, Philip ? " 
 
 " Certainly I will come ; I always come when 
 Lady Sauffrenden asks me." 
 
 " And bring Jumper ? " 
 
 " Jumper will be very happy." ♦ 
 
102 MR SMITH: 
 
 " I daresay Smith would drive you over if he 
 knew." 
 
 " Oh, why should he ? " 
 
 "Save the Buck. But, of course, four miles is 
 nothing to him." 
 
 " I like the walk, if it's fine. I shan't take the 
 Buck." 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden pressed her husband's arm, and 
 no more was said. 
 
 " He did not like your suggestion of Mr Smith's 
 driving him," said she, as soon as they were alone. 
 
 '( Why should he dislike it ? I would do it myself." 
 
 " Yes, you ; but Philip is different." She always 
 called him " Philip " when they were by themselves. 
 
 " How is he different ? I don't see the difference. 
 I thought it would be a convenience to him, as he 
 has only one horse at present." 
 
 " That's it ; if he had half our horses he wouldn't; 
 mind." 
 
 " My dear child, what nonsense you talk ! If he 
 had half our horses, why should he care to save 
 them? If he had even his usual two, it wouldn't 
 matter so much ; but he is saving Buck up till after 
 Christmas. I know that is why he won't go out 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. IO3 
 
 with the hounds now. He'll have his other one 
 then ; but he doesn't want the old fellow knocked 
 up. I knew he would be glad to save him ; that 
 was why I thought of Smith." 
 
 " You silly boy/' began she, laughing ; " that was 
 just why he didn't like it. He didn't like the idea 
 of saving himself at Mr Smith's expense. Poor 
 men are a great deal more particular about such 
 matters than rich ones. I quite agree with him." 
 
 " Oh, don't you teach me. Mill. I know fellows who 
 would sponge on anybody for the sake of saving 
 their pockets a shilling." 
 
 " It is not because they are poor, then, but because 
 they are mean." 
 
 " They are poor too. Being poor makes them mean." 
 
 " No, no, it isn't so, Sauffrenden," cried she, warmly ; 
 " that isn't the reason at all. It has nothing to do 
 with their being poor. Mean people will be mean, 
 if they were as rich as Croesus ; but if they are not 
 mean-minded, they will take more care about not 
 appearing so when they are poor, than they would 
 if they were rich. I should, I am sure." 
 
 "Lady Sauffrenden's decision," said her husband, 
 waving his hands gracefully, " will always be mine. 
 
104 MR SMITH: 
 
 The pattern husband, Eobert Frederick, Baron Sauf- 
 frenden." 
 
 The lady coloured, and withdrew her hand. 
 
 "Now don't be cross, you stupid darling," cried 
 he, catching her round the waist. "I'll kiss you 
 before all the windows, if you don't behave your- 
 self' 
 
 " Oh, Sauffrenden, do take care ! How can you ? 
 You don't know who may be looking out. How can 
 you go on so ? " 
 
 " I didn't do it," said Sauffrenden, making a grim- 
 ace at the windows ; " but I will, unless she's good. 
 Is she good now ? " 
 
 " Perfectly good ; good as gold. But just one thing, 
 dear, do listen for a moment ; I wish you would be 
 a little more particular in what you say to Philip 
 sometimes. I think you hurt him without know- 
 ing it." 
 
 " Hurt Philip ! " 
 . '* You see he is terribly proud." 
 
 "Philip proud? Tliat he is not, I am sure. I 
 never found him so. I should say there wasn't a 
 bit of pride about him. He is as good a fellow as 
 ever lived." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I05 
 
 " That's the way a man judges. As if he would be 
 proud with you ! He's too fond of you." 
 
 " But he isn't proud to anybody. I see him with 
 the grooms and people." 
 
 " As if he would show it to them, either ! " 
 
 " Then who on earth is he to show it to ? " 
 
 " He doesn't show it, as you say, to anybody, 
 Sauffrenden, but he feels it. I should say he was 
 the proudest man I had ever met." 
 
 " My dear child ! " In his amazement he dropped 
 her hand from his arm. " Why, Milly, he goes to the 
 ToUetons' ! " 
 
 " That says nothing." 
 
 "You know it says a great deal. Hardly any- 
 body goes to them now, and you won't hear of 
 having them here. I'm sure I should have no 
 objection, poor things, but I always thought you 
 made such a point of it." 
 
 " So I do," replied the lady, calmly. " I don't wish 
 to know the Miss ToUetons at all, and I don't fancy 
 Philip would either, if " 
 
 " If what ? " 
 
 " If he did not admire Helen." 
 
 "There, Milly, now you are wrong. He no more 
 
I06 MR SMITH: 
 
 admires Helen than I do. That shows how little 
 you know about it. I could prove it to you, if I 
 chose " (thinking of Mr Smith). " He only goes be- 
 cause he has nothing else to do with himself. He 
 must have company of some sort, and he can't be 
 always here. I should do the same in his place." 
 
 There was no doubt of this, and Sauffrenden might 
 feel that he had defended his absent friend with both 
 truth and spirit. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 107 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 
 
 Feom the foregoing chapter it will be seen that Lady 
 Sauffrenden was perhaps possessed of rather more 
 insight into character than her husband. Captain 
 Wellwood had not been exactly hurt, but he had 
 been rather amazed by Sauffrenden's suggestion. 
 Mr Smith seemed to be always coming in his way. 
 He had not gone half a mile, before he saw him on 
 the road in front. 
 
 " He is going to the Tolletons' ! " was the instan- 
 taneous conviction. Thereupon Philip quickened his 
 pace, and Mr Smith, being rather a steady than a 
 swift walker, was soon overtakeii. 
 
 It needed but a few preliminaries on the part of 
 each gentleman to discover that Mr Smith was going 
 to the Tolletons', upon which Captain Wellwood 
 immediately found out that such was his own 
 
I08 MR SMITH: 
 
 destination likewise. Having dined there the 
 night before, he believed he ought to call. Mr 
 Smith was all complaisance, and they walked for- 
 ward briskly. 
 
 Mr Smith had made himself very nice to go to the 
 ToUetons'. He wore a dark coat over light grey 
 trousers, a half-high grey hat, grey tie, and gloves, 
 all good of their kind, and admirably suited to the 
 wearer. 
 
 When his hat was on, nobody saw he was grey at 
 the temples, and his ruddy cheeks and thick whis- 
 kers looked very well out of doors. His conversation 
 was sensible, and his voice singularly soft and well 
 modulated. In spite of himself, Philip was taken 
 with his companion. There was an open unaffected- 
 ness, and a geniality of manner, which could not but 
 please. He did not wish to like Mr Smith, he saw 
 no reason why he should like him ; but had he been 
 asked, he could not, with truth, have replied that he 
 did not. 
 
 The ladies were at home, as Captain Wellwood 
 shrewdly supposed they would be. 
 
 There were fresh flowers in the drawing-room, and 
 a blazing fire supplied the warmth which the autum- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. IO9 
 
 nal sunshine, now beginning to wane, could not 
 furnish. 
 
 Two of the sisters were busy. One had ensconced 
 herself in the window, with her head bent over an 
 illuminated page ; the other was engaged in needle- 
 work. Helen, who had apparently just come in- 
 doors, stood by the table taking off her gloves. 
 
 They were much surprised to see Mr Smith, not 
 expecting any one that dreary afternoon. It 
 was such a raw dull day, and the roads were so 
 unpleasant, and it was so kind in him to come. 
 Captain Wellwood obtained a polite welcome, but 
 all the enthusiasm, all the emjpressement, were for 
 Mr Smith. 
 
 Mr Smith must take the easy-chair, papa's chair, 
 and have it wheeled round, and the glass screen 
 between him and the fire. They must be very good 
 to him, because it was so kind in him to come, and it 
 would teach him to do the same again. Tea would 
 be up directly, and they had sent to let papa know ; 
 he did not always care for tea, but would be sure 
 to come when he heard who was there. 
 
 When the first bustle was over, nevertheless, it 
 appeared to a spectator that the sisters were not 
 
no MR SMITH: 
 
 working quite so much in harmony as usual. 
 Carry, for instance, took up her position on the 
 sofa close to Mr Smith's left hand, Helen having 
 playfully settled down upon a footstool on his right ; 
 and took no notice of several hints thrown out for 
 her dislodgment. 
 
 Helen was sure papa must have come in, and the 
 servant have missed him ; he was probably in his 
 own room. Carry, on the other hand, was equally 
 sure that had he done so, they must have heard 
 him put his stick into the stand in the hall ; a 
 thing he never failed to do with a great noise. 
 
 Next, Helen wanted the blind pulled down. The 
 sun was in Mr Smith's eyes, and Carry was the 
 only one who knew how to manage the blinds. 
 Mr Smith protested that the sun was not in his 
 eyes, and Carry let the blinds alone. 
 
 Then Miss Carry must needs show her embroidery- 
 work to Mr Smith, albeit Helen was sure Mr Smith 
 would not care for modern tapestry. He would 
 not, however, himself acknowledge so mucL He 
 thought the workmanship ingenious and laborious, 
 and gave great credit to the worker. Carry's spirits 
 rose. With praise of the workmanship, whatever 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. Ill 
 
 he thought of the work, the worker ought to be 
 Statisfied. She returned to her misshapen monks 
 with renewed zeal. But her end had come. 
 
 Lily was not going to sit by and see things going 
 wrong in that way. She had appropriated Captain 
 Wellwood herself, and retired to a distance with 
 him, but she now saw it was high time to interfere. 
 By her prompt aid to one sister, she soon routed 
 the other. She wished to show her work likewise, 
 and having boldly requested Carry to give up her 
 place, seated herself on the arm of the sofa for half 
 a minute, then made short work of the illumination, 
 and returned to Captain Wellwood. It was all done 
 easily, speedily, and well. Helen was left in full 
 possession of the field. 
 
 Mr Smith appeared to be quite content with the 
 arrangement. The rest were in the bow -window, 
 he and she alone by the fire. Helen, now shading 
 her face with her handkerchief, now letting the 
 dancing firelight play upon it, now throwing out 
 the suggestion of a small well-shapen foot, now 
 drawing her skirts hastily over it, put herself into 
 a variety of pretty attitudes. Her hat grew too 
 hot, and she tossed it off upon the rug. Then the 
 
112 MR SMITH: 
 
 necktie must come off too, and the brooch be 
 fastened afresh, and the jacket undone, and a little 
 business made about the whole, which showed off 
 those pretty white fingers with the turquoise rings 
 to perfection. All the time she was prattling to 
 him, looking up at him, wiling, if she could, his 
 heart out of his bosom. 
 
 There was no doubt that Mr Smith enjoyed it all ; 
 that he liked very well to sit in the easy -chair, 
 looking at the firelight through the glass screen, 
 and every now and then taking a peep down at 
 the handsome head with its glossy coils of hair 
 beside him. He would not have been human if he 
 had not found a certain fascination in this state of 
 things, and he was very humaa 
 
 "Don't you find it sometimes rather dull when 
 you aren't moving about ? " said she once, when 
 the conversation in the window was loud and 
 lively. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; but one must get used to it ; 
 although I don't think one ever does get altogether 
 used to it, Miss Tolleton. I feel more lonely now 
 sometimes than when I first began to live by 
 myself; it may be coming back to England — when 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 113 
 
 one is abroad, people seem to live more in com- 
 pany." 
 
 " You have been a great deal abroad ? " 
 
 "The best part of my life. I had no ties at 
 home, and a great desire to see the world." 
 
 " It is sad to have no ties, isn't it ? " said Helen, 
 softly. 
 
 " Yes," meditating, " sad, but not so sad as some 
 things. Friends I am very rich in ; they ought to 
 make up to me for the want of kith and kin." 
 
 " Only they never do." 
 
 "You think not?" 
 
 " They would not to me, at least." 
 
 "Ah, you are well off," glancing at the other 
 group. " You have a happy home ; you have 
 nothing to wish for." 
 
 "You forget," said she, in the same soft tones, 
 " I had once a mother." 
 
 He felt shocked at himself. The party seemed 
 so complete — the sisters so independent, so self- 
 reliant — that the idea of any blank had never 
 occurred to him. The gap had so filled up that 
 even the marks were invisible. He stammered an 
 apology. 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
114 MR SMITH: 
 
 " It is a loss/' Helen went on, " which is to be felt, 
 perhaps, more than understood. We were so young 
 that it is difficult to realise what it must have been 
 to us, but I fancy we often feel the effect without 
 knowing what it is." 
 
 This was true and genuine, but it was not sim- 
 plicity which put it into expression — it was rather 
 a high degree of art. Mr Smith was touched, and 
 regarded her with more interest than before. 
 
 " I, too " he began. Oh, how provoked Helen was 
 with her father's joyous welcome at that moment ! — 
 that moment which might have been fraught with 
 results ! They had grown so confidential, so per- 
 sonal ! Their voices were so low that nobody but he 
 would ever have dreamed of interrupting. " I, too" — 
 what was he going to say ? Was he going to tell 
 her anything ? Was he going back to bygone days ? 
 going to unlift the veil which hung over his past 
 life ? to confide in her ? to share with her some 
 memory, some retrospect ? Was there ever anything 
 so tantalising ? The only comfort was, she fancied 
 that he was as much provoked as herself. 
 
 However, the thing was done. A dialogue broken 
 oS" at this point could by no means be brought to- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. II5 
 
 gether again. A little graceful reluctance she might 
 show, but rise she must, and ring the bell, and order 
 in the tea. 
 
 Corker knew better than to bring tea without its 
 being rung for. He had once or twice committed 
 this tremendous blunder, at the time the autumn 
 manoeuvres were going on, and had stopped two de- 
 clarations, and spoilt a farewell ; at least it was in 
 consequence of the belief that he had, that he had 
 been admonished on the subject. 
 
 The girls always told their visitors that the tea 
 was just coming up, but it never appeared till they 
 rang for it. " Making it that wash," the indignant 
 butler declared, that he wondered " they could swally 
 it down their throats." He was not allowed, we must 
 explain, to pour the boiling water into the pot till the 
 summons came. Helen, in giving the order, had in- 
 formed him that they did not like their tea to stand, 
 but good care was taken nevertheless that it did 
 stand a very reasonable time in the drawing-room. 
 
 Afternoon-tea at Freelands was a great time. 
 When the autumn manoeuvres were going on it was 
 usually held out of doors, and every day there were 
 swarms in attendance. But after all, even with the 
 
Il6 MR SMITH: 
 
 addition of peaches and nectarines, the cosy meal was 
 scarcely more pleasant out of doors than in the 
 house. There were plenty of little shady nooks in 
 the drawing-room, that did just as weU as the out-of- 
 the-way seats in the shrubbery ; and if there were 
 peaches in the autumn, and strawberries and cream 
 in the summer, there were muffins in the winter. 
 
 A few minutes after the bell rang, Corker might 
 be heard in the passage. A clink and jingle might 
 perhaps be heard likewise, giving rise to immediate 
 and premature hopes. Then the door would fly 
 open, and our friend appear, to the astonishment of 
 novices, empty-handed. Stepping up to a comer in 
 the wall, he would draw thence a curious combination 
 of legs, which was instantly and under your very 
 eyes transformed into a table — a low oblong table. 
 From the same recess another bundle of legs sprang 
 into another table. A third time the process was 
 gone through, and the three, forming a triangle, 
 stood waiting. A shining tea-service on a shining 
 tray was then deposited on one ; a mass of harlequin 
 cups and saucers of the most delicate and suggestive 
 colours on another; and cake, biscuits, bread and 
 butter, and muffins, on the last. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. II7 
 
 For about ten minutes no one would take any 
 notice, and the muffins would have been ruined had 
 they not had their own private application of hot 
 water beneath. 
 
 It depended then very much on who was of the 
 company, which sister took charge of the tea-table. 
 
 On the afternoon in question Helen rose, and 
 poured out a delicious cup, frothy with cream, for 
 Mr Smith. She next supplied him with a hot brown 
 muffin, crisp and tender, and guiltless of grease, and 
 finally drew a stand to his elbow to place the cup and 
 plate upon. He was not allowed to do anything 
 himself — " it was against the law of the house." 
 
 Her father had next to be attended to. Mr Tol- 
 leton's taking tea was according as his daughters gave 
 it him, or not. If there were many to be attended 
 to, he went without. On the present occasion, how- 
 ever, he was to be honoured, and, second to none but 
 the principal guest, obtained a cup which, if not 
 quite so superabundantly frothy, was still excellent, 
 and Helen quite the attentive daughter. 
 
 The next was for herself, but as she poured it out 
 she called to Lily to know why she did not come 
 and give Captain Wellwood his tea. 
 
Il8 MR SMITH: 
 
 By this Lily knew the coast was clear, and Philip 
 got his tea — but alas ! there was no froth on his 
 cream. 
 
 Helen helped herself to a corner of muffin, and 
 carrying it off on the saucer of her cup, again took 
 her seat on the footstool. 
 
 She had forgiven her father for his untimely inter- 
 ruption, and joined in the conversation graciously. 
 After all, it was not probable that they would have 
 been long undisturbed, as Captain Wellwood did not 
 return to the window after getting his tea, but stood 
 upon the rug. He was quite capable, if he had 
 chosen to do so, of quitting the other sisters even 
 without any special excuse, not standing on much 
 ceremony either with Carry or Lily. Helen thought 
 he very likely would have come up at any rate. 
 Poor fellow ! He did not like her neglecting him, it 
 was evident. Therefore she threw the deserted one 
 a smile, and a word or two, every now and then over 
 her shoulder; so much, she felt, friendship required 
 of her. The rest of herself she might devote to Mr 
 Smith. 
 
 Papa's conversation began to flag, and she was 
 afraid that Mr Smith would go. But ^Mr Smith, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. II9 
 
 feeling very happy where he was, and perceiving that 
 nobody wished him to go, stayed. 
 
 Then Mr Tolleton came out brilliantly. His con- 
 versation had only declined because he was revolving 
 in his mind the one subject on which he had entire 
 liberty to act for himself, and that was inviting 
 people to dinner. As a rule, his daughters liked 
 having people to dinner, and, from long experience, 
 he had grown so sharp about knowing what people 
 they would especially like, that they now allowed 
 him unrestrained powers of action. He knew they 
 would like Mr Smith ; and during the time he had 
 appeared inattentive, he had been reckoning the 
 weeks since his mother's death, to see if he could 
 with decency invite him. 
 
 When the invitation was given, Helen's face told 
 him he had come to a right conclusion. 
 
 But Mr Smith was very sorry, for Friday he was 
 engaged. One person, who knew as much before, 
 expected to hear him say where. People do, you 
 know. If they are only going to dine with Jones, 
 there may be no occasion to mention it ; but if they 
 are engaged to the Castle, or the Park, or the 
 Manor-House, it is more polite to say so. 
 
120 MR SMITH: 
 
 Mr Smith, however, apparently thought otherwise. 
 
 The invitation was then renewed and altered. 
 There was to be no party, they could not have 
 parties just then, being in mourning ; he was at 
 liberty to fix his own day ; any day would suit, it 
 was all the same to them, as there would be nobody 
 there but himself, unless it were Captain Wellwood ; 
 if Captain Wellwood would kindly join them. 
 
 Here Helen's face did not show quite so plainly 
 as before that he was on the right tack, but she saw 
 it was inevitable. With Captain Wellwood standing 
 by, and unable to pretend he was not listening, since 
 there was no one for him to talk to, it was impos- 
 sible to avoid including him in the invitation. 
 
 Would Saturday suit Mr Smith? Mr Smith 
 would prefer Monday, if it really were quite the 
 same to Mr Tolleton. He seldom dined out on 
 Saturdays ; he liked his servants to have that even- 
 ing quiet. Monday would do just as well, and 
 Monday was the day. 
 
 Captain Wellwood accepted his invitation like- 
 wise. Friday excepted, he had no engagements 
 either. 
 
 All was thus happily arranged, and, as it appeared, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 121 
 
 just in time. Philip had barely made his bow, the 
 " Very happy" was absolutely on his lips, when the 
 door opened, and Corker, with an immovable coun- 
 tenance, announced Mrs Hunt and the Miss Hunts. 
 He then proceeded instantly in search of empty 
 cups ; but the new arrivals being only ladies, and, as 
 he contemptuously described them, "the doctor set," 
 he contented himself with ostentatiously carrying 
 out the muffin-dish, and not bringing it in again. 
 
 In Mrs Hunt's face there was a look of demoniacal 
 glee. It was dreadful to find Mr Smith there, but 
 it was delightful to catch him in the act. In the 
 same moment that she noted Helen on the footstool, 
 she thanked her stars that she had made Maria close 
 up her jacket, and put on a clean necktie. 
 
 Helen rose from her low seat with neither hurry 
 nor confusion in her air. Her lithe figure was made 
 for these ascents and descents. Just touching the 
 arm of the easy-chair with the tips of her fingers, she 
 rose at once to her feet, erect and graceful, welcomed 
 her visitors with cordiality, and named Captain 
 Wellwood with politeness. 
 
 It was always said that this girl knew wonderfully 
 well how to behave when she chose. 
 
122 MR SMITH: 
 
 Tor Mrs Hunt she provided the same sort of chair 
 from which Mr Smith had risen, and prevailed on 
 him to reseat himself. Placed the chair close beside 
 his, made Maria take up the position from which 
 Carry had been routed, and drew Clare into the 
 proximity of Captain Wellwood. There was nothing 
 any one of them could complain of 
 
 Then Corker brought in the teapot afresh, and 
 when Miss Tolleton saw no muffin-dish, she knew 
 what he meant. 
 
 The tea was still good, and though there was no 
 trace of froth on the cream, there was cream. Mrs 
 Hunt could have enjoyed it and her rich cake very 
 comfortably, if it had not been for one thing. Maria 
 was so placed that all the light there was, fell 
 through the window directly on her head. Now, 
 unfortunately, Maria had that day been endeavour- 
 ing, for some time unsuccessfully, and at length 
 with only very partial success, to twist her hair into 
 the new-fashioned coils which Helen Tolleton 
 assured her were just coming into vogue. 
 
 Helen's own sleek hair was twisted round and 
 round her head, and crept down the back of her 
 neck in these coils — soft, glossy, black coils — and 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 123 
 
 Mr Smith had admired them very much in the 
 firelight. 
 
 But Maria's hair was neither black nor glossy, 
 nor was it sufficiently abundant for any but a very 
 experienced hand to have fashioned into coils at all. 
 The consequence was, that in most places the frizettes 
 beneath were altogether laid bare; and that where 
 this was not the case, they were only covered by 
 thin streaks of hair, few and far between, and that 
 hair being of a light sandy hue, very distinguishable 
 from the framework. 
 
 Sitting where she did, this was not only perceiv- 
 able to the mother's eye, but she saw that it was 
 obtruded on the notice of Mr Smith. Mr Smith 
 could not help seeing it ; and, in fact, he was at that 
 very moment contrasting it with the other head so 
 lately beside his chair. 
 
 Mrs Hunt coughed, fidgeted, and thought what she 
 could do to displace her daughter. The fire was too 
 hot for her ? But there was the glass screen. She 
 was crumbling her cake ? But the last morsel was 
 being swallowed. Maria was as impenetrable as 
 Cany had been immovable. Her mother saw there 
 was nothing for it but to let her alone. 
 
124 ^^R SMITH: 
 
 Maria was in great force. Perfectly unconscious 
 of anything objectionable, she drank her tea, sim- 
 pered small observations to Mr Smith, and had in 
 truth no eyes for any one in the room but Captain 
 Wellwood. 
 
 What a magnificent man ! What a lover, what a 
 ^r^ husband! She and Clare had seen him in church, 
 and met him out of doors ; and envied the Tolletons, 
 who spoke to him and danced with him. 
 
 But the Tolletons knew that Captain Wellwood 
 did not reciprocate their gently-hinted aspirations, 
 and had therefore taken no notice of them. Now, 
 the introduction had been unavoidable, and Maria 
 - '"-was in a fever of delight. 
 ^if"*'' She was rewarded now for her pains and trouble, 
 and the aching arms her long business of the toilet 
 had cost her ; and was only a little jealous of Clare, 
 who was taking her teacup out of Captain Well- 
 wood's own hand. Captain Wellwood, when sum- 
 moned, had unwillingly been obliged to convey one 
 cup, but he had not gone back for another. He 
 yawned, and looked rude and bored, and allowed 
 Lily to give Maria hers. 
 
 But what did Maria see of that ? Would he speak 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 12$ 
 
 to her ? Would he notice her ? Did he, or did he 
 not, admire Helen 1 
 
 Helen had disposed of the last question before, 
 with word sto this effect : " My dear child, he is as 
 poor as a church mouse. He never thinks of me, nor 
 I of him." But Maria could not so easily dismiss it ; 
 it was too much to her now. 
 
 Meantime there was something in her mother's 
 mind which she earnestly desired to accomplish, 
 but yet had hardly courage for. There was nothing 
 in the thing itself to take away her courage, but 
 there was much in the fact that she wanted so very 
 much to do it. 
 
 If Maria would only keep her head out of the 
 light, and if the others would only talk a little more 
 among themselves, she thought, however, she cordd 
 screw up her courage. Then the light did fall away 
 from Maria's head, and the others did begin to talk 
 a little more generally, and Mrs Hunt summoned 
 aU her wits, and bolted out with — an invitation to 
 dinner, and Friday was again the day. 
 
 At the very worst moment, just when the little 
 speech was far enough advanced to admit of no with- 
 drawal, the other tongues ceased, and the end of it 
 
126 MR SMITH: 
 
 was distinctly heard by all. She knew it, and knew 
 that her voice faltered as she named the day ; but the 
 thing was done, come what might, and if the invita- 
 tion were accepted, she cared not who heard it given, 
 
 Mr Smith was again very sorry, but (as the others 
 already knew) he was engaged beforehand. 
 
 Mrs Hunt's face fell, and her colour rose. 
 
 She had not the slightest doubt that his engage- 
 ment was to the house he was now in. It was all as 
 she had prophesied. It was already a gone case. 
 
 There was a general hush. Captain Wellwood 
 expected that now Mr Smith would surely tell where 
 he was going, and the ToUetons listened anxiously in 
 case he did so. 
 
 The hush, however, remained unbroken, and in 
 spite of himself Philip recognised a certain nobility 
 in the trifling fact. If no one would tell, he would. 
 He wanted to ^ee what Mr Smith would say. " I 
 shall meet you at Saufifrenden, I believe ? " said he. 
 
 Then Mr Smith owned such to be the case ; and 
 what a commotion the intelligence wrought among 
 all that planetary circle which had chosen him for 
 their sun ! It was as if a brilliant destructive comet 
 had rushed into their midst. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 27 
 
 No one had thought of Sauffrenden. Helen, 
 although she knew that he had been there, had 
 not thought of it. She wondered at herself, but 
 she was pleased nevertheless. If — if anything did 
 come of it, this would certainly rank as an advan- 
 tage. However little the Sauffrendens might care to 
 visit Mr Tolleton's daughter, they would be on terms 
 with Mr Smith's wife. Mrs Hunt, too, was tolerably 
 well pleased. Going to Sauffrenden was infinitely 
 better than going to Freelands ; and if Maria would 
 only keep that frightful head turned the other way 
 — she was gathering up her courage afresh, but the 
 absolute silence among the other planets awed her. 
 
 Captain Well wood, having dragged the subject, as 
 it were, neck and heels into the conversation, sud- 
 denly left it to shift for itself. He had seen how Mr 
 Smith received it, and that was all he wanted. Mr 
 Smith had behaved like a gentleman. He was a 
 jolly old boy, and he began to see why Lady Sauf- 
 frenden liked him. 
 
