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 MRS. LORIMER
 
 «9-
 
 MRS. LORIMER 
 
 A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE 
 
 BY 
 
 LUCAS MALET 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 3^ontion 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 1882
 
 rrintedby R. & R. Clark, Edinburgh.
 
 a4 
 I 
 
 2X1 
 
 I MRS. LORIMER. 
 
 : PART I. 
 
 "^ CHAPTER I. 
 
 *• Speaking in parable, I am Colin Clout. 
 A clinging flavour penetrates my life — 
 My onion is imperfectness : I cleave 
 To nature's blunders, evanescent types 
 Which sages banish from Utopia." 
 
 The Parish of Claybrooke was agitated. 
 
 ,r Not by any public event of world-wide 
 interest. Wars and the rumours of them 
 
 "^ affected the apathetic life of this mid- 
 
 A land village very slightly. All Europe 
 
 ^ might have been given over to fire and 
 
 .> sword, and Claybrooke, meanwhile, would 
 
 have remained serenely neutral, so long 
 
 as bread did not " go up," and beasts 
 
 fetched a fair price at Slowby market 
 
 >^ VOL. I. B 

 
 2 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 on Thursdays. Local interests were the 
 only real interests of its inhabitants. 
 The year 1815, for example, was unim- 
 portant, save as being the year following 
 the great snow, when six of Mr. Robins's 
 sheep were buried for a matter of eight 
 days in a drift, down against the hedge, by 
 the towing path. Again, the year 1854 
 was rendered more memorable by the fact 
 that old Mr. Stayley of Highthorne was 
 killed by a fall from his horse, on a Tues- 
 day in the third week in January, just by 
 the corner of the fox-covert on the Lowcote 
 Road, than by the battle of Inkermann or 
 the bombardment of Sevastopol. 
 
 Claybrooke rigidly applied what mind 
 it possessed to its own affairs. The Chris- 
 tian charity or dull dislike of its inhabit- 
 ants seemed alike incapable of extending 
 beyond a radius of some eight or ten miles. 
 Outside the sacred circle of neighbourhood 
 nothing appeared very interesting or im- 
 portant. That existence should be pos-
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 3 
 
 sible in other and more distant regions 
 seemed strange. That life should really 
 be worth living to people who had never 
 been to Slowby market ; had never hunted 
 with the Midlandshire hounds ; had never 
 dined seriously, and with an agreeable sense 
 of dignity and importance, at the tables of 
 the neighbouring county magnates ; had 
 never been to a clerical meeting at the 
 Archdeacon's, or seen Mr. Gerald Main- 
 waring, in gray breeches and gaiters, re- 
 presenting all the majesty of the English 
 law to apple-stealing youths, on the bench 
 of magistrates at Slowby, — that life, I 
 say, should be in any way important or 
 desirable to persons unacquainted with 
 these things and debarred from these 
 high privileges, seemed almost incredible 
 to the Claybrooke mind. 
 
 But if the sympathies of Claybrooke 
 were not wide, they were certainly deep. 
 There not being many events in this 
 quiet neighbourhood to observe, the few
 
 4 MRS. LORIMER, part i. 
 
 events that did occur were very thoroughly 
 talked over and thought over. The joys 
 of gossip were by no means unknown. 
 The satisfaction arising from the discovery 
 of an acquaintance's mistakes and short- 
 comings was a form of satisfaction freely 
 indulged in. A delicate movement of 
 self-complacency in face of the sins and 
 misfortunes of friends and relations is 
 at least as common in the quiet country 
 as in the busy town ; and the judgments 
 of Claybrooke were not one whit more just 
 or merciful than human judgments are 
 usually wont to be. Yet men and women 
 struggled to be pure and unselfish ; they 
 nursed the sick and fed the hungry; they 
 loved and forgave ; they lived in godly 
 fear and died fortified by eternal hope, in 
 this unimportant, little, midland parish as 
 elsewhere in this confusing world. 
 
 At the time of which I write, a cloud 
 had hung over Claybrooke Rectory for 
 many long weeks. Far away, among olive
 
 CH, I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 5 
 
 grounds and orange gardens by the shores 
 of the distant Mediterranean, a man was 
 fighting gallantly, but hopelessly, against 
 the great enemy Death ; and a beautiful 
 woman sat watching, in dread and strange 
 amazement, the progress of the bitter 
 struggle. At home, in the stately old 
 Rectory - house, kind hearts waited and 
 hoped against hope. The news was bad 
 enough in the autumn ; it grew worse and 
 worse through the winter months ; and in 
 the softer days of February, when the 
 frost had given place to mist and fog over 
 the heavy clay lands, and the first snow- 
 drops pushed their way up through the 
 black garden mould, Mr. and Mrs. Main- 
 waring learned that Robert Lorimer was 
 dead, and that Elizabeth — their niece — 
 who had left them, as a bride, not two years 
 ago, was coming back to them a widow. 
 
 Every one, I suppose, has wasted half 
 an hour, at some period during the course 
 of his childhood, in dropping pebbles
 
 6 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 into a still pond or pool, and watching 
 the graceful rings which, after the first 
 little splash, spread themselves in ever- 
 widening circles over the face of the water. 
 A good -sized pebble had, so to speak, 
 dropped into the social pool at Clay- 
 brooke Rectory on that (oggy February day, 
 in consequence of which a series of gentle 
 undulations of surprise, interest, and pity, 
 spread themselves over the quiet surface 
 of the county society for some ten or 
 fifteen miles round. Kind-hearted country 
 squires, in after-dinner talk over their 
 claret, pitied the handsome young creature, 
 left alone in the world, with no husband to 
 care for or child to cheer her. They de- 
 plored, too, the trouble that had fallen on 
 Mr. Mainwaring ; for everybody, whose 
 opinion was worth anything, held that a 
 more thoroughly good fellow, or a better 
 man across country — notwithstanding his 
 sixty and odd years — could not be found. 
 And though it must be owned that in
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 7 
 
 proportion as a man likes his niece, he will 
 probably dislike the man she marries, it was 
 known that certain very dear hopes depended 
 on Elizabeth Lorimer's marriage, which Mr. 
 Mainwaring would find it hard to relinquish. 
 The clergy, too, were full of solicitude 
 concerning both the uncle and the niece, 
 for the Rector of Claybrooke was held 
 in high repute by the majority of his 
 brethren. Perhaps his reputation was 
 greater from the social than from the pro- 
 fessional standpoint. Mr. Mainwaring was 
 the last representative of an old Midland- 
 shire family, and had married, early in 
 life, a lady whose connections held a high 
 position among the local aristocracy. Her 
 brother. Sir Sellinger Selford of Selford, 
 was a man of considerable standing in 
 the north of the county. The baronetcy, 
 indeed, dated from those stormy and 
 troublous times when " the King's Parlia- 
 ment sat at Oxford," — a fact which the 
 Selfords never ignored, when a chance
 
 8 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 of referring to it arose in ordinary con- 
 versation. Mr. Mainwaring, therefore, 
 was regarded as supplying that secure 
 link between the lay and clerical worlds 
 which is too often missing. And when 
 Mr. Leeper, the newly -inducted vicar of 
 Lowcote, — who had come into the neigh- 
 bourhood, hot from town work, full of 
 views, and of a desire that the clergy 
 should "stand shoulder to shoulder," and 
 defy an indifferent and untoward genera- 
 tion of laity, — annoyed by some rather 
 sharp observations of Mr. Mainwaring's 
 at a ruridecanal meeting,— ventured to 
 describe that reverend gentleman as a 
 " fox-hunting Erastian," and to compare 
 him to the oft-quoted Gallio, he discovered, 
 very shortly, that he had made a terrible 
 mistake. Even Mr. Harbage of High- 
 thorne — a mild, fair, and rather stout 
 person, who, in the interests of four mar- 
 riageable daughters, had always appeared 
 very anxious to conciliate Mr. Leeper
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 9 
 
 — reminded him that the Bishop stayed 
 quite as often at Claybrooke Rectory as 
 he did at the Archdeacon's, and that it 
 was hardly becoming in a new-comer to 
 criticise so respected a member of one 
 of the oldest families in the county. 
 
 It must also be noted that a death in 
 itself is generally interesting. Marriages 
 demand time to develop symptoms of hap- 
 piness or misery before they afford very 
 much subject for conversation. Births are 
 too common to create very much excite- 
 ment, as a rule. But a death immediately 
 supplies matter for meditation, which ap- 
 pears to be fairly agreeable to all except 
 perhaps the very young. The details of 
 illness, and reminiscences of friends or near 
 relations who have suffered from the same 
 malady — always, strangely enough, in a 
 very aggravated form ; the feelings of the 
 survivors ; the amount of the estate of the 
 deceased — all afford edifying matter for 
 thought and conversation. To some few
 
 lo MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 minds the more spiritual and everlasting 
 aspects of the matter may present them- 
 selves. A small minority will lose them- 
 selves in speculations concerning the great 
 Hereafter ; and in " obstinate question- 
 ings " regarding that mysterious and im- 
 penetrable curtain, which the hand of death 
 suddenly draws between us and those who 
 have been " bone of our bone and flesh of 
 our flesh," whose looks and habits, whose 
 speech, whose very clothes, are among the 
 most familiar of our daily impressions. 
 
 But undoubtedly the concrete and the 
 finite present themselves much more readily 
 to most people, than the abstract and 
 the infinite. In the dull country neigh- 
 bourhood around Claybrooke, people, as 
 a rule, lived long. " Wearing out " is 
 next to impossible in such an atmosphere ; 
 and " rusting out " — that process so terrible 
 in theory to young and ardent minds — 
 is in truth a very lengthy business, com- 
 patible with much quiet usefulness, and
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. ii 
 
 synonymous, in the majority of cases, with 
 living to a good old age. 
 
 Most of the neighbouring clergy, who 
 as slim youths fresh from the universities 
 had married years ago and settled in their 
 pleasant parsonage houses, were now well 
 on in middle life. But though they had 
 grown bulky in figure, with much sitting 
 over sermons ; though some had a slight 
 disposition to rheumatic pains when the 
 winter cold set in ; and though all observed 
 more wrinkles and gray hairs than were 
 altogether pleasant, as they gazed into 
 their looking-glasses during the operation 
 of shaving in the morning, — no one of them 
 all had the faintest intention of leaving his 
 children fatherless, or his worthy wife a 
 widow, for many years to come. There- 
 fore that so young a man as Robert 
 Lorimer should die seemed, it must be 
 confessed, somewhat strange and alarming. 
 Several gentlemen had their greatcoats 
 relined with a view to keeping out March
 
 12 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 winds, lest any chest should be more 
 susceptible of cold than its owner had 
 hitherto suspected. Mr. Jones, the Clay- 
 brooke curate, went so far as to appear in a 
 new woollen comforter and pair of India- 
 rubber overshoes, — much to the distress 
 of a young clerical neighbour of sporting 
 proclivities, who had volunteered to drive 
 him over to the meeting of the Board of 
 Guardians at Slowby ; and who felt that 
 his neat dog-cart and high-stepping cob 
 were most painfully compromised by his 
 companion's personal appearance. People 
 who know what is what do not wear 
 comforters or goloshes in Midlandshire ! 
 In the winter you should straddle a little, 
 with your hands under your coat tails, in 
 front of a roaring fire, conscious that your 
 shooting boots and gaiters defy any 
 amount of wet and mud ; and talk in 
 robust and cheerful tones of the fine 
 seasonable weather, however intolerable 
 the cold or penetrating the damp may be
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 13 
 
 outside. If any thoughts concerning the 
 prevalence of disease or the shortness of 
 human Hfe assail you, it is wonderful how 
 an extra glass of sherry, after luncheon, 
 will restore the naturally hopeful tone of 
 your mind, and enable you to feel a com- 
 fortable assurance that you " are good for 
 many years yet." 
 