 But Mr Smith was not so well pleased with 
 Philip. He did not see why the subject should have 
 been brought in, and was annoyed that one which he 
 already had begun to suspect was not agreeable to 
 
128 MR SMITH: 
 
 his entertainers should have been forced upon them. 
 He was therefore silent, like the rest. 
 
 Helen was the first to recover herself. " How is 
 Lady Sauffrenden ? " said she, turning to Philip with 
 an air of concern for her health. 
 
 "She's all right. Has there been anything the 
 matter with her ? " 
 
 "Only she is not at all strong, and tries her 
 strength far too much. But they have been living 
 very quietly lately — no one has been there at all — 
 so I hope she has been taking care of herself" 
 
 " No doubt, and got quite well again ; for " (a 
 little maliciously) " they expect lots of people next 
 week." 
 
 Lots of people ! Lots of dear, delightful, smart 
 people ! Eotund dowagers, made-up peers, harum- 
 scarum second sons, and girls not a tenth part as 
 good-looking as herself! Oh, how Helen would 
 have delighted in Sauffrenden, if only Sauffrenden 
 would have delighted in her ! 
 
 Then she looked at Mr Smith. He was stout, it 
 was true, and turning grey ; but she felt she should 
 not be ashamed of him. She felt he would not 
 do the things her father did, nor say the things he 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 29 
 
 said. She absolutely wondered whether he would 
 be ashamed of her. 
 
 Helen was not the hoyden Lily was ; nor so stu- 
 pidly unconscious of her own defects as Carry. She 
 felt dimly now and then that she and her sisters 
 were wild and lawless, and was bitterly indignant if 
 it crossed her mind that they were looked askance 
 upon ; but the temptation came, and, in the heyday 
 of her youth and beauty, she stifled resolutions and 
 forgot regrets. 
 
 One of these evanescent resolutions came into her 
 mind now, as she looked at Mr Smith ; but Mrs 
 Hunt opened her lips, and it was gone. 
 
 Mrs Hunt had rallied her forces, and was bent on 
 another venture. If Mr Smith was engaged on 
 Friday, would he make it Monday ? on Monday 
 they were going to have a few friends likewise. 
 
 Alas ! her grasp wanted the breadth of the Tolle- 
 tons. It was quite as tenacious, as unyie]ding ; but 
 it was timid, as was natural, seeing that there were no 
 coadjutors, and a great forest of enemies' eyes and 
 ears in ambush on every side. If she could have al- 
 lowed Mr Smith to name his own day, as the ToUe- 
 tons did — with none hearing the flattering words but 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
130 MR SMITH: 
 
 Philip Wellwood, who was in a manner bound over 
 to keep the peace, Mr Smith would have done so, and 
 her point would have been gained. 
 
 But she was afraid. She wished it to appear that 
 he had only been asked, on the spur of the moment, 
 to make a twelfth at one of Dr Hunt's little dinner- 
 parties; and, foiled in Friday, took refuge in Mon- 
 day. 
 
 Monday would really have suited her arrange- 
 ments better, as she did intend to have some other 
 guests ; and two additional days in which to collect 
 them would have been just as well. 
 
 But when Mr Smith was again obliged to decline, 
 Mrs Hunt knew what compelled him. 
 
 She rose to go, almost immediately. 
 
 Mr Smith rose too, and glanced at his companion. 
 Philip's glance in return was significant. He was 
 not going, and he did not mean to stay behind alone. 
 A slight imperious gesture detained the other gentle- 
 man. As the door shut he spoke. 
 
 " If you can wait a few minutes, sir, I will show 
 you the short cut through the plantation ; it leads 
 into your own." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " Mr ToUeton was obsequiously 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I3I 
 
 endorsing the suggestion, the plantation being his 
 own ; but Captain Wellwood proceeded, without hav- 
 ing the grace to stop — 
 
 " Just wait till that good woman and her daughters 
 are safe out of sight." 
 
 Accordingly, they remained another five minutes, 
 and then took their leave. 
 
 Before parting in the short cut, Mr Smith had 
 asked Captain Wellwood to favour him with his 
 company on his lonely drive to Sauffrenden, and 
 Philip had been graciously pleased to accept the 
 invitation. 
 
 " If she marries him, it will be the best day's work 
 she ever did in her life," concluded he ; " but it is 
 rather too good a joke, the way she makes love to 
 him." 
 
132 MR SMITH : 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MARIA'S DAY. 
 
 Good as the joke was, Mrs Hunt did not see it. 
 Poor Maria had a sad walk home. With her head 
 full of Captain Wellwood, of his necktie, his ring, 
 and his bow — the said head was cruelly used by her 
 mother. She wondered Maria could go out such a 
 figure. She had told her and Clare both, a dozen of 
 times, to come to her glass, if that in their room 
 wasn't hung so that they could see properly. Clare 
 might have seen that her sister was decent when she 
 went to make calls ; but it was always the way — she 
 was always to be made ashamed of them some way or 
 other. For her part, she wondered what Mr Smith 
 could have thought of it. 
 
 Maria cared not a jot what Mr Smith thought 
 of it ; all her anxiety was to know what Captain 
 Wellwood thought of it. She appealed to Clare for 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 33 
 
 a statement of the truth ; and Clare owned she could 
 not think where all the hair had slipped away to. 
 
 Still Maria obtained some comfort from the reflec- 
 tion that, considering where she sat, at least he 
 could not have seen the whole ; and Clare further 
 soothed her with the assurance that one side was a 
 very great deal better than the other. 
 
 " It was the worst side that was next Mr Smith," 
 pursued her mother; ^' right under his very nose. 
 And as if you must needs make it even more observ- 
 able, you kept turning and twisting your head the 
 other way, as if on purpose to show it to him, 
 whether he would or no. I daresay he thought it 
 was all false together — what there was of it, at any 
 rate ; for it seemed to me nothing but a mass of 
 frizettes." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, don't say any more about it," inter- 
 posed Clare, good-naturedly. " It was not so bad as 
 all that, Maria. And it was a good thing the worst 
 side was next Mr Smith, and not Captain Wellwood." 
 
 " Captain Wellwood ! And pray, what did it mat- 
 ter to Captain Wellwood ? What is Captain Well- 
 wood to us ? " cried her mother. " A man who has 
 always been as rude and nasty to your father and 
 
134 MR SMITH: 
 
 me as he could he. A man I have a perfect dislike 
 to, and never wanted to make acquaintance with at 
 all. Oh, he was too fine a gentleman even to shake 
 hands with me to-day, but must needs bow, as if he 
 had been a royal duke, when I passed by. If it 
 hadn't been for him and his airs, I am sure Mr 
 Smith would have walked home with us to-day. 
 I could see he was looking for his hat and gloves 
 when I rose, and then my gentleman went up and 
 spoke to him, and got him to stay, because he wanted 
 to have his flirt out with Helen." 
 
 Maria and Clare protested with equal vehemence 
 against this rendering of the scene. 
 
 It was far more likely to have been IVIr Smith who 
 kept Captain Wellwood. They were convinced Mr 
 Smith wished to stay. Captain WeUwood had 
 shown far stronger symptoms of going than ever 
 Mr Smith had, for he went to the door and opened 
 it. If he did speak to the other, it was to ask him 
 to go too. 
 
 In fact, it suited them that INIr Smith should be 
 the culprit, and it suited their mother that it should 
 be Captain Wellwood. 
 
 N"ow that Maria and Clare had seen their hero face 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 135 
 
 to face, had spoken to him, bowed to him, taken their 
 tea (at least Clare had) from his own fingers, they felt 
 by no means so certain that he must admire Helen. 
 Clare thought he did not take any special notice of 
 Helen, and Maria affirmed he was quite as attentive 
 to Clare herself She, in return, disclaimed with 
 delight, and assured her sister, as a reward, that 
 nobody but that old fright Mr Smith could have 
 seen the unfortunate hair ; and who cared what he 
 thought 1 
 
 This was for their own room ; a difi"erent state of 
 things prevailed in the parlour. 
 
 There Mrs Hunt was giving a detailed account of 
 lier visit to her husband, who, luckily for her, was not 
 one to be either uninterested or unsympathetic. In 
 fact, the doctor was as great a manoeuvrer as his wife ; 
 and when his dignity was not compromised — and 
 it was a small and easily satisfied dignity — could 
 listen to her with a very good will. 
 
 Maria's hair received its due meed of censure, and 
 she knew that such had been the case the moment 
 she entered the room. She knew it by the glance of 
 her father's eye towards her head as she entered, and 
 the evident check received there, for she had lost no 
 
136 MR SMITH: 
 
 time, after returning home, in disburdening herself of 
 the obnoxious mass. 
 
 "Well, Fm glad to see you have made yourself 
 more respectable," said her mother ; " and I do hope 
 it will be a warning to you, Maria. For I will say 
 that of the Tolleton girls, whatever be their faults — 
 and Fm sure Fd be puzzled to name another good 
 thing about them — they always contrive to have their 
 hairs nice. Go when you will, early or late, you never 
 catch them with great frizettes sticking out, and hair- 
 pins showing in every direction. What they use I can't 
 say, but Helen's head was like satin this afternoon." 
 
 *'They don't use anything," said Maria, unable 
 from habit to resist defending her friends, though at 
 the moment she did feel rather sore on the subject of 
 Helen's satin head. " It's just the same when they 
 brush it out, and it is no great merit their keeping it 
 nice, they have such quantities." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure it isn't often you hear me say a 
 good word for them," truly rejoined Mrs Hunt ; " but 
 I do like to see tidy hair, and that's what I never do 
 see in my own house. I never ask you to go out but 
 there's such a fuss to get the hair done ; and nothing 
 to show for it, when it is. Clare's not quite so 
 
 I 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 137 
 
 bad as you, but I have to speak to her too, most 
 days." 
 
 " Oh, well, mamma," put in the doctor, who 
 thought enouo-h had been said, " she'll not do it 
 again. After all, it's no such great crime. My girls 
 stick to what is their own, and don't put on the 
 filthy concoctions of other people — and that's one 
 thing, at all events. Well, Clare," as Clare en- 
 tered the room, '' and what did you think of Mr 
 Smith? Here's your mother quite in love with 
 him." 
 
 " I thought him very nice, papa, and he had got 
 such a lovely flower in his button-hole, and " 
 
 " Oh, Clare ! " burst in Maria, " did you see Cap- 
 tain " 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! " exclaimed her father, impatiently ; 
 " what does that matter ? Let Clare say what she 
 was going to say. Go on, Clare.'' 
 
 "You shouldn't interrupt people," added her 
 mother. 
 
 " It was his gloves, papa," said Clare. " They 
 were lying on the table close to me, and they were 
 the sweetest colour. And then I looked to see what 
 else he had on, and his tie matched exactly, and he 
 
138 MR SMITH: 
 
 was dressed altogether splendidly, — far better than 
 Captain Wellwood." 
 
 Cunning Clare ! Both father and mother smiled 
 approbation. 
 
 " If Clare, now, had been on the sofa beside Mr 
 Smith, she would have found something to make him 
 talk about, I daresay. Maria only said such stupid 
 things, that nobody could care for, and then kept 
 turning and twisting her head the other way, show- 
 ing him the whole back, and seeming as if she were 
 listening to the nonsense that Wellwood was talking 
 to Lily all the time. I'm sure I couldn't hear any- 
 thing very entertaining going on, and it was very 
 rude to Mr Smith. I daresay he didn't think you at 
 all nice or agreeable." 
 
 Maria slowly crimsoned during this speech. She 
 had been listening to Lily and Captain Wellwood, 
 she had been trying in a small futile way to attract 
 his attention. Mr Smith she had regarded simply as 
 a barricade. 
 
 Clare, who had been the fortunate one throughout, 
 now came to her sister's rescue. She had had a 
 delightful visit. Placed beside her hero, several 
 times addressed by him, handed her tea-cup, favoured 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 39 
 
 with a special bow at departure. Then afterwards 
 no reproaches nor innuendos, but smiles and com- 
 mendations from both parents. 
 
 She was very sorry for poor Maria, who was always 
 in hot water, which she had neither the wisdom to 
 avoid falling into, nor the tact necessary to extricate 
 herself from. 
 
 " Well, mamma," said her defender, " I don't think 
 Mr Smith could have minded, for he shook hands 
 with us both so kindly, and said he hoped we would 
 make use of his short cut whenever we liked — and 
 it was to Maria he said it." 
 
 This altered the case. Hopes were again enter- 
 tained for Maria. Her father's brow cleared, and her 
 mother's tongue softened. Ten thousand a-year had 
 made a great impression on Dr Hunt, since the day on 
 which he had called Mr Smith stout and apoplectic. 
 At that time he had barely received the first shadow 
 of a conception of him as a son-in-law ; but since 
 then the idea had matured, and he was as anxious 
 as his wife could be to think and speak of him, if 
 not exactly as the young marrying man, at least as a 
 man who meant to marry, and was not too old for it. 
 
 "Well, wxll," said he, good-humouredly, "that 
 
140 MR SMITH: 
 
 was very kind and neighbourly, I'm sure. The 
 short cut will be very convenient to me sometimes, 
 I can tell you — that is, if Maria gives me permission 
 to use it. 
 
 "I, papa!" 
 
 " Yes, you. Clare says you were the favoured 
 person. Perhaps when he gave you leave, however, 
 he did not mean to include your whole family. You 
 may take Clare, however, I suppose. I think, 
 mamma, she must really take Clare, or we shall have 
 it all over the village, if Maria is seen walking about 
 the Hill by herself." 
 
 " I didn't hear him say it, Maria," said Mrs Hunt, 
 wistfully. 
 
 " No, no, mamma," continued the doctor, looking 
 
 ' very jocose; "you didn't hear, I daresay. Mr 
 
 Smith knew better than that, Maria, did he not ? 
 
 Those are not the sort of things mammas are allowed 
 
 to hear, are they?" 
 
 " I'll tell you when it was, mamma," said Clare. 
 " It was when you dropped your glove, and we were 
 all looking for it." 
 
 "And it was under Captain AYell wood's dii-ty 
 boot all t]ie time." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I4I 
 
 '' Mr Smith was shaking hands witli Maria, and 
 Lily said something about its being a longer walk 
 between them and us now, that we had all the way 
 round by the highroad to go ; and Maria said Yes, 
 and something about the short cut ; and Mr Smith 
 looked at her, and said at once if it was his short 
 cut she meant, he hoped she would make use of it — 
 would not scruple to make use of it, those were the 
 words — whenever she liked." 
 
 "And were the Tolletons to do the same?" in- 
 quired her mother, anxiously. 
 
 "Nothing was said about the Tolletons, but I 
 daresay they took it so," Clare owned. " For Lily 
 thanked him as well as Maria. I think they took 
 it as leave for all." 
 
 In saying this Clare sacrificed her friends. But 
 then it lay between her friend and her sister. And 
 moreover, it was true, and it was necessary to be 
 told; and after all, the Tolletons were in such dire 
 disgrace about Mr Smith as it was, that even this 
 could hardly plunge them deeper. 
 
 Maria had been skilfully piloted out of her trou- 
 bles by a way she would never have discovered for 
 herself, and Clare felt she had acted rightly. 
 
142 MR SMITH: 
 
 Mrs Hunt, as it proved, was too well pleased to 
 be very angry even with the Tolletons. She won- 
 dered, indeed, that any girls could demean them- 
 selves so. She was sure none but those ever would. 
 But then she was so certain that such impudent 
 forwardness must have disgusted Mr Smith, and so 
 satisfied that the compliment had not extended one 
 inch beyond her daughter, that there was more 
 exultation than anger in her heart. 
 Maria was now formally consecrated to Mr Smith. 
 If she went out walking, she was asked if she had 
 been in the short cut. If she met Mr Smith in the 
 village, her father pretended to think it was by 
 appointment. She could not mention his name 
 without blushing, nor hear it without alarm. It was 
 dreadful. What was Mr Smith to her, or she to 
 him ? She confided to Clare, with tears in her eyes, 
 her opinion that he was an old horror; and why 
 should she be teased out of her life by having him 
 tacked on to her? It was very cruel. 
 
 Clare's worldly wisdom was to this efi'ect. Mr 
 Smith might, or might not, be thinking of Maria ; 
 he did her no harm. And since their father and 
 mother had taken this idea into their heads, she 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 43 
 
 and Maria had obtained a great deal more liberty 
 than they used to have — added to which, they most 
 certainly would never have received those lovely new 
 hats from papa if it had not been for Mr Smith. 
 
 "Well, but is it right, that sort of thing?'' said 
 Maria, conscientiously. 
 
 " How can it be wrong ? You had nothing to do 
 with it ; it is their own idea. And all you have to 
 do is just to keep quiet, and not put on that face 
 whenever his name is mentioned." 
 
 "I can't help it." 
 
 "You must help it, that's all. What does it 
 signify ? The whole thing will die out of itself, and 
 then nobody can find fault with you." 
 
 Clare's expectations were not, it will be thus 
 seen, very strong. 
 
 "Don't you see?" she went on. "Mr Smith 
 never bothers you, nor makes a fuss. Though papa 
 chooses to think he does, that doesn't make him. 
 And papa does exaggerate so ; he is getting as bad 
 as mamma. I shouldn't wonder if Mr Smith had 
 never once thought about you at all ; it was all a 
 chance his happening to say to you that about the 
 short cut, and that is what they go upon most. And 
 
144 MR SMITH: 
 
 then, what does it matter, papa's laughing? He 
 never does it before people." 
 
 " He did it before Lily the other day, and I got so 
 hot ; I know she must have seen it. What do you 
 think he said ? He asked her if it wasn't rather a 
 strange thing that I never went to the post-office in 
 the afternoons now, without happening to meet Mr 
 Smith. Now, you know," continued the astute 
 Maria, " there is nothing so very odd about it. 
 Papa will send me every day, and he knows that Mr 
 Smith always calls for his afternoon letters himself." 
 
 " Oh, well, Maria, Lily would never think anytliing 
 of that. It would never enter their heads that papa 
 was not only in joke. As if they would ever think 
 of Mr Smith ! If you take no notice, it will all 
 blow over." 
 
 All this was very sensible, no doubt. But still 
 it dawned upon Maria that whereas it was she who 
 had all the disagreeable part of the business to bear, 
 Clare reaped the benefits in an equal degree. It was 
 therefore, to say the least of it, easy for Clare to talk. 
 
 They both enjoyed the increased liberty she had 
 alluded to, and their new hats were precisely alilve. 
 When they availed themselves of the short cut, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I45 
 
 it was quite as mucli to please Clare as Maria. 
 Yet Maria alone had to endure the odious joking 
 afterwards. 
 
 Clare pointed out that they could not do without 
 the short cut. It was by taking it that they ran 
 their surest chance of meeting Captain Wellwood; 
 indeed they had absolutely met him in it once. 
 Maria was quite as eager as she to meet him, and 
 the day that they had done so, and had had on 
 their new hats likewise, she had forgiven Mr Smith 
 everything. 
 
 Captain Wellwood had barely stopped a minute, 
 had remarked it was a nice day for a walk, supposed 
 they were going to see the Miss ToUetons, and 
 moved on. On this meeting, however, they built 
 fresh hopes from day to day. With burning cheeks 
 and bated breath, they told of it at Freelands, and 
 wondered at the coolness with which it was re- 
 ceived. At home, it had merely raised a specula- 
 tion as to whether Captain Wellwood had received 
 permission to be there ; and it had been added that 
 he had the face to go, whether he had had leave 
 granted him or not. 
 
 But this did not lessen the thing at all. By 
 VOL. I. . K 
 
146 MR SMITH: 
 
 themselves Maria and Clare talked and talked, and 
 talked themselves into the most foolish of vain 
 imaginings, and then put on the captivating hats 
 again, and sallied forth in hopes of another meeting. 
 They traversed the short cut daily. 
 
 Once they saw his hat. They were sure it was 
 his hat — a grey hat, a quickly-bobbing hat, a hat 
 that was vanishing before their eyes. 
 
 "Don't run, but walk as fast as ever you can, 
 Maria, and we'll come up with him at the bridge," 
 whispered Clare, panting. " I know a way down 
 by this bank, here, you see ; the leaves have half 
 hidden it, but I know it comes out at the bridge. 
 Take care ! What a noise you make ! I wish you 
 would not go falling about that way." 
 
 " Oh, look, Clare ! look what I've done ! Such 
 a smear ! What shall I do ? " in loud whispers. 
 " Perhaps we had better not go on ? " 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! Hide behind me, and no one can 
 see. Why, what does it matter ? it's nothing," said 
 Clare, whose own dress was not smeared. " Xow be 
 quiet, and walk slowly, and don't breathe in that way. 
 He can't have come all this round yet. There he is ! " 
 
 But, oh the disappointment, the vexation ! It 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 47 
 
 was there all right, the hat, but it belonged not 
 
 to Captain Wellwood, but to Mr Smith. 
 
 Maria, in her sudden revulsion of feeling, would 
 
 have turned back, but Clare stopped her. "You 
 
 can't now ; he has seen us. It's too late ; we must 
 
 just come on. Do keep quiet, and be civil ; there's 
 
 nothing to mind. Papa will be delighted, at all 
 
 events." 
 
 « 
 Papa was. He made Clare repeat all about the 
 
 meeting a dozen times over ; and when she came to 
 
 the part where Mr Smith had accompanied them as 
 
 far as the stile, and bade them gather his snowdrops 
 
 and primroses as soon as ever they began to lift 
 
 their heads above ground, he looked at Maria, 
 
 chuckled, laughed aloud, and winked repeatedly, 
 
 till she was as red as a peony. 
 
 j\Trs Hunt, in high good-humour, told Maria not 
 
 to mind. Papa would have his joke, and the girls 
 
 needn't mind him. For her part, she should always 
 
 be glad to meet Mr Smith, and have a friendly chat, 
 
 whether 'it come to anything or not. A nice, 
 
 pleasant man like that, it was really too bad of papa 
 
 to go and make them shy with him by saying such 
 
 things. If he did think of Maria, he had never said 
 
148 MR SMITH: 
 
 anything ; and if she were her, she would take no 
 heed of papa's nonsense, but just he as friendly and 
 easy with Mr Smith as she liked. 
 
 Maria was in high favour at this time. There 
 were no more dissatisfied looks, and comparisons 
 drawn between her and Clare, to the advantage of 
 neither, but to the greater disadvantage of Maria. 
 The sisters went to Freelands as often as they liked 
 — far oftener, indeed, than they were wanted there ; 
 and the Tolletons escaped with wonderfully little 
 animadversion. 
 
 It was Clare's doing, and she had to keep a brisk 
 look-out on Maria all the time, lest in one un- 
 guarded moment she should spoil all. She had to 
 keep Maria silent during her father's sallies, by 
 admonitions of eyes, hands, or feet under the table ; 
 and all the fuel which kept the flame alive within 
 her parent's bosom was supplied by her. Clare, 
 for a fool, had her full share of fool's cunning. 
 
 Of course, the Tolletons knew what was going on, 
 and a fine piece of fun it was to them. 
 
 They could make their own out of it, too. By 
 encouraging the idea, insinuating gentle suspicions, 
 and boldly fabricating rumours, they went far to 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I49 
 
 make poor Maria believe there was truth after all 
 in it. 
 
 Then they delicately hinted the same to ]\Irs 
 Hunt. Mrs Hunt must not believe it was their 
 thought ; such a thought had never crossed their 
 minds, but they had heard something of the kind 
 from other quarters. No, they must not name 
 names. One of the Miss Hunts ; that was what 
 was said. They were not going to ask which, and 
 they would promise Mrs Hunt not to circulate the 
 report further, if she would just say — was it Maria ? 
 Mrs Hunt almost liked the girls that afternoon. She 
 was not going to answer any such questions. For her 
 part, she did not know what they could be think- 
 ing of. She had never noticed anything — at least, 
 hardly anything — nothing of the least consequence ; 
 and she begged they wouldn't put such nonsense into 
 her girls' heads. Well, if it was either of them, it 
 was Maria ; but she was quite uncertain of anything 
 — was really barely sensible of any attentions. 
 
 And then she felt almost affectionate to Helen 
 Tolleton. 
 
 By that time Mr Smith had dined at the Hunts', 
 and talked a good deal to Maria, as it was natural he 
 
ISO MR SMITH: 
 
 should, when she had been placed beside him on 
 purpose. The doctor's drawing-room had none of 
 those little nooks and corners that were the charm at 
 Freelands ; any talking between a lady and gentleman 
 had to be done boldly, under the eyes of all the com- 
 pany assembled. 
 
 Maria, however, had acquitted herself well, and her 
 mother's heart beat with pleasure when, on the ap- 
 pearance of the gentlemen up-stairs, she saw Mr Smith 
 draw near to the tea - table at which her eldest 
 daughter presided. Maria herself had more mingled 
 sensations. She felt her dignity, but she felt it a 
 painful one. It flurried her nerves. By instinct she 
 provided her guest with the best tea she could muster ; 
 but it was harsh and cold, very different from Helen's 
 creamy cups. Maria never could make tea. It 
 mattered not what she put in, it was always the same. 
 She poured, and calculated, and poured back again, 
 till all were of the same horrid mediocrity. No one 
 was allowed to have a taste, and it was indeed a 
 chance if she suited that of any. Having both tea 
 and coffee to manipulate on the night in question, 
 and the presence of her supposed lover in addition 
 to flurry her, it is to be feared that she gave young 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I51 
 
 Eawden, the doctor's assistant, a mixture ; for he was 
 observed to be making as wry faces over it as if it 
 were a tonic. 
 
 Maria was looking very well for her. She had on 
 a fresh white muslin, with blue ribbons. Her mother 
 had superintended her toilet, and at the close, done 
 what she had perhaps never in her life done before, 
 pronounced her approval. 
 
 Mr Smith certainly conversed more with Maria 
 than Clare, Clare taking good care that he should, 
 and keeping out of the way for that purpose ; and it 
 was on the day following that Mrs Hunt called at 
 Freelands, and owned in confidence that if it was 
 either, it was Maria. 
 
152 MR SMITH: 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO OUGHT TO BECOME HIS WIFE. 
 
 We must, however, go back a little, and see what 
 others were doing while the Hunts were making 
 such progress. 
 
 On the Friday for which Mr Smith had had no 
 less than three invitations, it will be remembered 
 that he and Captain Wellwood were to dine at 
 Sauffrenden, and that on Mr Smith's requesting 
 Captain Wellwood's company on the w^ay thither, 
 Philip had granted it with the utmost readiness. 
 
 Their entrance together might astonish Lady Sauf- 
 frenden, but it could not her husband. He knew all 
 along what nonsense it was that Milly had been 
 talking, and hoped she would now see that Phil was 
 not such a goose as she had made him out to be. 
 
 There were several other neioihbours in the draw- 
 ing-room, some of whom had called on the new pro- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 53 
 
 prietor, and some who had not ; but those who had 
 not, immediately resolved on doing so, seeing him 
 dining at Sauffrenden, and escorting Captain Well- 
 wood. He made his first appearance with Mat. 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden was markedly attentive to the 
 stranger. As Mr Smith chose to stand in the back- 
 ground, he stood in the background likewise, and 
 during the ten minutes which elapsed before dinner 
 was announced, held him in conversation. Then 
 Mr Smith was requested to take Miss Fulton in 
 to dinner. 
 
 Miss Fulton had come with her brother the Ad- 
 miral. She and the Admiral numbered amonj? their 
 acquaintance everybody of note within thirty miles 
 of Fulton Hall ; and many who did not know Miss 
 Fulton otherwise, knew her by name. She was to be 
 seen at every party, every meeting, every benevolent 
 and social gathering in the neighbourhood ; and her 
 other brother being rector of Fulton parish, she 
 took upon herself many of the duties of a curate ; 
 besides performing to admiration the part of amateur 
 clerk during the church services. What poor dear 
 brother would have done without her she did not 
 know. The Admiral was all very well, but the 
 
154 MR SMITH: 
 
 Eector was her pet, her favourite, her poor dear 
 brother. 
 
 She regarded him as something between a fool and 
 a saint ; and was proud of his piety as of an honour- 
 able and thoroughly unremunerative distinction, be- 
 fitting an old family, and by no means common in it. 
 
 Miss Fulton was handsome, clever, aristocratic, 
 accomplished, and benevolent, but — eccentric. She 
 was universally liked, but universally laughed at. 
 Her genius was underrated because it was genius, and 
 not common talent. Her performances were unappre- 
 ciated, because of their originality. 
 
 Nevertheless, she was a welcome visitor wherever 
 she went, and nowhere more welcome than at Sauf- 
 frenden. Lady Sauffrenden knew a gentlewoman 
 when she saw her, and Miss Fulton was undeniably 
 a gentlewoman. Lord Sauffrenden said this was the 
 rock his wife split upon, and that if a man knew how 
 to stand and how to bow, Milly would forgive his 
 committing murder. To this he had subjoined, that 
 if a woman knew when to speak and when to be 
 silent, ]\Iilly would forgive her telling a lie. But 
 Milly had indignantly repelled both accusations. 
 
 It was she who had arranged that Mr Smith 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 155 
 
 should take Miss Fulton in to dinner; and the 
 moment Miss Fulton rose and attached herself to 
 Mr Smith's arm, an instantaneous conviction thrilled 
 tlirough the whole assembly, that that was the 
 woman who ought to become his wife. 
 
 The Fultons were poor ; and perhaps, considering 
 the age of their family, it was not wonderful that it 
 should have grown a little mouldy. It is difficult to 
 provide for such families. They cannot beg, to work 
 they are ashamed. The Fulton living provided for 
 one son respectably, until, as one of the brothers 
 sneered, he should be fit for Canterbury ; at which 
 time he would hold himself in readiness to take 
 orders — the wildest, wickedest George among them 
 all, was this — and meantime he and the others got 
 on as they could ; being in and out of debt as con- 
 stantly as a cork on the water bobs under the wave 
 and comes up again. 
 
 Then there was a widowed sister, who always 
 hankered after the Hall, and announced that when 
 dear Cornelia married, she intended to come and 
 take charge of the dear Admiral. Dear Cornelia, 
 however, was a long time in marrying, and her spin- 
 sterhood was a jest among many who had not had a 
 
156 MR SMITH: 
 
 tithe of her offers. She was, it is certain, thirty- 
 nine years of age, when she rose to take Mr Smith's 
 arm, and in another year would be forty. 
 
 But then what a difference there is between thirty- 
 nine and forty ! 
 
 Fulton Hall was not above eight miles from 
 Eastworld, where Mr Smith had built his house on 
 the Hill; and for the sake of that house, those 
 grounds, those carriages, ten thousand a-year, and a 
 husband, it was thought that Miss Fulton might 
 yield her maiden dignity, and sink the name of 
 Fulton in that of Smith. 
 
 In another year she would be forty, and that ought 
 to be, if it were not, an additional inducement. If 
 only Miss Fulton were not so eccentric, she might 
 be depended upon to see things in that sensible light. 
 It was time she was married. Mr Smith looked a 
 quiet sort of man, probably easy-going and comfort- 
 able. His beincj at Sauffrenden was a cjuarantee for 
 his good behaviour ; and if allied to the Fultons, he 
 would be received everywhere. 
 
 Accordingly, when Miss Fulton put her hand 
 within his arm, and sailed out of the room, with her 
 long, bunchy, black dress sailing gracefully after her, 
 
A PART OF lUS LIFE. 1 57 
 
 •there was a general sensation, not so much of inter- 
 est or approbation, as of calm certainty that such a 
 marriage would surely come to pass. 
 
 For the fair Cornelia's peace of mind, it was as 
 well that this was all unsuspected by her. She was 
 a great talker, and throughout the many courses her 
 tongue mio'ht be heard in its usual strain of brilliant 
 volubility, while she fanned herself, and ate the best 
 of the good things with an appreciating palate and 
 a most happy insouciance. After dinner, at Lady 
 Sauffrenden's request, she sat down to the piano. 
 The request was made because Miss Fulton's music 
 was in the Hall. When she dined out, she always 
 sang afterwards ; but her singing, like the other 
 things about her, was accounted little of, because it 
 was eccentric. It was customary for strangers in 
 the neighbourhood to be asked by its inhabitants if 
 they had heard Miss Fulton sing; and on their reply- 
 ing in the negative, to make them understand it was 
 rather a joke. As soon as she began, they looked at 
 each other, and those who were quite at the far end 
 of the room smiled. 
 
 Now it is true, that had one in contemplation 
 Miss Fulton's countenance, shoulders, or arms, during 
 
158 MR SMITH: 
 
 the performance, one must undoubtedly have seen 
 something to laugh at. The roll of the eye, the 
 wriggle of the neck, and the flights of the fingers, 
 were ridiculous. But the singing itself was not. 
 She had a fine, full, flexible voice, and her Italian 
 pronunciation was perfect. 
 
 When Mr Smith heard her sing, he drew near at 
 once to the piano. The song was one he knew, and 
 he was enough of a judge to know immediately that 
 it was well sung. He came to listen, not to look ; 
 and as he luckily stood behind the singer, there was 
 nothing to distract his attention. He w^as able to 
 enjoy it. 
 
 Captain Wellwood, however, was on the broad 
 grin. Lord Sauffrenden stepped behind a window- 
 curtain. The rest of the party, to hide their risibil- 
 ity, looked preternaturally grave ; and the lady of the 
 house, bolt upright upon her chair, kept guard over 
 them all, and prepared to say her " thank you " at the 
 end, with as much ardour as she could throw into it. 
 
 That Mr Smith, being at the lady's back, should 
 come forward and follow up the " thank you " with 
 a few words of genuine admiration, seemed to some 
 of the party as good as declaring himself. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 59 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden regarded it simply as a proof 
 that he was, as she had said, one of the best-bred 
 men she had ever met. She looked at him with 
 new complacency in the silence that ensued, and 
 which no one broke for some seconds. 
 
 The Admiral was engaged in confounding himself 
 that he had not waited on his new neighbour before. 
 jMiss Fulton was expecting to be asked again, and 
 the rest were watching her. 
 
 One thing Mr Smith noticed in the course of the 
 evening. The Tolletons, who were neighbours of 
 most present, who lived within two miles of Sauffren- 
 den, and were nice people, living in a nice place, 
 were never mentioned. 
 
 All sorts of scraps of gossip about one thing 
 and another went the round, for Sauffrenden \^as 
 emphatically a gossipy house ; there was sympathy 
 for one friend, smiles for another, interest and 
 curiosity shown about a third, but one name 
 was never heard. It was not his business, of 
 course, but' still he would have been glad if the 
 subject had been started. He was far from for- 
 getting the glossy head beside his chair in the 
 firelight; perhaps he had thought even more of 
 
l6o MR SMITH: 
 
 it afterwards than at the time ; and once or twice, 
 in the midst of Miss Fulton's animation, not to 
 say flightiness, it rose before him with an odd 
 incongruity. What connection could there be be- 
 tween two such opposite people? 
 
 The Tolletons, nevertheless, were not ignored 
 so entirely as Mr Smith supposed. 
 
 Philip knew who would not ignore them, and 
 was quite prepared for Sauffrenden's sly w^hisper 
 when no one was listening, "Any news of the Ts, 
 eh?'' 
 
 " It's all in training," with a glance at Mr Smith, 
 who was at that moment engaged in paying his com- 
 pliment at the end of Miss Fulton's "II Sigretto." 
 " He is to dine there on Monday ; I'm going too." 
 
 "Are you? I wish I were. What fun you'll 
 have ! What a nuisance it is that thev can't be- 
 
 ft/ 
 
 have like other people, and one could go to their 
 house properly ! Is it to be a dinner-party ? I 
 wish I were going. I wish they ^vould ask me." 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Philip, laughing, " nothing 
 in the world would give them greater pleasure than 
 to ask you. If an invitation is all you want, it is 
 easily arranged." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. l6l 
 
 " Well, well ; you know what I mean. And so 
 he is to be there, is he ? I daresay it will be very 
 pleasant. I daresay Helen will make herself very 
 charming." 
 
 " I daresay she will — most certainly she will, 
 if she does as she did the other day." 
 
 " When was that ? Oh, on the drive. But have 
 they met since? Do you think they have met 
 since? It strikes me they must have been meet- 
 ing somewhere between now and then, for it is 
 nearly a fortnight since then, you know. Let me 
 see. It was the day he was here — that was a 
 Monday; was it last Monday? No, it couldn't 
 have been, for that was the day we went to the far 
 cover, and you came on Tuesday ; it must have been 
 the Monday before, and that makes it right, a fort- 
 night next Monday. What do you think, eh ? " 
 
 " Well, the fact is," replied Philip, as indifferently 
 as he could, but still with something of the inevi- 
 table guilty Tolleton air, "that I met him going 
 to call there just after I left you on Tuesday ; so, 
 as you had given me the cue, I thought I might 
 as well see what was going on." 
 
 " And so you went too ? " 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
l62 MR SMITH: 
 
 " Yes, I went with him," 
 
 " Well ? " said Lord Sauffrenden, with the keenest 
 interest. At this moment his wife was seen ap- 
 proaching. "Want anything, Milly dear? Don't 
 tire yourself, my child ; let me get it for you." 
 
 "No, don't mind, thank you, dear; it is only 
 the key of the photograph -book. I am almost 
 certain I put it on the table by this empty ink- 
 stand. Some one must have taken it." 
 
 "Oh, of course they have. It's in the book, 
 dear. The book is on the other table, by ^h 
 Smith; I daresay he has been looking at it." 
 
 " No, I want it for him. I put it there. But I 
 do believe the key is in it. How could I be so 
 stupid ? " 
 
 Off she went. 
 
 "Well, Philip?" 
 
 "We had a grand time," said Philip, "and the 
 old gentleman enjoyed liimself immensely, no doubt. 
 As for me, I was nowhere. What a girl that is ! " 
 
 " Whew ! " said Sauffrenden, with a little surprise. 
 ''Of course she is, that's nothing new. Besides, 
 she is not the worst of them. Lily's worse, and 
 Carry would be, only she can't get the fellows to 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 63 
 
 take up with her, unless the others won't have 
 them." 
 
 " Lily is odious/' said Philip, shortly. 
 
 "And so the fair Helen really and truly — well, 
 she might do worse. But it's such an absurd idea. 
 What could have put it into her head ? " 
 
 " I never saw anything like the girl ! " exclaimed 
 Philip, with vehemence; the remembrance of his 
 visit was not so pleasant as he made out. It is 
 hard on a man to be thrown aside like an old shoe, 
 when a new one, however inferior in quality, fits 
 better, and he had been accustomed for so long to 
 fit the ladies at Freelands. " I never saw any- 
 thing like the girl ! She looks up at a man, and 
 talks to him, and makes eyes at him, and goes on 
 in such a way — it's no wonder a simple soul like 
 that is no match for her." 
 
 "She means him to be one, nevertheless," said 
 Saufirenden, punning. 
 
 " Pshaw ! she means nothing of the kind. That is 
 to say, I daresay it may come to that, but all she 
 thinks of now is to bring him to her feet. It's — 
 it's a shame." 
 
 Again his friend felt surprise, but he only ex- 
 
l64 MR SMITH: 
 
 pressed confidence. "I think you're wTong there, 
 Phil. I don't believe this affair will end like the 
 rest. What fun could there be in bringing down an 
 old bird like that?" 
 
 " A great deal more fun than a haK-fledged one ; 
 but it may be as you think, after all. I wouldn't 
 give twopence for Smith's chance of escape if it is so. 
 If she really wants him, she'll have him in spite of 
 himself." 
 
 " Well, he would get a wife that many would en\y 
 him. I daresay she is good-natured, and would tone 
 down, and all that sort of thing. He might tliink 
 himself very well off. I wonder how it will turn 
 out. IVIilly has been turning the tables on me, you 
 know. I said she was to find a wife for him, and so 
 she has fixed on Cornelia. Look, she has settled 
 them down with the photograph-book, and he had 
 her at dinner. I daresay she'll tell me to-night it's 
 quite a thing to be, but she doesn't know what we 
 know. I would give twenty pounds to be at the 
 ToUetons' on Monday night." 
 
 " Oh, to dare to say that ! " 
 
 '' Hang it, I forgot ! But no one was listening. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 65 
 
 Well, remember to give me a full account ; and now 
 I'll go and talk to the Dowager." 
 
 The Dowager was a great-aunt of his own, who 
 every now and then honoured Sauffrenden with her 
 presence. She was as comely as a fresh skin, blue 
 velvet, and diamonds could make her, and was in 
 her way a great addition to the lots of people whose 
 approach Captain Wellwood had heralded to the 
 ToUetons. 
 
 Some of these had arrived, but many more were 
 coming. Sauffrenden's sister Eosamond was coming, 
 and his cousin Mary Percy, and " Fitz," who was a 
 young Fitz- Charles in the Guards, and the Aytouns, 
 whom nobody wanted, and several entire families of 
 fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters, with their 
 valets and waiting-women, so that their Christmas 
 was going to be a merry one. 
 
 Philip was also to stay at the Castle ; but when 
 that stipulation was made by his friend, it was ac- 
 companied by a whispered promise that every facil- 
 ity should' be afforded him during the visit, for 
 going to the T's as often as he chose. Indeed, it was 
 plain that so delighted was Sauffrenden with the 
 
l66 MR SMITH: 
 
 secrecy, the audacity, and the rivalry attendant on 
 the Tolletons' new campaign, that however much he 
 might envy every one who went to their house, he 
 would no longer repine at their doing so. 
 
 Miss Fulton was much pleased with Mr Smith. 
 He had been perfectly quiescent and passively 
 polite, therefore she told herself that he had been 
 agreeable. Then he had praised her singing, and 
 with discrimination. And he knew people whom 
 she knew at Naples. 
 
 This satisfied her. She was in good looks and 
 good spiiits, and having once ascertained that her 
 companion was worthy of it, she bestowed upon him 
 the full flow of her mind. As usual with her, she 
 talked so much that she almost forgot whom she was 
 talking to. 
 
 The Admiral, however, had not forgot. Ten thou- 
 sand a-year, French cook, billiard-table, and '34 port 
 — what a fool he had been not to leave his card 
 before I 
 
 Confound the fellow's name ! If he were Brown, 
 Jones, and Eobinson rolled into one, he didn't care. 
 If Cornelia could only hook on there, it would be 
 the snuggest anchorage for him that ever an old 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 167 
 
 craft got into. He was already contemplating the 
 loan of loose occasional hundreds, and considering 
 how he could best manage to keep a couple of 
 steady-going hunters at a brother-in-law's expense, 
 when he was roused by the immediate presence of 
 the object of his reverie himself. His sister was in 
 the act of presenting him. 
 
 The Admiral made his best bow. He was at the 
 same time more arrogant and less proud than she. 
 From the time he had learnt the name of the man 
 who was building the great house near Eastworld, he 
 had contemptuously dismissed him, house and all, 
 from his thoughts. Directly he met the stranger, a 
 guest at Sauflfrenden, heard of his wealth, and found 
 him a bachelor, he was his very humble servant. 
 He knew how to spread his sails to a fair breeze, 
 whatever Corny did ; and even she obsei'ved with 
 surprise the lowness of his bow. She did not under- 
 stand it. Thomas was not always so affable. Had 
 she known what was in his mind, she would have 
 bitten her' tongue out with shame. As it was, she 
 was only a little agreeably astonished, and stood by 
 for a few minutes, listening. 
 
 The Admiral entered into conversation at once in 
 
l68 MR SMITH: 
 
 a bluff, hearty, ofF-hand way, whose openness seemed 
 to guarantee, " Here he is ! I'll answer for him ! 
 Simple old sailor, very friendly, true and honest to 
 the backbone, and as guiltless of machination as a 
 baby." The Admiral had hoped to have had the 
 honour of waiting on Mr Smith before, felt quite 
 ashamed to meet him anywhere but in his own 
 house for the first time ; but he must look it over, 
 must consider old fellow's infirmities ; no longer in 
 his prime as Mr Smith was, and had been fairly 
 tied at home by the leg. 
 
 Gout and rheumatism was his mixture, sometimes 
 stronger of the one, sometimes of the other. 
 
 Capital doctor, Dr Hunt. Mr Smith had not yet 
 had occasion for his services. Hoped it would be 
 long before he had. Doctors were like Mother 
 Carey's chickens, only to be seen in foul weather. 
 Had a friend who was asked the other day for his 
 doctor's name, and couldn't tell, for he hadn't con- 
 sulted one for fifteen years ! That was the sort of 
 man to live with, and get an appetite for your meals. 
 However, he must say for Hunt, that whenever he 
 came to Fulton he stayed to dinner, and took his 
 port like any other Christian. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 69 
 
 Well — all — fine open weather. The meet was at 
 Fulton on Monday, would Mr Smith join them at 
 breakfast ? - 
 
 He didn't hunt? Ah — but he might ride to the 
 meet — would be very happy to see him ; and Miss 
 Fulton and the ladies would show him the old ruins 
 afterwards. 
 
 Mr Smith thought he might ride to the meet ; and, 
 if he did, would certainly avail himself of the 
 Admiral's hospitality. Miss Fulton had next to 
 endorse the invitation, which her brother loudly 
 informed her of 
 
 She did it cordially ; and he felt that he had now, 
 at least, thrown out one grappling-iron. The ruins 
 w^ould do for Monday ; and though he had been 
 rather staggered by the not hunting, he was able pre- 
 sently to reflect that even that might turn out to 
 his advantage. Brothers-in-law who don't hunt 
 can't spend their money on hunters ; and if there 
 were no expensive taste to run away with the for- 
 tune, why, it was a thousand times the better. He 
 would be able thus to indulore the few moderate 
 desires of his dear Cornelia's brother ; and he could 
 give Corny the hint whenever he wanted anything. 
 
170 MR SMITH: 
 
 Corny was a good soul, and, by George ! it was time 
 she had a husband ; but he must take care how any- 
 thing of that sort got to her ears. 
 
 He knew better than to start her on her high 
 horse. No, no ; all he had to do was to get Smith to 
 Fulton, and manage the business himself. 
 
 As they departed, he took care to say, " See you on 
 Monday, then ? " 
 
 And Mr Smith replied, that he certainly hoped so. 
 
 When Monday came, however, all had changed. 
 The weather was no longer soft and gently dull ; 
 there was heavy rain, and no break in the clouds 
 gave hope of anything better. It was not the sort of 
 morning on which one cares to rise betimes, and ride 
 eight miles to breakfast at another man's house. It 
 was not a day for ruins, or anything else. Miss 
 Fulton must wait. 
 
 He reilected that he was going out to dinner, and 
 concluded to take his other meals at home. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 171 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE WOMAN WHO OUGHT NOT TO BECOME 
 HIS WIFE. 
 
 Although the Tolletons had made a great deal of 
 their family bereavement as a reason for there being 
 no dinner-party/ it may be doubted whether, in 
 any case, they would have been able to give one. 
 As may have been gathered, they found some dif- 
 ficulty in collecting their neighbours when they 
 wished to entertain. 
 
 In asking Mr Smith, it is true, they much preferred 
 having him alone, or with the simple addition of 
 Philip Wellwood, with whom they stood on no cere- 
 mony. But when they had wanted to have a dinner- 
 party — and they had been very desirous indeed of 
 giving one a few months previously — for reasons 
 which have no place here, they had had such diffi- 
 
172 MR SMITH: 
 
 culty in getting it up, that in the end it had col- 
 lapsed altogether. 
 
 The Fultons had made it clear they would not 
 come. The Deanes, an easy-going father and mother, 
 whose two sons cajoled or coerced them into a toler- 
 able degree of intimacy at Freelands, were away from 
 home. Mr and Miss Gray had accepted, and drawn 
 back, offering a very shilly-shally excuse. And Mrs 
 Kodney had a baby the day the invitation was sent 
 her. There was nobody left but the Hunts. 
 
 But the Hunts had been met so often at Freelands, 
 by the people who were wanted for the dinner- 
 party, that Helen had declared it was impossible 
 they should be the only others present again. It 
 would have an odd appearance. It could not be 
 done. 
 
 That party, accordingly, had fallen to the ground, 
 and it would have been perilous to attempt another. 
 
 " I really don't know that we could have managed 
 one," said Helen, "unless we had got the Deanes. 
 If they had come, and had had some people with 
 them, it might have done ; but there is no one else 
 just now. After all, poor grandmamma's dying is 
 not so very inopportune ; it saves so much trouble." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1/3 
 
 "And will really be far pleasanter," said Lily, 
 thinking of the dinner-party, though it sounded as if 
 she meant a disrespectful allusion. " Come and 
 make preparations now," added she. 
 
 When the preparations began, Corker knew at once 
 that it was Miss Tolleton's party. 
 
 Helen never went into the kitchen on ordinary 
 occasions, leaving the housekeeping department to 
 Carry, who had a turn for it. On this day, however, 
 she accompanied her sister, and took an interest in 
 the bill of fare. She even engaged to find a special 
 receipt for the cook, and did it. She wished the 
 wild ducks dressed in a particular way. Men, she 
 knew, loved wild duck. 
 
 The gardener had next a visit. She chose the 
 plants for the table herself; and then snipped off 
 every available blossom in the greenhouse, before his 
 angry eyes. The last bunch of grapes was ordered to 
 be sent in ; and when the young lady lamented 
 so feelingly that there was not one of each colour, 
 Maclaren felt sure there was something in the 
 wind. 
 
 The sisters dressed the flow^er-glasses in company 
 — that they always did themselves ; but Lily was sur- 
 
174 MR SMITH : 
 
 prised to see her sister lay aside several small and 
 choice blossoms. 
 
 " You can't make them bouquets when they aren't 
 staying in the house," said she. 
 
 " They won't find fault with them on that account, 
 Lily." 
 
 " But they will have them of their own." 
 
 " So they will ! I never recollected that. Well, 
 but a thought strikes me ; I shall make them, all 
 the same." 
 
 Helen would not tell her thought. She laughed, 
 and nodded, and said they must wait for it. The 
 thought was, however, that if Mr Smith should come 
 with a flower in his button-hole, she would show him 
 the way to dispose of it. 
 
 Lily stood by and watched her sister, and laughed 
 at her. 
 
 Helen was not making the correct old gentleman's 
 bouquet at all. The correct old gentleman's bouquet 
 was large and gorgeous — not particularly fragrant, 
 and quickly strung together. But Helen had taken 
 the last sprig of verbena, and the one small velvety 
 geranium, for Mr Smith ; and Philip was to be put 
 off with the rose. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 175 
 
 "Philip will find it out, you may be sure," said 
 she. " Here, let me make his. I daresay I could 
 scrape together something better than that out of the 
 greenhouse. And you might have given him the helio- 
 trope, when you know he is so fond of it. It's lost 
 on the drawing-room table. Give me the scissors." 
 
 "It scents the room," said her sister, handing a 
 thick empty stalk, while her eyes were fixed on the 
 tiny bunch she held in her left hand. 
 
 " Scissors," said Lily, impatiently. " I'll see what 
 I can do for him ; but I think he might have that." 
 
 " Well, if you cannot get anything else, you may 
 take it. There now, what do you think? That 
 little bit of white makes it perfect. It's too good 
 for him." 
 
 " Give it to Philip, then. He won't appreciate it, 
 and Philip would. Guardsmen always do. They 
 know better about these things than any other men." 
 
 "Indeed I shan't," said Helen, thinking in her 
 heart that she had wasted too many bouquets on 
 Philip already. " I have made it for Mr Smith, and 
 he shall have it. And you are quite wrong about 
 his not appreciating, Lily ; I tell you what, I don't 
 believe anything escapes him." 
 
176 MR SMITH: 
 
 " You said it was too good yourself." 
 
 " I was only laughing. I wouldn't give him a 
 poor thing for the world. One has a feeling that 
 he has been accustomed to the best." 
 
 Lily looked at the scissors dubiously. "Xow, 
 mind," added her sister, with decision, "that you 
 don't take the heliotrope, unless you really and 
 truly cannot get anything else. I am sure that 
 rose would have done very well ; a rose is a great 
 rarity at this time of year." 
 
 " Not one like that," said Lily, contemptuously. 
 " A poor washed-out China bud ! I should be 
 ashamed to offer it to him, and I don't believe he 
 would wear it, either." 
 
 " He would have to wear it." 
 
 "AYould he? I don't think Philip knows what 
 it is to 'have.' Certainly, he sometimes treats us 
 rather cavalierly, don't you tliink ? I daresay he is 
 the same to every one." 
 
 One of Helen's bitter sensations passed through 
 her as Lily spoke. She felt sure that he was not the 
 same to every one ; that others too presumed upon 
 — upon what ? Was it upon their being motherless, 
 unprotected girls, or upon anything about themselves 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 177 
 
 which invited freedom ? It gave her a passing 
 qualm, and her thoughts turned to Mr Smith with a 
 new satisfaction. She was resolved that he,, at least, 
 should never find her too familiar. 
 
 When the two guests arrived, the ladies were all 
 in the drawing-room, and Mr Tolleton received them 
 in the hall. 
 
 The sisters were dressed alike, as usual ; but as 
 usual it was on the eldest chiefly that the dress was 
 remarkable. She wore a white silk, short and plain 
 in front, but flowing far behind ; the open square 
 showing her neck was edged with soft lace ; and over 
 the left shoulder was passed a black silk scarf, tied 
 at the waist in a large bow. So far, all three were 
 alike ; but Miss Tolleton had seen when she was out 
 several bunches of red arbutus berries, which she 
 had plucked, and wreathed among her dark coils, 
 instead of any other ornament. There were only 
 two bunches ripe, and Helen took them both ; not 
 meaning to be selfish, but without a thought. 
 
 Lily had asked for one, and her sister had replied 
 that in that case Carry alone must go without, and 
 besides it needed both sprays to make up an effective 
 bunch — one without the other would be poor. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
178 MR SMITH: 
 
 Lily saw the force of botli arguments, and was re- 
 signed. She merely took note that it was a good 
 idea, and resolved to remember for another time 
 how becoming it would be to herself. 
 
 The moment the gentlemen entered the room, 
 there was no doubt about their bouquets. 
 
 Mr Smith wore on his breast a small and very 
 perfect pink and white streaked camellia ; Captain 
 Wellwood, one equally, if not more beautiful, of the 
 purest white. Helen's first quick desire was that Mr 
 Smith's should have been the white one. Then she 
 wondered how it had become Captain Wellwood's. 
 
 This was soon explained. Mr Smith had given it 
 to him — had brought it in the carHage and pinned 
 it on himself. It was told while Helen was pre- 
 senting her offerings, or rather saying how she had 
 meant to present them ; but now — cut short by Mr 
 Smith's doing the very thing he ought, taking out 
 his camellia, and begging her to wear it herseK, 
 while he replaced it by what she had made for him. 
 If it had only been the white one ! 
 