 On the whole, men's emotions are more 
 simple and kindly than those of women. 
 Their minds are, so to speak, like ordi- 
 nary houses, with one front and one back 
 staircase — you know they must go up by 
 one or the other to get to the upper rooms. 
 While women's minds may be fitly com- 
 pared to those queer, old, country mansions 
 which are full of little unnecessary flights of 
 stairs, — ^you can never be sure whether you 
 are walking on the level or not. Meantime 
 the owner, too often, darts out upon you 
 suddenly from some wholly unexpected 
 doorway or landing, having arrived there 
 you know not how. Men were simply sorry
 
 14 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 for Mrs. Lorimer ; and were extremely- 
 glad when any acquaintance, whom they 
 happened to meet, told them that they 
 were looking remarkably well. But mixed 
 and confused sensations, interesting to note 
 — and wholly incomprehensible to the bulk 
 of the male population,- — reigned in the 
 female breasts in and around Claybrooke. 
 To begin with, there was something alto- 
 gether phenomenal about so young a widow. 
 Worthy mothers of growing sons and 
 daughters naturally regarded trouble and 
 loss as dignified. They had a certain 
 satisfaction in remembering that they had 
 known Elizabeth Lorimer, as a little tod- 
 dling thing who could hardly speak plain ; 
 had advised Mrs. Mainwaring concerning 
 the length of her sleeves, and the best 
 way of soothing her when she suffered 
 from various childish maladies. At the 
 same time, a delicate flavour of annoyance 
 tempered their sympathetic interest, inas- 
 much as this young creature appeared to
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 15 
 
 them somewhat in the light of a prodigal, 
 who at her still tender age had managed 
 to run through the stock of experiences 
 that last most women their whole lives. 
 She seemed in some way to have got 
 quite an unfair start of them ; to have 
 assumed brevet rank; to have the advan- 
 tages, and to demand the consideration, 
 generally accorded to mature life, without 
 its accumulation of cares, its gray hairs and 
 faded complexion, its sense of bustle and 
 sense of weariness, its anxious thoughts 
 regarding the professions of sons and the 
 marriages of daughters. 
 
 Some few ladies went even further. 
 They had a lurking feeling that there 
 was a touch of not uncalled-for retri- 
 butive justice in poor Robert Lorimer's 
 early death. They would have been hor- 
 rified if any one had taxed them with 
 this feeling : most of us permit our- 
 selves a certain latitude in thought, which 
 appears subversive of all morals and
 
 i6 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 only worthy of the most abandoned 
 character when honestly put into words. 
 We are all at times remarkably tolerant 
 of our own unspoken meannesses and 
 hardness of heart. But it is only fair to 
 admit that, there certainly are few things 
 more irritating to the members of a small 
 society — where unmarried men are scarce 
 and unmarried women plentiful — than the 
 sudden discovery that some young girl, 
 for whom the general consensus of public 
 opinion has selected one husband, should, 
 meanwhile, have selected quite another 
 husband for herself Especially is this 
 irritating when her choice has fallen upon 
 a swain, whose affections were reckoned 
 perfectly disengaged ; and who had been 
 regarded, both by watchful mothers and 
 maidens, as wholly to the good in their 
 matrimonial calculations. 
 
 Elizabeth Mainwaring had been guilty 
 of this serious offence against her neighbours 
 some eighteen months before the time of
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 17 
 
 which we now speak ; and the silent grudge, 
 which some persons owed her for her unex- 
 pected marriage, had hardly yet died away. 
 
 Public opinion had unanimously con- 
 cluded that Elizabeth would marry a 
 certain young Mr. Edward Dadley, who, 
 by way of managing his aunt Miss Maria 
 Dadley's estate for her, spent two very 
 pleasant winters at Claybrooke, He was a 
 fresh-faced, clean-limbed, young gentleman 
 possessing better qualities of the heart than 
 of the head. He hunted three days a week, 
 and spent nearly all the rest of his time 
 at the Rectory, so that it may be ques- 
 tioned whether Miss Maria Dadley's estate 
 profitedjVery sensibly, from the watchfulness 
 of his eye or controlling power of his hand. 
 
 Elizabeth Mainwaring developed very 
 much outwardly during those two years. 
 From a dark overgrown girl, silent and 
 shy, whose colt -like length of limb and 
 angularity of movement were a distinct 
 trial to her aunt Mrs. Mainwaring's delicate 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 i8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 perceptions of grace and propriety, she blos- 
 somed into an unusually handsome young 
 woman. She was tall, but with an easy 
 carriage, and a figure so well proportioned 
 that her height did not strike one as un- 
 pleasing. She had a clear brown skin, and 
 the curly mouse-coloured hair which so often 
 go with straight well-cut features and eyes 
 of the dark gray that, under excitement, 
 seem to deepen into actual violet. Such 
 women, I think, do not develop very early 
 either spiritually or mentally. The colt- 
 stage is a long one with them ; they are 
 often handsomer at thirty than at twenty. 
 They are almost invariably honest, loyal, 
 and generous, but a little dangerous. You 
 may live with one of them for years, 
 fancying that you know all about her ; 
 and some fine day your poor, reasonable, 
 slow - moving, masculine mind will be 
 greatly distracted and confused by find- 
 ing that she has taken an entirely new 
 departure ; — that some dormant emotion,
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 19 
 
 or early impression, has awakened within 
 her ; that she has made a discovery and 
 proposes to reconstruct her plan of life on 
 new principles. She is neither a fanatic 
 nor a propagandist ; she does not ask you 
 to change : but she does ask you to permit 
 her to become something, quite other than 
 that which she has been heretofore. A 
 man suffers a good deal under these 
 circumstances. If discoveries are about, 
 he would prefer that other men's wives 
 should make them, rather than his own. 
 
 But, notwithstanding Elizabeth's increas- 
 ing beauty, Edward Dadley disappeared 
 rather suddenly from the Claybrooke stage. 
 His aunt merely said that family busi- 
 ness demanded his return to his father's 
 place in the north. One morning his 
 hunters, arrayed in much clothing, went 
 over in charge of two tight-looking grooms 
 to Slowby station ; were got — with some 
 kicking and stamping on their part, a good 
 deal of coaxing and some objurgations on
 
 20 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 the part of the grooms, and not a little 
 nervousness on that of the assistant porters, 
 — into a string of horse-boxes, and steamed 
 away northwards. While their owner, in 
 a first - class carriage, meditated over an 
 excellent cigar that even the best of 
 fathers might prove a nuisance at times ; 
 and that though obedience was un- 
 doubtedly a great virtue, it was too often 
 a singularly disagreeable one to practise. 
 
 About two months after Edward Dad- 
 ley's departure, Elizabeth Mainwaring met 
 Robert Lorimer for the first time. He had 
 come down from London to spend a few 
 days with an old college friend, the rector 
 of Melvin's Keeping — the same gentle- 
 man whose feelings were subsequently so 
 much outraged by Mr. Jones's comforter 
 and goloshes. Robert Lorimer saw 
 Elizabeth several times at different houses 
 in the neighbourhood, and fell very much 
 in love with the tall, handsome, young 
 girl. He found a number of excellent
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 21 
 
 reasons for staying a month instead of a 
 few days with his old college friend. He 
 came back to Melvin's Keeping again in 
 June ; and early in September he and 
 Elizabeth Mainwaring were married. 
 