 This example of gallantry, however, was not 
 imitated. Philip observed that, as his blossom was 
 already a gift, he could not have the pleasure of 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 179 
 
 asking any lady to wear it for him, but he should 
 be most happy to put in both ; and, so saying, crushed 
 the bouquet into the same button-hole. 
 
 The girls began to admire the camellias, and as 
 both came from one greenhouse, they were at liberty 
 to compare them. 
 
 The white one was clearly the favourite. Even 
 their father was struck by it. He knew something 
 of gardening, and his daughters were pleased that he 
 should shine in such a respectable taste. He had 
 seldom seen such a blossom, he must confess he 
 wondered that Mr Smith liked to cut it. Mr Smith 
 owned that his gardener, at least, had not liked 
 cutting it. He had grumbled at defrauding a tree 
 so early in the season, and hinted at rumours of a 
 camellia show ; but his master had pacified him out- 
 wardly with promises that if a show really took 
 place, he should be allowed to contribute. " Pro- 
 vided," added Mr Smith, " he did not stint me till 
 the thing was really announced." He believed, 
 however, that the man was in his heart by no 
 means satisfied. Gardeners never were. 
 
 Then dinner was announced. It was rather a 
 blow to Lily that, being the youngest, she was 
 
l80 MR SMITH: 
 
 obliged to put up with her father's arm, and sit 
 opposite Captain Wellwood. Now that Helen had 
 openly discarded him, she felt persuaded that Philip 
 would turn to her — if, indeed, he had not done so 
 already. 
 
 But, in truth, Philip had never turned to her 
 less. 
 
 Up to the present time he had, perhaps, if he had 
 thought about it at all, preferred her to Carry. She 
 was equally well-looking, and more amusing in her 
 banter. Carry, placed in any other family, would 
 have been a dull, quiet girl, put down as sensible, 
 and admired for her reticence ; but as it was, she 
 imitated her sisters, and chattered and flirted as well 
 as she was able. She had all their folly, with none 
 of their wit. 
 
 Philip had been accustomed to amuse himself 
 with Lily in a more easy and familiar manner than 
 Helen liked, but he had almost ignored Carry. 
 
 On the last occasion, however, when he had 
 been in their company, Lily had been fast going 
 down in his estimation. There was a satisfaction in 
 her glances at Helen ; a mounting guard over her 
 and Mr Smith ; an air of warning off Carry ; and of 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. l8l 
 
 keeping herself and every one else out of the way, 
 which was very offensive. 
 
 Helen might choose to marry Mr Smith, and, if 
 she did, nobody need object ; but she was surely able 
 to carry forward the business herself, and guide him 
 safely through its various intricacies up to the pro- 
 posal point, without any need of her sister's acting 
 spy, scout, and sentinel all at once. 
 
 If he spoke to Helen, Helen answered pleasantly 
 enough, but Lily's eye was upon him. If he moved, 
 she was at his side. He could not shake her off. 
 He began positively to hate her. 
 
 Carry was now by many degrees the higher of the 
 two in his estimation. She at least did not sanction 
 the other arrangements. She ate her dinner almost 
 in silence, and, when spoken to, answered as if she 
 desired to be let alone. When let alone, Philip was 
 certain that she was listening to the conversation at 
 the head of the table. That Lily, between whiles, 
 was doing the same, he likewise felt convinced, but 
 there was a wide difference between the sisters' 
 listening. 
 
 Lily listened as if she liked it, as if she were in- 
 wardly congratulating herself upon it, and building 
 
l82 MR SMITH: 
 
 up all sorts of future possibilities from it ; Carry, 
 with a sort of sulky determination not only to hear 
 as much as she could herself, but by forcing others 
 to do the same, prevent anything being said that 
 could not be made public. 
 
 The sisters had instructed their father to be as 
 cheerful and chatty, and make as much noise as he 
 possibly could ; but it is rather a difficult thing to 
 make a noise all by yourself, and so the poor gentle- 
 man found it. He did his best. He addressed a 
 joke to Captain Wellwood, and Philip regarded him 
 with mild inquiry ; he spoke to Carry, and she let 
 fall the subject so quickly that he felt quite cross 
 with her. Lily herself, from whom he had received 
 his instructions, talked and laughed spasmodically ; 
 pinched his feet under the table to make him go on, 
 when he had positively come to the very last dregs 
 of what he had to say ; put nonsensical questions 
 in a loud, vacant voice ; and altogether disconcerted 
 instead of helping him. 
 
 At length the silence among the other four became 
 of such long duration, that Helen was obliged to turn 
 to her left-hand neighbour. Mv Smith at the same 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I83 
 
 time began a general conversation on the topic 
 of the day, and soon they were all talking to- 
 gether. 
 
 Still Philip felt that Lily's eye was upon him, and 
 that she would have prevented his speaking with 
 her sister if she could. In the evening it was the 
 same, and it occurred to him that if this were to be 
 always the way, he should not care to take advantage 
 of Lord Sauffrenden's offer of facilities for going to 
 the Ts during his Christmas visit at the Castle, as 
 much as he might have done once. 
 
 Helen sang in her slow, speaking voice, ballads, 
 not over well sung, perhaps, but almost too full of 
 force and meaning. Ballads about love, and hope, 
 and despair, and other things that girls do not 
 usually sing about. Sometimes she almost whis- 
 pered, and let her eyes express what she meant to 
 say ; sometimes she threw out the words with fire. 
 What was she dreaming of? Did she think to win 
 him thus ? Did she really fancy she could make 
 this common, comfortable, middle-aged, prosaic man 
 imagine that hope and love, or even that blessed 
 despair which is the heritage of true adoration, were 
 
l84 MR SMITH: 
 
 for him? It was too absurd, too daring an idea. 
 Yet there were no bounds to her ridiculous vanity, 
 and perchance his credulity might equal it. 
 
 The mocking smile was still on Philip's lip, when 
 a voice at his elbow made him draw back as if 
 an obnoxious reptile had touched him. "Captain 
 Wellwood, do come and let us have a game of four 
 bdzique." 
 
 " It is a game I never play, thanks." 
 
 " I am sure you do ; you must have played it 
 here. Not that we care very much for it, either. 
 There are some games much better fun. What do 
 you like ? 
 
 "Oh, don't wait for me; you can have three 
 bdzique, you know. I like music better." 
 
 Nothing more could be said. If a man has the 
 courage to say boldly he likes one thing, it is im- 
 possible to urge him to the other, especially when 
 there is no scapegoat who can be cited as the one to 
 be obliged. Lily could not say " to please Carry," 
 or even " to please papa," least of all '' to please me." 
 She was obliged to retire, and hide her mortification 
 as best she might. 
 
 If people liked Helen's singing, it generally meant 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 185 
 
 that they liked Helen. But what detained Philip 
 was not Helen ; it was simply the rare entertain- 
 ment he found in watching her. He meant to stay, 
 wliether she liked him to be there or not. 
 
 It did not appear, however, as if Helen objected. 
 She smiled on them both, united them in what she 
 said between the songs, and listened with equally 
 good grace to the compliments of either. 
 
 This went on most of the evening, and at last 
 Philip thought he had had enough. She was quiet 
 now, and more like her everyday self; he would 
 allow her to play out her game. As she brought a 
 little homely German air to a close, he moved away. 
 
 Mr Smith stayed where he was. He could not 
 help contrasting his evening in this fascinating 
 house with the didl dinner-party at Sauffrenden. 
 True, had he minutely inquired of himself, he must 
 have owned that he was not enamoured of the 
 society of Mr Tolleton, and with the younger sisters 
 he had not exchanged half-a-dozen words. But if in 
 Helen lay the- charm, it was diffused on all around 
 her. She cast a glamour in the eyes of those who 
 looked, and they could not tell from whence it 
 came. 
 
l86 MR SMITH: 
 
 Helen, in her white silk, with the arbutus berries 
 in her hair, was quite as beautiful as in her plumy 
 hat. It occurred to him that none of the ladies at 
 Sauffrenden had worn natural flowers. He wondered 
 stUl more that her own sisters, with such an example 
 of taste before them, could select stiff artificial 
 rosebuds. Thus we observe blindly. It never 
 struck him that it might have been from necessity, 
 not choice. 
 
 " I hope you take advantage of my path some- 
 times," said he, some time after Philip had gone. 
 
 " I did not know that we might." 
 
 " Indeed ! I thought I told your sister so ; but 
 perhaps it was !Miss Hunt. One of the young ladies 
 said she had been obliged to take the long round by 
 the highroad, and I felt so sorry that she should 
 think of doing such a thing. I rather think I 
 remember that it was Miss Hunt, but I hope that you 
 will all make use of it, whenever it is convenient." 
 
 " Thank you ; we shall be only too glad. It cuts 
 off nearly a mile of the way to the village, and 
 makes such a much pleasanter walk besides. Those 
 beautiful woods were so lovely last spring, that we 
 were tempted to trespass sometimes, — there being 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 87 
 
 no one there, you know. Oh, I wanted to ask, Mr 
 Smith, — are you going to have a summer-house at 
 the view?" 
 
 " The view ? I really don't know." 
 
 "Where the broken-down seat is, you know, 
 where the long path comes out from the woods." 
 
 "■ I have never been there. Miss Tolleton, and had 
 no idea that such a place existed." 
 
 " I wish I could describe it to you ; it used to be 
 my favourite walk in old times. Let me see ; we go 
 through the plantation — our plantation — first, climb 
 over the stile, and strike into the wood path." 
 
 " Yes, and it leads into the avenue." 
 
 "Ah, but just where it joins the avenue, another 
 little footpath turns to the left, and goes up the hill 
 among the woods, a long, long way, before it comes 
 out at the view." 
 
 " Eeally I had never noticed it." 
 
 " That must be because of the dead leaves. Unless 
 you know it is there, it is probably so covered up 
 just now, you'would never find it." 
 
 "You say it is a favourite walk; will you and 
 your sisters show it me some day ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly, we shall be delighted. And then 
 
l88 MR SMITH: 
 
 you will put up a summer-house at the view, won't 
 you? It would be such a delightful place for a 
 summer-house, and the old tumble-down seat must 
 be quite rotten by this time. I wonder you had 
 never heard of the view ; we think so much of it in 
 these parts. There are four counties to be seen, 
 and the cathedral tower, and it is supposed the 
 smoke of London, when the wind is in the east, but 
 that I doubt. However, you won't mind if that 
 fails." 
 
 " I am quite curious to see the place. As for the 
 summer-house, all you have to do is to name the 
 spot, and a summer-house there shall be. And come 
 as soon as you will ; it shall be begun the next day." 
 
 "To-morrow, then?" said she, with sparkling 
 eyes. 
 
 " To-morrow, if you please. And what hour?" 
 
 " Is twelve too early ? We have an engagement 
 in the afternoon." 
 
 " Twelve will suit me admirably. It is the best 
 time of the day for walking. I shall be at the stile 
 at twelve." 
 
 Then there was a pause while each was thinking 
 about the sisters. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 89 
 
 Helen was wondering whether they really must 
 go, whether they were expected, or whether she 
 might not leave them behind. She would rather 
 have been without them. She liked having Mr 
 Smith best by herself. She almost felt that if they 
 went, it would spoil her walk altogether. 
 
 But still, if they were expected, there was no help 
 for it — go they must; unless, indeed, she could 
 invent apologies at the time. After a few minutes' 
 reflection, she decided to have it so. She would not 
 say a word about the expedition to any one, and if, 
 when they met next day, Mr Smith inquired after 
 her sisters, she would have their excuses read3\ 
 After the walk was over, it would be time enoug-h 
 to tell them of it. 
 
 Mr Smith in his own mind had a passing struggle 
 likewise. 
 
 When he first proposed the party, he certainly 
 intended it to include all the three. It was some- 
 thing in Helen's manner, nothing in her words, 
 which conveyed the idea to his mind that she 
 possibly meant to give him her company alone. He 
 could not but own he would prefer this, although it 
 was perhaps a presumptuous desire. Fortunately 
 
190 MR SMITH: 
 
 it did not rest with him, and he was able to close 
 the compact cheerfully, content to wait for its 
 fulfilment. 
 
 After this they joined the others. 
 
 Lily had grown quite boisterous in her laughter 
 and nonsensical questions, plaguing and perplexing 
 her father more than ever. Philip had quite 
 deserted her ; Carry had made some surly attempts 
 at civility towards him, and they sat side by side, 
 apart from the rest, yet apparently not caring to be 
 together — like a couple of arch-conspirators who, 
 suspecting and distrusting each other, are bound by 
 no ties of mutual regard, but merely by a common 
 purpose. 
 
 Helen sat down on the sofa by her father, and Mr 
 Smith took a chair opposite. Mr Tolleton's spirits 
 revived, and Lily was subdued. Now and then she 
 glanced at Captain Wellwood, but he and Carry still 
 sat in their gloomy corner, gloomily conversing. 
 
 She was enraged with Philip. Her boisterous 
 spirits were an attempt to conceal her mortification. 
 She had reckoned upon the reversion of him. When 1 
 he had shown distinctly that he was not in love with 
 her sister, she had taken it for granted that he 
 
 ii 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I9I 
 
 would, if not exactly fall in love, at least be on 
 very friendly terms with her. Then Philip had shown 
 he did not care to take this position. At least, he 
 liked them all equally. It was not until this 
 evening, that she found out that, openly neglected 
 by Helen, he nevertheless preferred her. 
 
 This was hard to be borne. If Helen had mono- 
 polised him, and he had sworn even an unmeaning 
 allegiance, it would have been quite the natural 
 order of things in that house ; but that, without the 
 power of making him adore her, she should still 
 have sufficient to make him prefer her, was more 
 than her sister's fortitude could bear. 
 
 She was not angry with Helen, reserving her 
 wrath for Philip. Helen was doing very well, and 
 she only felt a slight increase of desire to see her 
 fairly transformed into Mrs Smith. But she longed 
 to vex Philip. And it somehow took possession of 
 her mind, that the louder she laughed and talked 
 with her father, and the longer she left the other 
 two alone by the piano, the better she could accom- 
 plish this end. 
 
 When Helen drew near to the fire, she expected 
 to see Philip come forward also. Philip, however. 
 
192 MR SMITH: 
 
 remained where he was until the carnage was 
 announced, and she felt faintly surprised. She 
 concluded her judgment had been hasty. The case 
 was not desperate. 
 
 A minute after the carriage was announced, Helen 
 wandered off to the piano again, and began to put up 
 her music. If Mr Smith had anything to say to her 
 when he bade good-bye, he might have an opportu- 
 nity of doing so without witnesses. Mr Smith had 
 a word to say, and though unconscious of its being so, 
 it may be questioned whether he would have beem 
 able to say it, had they not been out of earshot. 
 
 " Twelve o'clock to-morrow ? " 
 
 *-'Yes." 
 
 They shook hands, and he passed on. Captain 1 
 Well wood did the same, with simply " good-night ;** 
 and the door closed behind him. 
 
 Helen finished putting up her music, closed the 
 instrument, and came up to the others. " Well, I 
 hope you've had a pleasant evening, Nelly," said her 
 youngest sister, with a yawn. She did not speak 
 crossly, and if her own evening had been pleasant, 
 would assuredly not have yawned ; but how soon wei 
 grow weary when we are not enjoying ourselves! 
 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I93 
 
 Helen was not in the least tired, and owned that she 
 had had a very pleasant evening. 
 
 " But you have nothing to tell us about it ? I am 
 sure you might have enough, for you and Mr Smith 
 were all in all to each other, and spoke to no one else 
 all night." 
 
 " Oh yes, we were great friends, but I am afraid 
 there is nothing more to say. Our conversation 
 would scarcely bear repetition." 
 
 *' Now, Nelly, you know what I mean. Why can 
 you not tell me outright ? Is it to be, or not to be, 
 — that is the question." 
 
 " Oh, to be, to be, of course. All in good time," 
 said Helen, playfully. " Don't be alarmed, and don't 
 be in too great a hurry. We have only seen each 
 other two or three times " 
 
 " Quite enough too ! What should you want 
 more ? He can see that you're handsome, and 
 I should think you have had quite as much as you 
 care for of his courting. Take my word for it, Nelly, 
 the more he sees you the less he'll like you." Do 
 what she would, Lily could not bring herself to 
 speak good-temperedly. 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
194 MR SMITH: 
 
 Helen's eyebrows came together. ^"How stupid 
 you are." 
 
 She felt that nothing would induce her now to tell 
 Lily about the walk. Her coarse allusion to the 
 courting, and the half-jesting, half-spiteful remark 
 which followed it, decided her. As much as she 
 cared for of his courting ! Why, the courting had 
 never begun. She felt persuaded that he had as yet 
 no idea of such a thing. How long he would remain 
 in such happy innocence, was another matter. 
 Vanity whispered not long, and its flattering, buoyant 
 visions made her soon break out again into her com- 
 placent smile. 
 
 " My dear child, you are too childish. Don't let 
 your feelings run aw^ay with you so. I must tell you 
 distinctly, and once for all, that whatever may come 
 of this — and to comfort you, something I do expect 
 may come of it, though not yet : — I say he has never 
 yet thought of me in the way you mean." 
 
 " Never thought of you ! " She was accustomed 
 to such very quick measures, when Helen was in the 
 case. It was too disappointing. 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I did my best for you all to-night," 
 said their father coming in, and yawning vehemently. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 195 
 
 " Heigh ho ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! My throat quite aches 
 with talking. Mr Smith must think me a great 
 fool, if I go on like that always." 
 
 " Poor papa ! " said Helen, still complacent. " You 
 did talk tremendously hard. I thought you were en- 
 joying yourself." 
 
 " So I was, my dear, I'm sure, if you were. Well ? 
 You and Smith seemed great friends, eh ? " 
 
 " I like him very much indeed, papa ; and I think 
 he likes me too." This was to reward them all. 
 
 "But she says he is never thinking about her," 
 ejaculated Lily, who had no scruples ahout sapng in 
 plain terms what Helen would have merely insinu- 
 ated. 
 
 "Well, well, time enough," replied Mr Tolleton, 
 glancing at Helen, whose forehead had again drawn 
 together. " What should he be thinking of her for ? 
 I daresay he thinks she's a spoilt monkey, and so she 
 is. Where's Carry ? Gone to bed ? I'll go too. 
 Tell me when you want him here again, Nelly, and 
 I'll get him for you. He will be ready enough to 
 come when I ask him, I daresay." 
 
 Helen thought he would. She did not want him 
 asked, however ; she had other ways of working. She 
 
196 MR SMITH: 
 
 meant to have her walk on the morrow, but she 
 meant to have it without the knowledge of her family. 
 With this resolve fixed, she went to sleep, and no- 
 thing occurred in the morning to unsettle it. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. I97 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WALK TO THE VIEW. 
 
 AVpth the rapidity peculiar to November, the 
 weather had again changed, and that morning was 
 soft and balmy, with abundance of sunshine. 
 
 Helen rose in high spirits. She had arranged in 
 her own mind the night before, how Lily was to be 
 disposed of ; and as Carry seldom cared to go out in 
 the mornings, nothing was to be apprehended from her. 
 
 Accordingly Miss Tolleton complained of head- 
 ache and the unseasonable warmth of the day. It 
 was oppressive. She could not stay within doors — 
 was restless and fidgety, and soon strolled out into 
 the garden. By-and-by she returned from the 
 greenhouse, ' bringing with her some foreign leaves 
 which Lily had talked of painting. 
 
 " Look, Lily, I have brought these in for you. Do 
 you want them ? " 
 
198 MR SMITH: 
 
 " I did not want them to-day," replied Lily, look- 
 ing at the leaves ungraciously. '' I am not in the 
 mood for drawing. Why did you not ask me before- 
 hand ? I shall have to do them now." 
 
 '' Oh no, they can be put in water. Let them 
 wait till to-morrow, and they will be quite as nice. 
 I thought you would be glad to have them — that was 
 all. You said so the other day." 
 
 " Well, thank you, but I wish you hadn't. How- 
 ever, they won't keep fresh, of course; that flabby 
 kind never does, so I must do them at once." And 
 she languidly went for her colour-box. 
 
 Helen put the leaves in water, and took off her 
 hat. " What did you put on your best hat for the 
 garden for ? " inquired her sister, suddenly. " No 
 one is coming, is there 1 " 
 
 "Not that I know of, but I cannot find my old one. 
 I thought you or Carry had got it. WTiere can it 
 be, then ? Carry, have you seen my old hat any- 
 where ? " 
 
 Carry had not. " Where can it be ? " repeated 
 Helen, making a fuss. " I made sure one or other 
 of you had it. What can have become of it ? " 
 
 " Very likely you left it in the greenhouse yester- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 1 99 
 
 day, when you were getting the flowers," said 
 Lily. 
 
 " I don't believe I did. I don't think I had it on. 
 It must be somewhere in my room." 
 
 Whereupon she went to her room. The hat was 
 there, as she knew perfectly, but she did not like 
 herself in it. Twice she had tried it on, to avoid 
 observation, but it would not do. It was low in the 
 crown, and unbecoming. Its shabbiness was no 
 objection. She put on her shabbiest and roughest 
 old jacket, but her plumy hat and a clean necktie 
 she must have. Accordingly she had put these on 
 when she went to the garden, and now returned from 
 her room without change. It was very provoking, 
 but she could not find her straw ; and with several 
 complaints she sat down and took up a book. 
 
 It was twenty minutes to twelve, but a quarter of 
 an hour would take her to the stile. 
 
 " I can't read," said she, throwing down the 
 volume at the end of five minutes. " Come out for 
 a walk, Lily." 
 
 " How can I, with these leaves to copy ? I should 
 much rather have gone out," said poor Lily, who was 
 really feeling flat and headachy, and saw herself 
 
200 MR SMITH: 
 
 ruthlessly pinned to the house for some hours. " If 
 you had only asked me before you cut them ! " 
 
 " Oh, you have done enough for to-day. Leave 
 them till to-morrow to finish. Come." 
 
 "You don't know anything about it. As if I 
 could ! They would be quite spoilt. I would not 
 leave them now for the world." 
 
 This was as Helen had foreseen. She came and 
 looked. Lily was getting interested, in spite of her 
 disinclination for the job. She was succeeding, and 
 that was enough. Everything else was now second- 
 ary. 
 
 " That part is well done," said Helen, " when you 
 have rounded the edge a little more. I suppose it 
 is not finished ? " 
 
 " Finished ! Of course not. There's a great deal 
 of work in it yet." 
 
 " I must wait before I judge, then. Dear me ! 
 Will you come out in the afternoon ? " 
 
 "Yes, for the light won't be good then. Can't you 
 go by yourself now ? You disturb me jumping up 
 and down, and I don't like people looking over my 
 shoulder. Go and think of Mr Smith." 
 
 Thus the way was cleared, and the scene properly 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 201 
 
 prepared for, Lily's own hand drawing up the 
 curtain. 
 
 Helen set out, slowly sauntering past the windows, 
 then coming back to say in a laughing whisper that 
 she was going to take the short cut, and as soon as 
 she was out of sight, in the plantation, quickened 
 her step to a brisk pace. 
 
 She no longer found the air oppressive. She was 
 glowing with health and good humour when she 
 came up to Mr Smith at the stile. 
 
 It was not quite twelve, but Mr Smith had been 
 waiting there some minutes. His first glance 
 ascertained that she was alone, and his spirits rose. 
 Not a word was said by either about the sisters, and 
 as their hands and eyes met, Helen saw all was 
 right. Either he had not expected them, or he did 
 not wish for them ; whichever it was, it was plain 
 that he had no misgivings, he had trusted the matter 
 entirely in her hands. Every drawback was now 
 removed, and the thing was to get away into the 
 wood-path a*s quickly as possible. 
 
 He had already discovered the path, and wondered 
 how it had hitherto escaped his observation. 
 
 They began to climb, rustling through the dead 
 
202 MR SMITH: 
 
 leaves of the bank, and walking as fast as a good 
 deal of hindrance, in the shape of wet and slippery 
 ground, would permit, until a tolerably large-sized 
 hillock was put between them and any chance ob- 
 server on the road. 
 
 Then the pace slackened, and talking began. 
 
 Mr Smith spoke of the alterations and improve- 
 ments he had been that morning superintending, 
 and in which his companion showed a ready interest. 
 She at once comprehended his satisfaction in pulling 
 down uninhabitable cottages, and putting up in 
 their place good solidly-built commodious ones. 
 Her sympathy was called forth by his accounts 
 of the discomforts, the positive degradations he had 
 found his tenants enduring. She entered into his 
 plans, his schemes, as if she had been a part of 
 himself. He found himself talking to her as if they 
 had a joint interest in the welfare of these people. 
 In explaining his projects, he had nearly spoken of 
 what "we" must do. Such curious similarity of 
 tastes must be his apology. She really seemed as 
 if all that he was about to do had been in her heart 
 likewise. It was the most delightful encouragement. 
 
 " ]\Ir Rodney tells me," said he, warming, " that 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 203 
 
 the people here are a warm-hearted, affectiouate, 
 grateful set. They are naturally disinclined to trust 
 an utter stranger, but I expect we shall get on 
 capitally by-and-by. I mean to get to know them 
 personally, and that is only done by living among 
 them. It seems to me both foolish and absolutely 
 wrong to be responsible, in a great measure, for the 
 welfare of one's fellow-creatures, and, to save trouble, 
 leave it in the hands of agents who, as often as not, 
 are unprincipled, and regardless of anything but 
 making the most money they can out of them. I pro- 
 pose being as much as possible my own bailiff. At 
 all events, my bailiff shall have no authority but 
 what he gets from me." 
 
 To this she assented with an eagerness of approba- 
 tion that made it plain these had long been her own 
 sentiments. 
 
 " And going about among them one sees things as 
 they really are — at least as far as can be seen," he 
 went on. '' They are not put before you in one light 
 or another-, they are just plain facts, about which 
 you must use your own judgment, under the Divine 
 direction, and then, come what may, you have done 
 your duty." 
 
204 MR SMITH: 
 
 Yes, certainly, and that was all that was required 
 of one, acting for the best; but the " Divine direction," 
 rather startled her. He must be a religious man. 
 She was not sure that she was quite prepared for 
 that. Still it was a blessing he was not a dissen- 
 ter. If — if anything came of it, she would be 
 allowed to make her deep curtsey in church all the 
 same. 
 
 " I think," said he next, " I must get Lord Sauf- 
 frenden to give me a few hints about the drainage. 
 His land, I am told, is by far the best drained of any 
 in the county. He has been doing it lately on some 
 new system." 
 
 This was far better. Lord Sauffrenden and drain- 
 age were more in accordance with her views than 
 Mr Rodney and cottages. She could not indeed 
 appear to be at home in this matter, but that 
 was not needed. She could question, and be in- 
 structed, and show sympathy. And then she could 
 draw him on to speak about the house. The house 
 was all very well, but the absence of an approach on 
 the south side was an inconvenience. He was medi- 
 tating opening up one through the woods ; he had his 
 eye on a family who were the very people to put in- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 205 
 
 to a lodge. He meant to have a couple of new 
 lodges. 
 
 She could not do more than listen to this. She 
 could hardly as yet show approval of new lodges. 
 They had it, however. Several fine views of the 
 house were obtained from the path, and at each one she 
 felt increasingly better inclined to be the mistress of it. 
 
 Mr Smith in his turn was charmed with the wood- 
 path. Tt led through by far the most beautiful part 
 of the grounds. He must have it attended to, not 
 spoilt by being made too trim, but clear of rubbish, 
 and gravelled. 
 
 The gravel was suggested by frequent dififi-culties. 
 There were places so soft from recent rain that they 
 were only to be crossed by scrambling up the bank, 
 and holding on by the bushes. 
 