 Any one living within ten miles of Clay- 
 brooke is not likely to forget the amount of 
 talk which this event gave rise to. I groan 
 in spirit still when I recall it. But the history 
 of the young couple's married life, alas ! 
 was as sad as it was short. About a year 
 later Robert Lorimer fell ill. Undeniable 
 signs of consumption showed themselves. 
 He was ordered abroad for the winter: the 
 disease, however, developed itself with ter- 
 rible rapidity, and only too soon there could 
 be no reasonable doubt as to the final result. 
 Even at the time of the wedding, a keen 
 observer in looking at Robert Lorimer 
 might have doubted whether he would 
 be a long-lived man. There was some- 
 thing a trifle too refined and delicate 
 in the cutting of his face, a suspicious
 
 22 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 openness in the nostril, and a certain 
 languor of manner and bearing, at times, 
 which many people thought a little 
 affected and insolent, but which really 
 betokened a distinct want of vitality. 
 
 Fortunately however, for the comfort 
 and peace of the world in general, keen 
 observers are rare. Most people are very 
 willing to take for granted that a man of 
 two-and-thirty, who is an excellent crick- 
 eter, and has the reputation of having been 
 rather a celebrated oar at college, must 
 have, as a matter of course, many years 
 before him. It was simply from the 
 social point of view that the Claybrooke 
 world held up its hands, in a flutter of 
 surprise, at the marriage. Robert Lorimer 
 was only a young barrister, giving no 
 particular promise of a great career in 
 his profession. Mr. Mainwaring could 
 not be much pleased, it was said, at his 
 niece's choice, with his feeling about the 
 landed interest. Mrs. Mainwaring — in
 
 CH. 1. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 23 
 
 virtue of having been a Selford of Selford 
 — was known to have a strong appreci- 
 ation of what is generally spoken of as 
 " family." Robert Lorimer was unde- 
 niably a gentleman, — some people indeed 
 thought he was disposed to be rather too 
 fine a gentleman considering his position — 
 but he had no local standing. He had 
 some money : but Elizabeth would have 
 plenty of money of her own in time. It 
 was hinted that he was too fond of books 
 and pictures and music to be wholly satis- 
 factory. Literature and the arts, regarded 
 from any other than a purely amateur point 
 of view, are reckoned a little dangerous in 
 Midlandshire. The marriage, in short, ap- 
 peared very incomprehensible, and some- 
 what of the nature of a mistake. 
 
 It was improbable that the Mainwarings 
 wished, at all keenly, to annex Robert Lori- 
 mer : and oh ! what would not some other 
 people have given to possess him ! Mrs. 
 Harbage, for instance, during a few short
 
 24 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 weeks, had cherished the fond illusion that 
 her second daughter Emily, whose youth 
 was passing all too quickly, had made 
 some impression upon the young barrister. 
 Poor Mrs. Harbage would naturally have 
 been very thankful to see one of her child- 
 ren safely provided for. Mrs. Harbage had 
 not an easy life of it. She rose early, and 
 late took rest, working in her home and in 
 her husband's parish ; devising even on her 
 bed at night — when certain sounds beside 
 her testified to the ponderous slumbers of 
 her spouse — means to make a small income 
 cover ever-increasing expenses ; thinking 
 how to clothe and educate growing boys 
 and girls, who, because their father was 
 a clergyman of the Church of England, 
 and consequently a gentleman, must be as 
 well dressed and well informed, must go 
 to the same public schools and colleges, 
 must be encouraged to have the same 
 expensive tastes and the same gentleman- 
 like indifference to the squandering of
 
 CH. I. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 25 
 
 small cash, as Sir Frederic Melvin's or 
 Squire Adnitt's sons and daughters. Mr. 
 Harbage's income was about £600, all 
 told, with deductions for parish expenses, 
 and a heavy life insurance premium. Sir 
 Frederic Melvin's might be set down at 
 nearly twice as many thousands : but all 
 gentlemen are equal — a blessed truth, the 
 mother of most bad debts and many broken 
 hearts ! If Robert Lorimer had married 
 Emily, Mrs. Harbage felt that her faith in 
 the goodness of Providence would have 
 been sensibly increased. Alas ! in the 
 event, she only learnt that " unto every 
 one that hath shall be given" — a hard say- 
 ing, and one which had always appeared 
 to her in urgent need of the attention of 
 the revisers of the New Testament. 
 
 Such, then, were briefly the facts of 
 Elizabeth Lorimer's life up to the present 
 time, and the effect which the news of her 
 husband's early death had upon the mimic 
 world of Claybrooke and its neighbourhood.
 
 26 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 *'A land where all things always seem'd the same !" 
 
 Meanwhile Elizabeth Lorimer, the sub- 
 ject of all this thought and conversation, 
 was travelling, through the clear winter 
 night and the bright winter day, farther 
 and farther from the vines and olives of 
 the South of France, and nearer and nearer 
 to our damp and misty midlands. 
 
 The life she had lived for the last two 
 years, with all its interests and hopes, its 
 pleasures and its doubts, with all its un- 
 fulfilled promises and its restless wishes, 
 lay buried for ever by the tideless Southern 
 sea ; while the hurrying train seemed to be 
 bearing her swiftly forward towards another 
 state of existence. 
 
 As she lay huddled up among rugs and
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 27 
 
 cushions on the seat of the cotipe^ Eh'zabeth 
 felt too tired to think, or to sleep, or to sor- 
 row. She was only conscious of the muffled 
 roar of the rushing train as it sped north- 
 wards ; conscious that, when they reached 
 Paris, she must drag herself up from these 
 comfortable cushions, which her brother- 
 in-law, Frank Lorimer, had arranged for 
 her, and help to claim her luggage ; con- 
 scious that there would be another space 
 of noisy quiet in the train, followed by a 
 weary struggle to get on board the boat 
 at Calais ; — that London would appear as 
 a smoky vision, and then that, at last, 
 she would reach the final stage of her 
 journey. About two hours later the 
 great green pastures, divided by their high 
 hawthorn hedges, would stretch out on 
 either side of the railway -track ; long 
 rows of elm-trees would rise against the 
 low gray sky ; sober-looking carts would 
 jolt along muddy by-roads ; anxious, yet 
 stolid people, laden with innumerable
 
 28 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 baskets and parcels, would struggle in 
 and out of third-class carriages, dragging 
 alarmed, big-cheeked, little boys and girls 
 after them. Elizabeth seemed to see it 
 all. The journey, with all its varying 
 scenes stretched out before her like a 
 great picture ; and she almost fancied 
 that when the train stopped at Slowby, 
 and her travelling was over — some six- 
 and- thirty hours hence — she would find 
 herself a little brown -faced maid again, 
 whom tall Uncle Gerald would take up 
 tenderly in his arms and kiss ; and Aunt 
 Susan would gently reprove for her in- 
 ability to sit still ; and whom Mrs. Smart 
 would alternately coax and scold, while 
 she undressed her by the nursery fire in 
 the evening. 
 
 When we are young it is so difficult 
 to believe in sorrow and disaster. So 
 much easier to think that somehow we 
 shall wake up and find the dear old days 
 again, with kind people who will pet us
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 29 
 
 and take care of us and tell us what to 
 do and what to leave undone. Elizabeth 
 was young, and she was too tired, just 
 now, to realise that in future she would 
 have to be her own guide and conscience- 
 keeper. Lying there, as the train ran on 
 mile after mile northward, it seemed to 
 her that trouble, and painful experience, 
 and the awful mysterious shadow of death, 
 were being left far behind on the shores of 
 the unquiet Mediterranean, and that at 
 Claybrooke she would find the sweet 
 monotony of spelling-books and pinafores 
 once more. 
 
 But one thing disturbed this peaceful 
 dream — the presence of her brother-in- 
 law, Frank Lorimer. He sat in the 
 corner of the coiipe^ enveloped in a heavy 
 ulster, while the light of the lamp fell with 
 irritating clearness on the top of his 
 travelling-cap, the end of his nose, and 
 the point of his light-brown beard. No 
 amount of dreaming would dream away
 
 30 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 that solid English figure ; and he sat 
 there as the sign and seal of the truth of 
 all those painful and mysterious facts 
 which poor Elizabeth would so willingly 
 have disbelieved in. 
 
 Frank Lorimer, sitting in the corner of 
 the railway carriage, pondered quietly over 
 many things. Life had dealt pleasantly 
 enough with him so far. At one-and- 
 thirty he found himself strong, able, and 
 ready for much enjoyment in many 
 different ways. He had an enormous 
 capacity for friendship — or comradeship, 
 as he preferred to have it called. But he 
 was too healthy, both in mind and body, 
 to be fully satisfied with so spiritual a 
 form of relationship, as the existence of 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer and two slim curly- 
 headed babies clearly proved. Under- 
 neath certain theories and affectations, 
 his nature rested upon a firm basis of 
 common -sense, which inspired one with 
 considerable faith in his judgment, and
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 31 
 
 comfort in his presence. His elder 
 brother's death was the first real break 
 in his life, the first real trouble that he 
 had experienced : but his naturally sen- 
 sible mind accepted death as one of the 
 necessary conditions of existence ; and his 
 sorrow, therefore, was wholly unmixed with 
 those bitter feelings of injury and — must 
 I add — of anger, which alone make grief 
 intolerable. Such bereavements were 
 common to the lot of all men, therefore 
 his individual lot was merely subject to 
 the general law. He took comfort in the 
 thought, and was genuinely glad to find 
 that he could take comfort in it. He was 
 a kind and sensible rather than a heroic 
 soul. He quite appreciated heroes : but, 
 for his own part, he preferred the common 
 walks of life and its average emotions, to 
 mountain -tops in cloud and storm, and 
 passions " torn to tatters." 
 
 Frank Lorimer did not meditate very 
 deeply on his own feelings under existing
 
 • 32 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 circumstances. He was thinking — if the 
 truth must be told — over the leading points 
 of an article on the present relations of 
 France and Italy, for the weekly paper of 
 which he was sub-editor ; of the pleasure 
 of getting back to his own home and to 
 those engaging babies ; and of the prob- 
 able future of his handsome young sister- 
 in-law, in whom he thought he detected a 
 tendency towards the tempests of feeling 
 and strange exaggerations of conduct which 
 were so foreign to his own well-balanced 
 temperament. 
 
 ..Claybrooke was reached at last. It was 
 dusk, and the west wind rushed through" 
 the bare branches of the high-standing 
 elm -trees, in the village street. Some 
 round-eyed children clustered on the foot- 
 path ; and Shepherd Judge, — clothed in a 
 stout linen slop and corduroy trousers, 
 which were stained, with much handling of 
 sheep and working in heavy clay fallows, 
 to the dirty yellow of his native soil, —
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 33 
 
 loitered a moment to watch the carnage 
 turn in at the Rectory gates. Then, fear- 
 ing that he had displayed more interest in 
 passing events than was wholly dignified 
 in a man who had the care of some 
 hundred and fifty-five ewes on his hands, 
 — this being lambing season — he turned 
 sharply on the staring children, and re- 
 proved them for " standing there dawdling 
 in the road and mucking their pinafores, 
 when they'd be a deal better abed ; " 
 and, after whistling to his two lean, half- 
 bred, collie-dogs, walked off, with a very 
 self-righteous back, to spend a chilly night 
 in ministering to the needs of his flock. 
 
 Elizabeth, dazed and weary, stepped 
 out of the carriage, and was aware of the 
 comfortable ruddy light of a glowing fire 
 in the well -remembered panelled hall. 
 Aware of a glimmer of white cap-lappets 
 and of the delicate rose-scent of Mrs. 
 Mainwaring's garments, as that gentle 
 woman, with murmurings of welcome and 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 pity, folded her in her arms. Aware that 
 Mr. Mainwaring stooped and kissed her, 
 saying, " How d'ye do, my dear Lizzie, I'm 
 
 glad " and then that somehow his 
 
 voice broke, and he added a husky " God 
 bless you," and turned away. Aware of the 
 presence of Bunton, the old butler, who 
 took her wraps with a shaky hand, gazing 
 at her meanwhile with an appropriate and 
 funereal expression of countenance. 
 