 Helen appeared to her usual advantage here. She 
 disdained assistance, stepped hither and thither, held 
 back the branches for him, found her own way, and 
 jumped the bank to admiration. 
 
 " There is another bad part in front, I am afraid," 
 said he, when they had just struggled on to firm 
 ground again. " I am afraid, Miss Tolleton, w^e shall 
 have to go up the side again." 
 
2C6 MR SMITH: 
 
 " Not if the stepping-stones are there still. Look, 
 it is all right, there they are, and they go right 
 through the worst." 
 
 She sprang from one to another, he following less 
 nimbly. 
 
 *' Now that is the last of them, and it is quite dry 
 the rest of the way. All the water runs down here 
 from the heights, you see. There are no more bad 
 places." 
 
 " You seem to know the way well ? " 
 
 " I used to come here often, alone." 
 
 " I wish I had been here then." 
 
 " In that case perhaps I should not have come." 
 
 " You certainly would not have come alone." 
 
 " Would you have come with me, Mr Smith ? " 
 
 " If you would have allowed me. Miss ToUeton." 
 
 They were laughing into each other's faces. The 
 charm was beginning to work. 
 
 *' Oh, what ferns ! " cried she next, " what beautiful 
 ferns ! I must have some of those ferns, please." 
 
 Of course he liked cutting them, she standing by 
 his side, receiving them as they were gathered. 
 Then he wanted to give her more than her hands 
 would hold. Then she was saucy, and threw away 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 20/ 
 
 some which she declared he had spoilt. They were 
 beautiful ones, but he had been very careless, and 
 had not cut them properly, and he must do it better 
 another time. They took up a root together. Then 
 they agreed it was not worth carrying home. Then 
 she said it was he who had said so, and he affirmed 
 he was sure she thought it. 
 
 A great deal of time passed, and still they had not 
 got to the view. Mr Smith had almost forgotten 
 what he had been brought there to see. It took him 
 unawares, and he was surprised into great admiration 
 and delight. 
 
 For some time the little path had been getting 
 steeper and steeper, but there had been no signs of an 
 opening in the woods. Suddenly it emerged on a 
 small plateau, evidently cleared by art ; and it ap- 
 peared this was the end. 
 
 On every side it was surrounded by trees. Be- 
 neath were cliffy so perpendicular as to form a 
 dangerous precipice, terminating as they did in a 
 bushy incline, at the bottom of which rolled the 
 river. 
 
 Beyond the river were lanes, fields, and hedgerows ; 
 dotted here and there with red-tiled farmhouses half- 
 
208 MR SMITH: 
 
 • 
 
 hidden by ivy, the growth of years, and nestling in 
 their ample stackyards. 
 
 In the distance theblue smoke of a town with its cath- 
 edral tower, could dimly be discerned against the sky. 
 
 Helen turned to her companion wdth a sense of 
 proud proprietorship. " What do you think of it ? 
 Have I exaggerated?" 
 
 " Indeed no, it is all that you promised me. It L 
 beautiful — perfectlybeautiful, a true English landscape 
 with all its best suggestions. How shall I thank you 
 for the pleasure this has given me ? But for you, 
 who knows how long I might have remained in ignor- 
 ance that such a spot existed ? " 
 
 " And look, that is all they have done for it ! " said 
 she, pointing to the rude bench which had fallen to 
 the ground on one side, and was evidently in the last 
 stage of decay. 
 
 " One had almost better make a seat of the rocks," 
 sitting down as she spoke. 
 
 " There shall be a summer-house," said Mr Smith, 
 looking round, " where that seat is now. It will be a 
 pleasure to me to design it myself. Anything that 
 you can suggest, you may depend on seeing carried 
 out." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 209 
 
 Helen felt her triumph. It was not on the words, 
 however, that she placed dependence. " Words really 
 mean very little," was her private judgment, " it is the 
 look and the manner which mean everything." Mr 
 Smith's look and manner were animated, and she felt 
 sure she was gaining ground. 
 
 He sat down upon the rocks beside her, and they 
 exhausted the subject of the summer-house. Helen 
 then entered on a topic she had earnestly desired to 
 open the evening before, but durst not, lest the un- 
 guarded speeches of her father or sisters might show 
 what she desired to conceal. She wished to hear 
 about Sauffrenden. 
 
 " You have not told me anything about your dinner- 
 party on Friday," she began, " and in our quiet neigh- 
 bourhood we like to know everything about everybody." 
 
 " It was a very dull dinner-party." 
 
 " Well, but that says nothing ; you must tell me 
 who were there, and all about it, and then I can esti- 
 mate the dulness." 
 
 " The Eector was there, and Miss Gray. Admiral 
 and Miss Fulton. And an old Lady Wranch or 
 Wrench, an aunt of Lord Sauffrenden's, T believe; 
 and several others I did not know." 
 
 VOL. I. O 
 
210 MR SMITH: 
 
 "Why, I think you were pretty well off. The 
 Fultons are pleasant people." 
 
 " I had never met them before ; but they seem so, 
 certainly." 
 
 " And who had you to take in to dinner, if it is a 
 fair question ? " 
 
 " I had Miss Fulton." 
 
 " Then, Mr Smith, you were well off. She is a most J 
 amusing and agreeable companion. Do you not 
 think so ?" 
 
 " Amusing, certainly." 
 
 " And agreeable ? Every one thinks her agree- 
 able." 
 
 " Yes, agreeable in a certain degree. But perhaps 
 she is almost too agreeable to be completely so. If 
 you know what I mean, though it is invidious to 
 point out such a defect, she has rather too much 
 agreeability." 
 
 "You are severe. Can a woman be too agree- 
 able?" 
 
 " Certainly not, but she can try to be so too 
 much." 
 
 " And is that all poor Miss Fulton's crime ? " 
 
 " Yes, that is all. I liked what I saw of Miss 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 211 
 
 Fulton very much ; but if I must say so, she talks 
 too fast, and too loud ; and, may I dare to add, 
 too much ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr Smith ! " 
 
 She was not quite certain what to say. She had 
 no idea he would prove so particular. 
 
 " Too much," said she, thoughtfully ; " I wonder if 
 I do." From the bottom of her heart the words 
 came ; she was no more coquetting than if she had 
 been in her own room alone. 
 
 The answer was as quick as thought. " You ? No, 
 indeed." 
 
 She blushed crimson. How provoking that she 
 should have appeared to be seeking this ! As if she 
 had deigned to angle for a comphment ! Appealed 
 for flattery which could not but be paid. It was too 
 stupid of her. And he had said it so earnestly, so 
 emphatically, that he must have thought it was what 
 she wanted. She sprang from her seat, vexation on 
 her brow. 
 
 He rose also, surprised at the sudden cloud. " You 
 are not angry with me, Miss Toilet on ? " Angry ? 
 Her bright smile shone out again, '' Yo2c ! No, indeed.'' 
 All was right. 
 
212 MR SMITH: 
 
 There was more dallying on the way home. More 
 difficulties in getting over the muddy places. More 
 holding on by the branches. 
 
 The chit-chat began again, and all too soon the 
 stile came in view. 
 
 Simultaneously they looked to see if the road were 
 free. It was quite free, although Maria and Clare 
 Hunt had traversed it backwards and forwards 
 several times in the interval in hopes of meeting 
 Captain Wellwood. Mr Smith helped his companion 
 over the stile, and they paused to say good-bye. 
 
 Helen put the ferns into her left hand. "Next 
 time," said he, taking her right, ''that you and I 
 come here together, I hope it will be to inspect the 
 new summer-house." Not much in the words, but 
 they were suggestive. 
 
 " And now," said Helen to herself, as she walked 
 swiftly through the plantation, " how much and how 
 little of this shall I give them the benefit of ? If I 
 told the whole, Lily would be ridiculous. She must 
 never know it was arranged beforehand, and I nmst 
 be careful how I show that I really think he is 
 touched. So then, we met "accidentally, and walked 
 together ; shall I say where ? Yes, for it will come 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 213 
 
 out about the summer-house. Whatever I tell her, 
 however, she must be made to hold her tongue 
 about." 
 
 Then she fell to musing on what had passed. His 
 words, his looks, were dwelt upon, and weighed in 
 the balance. How much meaning could she safely 
 attach to them ? How far could she calculate upon 
 him ? That he admired her, was interested in her 
 up to a certain point, she felt certain ; but was the 
 amount sufficient to bring him to her feet ? Not 
 yet. The result of her meditations was this — not yet. 
 
 Luncheon was over, and the sisters eagerly specu- 
 lating on the chances of Helen's luck having again 
 thrown Mr Smith in her way. It was two o'clock 
 when she entered the house. She had no idea it 
 was so late, and, smiling, bade them wait for her 
 adventures until she had satisfied her appetite. 
 
 " Adventures ! Then you had adventures ! " cried 
 Lily. " Here is your chop ; we put it to the fire at 
 once, so it is only tepid ; and the potatoes are on the 
 bar. What adventures? I do believe it was Mr 
 Smith ! " 
 
 " And here is your porter," said Carry. I didn't 
 pour it out, in case you would rather have some- 
 
214 MR SMITH: 
 
 thing else for your headache. If you would, I'll 
 finish the porter myself" 
 
 " Let us ring for another bottle, Cany," said Lily. 
 " I'll share it with you, for my back aches with 
 sitting so long at those leaves. They are a great 
 success though, Helen. But now, what adventures ? 
 Do begin. You can talk and eat too." 
 
 " No, I can't ; " teazing a little was what Helen 
 enjoyed. ''But I shall be ready directly. I met 
 somebody, Lily." 
 
 " I know you did ! Mr Smith ! Another small 
 bottle of porter, please " — (to Corker). 
 
 " I do wish you would take more care before the 
 servants," frowned her sister. "Corker must have 
 heard." 
 
 "No, nonsense. And what if he did? He may 
 hear me say it a hundred times if he likes. Mr 
 Smith! Mr Smith! Mr Smith ! There now, Nelly ; 
 if you won't tell me, I'll tell myself. Now you had 
 better begin, or I shall inform him outright. Here 
 he comes." 
 
 She restrained herself, however, whilst the porter 
 was being poured out, and as she had done so, 
 Helen began as soon as they were again alone. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 21 5 
 
 " Well, if you will be quiet, I'll tell you. Yes, it 
 was Mr Smith — (I knew it !) And I have been with 
 him for the last two hours ! " 
 
 The effect of this announcement was rapture. 
 " Oh, you dear good creature, then you really arc ! 
 Oh, what fun ! What would Mrs Hunt say ? You 
 sly thing, why did you not tell us before ? And 
 now for the how, when, and where." 
 
 " At the stile, in the short cut. You told me to 
 go and think of him, you know, so it was that which 
 conjured him up." 
 
 " But what was he doing there ? " 
 
 '* Waiting for me, apparently. At least, it seemed 
 as if he had nothing else to do, for he was at my 
 service directly." 
 
 There is no blind like the truth spoken in jest. 
 Lily was taken in at once. 
 
 '' Well ? " 
 
 " Then we set off together, but you will never 
 guess where." 
 
 ^* To the house?" 
 
 " The house ! What can you be thinking of ? 
 As if I could have gone to the house ! " 
 
 " ^^^ly not ? I thought, of course, it was there," 
 
2l6 MR SMITH: 
 
 in a disappointed tone. " There is no other parti- 
 cular place to go to. I thought he had been showing 
 you over the house." 
 
 " And you thought I would have gone ? Lily, you 
 really are too absurd. I told you not to go on so 
 fast, and you go faster and faster. I wonder, instead 
 of thinking I had been to the house, you did not 
 imagine I had been to the church ! You seem to 
 expect that to be the next thing." 
 
 " It will come to that," said Lily, readily. " But 
 where did you go to, then ? " 
 
 " To the view." 
 
 '' The view ? " 
 
 " Yes. Was that not a particular place ? " 
 
 " And what did you talk about ? " inquired Carry, 
 opening her lips for the first time since Mr Smith's 
 name had been mentioned, but still relenting towards 
 the subject, since it became plain the thing was 
 to be. 
 
 " All sorts of things. Improvements, cottages, Mr 
 Kodney, drainage,- and dirt." 
 
 " You talked of those ? " said Lily, incredulously. 
 
 " Indeed I did, and talked beautifully ; but as 
 they don't suit your carnal mind, perhaps it will 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 217 
 
 please you better to hear that we also talked of Lord 
 Sauffrenden, and of two new lodges, and an approach 
 through the woods. 
 
 " Very good ; but that is not what I want to hear 
 about, all the same." 
 
 " Do you want to hear about the summer-house ? " 
 
 " What summer-house ? " 
 
 " A summer-house at the view. There, you will 
 like that ; and when the summer-house is there, he 
 shall give us some fun at it." 
 
 Lily looked at her sister shrewdly. " Was it to 
 please you ? " 
 
 "Well, yes, in a way. To please himself, too. 
 And the path is to be gravelled, which will be a 
 great improvement. I never saw it so bad as it 
 was to-day." 
 
 " And when is it to be done ; not till summer, 1 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " It is to be begun to-morrow." 
 
 " Then, Helen, he is thinking of you." 
 
2l8 MR SMITH 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND IS A YOUNG MAN. 
 
 After all this, it was really too delightful when Mrs 
 Hunt bridled and looked mysterious, saying that 
 if it was either, it was Maria. 
 
 We have now come up to the point when she 
 paid her afternoon visit at Freelands, and fell a prey 
 to the girls' love of fun and ridicule. Lily only 
 concealed her enjoyment by leaving the room, and 
 even Helen, demurely as she sat at her visitor's feet, 
 was obliged to cast down her eyes. 
 
 Mrs Hunt had untied her bonnet strings, and 
 taken off her shawl, and altogether behaved on this 
 visit in a more friendly way than she had ever done 
 before at the ToUetons. She had called the day 
 after their little entertainment, on purpose to let 
 them kliow that ]\Ir Smith had been there. It was 
 a week after the Tolletons' own dinner-party, and 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 219 
 
 her third essay to secure him had had the luck 
 usually assigned to that number. 
 
 Neither Maria nor Clare were with her ; they had 
 gone to the Eectory, but would take the short cut, 
 and join their mother in time to accompany her 
 home. It had been Mrs Hunt's plan. She wished 
 to have the best part of her visit by herself; to be 
 able to throw out pregnant suggestions which might 
 rankle in the Tolletons' bosoms, to plant seeds of 
 doubt and apprehension which must in due time 
 bear the proper fruit of hopeless despair. If Maria 
 had been with her, this might not have been so easy. 
 
 This was, however, only a part of her mission. 
 Like other great ambassadors she had her apparent 
 and her non-apparent business. She had to learn as 
 well as to communicate. 
 
 If Maria's simple attractions had really and truly 
 defeated, by their simplicity, the lures of these wily 
 ladies, they would surely by this time have found it 
 out. She thought at least they would, but she 
 would fain be certain. She wished to discover how 
 much they suspected ; she wondered if it were 
 possible that they could have suspected nothing. 
 
 In that case her task would be easy and delight- 
 
220 MR SMITH: 
 
 ful. She would enlighten them with all the delicacy 
 in the world; but gently as she would plant the 
 arrow, it should be poisoned. If they really still 
 imagined they were going to have it all their own 
 way with Mr Smith, it was only her duty to open 
 their eyes. She little knew whom she had to deal 
 with. It is true that on other occasions the Miss 
 Tolletons had not been as reticent as perhaps pru- 
 dence demanded, with regard to their love matters. 
 They would freely tell who came six days in the 
 week, and who seven. They made confidences and 
 confessions, with heedless prodigality. 
 
 But now they were wise. They knew Mr Smith. 
 Instead of increasing his attentions, any remarks 
 coming to his ears were, Helen felt convinced, more 
 likely to put a stop to them altogether. 
 
 He was not aware of having paid any ; nor, in- 
 deed, strictly speaking, had he. She owned to herself 
 without a blush that, so far, the outside he had done 
 had been to receive hers. She had therefore warned 
 her sisters to be circumspect, and as they both 
 now entertained high hopes of a serious ending to 
 what had begun in jest, they were prepared to be 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 221 
 
 obedient to whatever her penetration and know- 
 ledge of the subject should dictate. 
 
 Accordingly Mrs Hunt was ill prepared' fur the 
 line of action decided upon. 
 
 Miss Tolleton would not allow that they had seen 
 anything of him. They fancied he was away from 
 home. Papa and he were great friends when he was 
 at home, and they all thought him such a very nice 
 old gentleman. However, she must not say "old" 
 to Mrs Hunt, perhaps. There were whispers which 
 she must not mention — must not disturb her with. 
 Had she not heard ? Was it possible she had not 
 heard ? But then people always were the last to 
 hear anything about themselves. It was just as well. 
 Mrs Hunt must not press her ; because, if she did, 
 it would be sure to slip out ; she never could keep 
 secrets. No, she would not tell if she could help it ; 
 Mrs Hunt would be vexed. People would talk — it 
 was vain to try and stop them. If there was nothing 
 in it, the report would die out of itself. 
 
 Mrs Hunt, •with burning cheeks, begged at least 
 to hear the report. It was hard if the report had 
 anything to do with her and hers, that she might not 
 
222 MR SMITH: 
 
 even hear it. She put her hand on her young 
 friend's head as she spoke, and her tone was quite 
 affectionately pathetic. 
 
 Helen played with her rings. She really did not 
 know. She did so dislike gossip. At any rate, ^Irs 
 Hunt must not be angry with her. She must under- 
 stand that none of them had ever given the slightest 
 countenance to the story. Their answer had invari- 
 ably been, that if there were any truth in it, they 
 could trust Maria and Clare to brincr the news to 
 Freelands themselves. Of course, till that was done, 
 they could never think of making inquiries. Of all 
 things, they would shun being thought intrusive. 
 
 However, if Mrs Hunt would promise it was 
 
 about Mr Smith. 
 
 Then indeed Mrs Hunt felt that she had done the 
 girls injustice. Helen's voice was music in her ears. 
 
 About Mr Smith, and one — report did not say 
 which — of the Miss Hunts. All she wanted to say 
 was, that they might rely on her and her sisters' 
 discretion ; the subject should never be alluded to 
 before any one, if Mrs Hunt would just say so much, 
 was it Maria ? 
 
 Poor Mrs Hunt ! How elated was her crest ! 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 223 
 
 How well, and modestly, she thought she did her 
 part ! 
 
 The many iniquities of Freelands were condoned, 
 the sisters for the time were almost as much to her 
 as to her daughters. Helen had never been looking 
 better. What a handsome creature she was, and 
 how improved in manner ! Her attention had been 
 quite wonderful, and she had sat and chatted with 
 her for nearly an hour before the girls came in, as 
 pleasantly as possible. Yes, she would own she 
 could be as agreeable as anybody when she chose. 
 
 This was for Maria and Clare going home. 
 
 "Lily seemed in great spirits,'' observed Clare, 
 thoughtfully. She had remarked that, on the occa- 
 sion of their disturbing the afternoon tea-party at 
 Freelands, Lily had been next Captain Wellwood. 
 
 " Oh, she's a silly creature that's always in spirits," 
 said her mother, in whose eyes Lily had not gone up 
 so high as the others, " She's one of those that can't 
 help laughing when there's nothing in the world to 
 laugh at. Once or twice when we were sitting talk- 
 ing quite quietly, Helen and I, she began to smirk and 
 giggle, as if one of us had said something ridiculous. 
 It's a bad habit to get into, as I have always warned 
 
224 MR SMITH: 
 
 you two. I must say that, for Helen, she is by far 
 the best behaved of any of them. I'm really aston- 
 ished Mr Smith does not admire her ! " 
 
 "Carry was very good to you, too, mamma," said 
 Clare, with a quick suppressing glance at Maria, 
 who she feared was about to commit herself. 
 
 " Yes, Carry was civil enough ; but she is not so 
 good-natured as Helen. Helen says very pretty 
 things. I must say I had a nice visit, and I really 
 think the girls much improved." 
 
 " My dear," as soon as she got home, " I do think 
 those Tolleton girls are improved. We had quite a 
 pleasant time there this afternoon. Helen made me 
 take off my things, and settle myself comfortably ; 
 and she and I sat and chatted away till the girls 
 came. I assure you I was quite surprised to see 
 them — the time had passed so quickly." 
 
 *'You must have been deep in your neighbour's 
 affairs, Polly. Come, now, what tit-bit of scandal 
 had the fair ladies picked up for you to-day, that you 
 were quite of one mind about ? Who has been com- 
 mitting some atrocious delinquency, exceeding ^ven J 
 themselves? Or what have you learnt new about 
 Mr Smith ? " 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 225 
 
 " Oh fie, doctor — to think such a thing ! Can't 
 I have a pleasant afternoon without your talking that 
 nonsense ? Mr Smith, indeed ! I am not likely to 
 learn much of Mr Smith at Freelands, from what I 
 hear. They thought he was away from home. Any- 
 thing new about Mr Smith will have to come from 
 another quarter, I suspect. Girls, go and take off 
 your things, if you don't want to be late for tea." 
 
 " It was about Mr Smith, all the same, however," 
 said she, as soon as the door closed. " You are so 
 sharp, my dear, there's no putting you off. Well, 
 what do you think? It's all over the place that 
 he's after Maria ! " 
 
 Looking at her triumphant face, a smile gradually 
 irradiated his. 
 
 " Do you really mean to say so ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do ! and on the very best authority — 
 though you will hardly believe me — Helen Tolleton 
 herself. Now I'll tell you what I think. Of course 
 it must have been pepper and vinegar to their proud 
 stomachs, after the open way they went after him — 
 Helen in particular ; and that makes it all the more 
 certain. She wouldn't wish to believe it, you know, 
 as long as she could possibly help ; but she has got 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
226 MR SMITH: 
 
 the sense to see the thing is done, and wishes to put 
 a bold face on it." 
 
 " Will they try to put ]\Iaria off him, do you 
 think?" 
 
 " If they do I'll be even with them. But no, they 
 won't. I do think they have a sort of kindly feeling 
 for our girls ; and if Maria became Mrs Smith, they 
 reckon they would be up at the Hill all day long. A 
 fine thing for them ; they would make good use of 
 her. No, I don't think they would wish to put her 
 off him. If he doesn't take up with themselves, 
 I do believe they would as soon Maria had him 
 as anybody." 
 
 "And what had Miss Helen to say about it? 
 Where had she picked it up, I wonder ? " 
 
 " She wouldn't name names ; but I suspect it had 
 come from more quarters than one. Their meetings 
 in the village, she said, and Maria using the short cut. 
 However it was I said it was Maria — that is to say " 
 — alarmed at her iiusband's face — " she said it was 
 one, and begged to know which. So I said I was 
 sure loe had never thought of such a thing, and had 
 never noticed anything particular from Mr Smith to 
 either ; but that if it ivas either, it was Maria." 
 
 I 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 22/ 
 
 " I would not have said it — I would not indeed. 
 I wonder, Polly, at your committing yourself to that. 
 Now it will be set about everywhere that we told 
 them it was Maria." 
 
 Care sat upon the doctor's brow, in spite of his 
 wife's soothing. 
 
 " Oh no, it won't, Eobert. You needn't fear. 
 That Helen is a good-natured creature on the whole ; 
 and she begged so hard, and promised so faithfully 
 not to tell. She would hardly tell me, till I made 
 her. She seemed to be quite afraid I would be put 
 out. I told her idle reports never put me out, and 
 made believe I put no faith in it. I daresay she 
 thinks we have many such. But I said I wouldn't 
 have it repeated to the girls. She promised me that." 
 
 " She mayn't repeat it to the girls, but she may to 
 worse people. However, it cannot be helped now ; I 
 only hope it won't get round to Smith. They would 
 never go to him with it, eh ? " 
 
 "That you may be quite easy about, my dear. 
 From Helen's whole way of talking, I am convinced 
 they see very little of him. I could almost take my 
 oath they have never met since we found him there 
 that afternoon." 
 
228 MR SMITH: 
 
 "Why, you told me he dined with them last 
 week." 
 
 "I took it for granted his Monday engagement 
 was to them, but I am rather inclined to think I was 
 mistaken. Neither he nor they ever said so, you 
 know. I fancy one or other of them would, if it had 
 been the case." 
 
 " You think he is quite off there, then ? " 
 
 " If he ever was on. Perhaps I was rather hasty, 
 but I must say it appeared at first as if they were 
 tooth and nail after him. It might have been only 
 their flirting ways. They never can let a man pass, 
 be he what he may, as old as an owl, and as ugly as 
 a hippopotamus. However, whether that was all or 
 not, it's plain he never had any thought of them ; and 
 I'm bound to say Helen gave me the.^pression to- 
 day, that there never was, nor had been, anything 
 between them." 
 
 Which was exactly the impression^Aelen intended 
 to give. 
 
 She knew — who better ? — that Mr Smith was not 
 away. If he had been, how could he have brought 
 down that delicious little plan of the summer-house 
 for her inspection, the very day before ? And how 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 229 
 
 could she have accompanied him to the edge of the 
 plantation, when he went away ? And how could he 
 have been obliged to go away sooner than he need 
 otherwise have done, because he was going to meet 
 an old friend at the station? And how could they 
 be expecting him to bring the old friend to luncheon 
 the very day after Mrs Hunt's call ? No, no ; he 
 was safe at home. And Miss Helen, it was rather a 
 risky story; you ought to have ascertained at least 
 that Mrs Hunt had not caught a glimpse of the 
 grey hat on its way through the plantation, or laid 
 hold of its wearer elsewhere, and wormed the truth 
 out of him. 
 
 Mr Smith, in his integrity, would have seen no 
 reason either for evasion or concealment. It might 
 have been a bad business. 
 
 Nothing of the kind, however, had happened, and 
 she thought no harm was done. She was bright and 
 confident, and ^spruced herself up gaily for the old 
 gentleman's luncheon next day. 
 
 Early in the morning she had reminded Carry of 
 Mr Smith's foreign residence, and suggested the 
 propriety of a few made-up dishes. Papa was told 
 to stay at home and make himself fit for company ; 
 
230 MR SMITH: 
 
 and punctually at half-past one o'clock the company 
 arrived. 
 
 Mr Smith had talked of an old friend, and the 
 sisters had concluded he meant one of his own con- 
 temporaries. They were rather taken aback, in 
 consequence, when a slender elegantly-formed young 
 man, whose age certainly could not exceed thirty-five, 
 followed him into the room, and was named as Sii' 
 George Lorrimer. 
 
 ■ Miss Tolleton had nothing to regret. She knew 
 Sir George by name, and knew that there was a 
 Lady Lorrimer. She was proud of Mr Smith's 
 acquaintance, and pleased that he should wish to 
 make his, theirs. She was seen to the best advan- 
 tage. Beautiful, graceful, hospitable, unembarrassed, 
 her manners just what they ought to be. Sir George 
 was caught, " By Jove ! " 
 
 When first told that he was going to a Mr ToUe- 
 ton's, a neighbour's, to luncheon, he had wished Mr 
 Tolleton at the bottom of the sea. A country lout 
 who would drag him out to inspect his farming, his 
 pigs, and his poultry. Mr Smith's remarking that the 
 young ladies were reputed beauties mended the case 
 a little ; but it was not until he had seen the eldest 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 23 1 
 
 daughter, that he gave over considering the engage- 
 ment an unmitigated bore. » 
 The other sisters were not worth looking at. 
 Poor Carry ! poor Lily ! The truth was, they had 
 not changed their dresses. Mrs Hunt's eulogium on 
 their neatness might be just, but they looked dowdy 
 beside their brilliant sister. Lily had laughed at 
 Helen for taking so much trouble, but she now 
 earnestly wished she had done the same. And 
 Helen had urged her to do it, said it was very little 
 trouble, that a black silk never got harmed, and that 
 it looked odd for one to change and not the others. 
 
 For this the others had their answer. "Why then 
 did she do it? She had looked quite nice before, 
 and her beautiful lace square and sleeves would cer- 
 tainly not keep clean long if they were to be worn on 
 every such occasion. Mr Smith would have liked 
 her just as well as she was. There had been a little 
 tiff between the two parties, harmlessly ending in 
 each taking their own way. 
 
 Miss ToUeton had coiled her hair afresh, and put 
 on the new dress, and a band of scarlet velvet round 
 her throat. Lily contented herself with a clean 
 collar, and washing her hands. Carry, after the tiff 
 
232 MR SMITH: 
 
 was over, forgot all about it, and the luncheon-party 
 besides ; and was caught in the drawing-room just as 
 she was. 
 
 The consciousness of this, joined to the usual 
 unavailing regrets, confused the two culprits, and 
 the evidence the new-comer was not slow to give 
 of his considering them inferior, altogether quelled 
 them. Sir George, in fact, imagined they were still 
 in the schoolroom. They had entirely the look of 
 two blooming awkward school-girls. They seated 
 themselves at table without a word, and even Lily 
 remained nearly mute the whole time of luncheon. 
 
 Helen came out all the better for the dull back- 
 ground. She and her father had plenty to say, and 
 she, at least, said it well. "With Mr Smith they 
 seemed on the easiest terms. Sir George observed 
 with a little surprise the animation with which his 
 fair neighbour addressed his friend. For him were 
 her sparkling sallies, her playful repartees. For 
 him several retrospective allusions which seemed 
 enigmas to the rest. Her opinion was sought in 
 return, and her wishes consulted. 
 
 It appeared as if they understood each other. He 
 looked at Miss Tolleton once or twice, and after con- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 233 
 
 sidering that she was a lively girl as well as a pretty 
 one, it suddenly dawned upon him that she was a 
 clever one too. 
 
 This must be looked into. He delighted to un- 
 ravel a scheme, to pick out the kernel of a secret. 
 It was something worth coming for ; it gave an 
 interest to the day. Had they not been expected at 
 the Castle, he would have liked to remain a little 
 after luncheon ; to spend the afternoon, in fact. They 
 were expected, however, and had promised to call 
 early, not to keep any one at home. 
 
 " Nice chatty little woman. Lady Sauffrenden," 
 said Sir George. 
 
 " We don't know her," replied Helen, calmly. 
 
 So much Mr Smith had by this time become 
 aware of. No one had assigned any reason, or 
 indeed had openly stated the fact ; but he had dis- 
 covered the fact, and longed to know the reason. 
 
 If Miss Tolleton had appeared confused, had tried 
 to slur it over, had offered any excuse, all would 
 have been plain ; but her quiet " We don't know 
 lier," made all the " don't knowing " appear to be on 
 their side. It had now the aspect of a good, honest, 
 neighbourly quan'el. 
 
234 MR SMITH: 
 
 When Helen asked Captain Wellwood after Lady 
 SaufiPrenden's health in that thoughtful manner be- 
 fore mentioned, it was merely for the sake of re- 
 lieving an awkwardness. She had no thought of 
 blinding him. She had no intention of deceiving 
 Mr Smith. Philip, she knew, was already aware 
 how it was, and Mr Smith soon would be. The 
 affectionate inquiry had answered its end, but now 
 the subject must be treated differently. 
 
 Sir George, as well as Mr Smith, took it as she 
 intended. 
 
 "A peppery little person, you know," said the 
 former, confidentially, afterwards. '' She always did 
 like to have the high hand, and I daresay gets 
 Sauffrenden into hot water sometimes. What a 
 good fellow he is! I never knew a better fellow 
 in my life." 
 
 " I always thought there was something," said Mr 
 Smith, reverting to the ToUetons. *' It was never 
 said, but I felt sure there was. I have heard Miss 
 Tolleton ask most kindly after Lady Saufirenden, but 
 I could not gather from that, whether they were 
 acquainted or not." 
 
 '' That was very plainly said to-day, however. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 235 
 
 Perhaps the little woman objects to having such 
 attractions too frequently at the Castle. No, not on 
 any particular account, of course ; but you know it 
 is a fact that the pretty creatures positively can't 
 like each other, however much they try." 
 
 " That is one of your abominable notions, which 
 you try to pawn off on other people. It is not a fact 
 to me. You must find some other reason." 
 
 "Ton my word, I can't. Sauffrenden's no 
 dangler, or T should say he had been " 
 
 " No, no, Lorrimer, that won't pass either." 
 
 " Then, depend upon it, Mr ToUeton's cat has been 
 hunting the woods and got trapped." 
 
 " That is far more likely." 
 
 " Or his dog killed a pheasant." 
 
 " More likely still." 
 
 " Or he hands the plate too regularly at church ; 
 or he objects to smoking in the railway carriage ; 
 or — or — his daughter is too pretty by half." 
 
 This Mr Smith vehemently denied. 
 
 Carry and Lily revenged themselves for their 
 enforced retirement into the shade as soon as Free- 
 lands was itself again. " Helen, you told us he said 
 an old friend." 
 
236 MR SMITH: 
 
 " So he did ; those were his words. How could 
 I tell any more than you that the old friend would 
 prove a young man ? You'll wish now you had done 
 as I asked you about your black silks." 
 
 " But who would ever have guessed," said Lily, in 
 an injured voice, "that an old fusty Mr Smith — I 
 beg your pardon, Nelly, but it is the truth — that he 
 should have had a friend like that ?" 
 
 " And a baronet to boot ! " 
 
 " I rather wondered you did not waver in your 
 allegiance, my dear. I gave you great credit for not 
 transferring your petits soins at once to the new 
 aspirant." 
 
 " Aspirant ! Nonsense ! " 
 
 " You chose to consider him such, whether he was 
 or not — I knew by your way." 
 
 " If you knew so well," said her sister, nettled, " it 
 is a pity you did not know a little better. There is a 
 Lady Lorrimer." 
 
 " How did you find that out ? I don't believe it." 
 
 " Believe it or not, as you like. You might have 
 heard Mr Smith talk of her if you had kept your 
 ears open." 
 
 " Open they must have been indeed, for I never 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 237 
 
 come within a hundred yards when you are talking, 
 on purpose to be out of the way." 
 
 " Well, there is, then ; she was one of the Albuts." 
 
 " Is he come to stay ? " 
 
 " That I don't know. I tell you I did not know 
 he was coming. I had no idea it was to be he. The 
 only thing I do know is that he has a wife." 
 
 " I don't think it was fair in Mr Smith to bring a 
 man of that stamp to any one's house without warn- 
 ing. Of course we are not like great folks. Did 
 you see the shudder he gave at the singed pudding ? " 
 
 ''Oh, Carry, that reminds me. You must speak 
 to the cook about that pudding. It was horrible, 
 and Mr Smith would eat it." 
 
 " Why did you not stop him ? " 
 
 "He had got it on his plate before it was dis- 
 covered, and then he persisted in finishing it." 
 
 " I can't think what made her do it, I am sure," 
 said Carry. "Stupid woman 1 The rest was all 
 so nice. If only Mr Smith had had the sense not 
 to break it, the singed smell never would have 
 come out. It was close to me all the time, and 
 I had a suspicion there was something nasty. It 
 was very faint, and no one else would have known. 
 
238 MR SMITH: 
 
 What made him take pudding at all ? He should 
 have taken jelly, if he took anything. Very few 
 men touch sweet things at luncheon." 
 
 "Oh, well, it doesn't matter; everything else was 
 good. Nothing could have passed off better. And 
 now I. wonder what he will go and say of us at the 
 Castle!^' 
 
 " I don't believe he will mention us." 
 '' And I believe he will, the first thing." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I THOUGHT IT WOULD NEVER END ! 
 
 Helen was right. Sir George did mention them, 
 and very nearly, if not quite the first thing. 
 
 He declined luncheon on the ground of having had 
 luncheon. They had just come from having it with 
 some pretty neighbours of theirs ; and then, before he 
 could say the name, Lord Sauffrenden's face showed 
 that he at least had divined it. 
 
 There was silence directly it was spoken, and the 
 inevitable guilty Tolleton air stole over several of 
 the company. On Philip Wellwood, who was having 
 a day's shooting at the Castle, and on the host him- 
 self, it was most visible, but a shadow of it tainted 
 even Mr Smith. Sir George Lorrimer and Lady 
 Sauffrenden alone were unmoved. 
 
 Sir George went on with all the unreservedness 
 of a stranger. "What a handsome girl the eldest 
 
240 MR SMITH: 
 
 is ! She is the eldest, is she not — or are there 
 others ? " 
 
 How busy Lord Sauffrenden was feeding Gyp, and 
 how suddenly Captain Wellwood became interested 
 in the belt of his powder-flask ! Mr Smith, to whom 
 the question had not been put, was obliged to take it 
 as if it had. 
 
 There were no signs of any sort of reply to be got 
 from the little autocrat who held them all in check, 
 and whose head merely reared in the faintest possible 
 manner backwards, to show that, had she done as 
 she liked, she would have tossed it. How should she 
 know if there were three 'Miss Tolletons, or three 
 hundred ? It was a subject to which she had never 
 given a thought. Thus much she would have said, 
 if she had said anything. As it was, she merely 
 looked the questioner full in the face, and then 
 turned her long neck slowly towards !Mr Smith. 
 The inquiry could not possibly have been meant 
 for her. 
 
 Mr Smith was thus obliged to receive it. His 
 answer was, " No, I never heard of any." 
 
 "I suppose you see a great deal of them?" Sir 
 George addressed her pointedly. " They must be 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 24I 
 
 your nearest neiglibotirs, uuless you are unusually 
 well off." 
 
 " Yes — no ; There are none nearer. But really 
 we are very independent of other people. We don't 
 see much of anybody. Sauffrenden and I are a very 
 humdrum couple." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," he corroborated, eagerly. " We are 
 often weeks without anything going on at all. You 
 must come down and wake us up, Lorrimer. Mr 
 Smith will think us a dreadfully slow set of folks." 
 
 They were now, he thought, off the ToUeton quick- 
 sands. 
 
 " I have not seen much slowness as yet," said Sir 
 George. " I should not say slowness prevailed in the 
 house we were at to-day, eh, Smith ? " 
 
 Mr Smith smiled his assent. 
 
 "The pretty one had plenty to say for herself, 
 hadn't she ? You and she were great friends." 
 
 Cruel man ! How thoroughly he enjoyed saying 
 it! 
 
 "Which do- you call the pretty one ?" said Captain 
 Wellwood, carelessly. " They all set up to be that, 
 you know." 
 
 "No, do they? I hardly looked at the others. 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
242 MR SMITH: 
 
 By-and-by, perhaps, they may be, but they are 
 barely fledged yet." 
 
 '' Oh, indeed they are. The second at least, was 
 out before I was married," said Sauffrenden, with a 
 look at his wife, meant to convey, " There, you see, I 
 don't stick up for them." 
 
 " You are not a very old married man yet, Sauffren- 
 den ; but to be out at all, they certainly are young 
 looking. Sweet seventeen, I should have guessed 
 them. You don't consider them beauties ? " to Lady 
 Sauffrenden. 
 
 " I hardly know them by sight, only by passing 
 them sometimes when I am driving." " Haughty 
 little sinner!" thought Sir George. "As jealous 
 as she can be, and puts on these airs to hide it. 
 They become her, too. She never looked better." 
 
 " Well, but Miss Tolleton ? You must have met 
 Miss Tolleton? Won't you allow her something, 
 Lady Sauffrenden ? I assure you I was quite subju- 
 gated, and as for Smith, there was no spirit left in 
 him." 
 
 Every one looked at !Mr Smith now. Sauffrenden 
 and Philip were unable to keep their eyes off him, 
 and even the lady stole a glance of inquiry. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 243 
 
 Unconscious of all, he answered laughing, " Really, 
 Lorrimer, if that is to be the way, I must be careful 
 how I take you there again. I had no idea you were 
 made of such inflammable matter.'' 
 
 " Inflammable ? To be sure I am. So inflammable, 
 that at one-and-twenty I was set on fire and devas- 
 tated like the prairies, to make me safe ever after- 
 wards. I'm perfectly harmless now. But you, you 
 would burn like a tinder-box." 
 
 " I have been a long time about it, then." 
 
 " Getting drier and drier, just like the prairies. 
 How the fire will rage when once the match is 
 struck ! What do you think, Lady Sauffrenden ? 
 Is it not rather dangerous for this good friend of 
 mine to have planted his wigwam so near, so very 
 near, to a certain pair of bright eyes ? " 
 
 " That, I think, may be left to himself," replied she, 
 trying to speak with moderation. " At least," she 
 added, turning to him with a sweet, sudden smile, 
 " lue shall be at no pains to send him further away." 
 
 " That was well done, and she is good to him at all 
 events," thought Sir George. " But I must make one 
 more shot." 
 
 Aloud : " Well, tJien, I suppose he is to be left to 
 
244 MR SMITH: 
 
 his fate, for better for worse ! But," to his hostess 
 again, "the fair Helen appears to be no friend of 
 yours ? " 
 
 " I should be sorry to say she was." 
 
 " Indeed ? Now I should have thought you were 
 cut out for each other. Two such charming people 
 ought to be seen together, if only for the benefit of 
 others." 
 
 " But I am not charming, Sir George, and I know 
 nothing of Miss Tolletou's charms. Pray let us be 
 content to keep apart." 
 
 The little lady snapped the thread in her netting- 
 needle as she spoke. Her husband hastened to 
 mediate. 
 
 " Seriously, Milly, this is nothing to laugh about. 
 We shall begin to suspect Sir George's devastation, if 
 he goes on at this rate. I shall send Lady Lorrimer 
 a telegram in private. Helen is a dangerous giii." 
 
 " She is, indeed," emphatically. 
 
 (" Oh, confound it ! What will Smith think ? ") 
 " It won't do, you see, Lorrimer. They hate each other 
 like poison, those two. They would never assimilate 
 if they lived a hundred years." 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden burnt with indignation. Hate 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 245 
 
 each other ! Such a way of putting it ! Each other ! 
 As if they were exactly equal. What a shame it was 
 of Sauffrenden ! How could he say such a thing, 
 knowing all the time, as well as possible, how it 
 was ? She lost her head and her temper now, and 
 spoke unadvisedly. 
 
 " I really don't know what you can possibly mean, 
 Sauffrenden. As to hating — I have never spoken to 
 Miss ToUeton in my life ; I never wish to speak to 
 her. I do not like what I hear of them, and I don't 
 choose to know them, and that is all." Hating ! It 
 was too ridiculous ; letting her down before these 
 men like that. She could have boxed her husband's 
 ears. 
 
 " Heyday ! Milly ! Ton my word, you take 
 high ground, my little woman. But I daresay Miss 
 ToUeton feels the same. Eh, Philip ? Confess now, 
 you know them — isn't it so ? " 
 
 (" Smith will be furious if she goes on like this. 
 It is enough to make him cut us dead.") 
 
 Philip would not allow he had ever heard Miss 
 ToUeton speak of Lady Sauffrenden at all. Except 
 — yes, once lately to ask after her health. " Have 
 you been ill ? " inquired Sir George. 
 
246 MR SMITH: 
 
 "No, thank you, I have been quite welL I am 
 very much obliged to Miss ToUeton." 
 
 " There he goes 1 " groaned her husband inwardly, 
 as the merciless baronet still pursued the subject. 
 " Why can't he take the hint ? Thick-headed idiot ! " 
 
 " Then, my dear Lady Sauffrenden, you are the very 
 person to keep watch over my friend here. He is 
 not to be trusted ; indeed he is not, I assure you. 
 You and Sauffrenden " 
 
 " No, no, not I, Sir George," interposed he, with a 
 quick short laugh ; " I will have nothing to do wnth 
 it. For my part, I am a great admirer of the fair 
 Helen. I beg to decline the office." 
 
 Lady Sauffrenden lifted her eyes in astonishment. 
 She had seldom seen her husband so angry in her 
 life. What could so suddenly have roused him ? 
 
 " Oh, you are, are you ? " said Sir George. " Then 
 here is Captain Wellwood." 
 
 " Most happy," said Philip, indifferently ; " any- 
 thing to please. Mr Smith, suppose we go there to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 So they were all against her — even Philip now. 
 Her husband defiant, Sir George contemptuous, Philip 
 setting her at nought, and Mr Smith gxavely dis- 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 247 
 
 pleased. Her heart swelled at the thought. Had 
 she not had cause to be indignant? Was not she 
 the one aggrieved ? Everybody, by turns, had tried 
 to vex her, and then, when she was stung into saying 
 more than perhaps she should, they took advantage 
 of it. To think she was jealous ! Jealous of that 
 girl! Had she ever denied her beauty? She had 
 never once given any one the slightest grounds for 
 supposing she denied it. She was pretty, of course 
 — she was exceedingly pretty; it would be absurd 
 to call her anything else. But that did not make 
 her nice ; and certainly it did not make her a fit 
 companion for her. 
 
 And then for Sauffrenden to go and say he was a 
 great admirer, just as if he went and flirted with her 
 — ^he who had never spoken to any one of them in his 
 life. He must have been reckless when he said it. 
 It was such a story too. But then she remembered 
 his angry laugh, and wondered what had caused it. 
 If she could only see him alone. 
 
 But for this she had to wait. They went out and 
 she was left by herself. Wearily the afternoon 
 passed, and the tea-tray waited till the tea was cold, 
 ere they came in. 
 
248 • MR SMITH: 
 
 "I have ordered the pony-carriage, Milly/' said 
 her husband ; " and, if you like, I thought you might 
 drive Mr Smith and Sir George back. Phil and I 
 are just going out for another hour, so I won't wait." 
 
 She looked at him yearningly. He came up and 
 kissed her, and put his hand on her shoulder. They 
 aU seemed in better spirits. She alone had had 
 nothing to cheer hers. 
 
 " Go and put on your things, dear." 
 
 " Can I pick you up an3n;vhere, Sauffrenden ? " 
 
 "No, no, never mind us. At least you might 
 come to the Hislops' cottage about half -past five — but 
 it will be too late for you to be out then, I daresay. 
 However, come if you like, but don't wait for us." 
 
 "Wait she would, however, if it were an hour. 
 
 The two sportsmen hurried out. The light was 
 too precious to be wasted, and they were not allowed 
 to be ceremonious. 
 
 " Well, Philip ? Eh ? Well ? " cried Sauflfrenden, 
 as soon they were alone. " What did you think of 
 that for a scene ? Ha ! ha ! ha ! I can laugh at 
 it now, but it was dreadful, wasn't it ? I could have 
 sunk into the very earth for shame ! That fool 
 Lorrimer! And my wife making it worse every 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 249 
 
 time she opened her lips ! I thought it would never 
 end ! I thought we should never get off without a 
 regular blow-up ! I did not know which way to 
 look." 
 
 " Or whether to laugh or to cry." 
 
 " No, hang it ! I never felt less like laughing in 
 my life!" 
 
 " And then you appealed to me." 
 
 " My dear fellow, I would have appealed to — well, 
 we won't say who, himself ! I never was in such a 
 strait ! There was Milly, on the one hand, with her 
 solemn face, and Lorrimer thinking it was all a joke, 
 and Smith looking from one to the other ; but he is 
 enlightened as to one thing now, at all events. He 
 is no longer in ignorance of Lady Sauffrenden's feel- 
 ings on the subject. I mean to speak to Milly. I 
 was disgusted at that part of it. It's enough to put 
 him off." 
 
 " He must not be much worth, if it is." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know." Lord Sauflfrenden naturally 
 regarded his wife's favour as of great importance. 
 "Nobody could like it. And Lorrimer all un- 
 suspecting." 
 
 " Do you think he was so unsuspecting ? " 
 
250 MR SMITH: 
 
 " If lie was not, it was a shabby thing to do. But 
 no, Smith is his friend, and he would not wish to 
 hurt him. Smith is a fellow nobody would wish to 
 annoy. He could hardly have guessed anything." 
 
 " It struck me he kept to the subject rather 
 closely." 
 
 " Oh, he wanted to find out. I daresay he had 
 heard we weren't on intimate terms." 
 
 " But it was not you, it was Smith he stuck to." 
 
 "Do you think it was? If that were the way — 
 I really should not wonder if it were. He thinks 
 it a bad look-out for his friend, and wanted us to 
 put him off. If that was it, Milly was playing into i 
 his hands. If that explains it, you must have 
 been sharper than I, for it never once occurred 
 to me." 
 
 " It's only a guess ; but they had just been there 
 together, and on one side, at least, there is no secret 
 made. Yes, hers of course. She seems rather to 
 enjoy having spectators, and Sir George is by no 
 means asleep, even when he closes his eyes." 
 
 " If that is the case," said Sauffrenden, with 
 honest heat, "he may just get some one else to 
 sound his alarm-bell. Asking me to keep watch, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 25 1 
 
 indeed ! What business is it of his ? The poor girl 
 must marry some one, and I don't think she couhl 
 do better. As for him, though he is well enough, 
 he's not everybody's bargain, you know. For my 
 part, I don't see anything against the match; and 
 any way I'm not going to be the one to put my foot 
 in it." 
 
 " The thing is," said Philip, thoughtfully, " whether 
 he means anything or not ? " 
 
 "Who? Lorrimer?" 
 
 " No, Smith. As yet I cannot see that he has 
 made any great advances, and he was certainly as 
 cool as a cucumber to-day." 
 
 " Why, you don't expect a man at his time of life 
 to turn red and white at every word. He may not 
 be exactly ardent, but I think he has made up liis 
 mind to it. You said yourself that Lorrimer had 
 fished it out." 
 
 " Yes, but " Philip hesitating. " I was 
 
 thinking of her purpose, not his." 
 
 "Oh, then, you think she proposes to — to make 
 him propose, in short ? " 
 
 " I think she does. And then whether she accepts 
 him, or not, will be another thing." 
 
252 MR SMITH: 
 
 '' Good gracious ! You don't mean to say he is to 
 
 be thrown overboard ? If I thought that " 
 
 " I never said so, Sauffrenden," laughing. " You 
 are in too great a hurry. I think the chances are 
 ten to one that she will accept him." 
 
 "Well, that's all I want/' replied his friend, 
 pacified. "If she does that, it's aU she can do. 
 And I won't have her interfered with. I shall speak 
 seriously to Milly; and as for Lorrimer, he must 
 be prevented putting his oar in. There's Hislop. 
 Don't forget to be at the cottage at half-past five, 
 and we can give you a lift. Ta, ta ! " 
 
 Lord Sauffrenden was highly delighted with his 
 new toy, and his new toy was the combination of 
 Mr Smith and the Tolletons. 
 
 It was necessary, however, to hide his delight, 
 and speak to Milly, as he said, seriously. 
 
 He began by telling her that he was very ill- 
 pleased, and that she had been very rude, and 
 pulled such a long face as she drove him home 
 in the pony-carriage, that, weary and unhappy as 
 she had been beforehand, she was soon utterly 
 subdued. 
 
 He had met her a mile on the other side of the 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 253 
 
 cottage for the special purpose of administering this 
 conjugal lecture alone. 
 
 Whether anything came of it or not, he would not 
 have Mr Smith annoyed in his house. Mr Smith 
 had just taken Sir George Lorrimer to Freelands, 
 and then she must needs inform them both that the 
 Tolletons were not good enough for her ! He really 
 wondered how a woman who prided herself upon 
 her behaviour, could have been so ill bred and dis- 
 agreeable. Helen Tolleton had never done her 
 any harm, and he would not have it said all 
 over the country that his wife was jealous of her 
 looks. 
 
 Of course that was what they all thought. She 
 might have seen Sir George was only amusing him- 
 self at her expense. 
 
 In all his life Sauffrenden had never said so many 
 cutting things. 
 
 Milly could scarcely bear them. She was so 
 unaccustomed to rebuke ; so accustomed to love, 
 admiration, and a little subjection. She hardly 
 knew what to make of this. Tears of mortification 
 rose to her eyes as she made her defence. 
 
 How could Sir George think so ? How could any 
 
254 MR SMITH: 
 
 of them ? Sauffrenden knew it was not true. And 
 it was he who had put it into their heads, saying 
 she and Miss ToUeton hated each other. 
 
 Sauffrenden retained the upper hand. He had 
 had to say something. He was so put out he hardly 
 knew what to say. It was the best face he could 
 put on the matter. He had often told her that that 
 little tongue of hers would get her into mischief, 
 and so it had. She must pay for it now. 
 
 Milly said petulantly that she had nothing to pay 
 for. 
 
 He went on. " You ought to have let the sub- 
 ject drop " 
 
 *' So I did. It was he, Sir George, who would 
 go on with it. I let it drop every time. How can 
 you be so unjust, Sauffrenden ? " 
 
 " I was so vexed about Smith." 
 
 "What about Mr Smith? What has he to do 
 with the Tolletons ? I don't understand what it is 
 all about. Sir George was only laughing at him." 
 
 ** Sir George might be laughing, but he was not. 
 It is as well you should know that he admires 
 Helen " 
 
 "Oh, indeed he does not, Sauftrenden. He was 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 255 
 
 only carrying on the joke ; and I daresay he likes to 
 be laughed at in that way a little, because he is get- 
 ting old/' 
 
 " Nonsense ; it was nothing of the kind. If it 
 was, why could you not carry on the joke too ? " 
 
 " I thought those girls might be making a set at 
 him, and it would be a kindness to warn him." 
 
 " I tell you, dear, I will not have you going about 
 warning people in this way. You forget you are only 
 a young pretty woman too, and take to yourself all 
 the scolding airs of an old dowager." 
 
 " I am sorry," said she, softened still more by the 
 little compliment than by the rebuke. 
 
 "Well, don't do it again, that's all I have to say. 
 And if there ever should be anything between Smith 
 and the ToUetons, don't you take any notice ; it's 
 not your place." 
 
 She longed to say it was her place — longed to 
 repudiate the idea of there ever being anything be- 
 tween INIr Smith and the Tolletons — but prudence 
 and love prevailed. Sauffrenden had been really 
 vexed ; therefore she said nothing. 
 
 " Now, mind ! " 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
256 MR SMITH: 
 
 " Give me a kiss, then, and I'll forgive you. Woa ! 
 look out for the powder-flask ; you ran it right into 
 me ! There's Phil ; I told him to be at the cottage. 
 All right Phi — lip ! Hey ! come to the cor — ner, 
 and we needn't go aU the way u — up ! " 
 
 And so well had he done his work, and so timely 
 had been the chastisement, that he might have con- 
 versed on the forbidden subjects for fully a week 
 afterwards, and never once needed to call them 
 the Ts. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 257 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS FEAST. 
 
 " I AM in a strait, and have come to see who will 
 help me out of it," said Mr Smith, entering the draw- 
 ing-room at Freelands one afternoon. " I wish to give 
 my work-people a Christmas treat, and have no idea 
 how. Most of them are married men with families ; 
 and I mean to have the wives, and children too. 
 We can find room for all, and, I hope, entertainment ; 
 if one only knew how to begin. You," turning to 
 ^liss ToUeton, " can help me, I am sure.'* 
 
 " If I can, you may be certain I will," replied 
 Helen. "What is the first difficulty — the invita- 
 tions ? " 
 
 " No, I think I can manage the invitations. I 
 have a list of names here, and will go round and ask 
 them myself. But the truth is, I am so lamentably 
 
 VOL. L R 
 
2S8 MR SMITH: 
 
 ignorant, I really don't know what to ask them to. 
 Is it dinner, tea, or supper ? " 
 
 They all laughed. 
 