 She was aware, too, — for she was in 
 that excited and highly nervous condition, 
 of mind and body, in which one becomes 
 vividly sensible of everything that happens 
 around one, though it may convey no 
 connected meaning to the mind, — that 
 Mr. Mainwaring had regained all his 
 wonted clearness of utterance and stateli- 
 ness of manner, when he turned to Frank 
 Lorimer and thanked him courteously for 
 having brought Elizabeth safely home ; — 
 and that Frank replied with the easy, 
 good-humoured indifference of a man who
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 35 
 
 is conscious that he is being complimented 
 for having performed a wholly unavoidable 
 duty. 
 
 "You will come upstairs at once, dear 
 child ; you must be terribly tired, " said 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, drawing Elizabeth away. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring cultivated the old- 
 fashioned notion that people should sit a 
 great deal in their bedrooms when they 
 were in sorrow. Her own greatest trouble 
 in life, perhaps, was that she had never 
 had what most people would reckon to be 
 any real trouble at all. She had never had 
 one of those comfortable and ostensible 
 troubles, which give you the right of 
 remaining upstairs and pulling the blinds 
 down. She had a feeling that ^it was 
 almost indecent for Elizabeth to have 
 travelled all that long way back to 
 England, so early in her widowhood. At 
 least now she should have her full privi- 
 lege of silence and seclusion, and that 
 privilege should begin at once.
 
 36 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 "I'm afraid I must say good-bye to 
 you, Elizabeth, then," said Frank Lorimer, 
 coming forward. " I must go up to town 
 by the first train to-morrow, if Mr. Main- 
 waring will kindly let me, — and I dare- 
 say you won't be down." 
 
 Elizabeth turned to him quickly. She 
 suddenly perceived that in parting with 
 Frank she was severing one of the last 
 visible links that bound her to her 
 husband, and to the larger and freer life 
 that her marriage had brought her. 
 Already she was sensible of the gently re- 
 pressive influence that her aunt had always 
 exercised over her. She knew intuitively 
 that the Claybrooke atmosphere was 
 exactly the same as ever — monotonous, 
 unimaginative, well - regulated, insular. 
 She knew, also, that she herself was 
 greatly changed ; and she trembled in 
 realising that she must bid farewell to 
 the liberty of thought and action that she 
 had enjoyed during the last two years.
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 37 
 
 Those few words of Mrs. Mainwaring's 
 had quite roused her from the state of 
 exhausted acquiescence in which she had 
 arrived. She felt that she was being 
 appropriated, that a part was being given 
 her to play ; and she rebelled already, 
 and turned with longing and regret to 
 her brother-in-law. 
 
 " Can't you stay till the afternoon ? " 
 she said. " I don't want you to go, 
 Frank ; you have been very good to 
 me. 
 
 She laid her hand upon his arm. .The 
 light of the lamp hanging above them fell 
 full on her face, which looked unusually 
 pale framed by her black bonnet. Her 
 mouth was tremulous with fatigue and a 
 disposition to tears. 
 
 Frank Lorimer, standing there, strong, 
 comfortable and successful, felt a great 
 compassion for this woman, with her black 
 garments and sweet tired eyes. It was 
 difficult for him, however, to express his
 
 38 MRS. LQRIMER. parti. 
 
 sentiments. It would have taken time to 
 put them into appropriate words. He 
 wanted his dinner ; and was conscious, 
 too, that the Mainwarings might slightly 
 resent — and not without reason — his 
 taking upon himself the office of Eliza- 
 beth's consoler just at the first moment 
 of her coming home. So he stooped to- 
 wards her, and kissed the pale upturned 
 face, saying — 
 
 "You had much better go and rest 
 quietly now. I am afraid I must leave 
 early to-morrow: but, you see it will 
 always be easy for me to run down here 
 for a night, if you want me." 
 
 I suppose it is never wholly pleasant 
 to a man getting on in years to see a 
 younger man than himself kiss — however 
 innocently — a pretty woman. It suggests 
 contrasts, not always favourable to age. 
 Any way this little episode jarred some- 
 what upon the Rector ; and he ordered 
 Bunton, rather sharply, to show Mr.
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 39 
 
 Lorimer his room, as dinner would be 
 very shortly ready. 
 
 While poor Elizabeth rests from the 
 fatigues of her journey, in the decent 
 seclusion that her aunt held so dear, it 
 may be well to give some more detailed 
 account of Mr. Mainwaring's surroundings, 
 and of his views concerning the world in 
 which he lived. 
 
 Claybrooke Rectory is one of those 
 delightful old houses that are so common 
 in the south of Midlandshire. It is built 
 of sandstone, the soft dull browns, and 
 greens, and yellows of which remind one 
 of the rich subdued colours of the falling 
 elm -leaves in autumn. It has many 
 gables, and steep-pitched roofs with ridge- 
 tiles of well -quarried stone surmounting 
 the old red tiling ; and many-casemented 
 windows with heavy stone mullions. In- 
 side are deep window-seats ; — lovely places 
 in which to sit, when the low western sun 
 throws long shadows from the great
 
 '40 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 round -topped elm -trees across the wide 
 stretching pastures, where sturdy black 
 Welsh cattle and herds of " red Here- 
 fords" with stupid white faces move 
 slowly through the rich damp grass. 
 The house is full of low rooms, opening 
 one out of the other ; long passages with 
 quaint little staircases up and down ; 
 unexpected nooks and corners ; cup- 
 boards innumerable ; and a system of 
 attics incomprehensible to all but the very 
 oldest inhabitant. It is a dark house, 
 perhaps. Low ceilings and black oak 
 floors and stairways have a habit, like 
 many eminently respectable people and 
 things, of being a trifle gloomy : but at 
 the time of which we speak everything — 
 carpets, curtains and furniture — had all 
 grown old and faded together. Every- 
 thing looked harmonious, if not gay. 
 Everything looked calm, serious, and 
 middle-aged. If you found it sad and 
 did not like it, well, you could go else-
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 41 
 
 where. Claybrooke Rectory was far too 
 secure of its social position to care very 
 much about pleasing chance visitors. 
 
 Here Gerald Mainwaring had brought 
 his bride — pretty Susan Selford — nearly 
 forty years ago. Here they had lived ever 
 since in comfort and prosperity. 
 
 But one thing had been denied them. 
 There had been no sound of children's 
 footsteps racing up and down the long 
 passages, or playing on wet half-holidays 
 in the great mysterious attics. No hand- 
 some boy had come home to his mother 
 from his first day's hunting, flushed with 
 pride and full of stories of his own re- 
 markable prowess and marvellous adven- 
 tures. Only the little brown-faced niece, 
 who had come there almost as a baby, 
 grew up in the quiet, stately, old house. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring loved the child tenderly ; 
 she was the daughter of his only brother. 
 Mrs. Mainwaring did her duty by Eliza- 
 beth : but there was always the want of
 
 42 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 the tie of common blood between them. 
 They could never entirely understand or 
 sympathise with each other. 
 
 The living of Claybrooke, with its 
 various cottages and farms, has belonged 
 to the Mainwaring family for a length of 
 time which the hardiest local imagination 
 scarcely ventures to measure. For a 
 good many generations now the eldest 
 son of each successive rector has, as a 
 matter of course, chosen the Church for 
 his profession, and reigned in due time as 
 squire and clergyman of Claybrooke. 
 
 To some minds, in these critical and 
 enlightened days, a fact such as this 
 presents food not only for thought but 
 for lamentation. Mr. Leeper, the Vicar of 
 Lowcote, for instance, waxed very wroth 
 in the face of such an appalling example 
 of indifference to the higher conceptions 
 of the clerical calling. If Claybrooke had 
 been sunk in ignorance, and a by -word 
 for drunkenness and open sin, Mr. Leeper
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 43 
 
 would not have been surprised, nay, he 
 would merely have traced the natural and 
 proper order of cause and effect. It was 
 irritating to him to remark that the people 
 were at least as orderly and respectable 
 as their neighbours ; that the cottages 
 were in excellent condition ; and to learn, 
 as he did with a sense of bewildered dis- 
 tress, that the church was generally well 
 filled, both at the morning and afternoon 
 services. Mr. Leeper's views, in them- 
 selves, were admirable : but, unfortunately 
 he had never studied the law of " excep- 
 tivity," and consequently often suffered 
 from that sense of confusion and annoy- 
 ance which overtakes us when we find the 
 facts of life telling dead against some one 
 of our most cherished theories. Had you 
 taken the votes of the inhabitants of 
 Claybrooke and Lowcote regarding the 
 popularity of their respective clergymen, 
 I am afraid you would have found — so 
 blind is ordinary human nature to the
 
 44 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 true aspects of great Church questions, — 
 that unimpassioned, old-fashioned, fox- 
 hunting Mr. Mainwaring would have 
 gained an immense majority over ener- 
 getic Mr. Leeper, — notwithstanding the 
 latter's excellent views on the temperance 
 question, the iniquity of outdoor relief, 
 and the urgent necessity for diocesan con- 
 ferences. Mr. Leeper was furnished with 
 a complete system for the entire reforma- 
 tion of his parish ; but, alas ! it did not 
 seem to recognise the advantages of his 
 system, and refused to be reformed. Mr. 
 Mainwaring, on the other hand, had no 
 particular views. He based all his paro- 
 chial work on plain common sense, sup- 
 plemented with port wine and puddings. 
 He did not interfere very much with his 
 parishioners ; supposing, as he said, that 
 a man earning thirteen shillings a week 
 had the same capacity for doing right, — 
 but possessed the same privilege of doing 
 wrong if he chose, — which he claimed for
 
 CH. II. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 45 
 
 himself. His was not a very high ideal, 
 possibly, of the priestly office : but it had 
 one distinct advantage over that of some 
 of his neighbours — namely the important 
 one, of being easily and successfully re- 
 duced to practice.
 
 46 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "I write of melancholy, by being busie to avoid 
 melancholy." 
 
 It would be very pleasant to paint Eliza- 
 beth Lorimer's portrait, at this stage of 
 her career, in all the soft pathetic shades 
 of colour which are generally supposed to 
 be appropriate to a first and a deep grief. 
 It would be pleasant to draw down our 
 mental blinds — as Mrs. Mainwaring pro- 
 posed to draw down her material ones — 
 and contemplate the figure of the young 
 widow in a gracefully subdued . light. 
 Unfortunately the graceful point of view 
 is so seldom the truest one. In the world 
 within us, just as in the world without, 
 there are deserts and sandy wastes, nasty 
 bogs, foul lazy waters ringed round with
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 47 
 
 rank weeds and coarse rushes, which no 
 amount of amiable optimism concerning 
 the ultimate perfectibility of human nature 
 can altogether hide from our eyes. 
 
 Elizabeth was but half- awake as yet. 
 She had not grasped the deeper meanings 
 of life. In the blush of her youthful 
 beauty and perfect physical health, she 
 desired passionately, and before all things, 
 to be happy. 
 
 Her intimacy with Edward Dadley had 
 developed within her a longing for hom- 
 age and admiration. She had for the 
 first time realised her power as a woman. 
 When he left her so suddenly, she not 
 only regretted him, but she was hungry 
 for more of the pleasant sensations and 
 strange excitements which his admiration 
 of her had produced. She was sore, 
 proud, angry — just in the state of mind 
 to seize on any change or on any new 
 excitement which might present itself. 
 Consequently she was pleased and flattered
 
 48 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 by Robert Lorimer's attentions. He lived 
 in a different world to that which she had 
 been accustomed to. She longed after all 
 that was beautiful, and artistic, and poetic, 
 in life ; and it seemed to her that this man 
 was in a position to give her what she 
 longed for. He fascinated her intelligence, 
 and the possibilities of life with him 
 seemed very great and pleasant to her. 
 Many of the noblest qualities of her 
 nature found a ready response and sym- 
 pathy in him. It needs a long and hard 
 experience, sometimes, to enable one to dis- 
 tinguish accurately between those emotions 
 which come from the heart and those 
 which come from the head. Poor Eliza- 
 beth did not realise — like too many noble 
 and pure-minded young girls — that the 
 heart is an all-important factor in marriage. 
 Perhaps if Robert Lorimer had lived, 
 she would have given him in time all 
 the strong and devoted affection which was 
 latent within her. As it was, before she
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 49 
 
 became accustomed to her new life and 
 settled down with open eyes to live it, her 
 husband's illness came. Elizabeth had 
 never been brought nearly in contact with 
 suffering and death before, and they were 
 appalling, almost repulsive, to her. They 
 seemed strange, unnatural, hideous. In 
 shrinking from the sight of suffering, she 
 shrank a little from the sufferer too. She 
 had moments of passionate tenderness 
 towards her husband, moments of wild 
 despair, when she realised that he must 
 really leave her : but generally she was 
 merely conscious of a confused sense of 
 fear and dumb rebellion against her lot. 
 