 " They wiU come to whatever it is, I fancy," said 
 Miss ToUeton, pleasantly. "It is a meal of some 
 sort. In their own minds they will call it dinner, tea, 
 or supper, according to the hour. What o'clock do 
 you think of asking them ? " 
 
 " That is one of the points I wish to consult upon. 
 The days are closing in so fast now, it would be use- 
 less to attempt anything out of doors. Perhaps if 
 we could arrange a magic-lantern, and some fire- 
 works." 
 
 " ISTothing could be better. Then it will be in the 
 evening ; they are sure to like that." 
 
 " You think they will ? And if the meal — the din- 
 ner, tea, or supper — were about six o'clock, would 
 that do ? " 
 
 " Very well indeed, I should think. They ^vill have 
 got their work over for the day, and have time to get 
 tidy, and give themselves up to enjoyment," said ]\Iiss 
 ToUeton, by way of showing her insight into the lives 
 of cottagers. 
 
 " Then we must fix on the day. ^Vhat day are. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 259 
 
 you disengaged for ? I depend upon your all coming 
 to help, remember." 
 
 " Yes, of course ; we shall be delighted. But any 
 day will suit us. Had you not better refer it to some 
 of your other ' helps ' ? " adroitly. 
 
 " Miss Grey ! but she is not likely to do me much 
 good. I hardly could ask Miss Fulton to come so 
 far. Mr and Mrs Hardwicke will, however, I 
 think." 
 
 Helen turned up her nose at Mr and Mrs Hard- 
 wicke. Village people ! She had hoped for the 
 Sauffrendens. 
 
 " And let me see," pursued he, " there are the two 
 ]\liss Bains. Mrs Eodney would have given us great 
 assistance ; but I fear she will hardly be well enough. 
 We must have Mr Eodney, however." 
 
 Mr Eodney, the curate, has been once or twice named 
 in these pages. He was a smooth-faced, long-necked 
 young man, with a bubble in his throat. Worse than 
 that could not be said against him. He was much 
 beloved in the parish, on account of his tender-heart- 
 edness. More than once in his bachelor days he had 
 been known to carry his own dinner to some poor 
 house, where it is certain he never ate it ; and he 
 
260 MR SMITH: 
 
 was constantly seen in new clothes, for the simple 
 reason that he had given away his old ones. 
 
 When he married, this state of things could not, of 
 course, go on. His own dinner he must eat, and his 
 old clothes were well mended ; but the joy of gi\^ng 
 was not debarred him. He was still to be seen 
 carrying the well-known tin pot, and his hand went 
 to his pocket as readily as before. 
 
 Mrs Rodney was all that was good, kind, and 
 worthy of her husband. The only thing against her 
 was that she was always having babies. At present 
 she was recovering from her fourth confinement, hav- 
 ing been married just four years and three months. 
 
 Her sister, Miss Clay, was staying with her. 
 
 Helen reminded Mr Smith of Miss Clay. She had 
 seen her in church, and thought her privately a 
 dull-looking girl — a poor edition of her sister. She 
 would do for this occasion admirably. 
 
 Mr Smith was glad to hear of the addition, and 
 promised to call on Mr Rodney, and engage his and 
 Miss Clay's attendance witl^ut delay. ^ 
 
 " Then there are the Miss Hunts," said he ; " per- 
 
 haps Mrs Hunt? Do you think " 
 
 "Oh yes, with the greatest pleasure; she would 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 26 1 
 
 be quite hurt if you left her out. Dr Hunt, too, 
 would come, if you asked him, I daresay. Why, Mr 
 Smith, you don't know how much we shall all enjoy 
 it. And now, is there anything we can do ? Are 
 there any preparations to be made ? " 
 
 No, it appeared the preparations could be made 
 by others. The fireworks could be ordered by one 
 friend, and the magic- lantern given in charge to 
 another. His old housekeeper was equal to under- 
 taking the provision department. The help he really 
 wanted was on the day. He wished to be certain of 
 their presence. 
 
 This was assured him. They were as anxious to 
 come as he could be to have them. As to fixing 
 the day, they would not hear of it ; they might be 
 depended on for any day. Some one else must do 
 that — Mr Eodney, for instance. He had engage- 
 ments ; they had none. 
 
 Helen was inflexible on this point. She felt that 
 the presence of the mild curate would impart a 
 dignity to the scene which it might otherwise lack. 
 It would be right and proper, and well for aU parties, 
 that he should be there. 
 
 In this way they could also become acquainted 
 
262 MR SMITH: 
 
 with Miss Clay. Since Mrs Eodney had had her 
 sister with her, the Miss ToUetons had called more 
 than once, but Miss Clay had not chosen to take 
 their cards as left on her. She had never come to 
 Freelands, and had once or twice turned into a shop 
 if she saw any of the party coming. It did not look 
 as if she wished for their acquaintance. 
 
 The curate and his wife were themselves politely 
 civil to the Tolletons. It is true they managed with 
 wonderful dexterity to evade their numerous invita- 
 tions, and that Mrs Eodney blushed uncomfortably 
 if accosted by them in public. But neither she nor 
 her husband failed in maintaining relations of quiet 
 distant courtesy ; and they walked steadily into the 
 Freelands avenue, even if they did glance down the 
 road before doing so. 
 
 '' They cannot harm us," Mrs Eodney said, " but 
 Sarah had better not go." 
 
 And so the Miss Tolletons had not been introduced 
 to Miss Clay. This was the reason why Helen was 
 anxious she should be asked to the Hill. To such a 
 gathering they could hardly help taking her. If jNIr 
 Smith would allow them to fix the day, they were 
 secured. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 263 
 
 Mr Smith being equally desirous of their company, 
 this was soon arranged, and he promised as soon as 
 possible to let the ladies know the result of his 
 application. 
 
 Would Mr Tolleton come? was the next sug- 
 gestion. He had not liked to make it before — had 
 not felt sure that he would care to leave his comfort- 
 able fireside ; but if he would . They were sure 
 
 he would — he would be quite melancholy if left 
 behind. He might be depended on. 
 
 " I hope the Miss Hunts will be able to come too," 
 Mr Smith reverted to them, good-naturedly. He 
 hoped every one would be able to come. He felt a 
 glow of spirits and happy anticipations that must 
 have vent. He was ready for anything. 
 
 " They are at home to-day, I know ; at least Mrs 
 Hunt is," said Helen, softly. 
 
 " Perhaps I might look in on them after calling on 
 the Rodneys," replied he, quick to catch the hint. 
 "That is, if I may depend on its being all one to 
 you?" 
 
 " Don't think of us at all ; count upon us. We 
 are not going out at all, you know, and are per- 
 fectly free. We would not miss this for the world. 
 
264 MR smith: 
 
 When you have arranged it with the others, you will 
 come and let us know, will you not ? " 
 
 But why had he not asked the Sauffrendens ? It 
 would have been such a chance, such an opportunity. 
 Even if she could not have been compassed. Lord 
 Sauffrenden must have fallen a prey. Helen would 
 have been so quiet, so demure, so sweetly, gravely 
 beautiful, that she would have taken them by storm. 
 For the first time she felt a little cross with Mr 
 Smith. 
 
 Mr Eodney fixed the following Thursday. There 
 was service on Wednesday evenings, and he had a 
 meeting on Friday ; but his own little reading on 
 Thursday he could easily put ofi". He would be 
 glad, really glad to do it. It was so seldom that 
 husbands and wives were permitted to share in the 
 same treat, that he was doubly pleased that it was 
 to be so in the present instance. 
 
 He always felt a man wasn't half a man without 
 his wife; and here he coloured, and looked as if it 
 had suddenly dawned upon him, that this was not 
 exactly the remark he ought to have made, to one 
 who could not be expected to sympathise in the 
 sentiment. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 265 
 
 Mr Smith, however, with the most happy uncon- 
 sciousness, concurred heartily, and all was right. 
 
 Mr Eodney being thus secured, and Miss Clay 
 likewise, he bent his steps to the doctor's house. 
 
 It was the same story here. Of course they would 
 come. Mrs Hunt would quite have scolded him if 
 they had not been asked ; she really thought she 
 should have invited herself. For the doctor she 
 could not so readily promise, but she thought he 
 might be looked for at any rate some time in the 
 course of the evening. The dear girls would be only 
 too happy to assist. Maria was the very person for 
 anything of this kind. So fond of the poor, and 
 always fussing about them. How delighted she 
 would be, to be sure ! 
 
 Was there anything special required of her ? She 
 could answer for its being done, and well done; 
 although perhaps, as her mother, she had no business 
 to say so. 
 
 Mr Smith confessed that there was nothing in 
 particular required at Miss Hunt's hands. He would 
 count, however, on her kindness when the day came. 
 The young ladies would all be needed to take charge 
 of the tea department, and perhaps Miss Hunt would 
 
266 MR SMITH: 
 
 kindly preside at one of the tables. He proposed to 
 place a lady at the head of each tea-table, Miss Clay 
 taking Mrs Kodney's place at the principal one. 
 
 Miss Clay ? That was all very well ; very proper 
 and suitable. A silent girl with a mole on her left 
 cheek. She would make tea admirably, and never 
 speak to Mr Smith. 
 
 Had he engaged any other assistants? He had 
 not fixed the day before speaking to Mr Eodney. 
 This evasion he allowed himself. It was not her 
 business what assistants he had engaged. 
 
 She, however, saw not the evasion. She was all 
 triumph. 
 
 " Girls, girls, who do you think has been here ? 
 Mr Smith. What a pity you were out ! But what 
 do you think he came for ? You'll never guess, I can 
 tell you. A grand ploy up at the Hill, and we are all 
 to go and help. What do you think of that ? Ah ! 
 the ToUetons thought they would get him to give 
 a ball, did they ? I should like to see them do it. 
 They will be glad enough to get their noses in along 
 with other people now. Ma^ is to make tea at one 
 of the tables, and INIiss Clay at the other. Very nice 
 and right to ask Miss Clay. She goes instead of Mrs 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 26/ 
 
 Eodney, you know. Poor Mrs Koduey never comes 
 in for anything nice. Now I suppose you'll want 
 something new to wear. We must do what we can 
 with papa." 
 
 There was no repressing her elation. She would 
 not even animadvert on the dirty marks left by their 
 boots on the carpet. 
 
 " Will he be there, do you think ? " said Maria to 
 her sister, as soon as they were up-stairs. 
 
 " I daresay." 
 
 " I almost wish he were not." 
 
 *'Why?" 
 
 " Because mamma will make me stick to Mr Smith 
 all evening." 
 
 Captain Wellwood, however, was not there, it 
 never havino- entered Mr Smith's head to ask him. 
 
 Every one who had been invited came. The 
 evening was all that could be desired, even for fire- 
 w^orks. Miss Clay was installed at the head of one 
 table, and Miss Hunt led to another. Would Miss 
 Tolleton take the third ? Miss Carry ToUeton did. 
 Helen had waived the position to her sister when 
 Mr Smith came to make the final arrangements. 
 She now took a seat quite in the background, busy- 
 
268 MR SMITH: 
 
 ing herself among empty cups and saucers, and 
 apparently desirous of nothing but being useful. 
 
 " Do you see how quiet Helen is ? " whispered Mrs 
 Hunt to Clare. " She is quite neglected, poor thing. 
 Now Mr Smith, do sit down here, and rest yourself 
 for a minute. You have been on your feet all even- 
 ing. Let Maria give you a good cup of tea to 
 refresh you." 
 
 Mr Smith, with a vivid recollection of Maria's tea, 
 hastily declined the second proposal, though he so 
 far acceded to the first as to occupy the vacant seat 
 beside her for a few minutes. Mrs Hunt's indicat- 
 ing finger came back to her bread-and-butter, and she 
 looked serenely satisfied. 
 
 Not so her victim. He was restless. He 
 did not wish to get stuck there. He ought to look 
 after his other guests. He wondered what Miss 
 Tolleton was doing behind the door. 
 
 Why was she, so eminently fitted to grace the 
 front, hid in the background ? He longed to go and 
 see, but it was some time before he could. He was 
 wanted here, he was wanted there. Was there to 
 be more ale drawn ? Was the great set piece to be 
 in front of the drawing-room or the dining-room 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 269 
 
 window? Mr Bowling liad not left out a certain 
 key. Mr Smith had to see to many things in Bow- 
 ling's department. His old butler had been ill, and 
 was getting a holiday. 
 
 When at length he did find himself behind the 
 pantiy door, a passing word was all that he could 
 obtain. 
 
 " I am quite happy here, thank you. There is so 
 much to be done, and it is delightful to be really of 
 use. You have plenty of assistants in the room, and 
 some one is needed here." 
 
 " But why should it be you ? " There was a flat- 
 tering emphasis on the words. 
 
 " Because I like it," with cheerful decision. " How 
 well everything is going off ! So many happy faces ! 
 Oh do go away now, you are so dreadfully in the 
 way here ! " 
 
 So laughing, she drove him off; but it was enough, 
 his reluctance was evident. 
 
 Lily, however, was still less pleased with her 
 sister's obscurity. "You have hardly even shown 
 yourself in the room, and Mrs Hunt thinks she is 
 carrying all before her." 
 
 " That is just what she ought to think, my dear." 
 
270 MR SMITH: 
 
 "But you have never had a word from Mr 
 
 Smith." 
 
 " Indeed I have ; he has just been here, and I sent 
 
 him away." 
 
 " What did you do that for ? " 
 
 " Because I didn't want him — just now." 
 
 " And how does he like your shutting yourself up 
 
 here?" 
 
 "ISTot at all. I never supposed he would. I 
 
 rather intended him not to like it. You have no 
 
 idea how much good this will do him." 
 
 *' Well, but do you mean it to go on all evening ? " 
 " That depends. All tea-time certainly. By-and- 
 
 by, perhaps, I may better myself, as the servants 
 
 say. Do you know who is going to show off the 
 
 magic-lantern ? " 
 
 "Yes; a Mr Bohns, a German. He has come 
 
 down on purpose. I have just been talking to him, 
 
 — that man with the beard. Why do you want to 
 
 know ? " 
 
 " I did not wish it to be Mr Smith, thaTwas all.'* 
 Lily was swept away. More empty cups and 
 
 saucers had to be deposited, and she could no longe 
 
 fill up the narrow doorway. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 2/1 
 
 When the time for exhibiting the magic-lantern 
 arrived, however, she remembered what Helen had 
 said, and looked round for her. Some project she 
 had in her mind certainly. 
 
 But Helen was nowhere to be seen. Was it pos- 
 sible that she had stayed behind with those stupid 
 cups and saucers, and never even come into the 
 room where the show was ? So it appeared. But the 
 room was nearly dark, and she could not be certain. 
 Her height alone must mark her coming in with the 
 others, and there was a good deal of confusion ere all 
 were seated. 
 
 Suddenly the light was altogether obscured, and 
 she heard a low voice close behind her say, — " Xo, 
 thank you; this will do perfectly." How in the 
 world had she got there ? She must have been one 
 of the first to enter. But, then, how had she been 
 unobserved ? And where was the end of this retire- 
 ment any more than the other ? It was carrying it 
 
 too far — unless, indeed in the first flash of light 
 
 Avhich followed, she, looking round, dimly discerned 
 her sister, and, beside her, Mr Smith. 
 
 The light was so confined to the further end of the 
 room, that only to one already half prepared, could 
 
272 MR SMITH: 
 
 they have been distinguishable. Helen had shown 
 herself all Helen again. 
 
 Great and enduring was her sister's satisfaction. 
 There they were — the embryo lovers — safely enscon- 
 ced behind all the faces, half concealed by the heavy 
 curtain — she, barely visible, he, still deeper in the 
 shade. When there was light in the room, every eye 
 was on the white sheet, with its startling, curious, and 
 comic apparitions. In the dark intervals, all was 
 buzz and bustle ; every tongue wagging, and no ear 
 intent on what might be going on so close at hand, 
 that it must be innocent. 
 
 That the rest of the company believed their host 
 to be engaged among the exhibitors, was evident. 
 
 Mrs Hunt still retained her illuminated face ; 
 and Mr Eodney made complimentary remarks, loud 
 enough for those on the other side of the screen to 
 hear. 
 
 Long and loud was the applause which greeted 
 each succeeding scene. The rustics, well plied with 
 good cheer — ale and porter — (tea had been only for 
 their wives) elbowed each other for the front. Joan 
 forgot her awe of Madam, and laid a hand upon her 
 knee. Miss Clay allowed herself to be leant upon, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 2/3 
 
 knelt upon, kneaded into shape, pressed and dirtied 
 by a crew of confiding little ones. Dr Hunt, attempt- 
 ing to make his way through the throng at the door, 
 was fairly told he must remain where he was. 
 
 He had the sense to take the prohibition in good 
 part. The men knew him, and he them. To-morrow 
 they would recognise all his title to observance ; but 
 this was their night — this was their entertainment — 
 they were equal to anything and anybody. He un- 
 derstood the case, and gave in with good-humour. A 
 sight of his wife's face, and a reassuring nod from her, 
 further helped his patience. 
 
 She was seated in the front row, Maria by her 
 side ; and the nod was intended to let him know that 
 all was right in that quarter. It was not till after- 
 wards, however, that she could whisper, — 
 
 " Oh, my dear, I wish you had been here ! The 
 tea was really magnificent, and Maria quite — Mr 
 Smith was at her table constantly. I don't think he 
 sat down by Miss Clay once." 
 
 Meantime, Helen had not forgotten her intention 
 of making Miss Clay's acquaintance. When the 
 magic-lantern display was over, the first tiling Lily 
 
 VOL. L S 
 
274 MR SMITH; 
 
 saw was her sister — emerged from her corner, no one 
 could tell how — in the act of bowing to Miss Clay — 
 Mr Smith having just introduced them. 
 
 Miss Clay was looking a little uncomfortable, and 
 assenting shyly to Miss Tolleton's graceful nothings. 
 Immediately after, Mr Smith was seized on by the 
 German, desirous of explaining some mistake in the 
 programme, and no one ever discovered that they 
 had not been together during the whole exhibition. 
 
 Everybody was now eager to get out of doors. 
 
 " Such a night for fireworks," Mr Tolleton obser^' ed 
 repeatedly, he did not remember to have seen since 
 the last night he had had the good fortune to see fire- 
 works. To this he received different replies. Some 
 had never seen really good fireworks in their lives. 
 Some had had fireworks themselves, now and then, 
 in a small way. Some had never seen fireworks 
 without rain ; and some never but in favourable 
 weather. Each had his own experience to give, and 
 no one listened to that of his neighbour. 
 
 Mrs Hunt hoped that Mr Smith was not thinking 
 of letting off any of the fireworks himself. She was 
 sure it was too cold a night for him to be walking 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 275 
 
 about on the wet grass. There were plenty of others 
 whom it wouhl do no harm to. He had much better 
 stay quietly \vith the ladies in the drawing-room. 
 For her part, she meant to get into the bow-window, 
 where she was sure she should see everything that 
 there was to be seen. She then summoned Maria ; 
 but to her amazement, to her almost unbelieving 
 satisfaction, Maria declined to come. She was going 
 out with Mr Smith to inspect some of the pieces. 
 Mr Smith had asked her ; the others were going, too, 
 and they had all got galoshes. 
 
 Mrs Hunt said not another word about the wet 
 grass. 
 
 The party set out. Helen and Miss Clay first ; the 
 younger Miss Tolletons, one on each side of the 
 resigned curate ; Clare Hunt, her father, and several 
 waifs and strays of young men, all in a bunch ; and 
 Mr Smith — oh happy moment ! — Mr Smith and 
 Maria last of all. 
 
 Mrs Hunt saw them file past — saw Helen leading 
 the way with the shy stranger girl, and her sisters 
 hemming in the curate, and felt a contemptuous pity 
 for their fate. 
 
276 MR SMITH: 
 
 " They were obliged to take up with the Eodney 
 set, you know," said she, afterwards. 
 
 Her present observations, however, had to be for 
 Miss Bain — that Miss Bain whom Helen Tolleton 
 had selected as a suitable wife for Mr Smith, when 
 he first came amongst them. 
 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 2// 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE MISS BAINS. 
 
 The Miss Bains, for there were two of them, were 
 spinsters of a certain age, who, to use the hackneyed 
 phrase, had seen better days. 
 
 This, at least, they constantly affirmed themselves. 
 They lived in a small hothouse in Eastworld, whose 
 dingy rooms, with their low ceilings and unopened 
 windows, had a faint pervading smell as of gas 
 escaping. 
 
 They kept a large, lean dog, without whose attend- 
 ance they seldom walked out, and who was supposed 
 to find his meals in this way. No one, at least, 
 had ever seen him fed otherwise. Their tables, 
 chairs, and mantelpieces were encumbered with 
 relics ; and heirlooms of strangely little value were 
 to be found in plenty. Their money appeared to be 
 scarce ; but they had all the remembrance of it. 
 
2yS MR SMITH: 
 
 In their appearance the sisters harmonised equally 
 little with the usual ideas of clean, tidy, trim, old- 
 maidenhood. When caught in their morning attire, 
 they were slovens, whom one felt ought hardly to be 
 looked at. When dressed for company, they pre- 
 sented a fantastic mixture of grandeur and disease. 
 Everything they wore was magnificent, but smitten. 
 Their gowns were grease-stained and frayed ; their 
 silk stockings had holes ; their laces were crumpled ; 
 and their jewels chiefly consisted of settings without 
 stones. 
 
 They had come to the feast in all these decayed 
 splendours, and were now sitting in the bow- window, 
 listening while Mrs Hunt descanted on ^Ir Smith. 
 
 "Such a host as he makes, does he not. Miss 
 Lydia ? So thoughtful for everybody ! Such prepa- 
 rations ! Fires in all the rooms, and no stint of any- 
 thing ! Do you know, I really believe there is a 
 cold supper laid out in the library ! The man went 
 in with a trayful of glasses as we came past the 
 door ; and I just caught sight of it through tlie 
 opening — jellies, turkey, and all!" 
 
 " You don't say so, Mrs Hunt ? Well, that really 
 is too much. Dear me ! I thought we had done very 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 279 
 
 well, as it was. Maria gave me two cups of excellent 
 tea, and Mr Smith himself made me taste the pud- 
 ding. I can't say but what I was glad to get a bittie, 
 for you know we dine early. And then, as we 
 didn't know exactly what to expect, we just took a 
 snatch, instead of our regular meal, meaning to wait 
 and see. If there hadn't been anything else, you 
 know, we could have done uncommonly well ; but if 
 there had, it would have been a pity to spoil it. And 
 really when I got the pudding I needed nothing 
 extra. Dear me, a supper ! This is really treating 
 us like princes ! " 
 
 "Bachelors are always the best of entertainers," 
 rejoined the doctor's wife. " If he goes on like this, 
 we shall all get so selfish we shan't want him ever to 
 change his state, I'm afraid." 
 
 " No, that we shan't ! " cried the other little old 
 lady, with some eagerness. (People should have no 
 handle for suspecting her and Lyddy of opposite 
 desires.) ''We shall not indeed. He is a deal 
 better as .he is. Dear me ! We shouldn't have been 
 half as comfortable here to-night if there had been a 
 lady presiding." 
 
 " That depends, of course, on who the lady was," 
 
28o MR smith: 
 
 rejoined Mrs Hunt, a little shortly. " To be sure, if 
 Mr Smith ever does take it into his head to marry, 
 and he's just at the age when many a man does, he 
 would have every right to be particular." 
 
 " Oh, but I should say he was far too comfortable," 
 put in Miss Lyddy. " Not but what I have heard a 
 lady spoken of." (Mrs Hunt's heart gave a great 
 throb.) " And one who would well become the posi- 
 tion too. A grand lady of the Hill she would make. 
 But dear ! I say, if there had been anything in it, for 
 certain she would have been here to-night. Is it 
 likely she would not have come, or that he would 
 have neglected to ask her ? No, no ; there's no truth 
 in that tale, we may depend upon it.'* 
 
 " You're mysterious. Miss Lydia," said the doctor's 
 wife, with a little quivering laugh. "Pray let us 
 first hear what the tale is. It has never reached my 
 ears, I can tell you. I thought we had ladies enough 
 here to-night. There is hardly one left in Eastworld, 
 with the exception of poor Mrs Eodney, who is 
 always out of luck when there's anything going on." 
 
 " Very true. Poor thing, so she is ! But as for 
 the other, she's not an Eastworld lady yet, Mrs 
 Hunt, though maybe we shall see her one some of 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 28 1 
 
 these days. It's best not to name names. Who's in 
 that window ? " in a loud voice. " Anybody there ? " 
 
 No voice responding, she resumed her confidential 
 whisper. 
 
 " It's best to be cautious when one can't see round 
 the room. I got into such a pucker once through 
 neslectincf that, it has been a lesson to me ever since. 
 'Melia and I were staying with Jane Bond. Jane is 
 our father's cousin, you know, on the English side, so 
 of course we keep up the connection. Well, you 
 know Jane's house. It's all queer twists and corners 
 and holes in the wall. One never feels safe in it, at 
 least I'm sure I never do, now. This was the story. 
 One day when we had been there about a week, I 
 went into the parlour, and seeing, as I thought, only 
 'Melia sitting by the table ; ' 'Melia,' says I, * I do 
 think that beard of Jane's is growing. It's as big as 
 many a lad's that calls for shaving-water.' And 
 'Melia she gave such a cough, and look at me, and 
 there was Jane in the window ! W^ell, you know, I 
 might have said worse. And very thankful I felt I 
 hadn't gone on longer. But, for all that, I've never 
 been asked there since, although Jane made believe 
 she didn't mind, and we got over it as weU as we 
 
282 MR SMITH: 
 
 could at the time. But it has just made me careful 
 ever since, how I name names in a room one can't see 
 all round at once. Who's there ? " diving her head 
 forward beyond the curtain, and listening. 
 
 As the silence was unbroken, the other sister took 
 up the narrative. 
 
 " Jane has never been quite the same to us since. 
 She thinks we don't observe, but for all she sends 
 us bits of letters, and a goose at Christmas, there's 
 a difference. It might have been fancy, but we 
 thought we had never eaten a goose as hard as we 
 got last year. Perhaps there won't be one at all 
 this. That would be a fine story. We have had our 
 regular goose every Christmas these ten years. But 
 no doubt it was a foolish thing of Lyddy to do, and 
 she's sensible of it. The last time we asked Jane 
 here, she took the invitation very high, and showed 
 she had no will to come." 
 
 "People often pay dear for mistakes, especially 
 from imprudence," said Mrs Hunt, sententiously. 
 " One can't be careful enougli. But there's nobody 
 here for certain to-night, Miss Lydia, and I think 
 
 you might just " 
 
 " Oh dear — dear — dear me ! That is masjnificent ! 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 283 
 
 Where is it ? Where is it gone ? " cried Miss Lyddy, 
 straining her neck after the first rocket. " How it 
 made me jump ! So that was the beginning, I sup- 
 pose. But they'll surely not be all like that. No, 
 no ; the rest are further off, that's right. Well, I — 
 that was perfectly — oh, Mrs Hunt, don't lose the 
 sight ! There they are ! There they go ! See, see ! 
 One after another! 'Melia, look! My certy ! I'm 
 thankful I'm safe indoors ! What if any one should 
 be killed ! But the doctor's here, that's a comfort. 
 There he is, too ! There they all are, as plain as a 
 pikestaff ! Maria's white frock as blue as blue can 
 be in that queer light. Oh, Mrs Hunt, do you think 
 it's safe ? Do you not think the girls would be bet- 
 ter in the house, now that it's all begun ? We can 
 call to them, you know\ I declare I think we ought." 
 
 Mrs Hunt, however, arrested her hand. 
 
 " There's no fear, Miss Lydia ; their father is with 
 them. Make your mind easy, Mr Smith will take 
 good care that nothing happens. Now you must 
 really tell me what it was about Mr Smith and " 
 
 " Whew ! That was a dandy ! That was a — how 
 it made me jump ! Good gracious, 'Melia, I'm all in 
 a tremble ! What do they have them so near the 
 
284 MR SMITH: 
 
 house for ? " cried the excitable creature, as a Roman 
 candle shot off within, as she averred, a yard of her 
 elbow. " If I had only brought my smelling-bottle ; 
 but the last time it was used we couldn't get the 
 cork out. "What a pity it should be left behind! 
 
 If any one did, you know This really is 
 
 Whew! There's another! I'm sure I don't know 
 whether Bless me ! " 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, Lyddy," said the calmer 'Melia, 
 whose voice was only a little tremulous ; " it's start- 
 ling, but not dangerous, I'm told. Look at those 
 faces under the tree. There's old Butts and his 
 Jemima, as pleased as possible. Poor Jemima was 
 sadly afraid she would have to give it up to-night, 
 her cough has been so troublesome. Such nights as 
 she has, poor soul ! But there she stands, and seems 
 to have forgotten all about it. I shall shake my 
 finger at her, though. She ought to come in." 
 
 No notice was taken of the finger, wliich was, in 
 fact, quite invisible to the threatened Jemima. 
 
 "Ah! she'll pay for it by-and-by," said 'Melia, 
 with a sense of justice. " Foolish thing * she's 
 coughing at this moment. Well, IVe done all I 
 could ; she must stand on her own feet ; the 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 285 
 
 blame's not mine. Bless me ! who is that wild- 
 looking — why, it's our Harry ! I do declare I might 
 have guessed till midsummer ! Who would have 
 thought of Harry ? " 
 
 " And there's Bullett, like a great cannibal king ! " 
 cried Lyddy, with rather a happy hit. " One would 
 hardly know Bullett without his blue apron, if it 
 
 weren't for Oh, look, he's holding up little 
 
 Tommy, poor little soul ! I didn't know Tommy was 
 here to-night. I must really find them out after- 
 
 i 
 
 wards. I suppose Bullett supplied the meat, 
 'MeHa?" 
 
 "And there's Mr Smith and Maria — and the 
 rest," added Mrs Hunt, whose eyes had all this time 
 been wandering among the different groups in search 
 of them. What was Jemima, or Bullett, or any one 
 else to her, compared with these two great orbs in 
 her heavens ? She had not listened to a word of 
 the old ladies' exclamations. " There they all are ! 
 Close at hand, now. Miss Lydia, under the great 
 oak. There now, at your left — don't you see them, 
 the whole party ? " 
 
 " I see them ; I see them now, Mrs Hunt. Dear 
 me ! how strange they do look ! Maria quite pic- 
 
286 MR SMITH: 
 
 turesque. Which are the rest ? Ah I there's Helen 
 ToUeton, graceful creature ! She's holding the stick. 
 
 What for, I wonder ? Did you ever she was as 
 
 close to it as I am to you ! " 
 
 Helen had held the rocket for Mr Smith to fire ; 
 and when the display was over, she walked with him 
 through the shrubber}^ back to the house. Thus 
 much she permitted him. By her contrivance Maria 
 had by far the greater share of his attentions. He 
 himself did not discover this. Lily did, and it 
 amused her. Of the others, those most interested 
 noted it with inward rapture, the rest were other- 
 wise engrossed. 
 
 Maria Hunt was not supposed to be a captivating 
 girl. 
 
 All suspicion, however, was diverted from the 
 ToUetons. Mrs Hunt took Helen under her wing, 
 and hoped she had not got her pretty dress spoilt ; 
 while the doctor said it was more important that 
 she had not got her pretty throat sore. 
 
 Tor his part he expected to call at every house 
 next day, after such a mad escapade. He was in 
 such good humour, that he absolutely talked 
 "shop." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 287 
 
 Mr Smith had been easily managed. He was 
 thinking chiefly of his guests and their enjoyment ; 
 a little of Miss Tolleton, and not at all of Miss 
 Hunt. How she was so often by his side, it had 
 not occurred to him to wonder. She was too in- 
 significant. 
 
 But he had wondered a little — he had felt a little 
 hurt with Helen. She appeared to be keeping out 
 of his way. Could he have offended her ? She had 
 never been more gracious, more winning, than when 
 they sat together in the dark corner, while the magic- 
 lantern was going on. He had reckoned on her 
 walking with him, and she had sped off with Miss 
 Clay. 
 
 He had asked her to come and inspect some ar- 
 rangement, and she had come, but Miss Clay was 
 with her. Then, when he wanted some one to hold 
 his rocket, she had stepped forward, as the rest hung 
 back. He had thanked her gravely, and she had 
 walked home by his side. She kept him in a per- 
 petual ferment. 
 
 The entertainment, however, was drawing to a 
 close. He must clear his mind from all personal 
 thoughts. !N'one must feel neglected or overlooked. 
 
288 MR SMITH: 
 
 They were summoned to collect around the front 
 door. The ladies assembled inside the hall, and Mr 
 Rodney stepped forward to deliver the short address 
 which he had prepared. It was not much of an 
 address, but it did what was wanted. It sobered, 
 softened the exhilarated party; and even those in 
 whose hearts it found no ready echo, listened with 
 respectful toleration. " Rodney, he's a good chap, 
 and a pity he warn't rector." And then they cheered 
 loudly, and began to move slowly off in groups, 
 towards the village. 
 
 Little Tommy had fallen asleep, and Jemima's 
 cough made itself heard as they went by. The whole 
 air was impregnated with tobacco. The sides of the 
 walks were sadly injured. 
 
 Mr Smith, however, stood with uncovered head, 
 and serene brow, happy in the happiness he had 
 given ; nor would he allow the hall-door to be 
 closed until the last step retreated down the avenue. 
 
 The supper which ]\Irs Himt had so cleverly dis- 
 covered was then announced ; and the party, disen- 
 cumbered of their wraps, and with smoothed hair and 
 glowing cheeks, adjourned to the other room. 
 
A PART OF Ills LIFE. 2S9 
 
 One other discovery Mrs Hunt had made. She 
 could not have slept in her bed that night otherwise. 
 She had forced from Miss Lyddy's lips the name of 
 the Lady who was spoken of as the possible mistress 
 of the Hill. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
290 MR SMITH: 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE END OF THE FEAST. 
 
 "May I sit by you?" said Helen to Miss Clay, 
 as the party arranged themselves round the supper- 
 table. 
 
 There had been no formal going in — every one went 
 as they chose. Miss Clay had taken a seat about the 
 middle of the table, exactly underneath the chande- 
 lier. A more brilliant-looking creature than Helen 
 ToUeton, as she emerged from the doorway, and took 
 the chair beside her in this centre of light and radi- 
 ance, could hardly have been imagined. Her pale 
 face was lit up by the excitement and the evening 
 air. She had come forth from her chrysalis state of 
 obscurity and retirement, and spread her wings — 
 the gay, triumphant butterfly. 
 
 Who but she could have taken the scarlet bouquet 
 from her place, and inserted it so suddenly, so 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 29I 
 
 coqnettislily, among her dark coils? Who but she 
 kept up that fire of fun and repartee with old Bartlett 
 the banker ; turned the wretched head of the red- 
 haired clerk ; and made even the gentle curate confide 
 afterwards in the safe, true, loving, wifely ear, which 
 received all his secrets, that he had admired, though 
 he could not approve ? 
 
 Mr Smith was even startled. 
 
 He broke off twice in the middle of his conversa- 
 tion with the banker's wife, and let a whole sentence 
 of Mrs Hunt's fall unheeded to the ground, while he 
 stared at Helen. 
 
 What was she doing down there ? How had she 
 the power, go as low as she would, to make that place 
 a centre ? Here again she had slid beyond his reach ; 
 and though no longer hid in a corner, though rather 
 the cynosure of all eyes, yet not shining for him. 
 
 It made him discontented. He could see the eyes 
 bent upon her, the listening heads, the stolen glances, 
 returning more and more frequently. He could hear 
 the loud applause of the older men, and note the 
 more meaning silence of the younger. He even fan- 
 cied, but this might have been merely a fancy, that a 
 cloud, a depression, a change of some sort, had come 
 
292 MR SMITH: 
 
 over the faces of those who were not bowing to the 
 goddess. 
 
 Some of his lady guests looked grave. 
 
 Mrs Hunt too had lost her animation. Although 
 Lyddy Bain, who was a stupid creature, and one that 
 never could see half a yard in front of her, might put 
 no faith in the story she was herself promulgating, 
 Mrs Hunt, who piqued herself on the accuracy of 
 her perceptions, and more especially on the length 
 of her vision, could not feel so easy on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 She had been all her life gifted with powers of 
 discernment. She could always tell events that 
 were likely to take place long before any one else 
 had dreamt of them. She knew things before people 
 knew them themselves. In short, to listen to her, 
 she was a prophet arisen in the later days. 
 
 The name Lyddy had whispered was that of ]Miss 
 Fulton ; and so much had Lyddy heard of ]\Ir 
 Smith's being at the Hall, and of the Admiral's 
 attentions, and Miss Fulton's suitability, that it was 
 poor consolation to Mrs Hunt to find that her only 
 grounds for disbelief consisted in the lady's absence 
 from the feast. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 293 
 
 " If she had been here, you know, it would have 
 been as clear as day," said she. 
 
 Now there were twenty reasons why Miss Fulton 
 should not be there. For one thing, the Fultons gave 
 themselves airs. For the sake of ten thousand a- 
 year, and a husband of her own age, jNIiss Fulton 
 might consent to be Mr Smith's wife, but she had 
 never yet mixed with the Eastworld people. The 
 Tolletons alone, of all present, had her acquaintance. 
 Mrs Hunt did not know how fast that acquaintance 
 was being withered up, under the blight of Lady 
 Sauffrenden's frown. It w^as possible — more than 
 possible — that if Miss Fulton had been invited, she 
 had excused herself. 
 
 She was not a rival to be despised. She was only 
 too formidable. As she looked at Maria, Maria now 
 faded into insignificance, dull and overlooked by 
 every one, the old feeling of dissatisfaction arose 
 within her. 
 
 It was this, and not Helen Tolleton's shining sun- 
 light, which caused her to look thoughtful. 
 
 Still she made a good supper. She was deter- 
 mined to have nothing to regret, in looking back 
 upon that well-filled board. 
 
294 MR SMITH: 
 
 She took lobster, knowing that the doctor would 
 have frowned upon her; and turned her head the 
 other way while her second glass of champagne was 
 being poured out. 
 
 She would just get one word with Lyddy before 
 they went away. 
 
 Lyddy, however, had more important things on 
 her mind. 
 
 "Just see, Mrs Hunt, was there ever anything 
 more tiresome ? I had pinned the napkin all round, 
 and thought it was as safe as could be. My best 
 dress ! The Macbain tartan ! It's always the way 
 whenever we put them on. If there's a spot of oil, 
 or wine, or tea, or anything that won't come out, it 
 always happens that it's on the Macbain tartans. I 
 declare, I think we must just lock them by, or they'll 
 be spoilt altogether. Eh ? What did you say ? " 
 For Mrs Hunt had at length contrived to edge in 
 her remark about Miss Fulton. 
 
 "Miss Fulton? Oh, Mrs Bartlett tells me I'm 
 quite mistaken, and, to her certain knowledge, !Mis3 
 Fulton would never look at him. There's somebody 
 else Yes, indeed, Miss Clay. I do think every- 
 body has. It would be a shame, I'm sure, if they 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 295 
 
 hadn't. It's many a day since I have been at any- 
 thing so grand, at any rate. 'Melia, do look here. 
 Shall I put on cold water at once ? I dabbed my 
 handkerchief in at table, but I have not put it on 
 yet. What do you think ? " 
 
 " You had better leave it till you get home, and 
 try benzine," recommended Mrs Hunt. " Who was 
 the somebody else. Miss Lydia ? " 
 
 " Benzine ? " said Lyddy, looking round as if ex- 
 pecting to see it. " But I doubt that we haven't 
 any. Besides, do you think it would be safe ? " 
 
 "Perfectly safe on a good silk like that." Mrs 
 Hunt was bent on propitiating. " But I'll tell you 
 what I'll do : I'll bring in my bottle to-morrow 
 morning early, and rub it in myself. If benzine 
 won't take it out, nothing will" 
 
 It was no use trying to get anything further out of 
 Lyddy that night ; she must take her quietly next 
 day. 
 
 By twelve o'clock supper was over, and the great 
 business of cloaking, bonneting, hatting, going on. 
 
 Helen, the vivid rose-colour still in her cheek, 
 came up with her sisters to make their adieux. They 
 were the first to depart. Their host was surrounded 
 
296 MR SMITH: 
 
 on every side. The few frank words of thanks for 
 their pleasant evening, were spoken in the hearing of 
 all who chose to listen. 
 
 Miss Bain's gratitude was much more humble, 
 Mrs Hunt's infinitely more complimentary. 
 
 Mr Eodney spoke warmly on behalf of the parish ; 
 and Mr Bartlett, who had been listening to him, did 
 his best to continue in the same strain. 
 
 All agreed that the evening had passed off to ad- 
 miration. Even Bullett, the grumbling butcher, as 
 he made out his bill for the rounds and sirloins, was 
 won over so far as to modify his complaint into the 
 generous desire that so deserving a gentleman should 
 have been blest with a family. 
 
 After the feast there was a period of stagnation in 
 the neighbourhood. 
 
 Christmas was coming, and every one was saving 
 up for Christmas. The Sauffrendens, it is true, 
 dined once at Fulton Hall, — Mr Smith having been 
 asked to meet them. But Mr Smith was not there ; 
 and the Admiral, with his usual adjui'ation, declared 
 he was the slipperiest eel to basket he had ever met 
 with. Cornelia had no notion of lauding him herself, 
 and he couldn't work with another person's tackle. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 297 
 
 The plague of it was, that all the time, he had to 
 be so mincingly particular in what he said ; for if 
 Corny once took it into that fly-away head of hers 
 that there was anything in the wind, she would be 
 off like a shot. 
 
 No glimmer of his common-sense was therefore to 
 reach her foolish mind. He must keep it close, close. 
 
 To the Sauffrendens he merely observed that their 
 new neighbour appeared to shut himself up pretty 
 tight ; they never met him anywhere. 
 
 " That was a grand affair at his house the other 
 day," said Lord Sauffrenden. 
 
 The Admiral pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Ah ? eh ? I didn't hear of it. Was it " 
 
 " A tenant's or workman's dinner, or something of 
 that sort. We saw the fireworks from our windows." 
 
 "Indeed! ah! very nice; ve — ry nice," conde- 
 scendingly. "These kind of things, now, are just 
 what we want. Very nice — delightful. Cornelia 
 there, is up to her eyes in them. We must have one 
 at the Hall — eh, Corny ? Ask the Eeverend about 
 it " (by this name he was accustomed to designate 
 his brother), "and we'll have Smith over to give 
 us the cue." 
 
298 MR SMITH: 
 
 Mr Smith, however, was again unable to swallow 
 the tempting bait, and no more was heard of the 
 treat at the Hall. 
 
 Mr Smith was suffering, as Mrs Hunt had said he 
 would, from the effects of walking about on the wet 
 grass among the fireworks. 
 
 The warmth of the rooms, with the draughts of 
 cold air inseparable from such an occasion, had per- 
 haps as much to do with it as the wet grass. 
 
 So, at least, the doctor said. He, like the butcher, 
 having prognosticated no good accruing to himself 
 from the new-comer, was, like him, agreeably sur- 
 prised. 
 
 It was true that he had long since ceased to mourn 
 over Mr Smith's bachelorhood. If Maria could only 
 be installed mistress of the Hill, he thought he should 
 never regret anything again. Never regret in the 
 dark, that is to say. 
 
 He had begun to hope that this almost too fair 
 vision might really come to pass. With his own 
 eyes he had seen the host escorting his daughter 
 about at the feast; and his wife had, almost with 
 tears of joy, assured him of his attentions to her 
 during the earlier portion of the evening. " Miss 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 299 
 
 Fulton ! Pall ! " said she ; " I don't care that for 
 Miss Fulton ! I believe it was all a cock-and-bull 
 story of that creature, Lyddy Bain's." 
 
 "Their man rode in at the gate, as I left this 
 morning, however," said her husband, uneasily. 
 
 " Brown horse ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know the fellow. James Gait. I 
 had to attend him when he broke his collar-bone. I 
 spoke to him to-day.'' 
 
 " Then I tell you what, Eobert; just speak a little 
 about Maria now and then, and see how he takes it. 
 It will be easy enough when you are up there so 
 often." 
 
 The doctor took her advice. The result was satis- 
 factory. The horizon again cleared. 
 
 Mr Smith showed no reluctance to enter on the 
 subject. He even politely continued it. He admired 
 the doctor's woollen comforter, Maria's work. One 
 was eagerly offered him, and only declined because 
 he had never worn one in his life. On this occasion 
 it was earnestly recommended. After such a chill 
 and sore throat, Dr Hunt considered that he must be 
 wrapped up. He could not answer for the con- 
 sequences if he would not wear a comforter, and in- 
 
300 MR SMITH: 
 
 deed (laughing) he should set his daughter to work 
 that very day. Thus beset, of course Mr Smith had 
 yielded. The comforter was to be worn; and ]\Irs 
 Hunt hurried out directly she heard of it, to buy the 
 best double Berlin the village could supply. 
 
 " Ah, I wish she could have made a waistcoat like 
 that Helen ToUeton sent to some one of her gentle- 
 men," said she, regretfully. "I don't know how it is, 
 my girls' fingers are all thumbs. It is a perfect 
 miracle Maria's knowing how to do this, even." 
 
 Maria made no difficulty about the undertaking. 
 She had become much more reconciled to her cruel 
 situation than she had ever thought possible. By 
 her father's account, Mr Smith was so much in love. 
 
 Clare, indeed, was a little sceptical. " Papa meets 
 things half-way, you know," said she. ''He hears 
 bits, and then he puts in the rest." 
 
 To her surprise, however, Maria demurred to this. 
 
 She still declared, indeed, that it was dreadful to 
 have it so, but it became apparent that she did not 
 quite desire to have the dread removed. Having 
 tasted the sweets of consequence, she could not all 
 at once resign them. She began to think that Clare, 
 with all her wisdom, might be mistaken sometimes. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 3OI 
 
 Mamma, who coiild always find out if tliere were 
 anything to complain of, was satisfied ; and Clare 
 knew as well as she did, that if there really were 
 nothing in it, mamma would go on dreadfully. 
 
 As for herself she hated the idea, but (sagaciously) 
 she could not shut her eyes to facts. Mr Smith had 
 hung about her all that night ; and had certainly 
 never spoken one half as much to any of the other 
 girls — not even to the ToUetons, not even to Helen. 
 
 "Helen kept out of his way," said Clare, 
 bluntly. 
 
 " So did I, I'm sure ; as much as ever I could. 
 I only w^alked with him because I couldn't help it. 
 Helen always shoved me back, and then got away 
 herself. How could mamma fancy Helen would 
 ever look at him? All evening she was running 
 away from him." 
 
 " How could he speak to her, then ? " 
 
 " I never said he did, Clare ; I know he didn't. 
 But then I tried to get away from him too, and he 
 followed me. I did not wish to speak to him any 
 more than she, but I couldn't help it." 
 
 Maria, being thus convinced, set to work at her 
 comforter, and all went smoothly in the doctor's 
 
302 MR SMITH: 
 
 house, with only a dim shadow in the distance loom- 
 ing in the shape of Miss Fulton. 
 
 At the end of a fortnight Mr Smith came down- 
 stairs. 
 
 He had had another hurried visit from Sir George 
 Lorrimer, with whom at this time he had business 
 transactions. Sir George had summoned him to 
 town, but hearing he was unwell, got his papers to- 
 gether, and ran down to the Hill instead. 
 
 He stayed a day or two, and when he was gone, 
 the stagnation in the neighbourhood began to com- 
 municate itself in an alarming manner to the lonely 
 man. 
 
 Only a fortnight before, and all had been so gay, 
 so lively ; now the life and the spirit of it was gone. 
 A common experience in country life. Everything 
 at a standstill. People you have been meeting three 
 or four times a- week, suddenly fall out of your path. 
 An enchanted sleep steals over the place. 
 
 Into this sleep the neighbourhood of Eastworld 
 fell. 
 
 Mr Smith thought often and wearily of Freelands. 
 Why did he hear nothing of his friends there ? Was 
 he forgotten ? He thought so. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 303 
 
 But he was not. It was they who thought him 
 remiss. 
 
 Had it only been known that Sir George Lorrimer 
 had left, all would have been right. But they thought 
 Sir George was there. If so, it was impossible to 
 carry on matters. Lily indeed suggested an invita- 
 tion to dinner to both gentlemen ; but Helen, more 
 wise, shook her head. 
 
 Sir George was all very well for once. The lun- 
 cheon had been a success, but it would be foolish to 
 risk more. Besides, they had no right to ask him. 
 He might think it officious, and it would never do 
 if he were to express this opinion to Mr Smith. 
 
 " When he brought him here I" said Lily. 
 
 " Yes, I know it could be done. And if we had 
 the chance of meeting him, and asking him our- 
 selves, it might be different ; but to send a note up ! 
 I don't know quite how Mr Smith would take it." 
 
 "He should not have asked to bring him here, 
 then." 
 
 "You know, Lily, he never asked. It was we 
 ourselves insisted on his bringing the old friend." 
 
 " Ay, the old friend," said Lily, laughing, " but 
 not the young man. Not that sort of friend at all. 
 
304 MR SMITH: 
 
 You know best, Nelly. But I should be afraid if we 
 take no notice of Mm for so long ; lie will think we 
 are drawing back." 
 
 " Nonsense ! If he does, I can soon make up for 
 it. How stupid of papa not to find out when Sir 
 George is going ! " 
 
 " Going, my dear ! " exclaimed her father, awoke 
 from a gentle doze by the sound of " papa." " I for- 
 got to tell you. Sir George is gone." 
 
 " Gone ? When ? To-day ? " 
 
 " Oh dear no, some days ago. It was that stupid 
 Jessamy's mistake. I went in on Monday to get 
 some — stuff, and he had a long story about a gentle- 
 man who was staying at the Hill, and had been 
 down— of course I thought he meant the minute 
 before. So then I thought it as well not to inquire 
 at the post-of&ce. Indeed I was glad to get off, for I 
 have had to go after so many people there, that they 
 must think I know curiously little of the movements 
 of my friends. By the way, those new people came 
 to the Lodge yesterday. We must call at once, 
 Helen." 
 
 "But how did you find out about Sir George?" 
 said Helen. 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 305 
 
 She and Lily were both looking rather crest- 
 fallen. Sir George gone — what had Mr Smith been 
 about ? Gone too, perhaps. 
 
 "I met Hunt. He had just been to the Hill. 
 Smith has had a nasty feverish attack. Cold and 
 sore throat, and that sort of thing. Sir George had 
 been gone some days." 
 
 The girls' faces brightened. A cold was infinitely 
 better than a friend. A cold could be treated for, 
 easily. Their misgivings gave way to cheerful hope. 
 
 "Do you know," said Mr Tolleton, striking his 
 thumbs in his waistcoat-pockets, and looking serious, 
 *' I think I ought to have called upon Sir George. 
 It never occurred to me till too late, but I am afraid 
 he will have taken it amiss. What do you think, 
 Helen?" 
 
 Oh, nonsense, papa ! " replied Helen, not very re- 
 spectfully. " Sir George must have been here only 
 two days, and how were we to be supposed to know 
 he was here at all ? If it had been a longer visit ! " 
 
 " Well, but the time before. The time he came to 
 luncheon."* 
 
 " He left almost directly. I found out that for 
 VOL. I. U 
 
306 MR SMITH: 
 
 you. I meant you to have called if he had only 
 stayed three days. But I don't think we want 
 him. The thing is now, what can we do for Mr 
 Smith?" 
 
 Mr Tolleton looked astonished at this trifling way 
 of dismissing a grave business. Sir George Lorrimer 
 had been neglected. He had not been called upon. 
 It was the girls who were to blame. Why had he 
 not been packed off with his cards, and the inevi- 
 table note in his pocket ? They ought to have seen 
 to it, and now they did not care. Helen had called 
 it "nonsense." 
 
 Helen was deep in thought. " Could you not lend 
 him books ? " 
 
 "Who? Mr Smith? My dear, he has a fine 
 library. What books could I take him that he 
 has not got already ? " 
 
 " He might consider it an attention." 
 
 "Pay him attention in some other way. There 
 are plenty of things he would ratlier have than 
 books," said Mr Tolleton, judging by himself. " Go 
 up and see him." 
 
 " Papa ! But you can go." 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 307 
 
 "Ay, I knew it would be that. A nasty new 
 avenue, too, that spoils all my boots. Well, I sup- 
 pose I must, though he won't thank me for coming, 
 much. Can't you come with me, Helen ? " 
 
 "No indeed, papa, it would never do." 
 
 " Why not ? We could go by the plantation and 
 the short cut, and nobody be the wiser." 
 
 '' Mr Smith would." 
 
 " Well, he would be delighted." 
 
 "I daresay he might, but all the same " 
 
 Then she stopped to consider. "If I felt sure he 
 would not think it improper, I should like to go very 
 much." 
 
 " Improper ! What an idea ! " cried Lily. " Helen 
 playing propriety ? " 
 
 "You never will see," retorted Helen, angrily, 
 " that it is not I. I don't care two straws about 
 those things myself, I'm not such a prig. But I 
 certainly do not wish to take all the trouble of going 
 up to see Mr Smith, if it is only to go down in his 
 opinion." 
 
 Then sh€ thought of her walk to the view. To go 
 up, under her father's wing, and pay ^Ir Smith a 
 
308 MR SMITH: 
 
 visit as an invalid, and an old gentleman, was not, 
 she well knew, half as improper in reality as their 
 taking a private walk together by appointment. 
 
 But there was something in going to the hovM. 
 There was something in facing the servants, in walk- 
 ing past the windows. She gave to every considera- 
 tion its due weight. 
 
 " If I do go " she began. 
 
 " Go ? Yes, by all means," interrupted her sister. 
 " Go, and suggest tolu and paregoric, and all the 
 rest of it. Go, and be as charming as ever you can. 
 Now is your time. You will do him more good than 
 all the medicines in Dr Hunt's medicine-chest. I 
 would go too, only I think it might look more affec- 
 tionate your going alone." 
 
 Helen looked dubious. She did not care for its 
 looking so very affectionate, but neither did she wish 
 for her sister's company. She liked to have !Mr 
 Smith all to herself. 
 
 " Well, will you come ? " inquired her father. 
 
 " I think I will. It is not as if he could think 
 himself a young man. And we can go, as you say, 
 by the plantation. We might merely ask how he is, 
 
A PART OF HIS LIFE. 309 
 
 you know; and if we are asked in, you might go, 
 and leave me outside, or something of that sort. If 
 he is sitting in the drawing-room, he will see us pass, 
 and know I am there. Then if he asks me to go in, 
 I could do it. After all, I think T will go." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTKD BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDIN'Bl KUH. 
 
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