 For a while after her arrival at Clay- 
 brooke Rectory Elizabeth was too tired, 
 both in mind and body, to have much will 
 of her own. The momentary flash of feel- 
 ing, which she had experienced when she 
 parted with her brother-in-law, died down 
 again quietly. Her chief desire was for rest ; 
 and she submitted to her aunt Mrs. Main- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 waring's small views, and arrangements for 
 her good, with considerable docility. 
 
 Claybrooke was very soothing to her. 
 It was associated chiefly with her quiet 
 girlhood ; there was little enough to re- 
 mind her of the troubles and disappoint- 
 ments of the last two years. Now and 
 again some chance word or trivial incident 
 would arouse all the storm of feeling that 
 was sleeping within her, and she would 
 ask fiercely why all these things had 
 happened to her ? Why life, which ought 
 to be so sweet, and which she was so 
 capable of enjoying, was so early marred 
 and spoiled for her ? She had but raised 
 the cup to her lips, when fate had dashed 
 it from her hand, and now it lay shattered 
 and broken at her feet, while all her 
 promised joy was spilt upon the ground. 
 At times she felt almost angry with her 
 dead husband, as though he had wantonly 
 left her to battle her way through this 
 difficult world alone.
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 51 
 
 Sometimes, on the other hand, she 
 would suffer a paroxysm of regret and 
 sorrow. In the night, when there was no 
 sound to break the stillness but that of 
 the wind moaning about the gables of the 
 old house, or the distant bark of a watch- 
 dog at some lone farm-house down in the 
 quiet meadows, Elizabeth would start from 
 her sleep, oppressed by a sudden sense of 
 loneliness and terror. She would seem to 
 see, once more, the lofty room, shaded with 
 closed shutters from the glare of the fierce 
 Southern sunlight ; the sister of charity in 
 her dark dress, her smooth peaceful face 
 framed by her great white cap, moving 
 softly about ; and the sick man, who, 
 through long, weary, sunny days and 
 restless nights, had lain, with a fine and 
 steadfast courage, facing the awful angel of 
 death and schooling himself to bid fare- 
 well — not without bitter pain and sorrow 
 but without a murmur of repining — to 
 this kindly and familiar world, and to the 
 
 LIBRARY ....MOR 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF llUNO»
 
 52 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 beautiful young wife whom he loved so 
 w,ell. 
 
 Remembering these things, Elizabeth 
 would stretch out longing arms into the 
 stillness and darkness ; and then remem- 
 bering, too, that here that deep debt of 
 love could never be repaid, would fling 
 herself down upon the pillows again, and 
 sob in lonely misery, till the windows of 
 her room began to glimmer faintly through 
 the chintz curtains, while the still gray 
 dawn broke over the damp and misty 
 pastures, and the birds began to twitter 
 about the eaves, and comfortable, reassur- 
 ing, domestic sounds told that the old 
 Rectory-house was awake once more and 
 getting ready for the work of another 
 quiet uneventful day. 
 
 But Elizabeth was perhaps a little 
 unfortunately unconventional. She could 
 not play at feeling, because it was the 
 pretty thing under the circumstances. 
 When these storms of emotion came down
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 53 
 
 Upon her, she struggled out of them as 
 quickly as she could. She still wanted 
 supremely to be happy ; and though she 
 felt bruised and wounded, her life was yet 
 whole in her. She would pause awhile 
 and take breath ; and then try conclusions 
 with the world again. 
 
 As the days lengthened, the rooks 
 became noisy over domestic matters in 
 the big elm-trees by the church ; the star- 
 lings, breaking up the flocks in which they 
 had danced and circled together during the 
 winter months, began to haunt water-spouts 
 and hollow trees ; the earth smelt fresh 
 and sweet under the soft westerly wind ; 
 and spring flowers began to cheer the bare 
 bosoms of the garden beds. It was 
 pleasant then to Elizabeth to wander out 
 with the Rector over his plough-lands 
 and pastures, while Billy and Boxer, the 
 two fox-terriers, rushed wildly about, dis- 
 covering imaginary rats and rabbits in 
 every hedge, and Rufus, the brown retriever.
 
 54 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 full of years and dignity, trotted slowly at 
 his master's heels. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring had a feeling of 
 delicacy in talking to his niece of her own 
 troubles. — Politics Mr. Mainwaring had 
 never reckoned as very well suited to 
 the comprehension of the female mind ; 
 and Church matters, with Ritualists split- 
 ting up the poor old Establishment 
 inside, and Rationalists battering it from 
 without, seemed to him more of a sub- 
 ject for bitter indignation and invec- 
 tive than for ordinary conversation. It 
 happened, therefore, that the Rector's talk 
 was generally of an unexciting character, 
 dealing chiefly with the land and the crops, 
 interspersed with kindly bits of gossip 
 about neighbours and parishioners, and 
 with reminiscences of historic runs with 
 the hounds, the memorable taking of 
 brooks, or scrambling through impenetrable 
 " bullfinches." Elizabeth listened gladly 
 to this simple talk. It demanded no
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 55 
 
 mental exertion on her part, and yet it 
 kept her from more intimate, and from 
 sadder thoughts and speculations. The 
 Rector was satisfied with her quiet atten- 
 tion. It was pleasant to him to say 
 familiar things which he had often said 
 before. He believed that Elizabeth was 
 quite sufficiently amused, and meanwhile 
 he was glad to do a proper amount of 
 talking, without touching on subjects of a 
 serious or controversial character. Mr. 
 Mainwaring had given up most of the 
 problems of life as insoluble ; and he was 
 inclined to be a little vexed when any- 
 thing was said which seemed to suggest 
 that they might not be so, and that it was 
 the duty of reasonable human beings to 
 struggle to find a solution of them. 
 
 It often strikes one as unfortunate that 
 women are not more capable of letting 
 each other alone. Mrs. Mainwaring was 
 quite incapable of dealing with Elizabeth 
 in the same simple tolerant fashion as the
 
 56 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Rector. She was not willing to take her 
 niece for granted. She wanted agreement 
 of sentiment and assurances of feeling, 
 which it was not in the nature of the 
 younger woman to give. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had, as a girl, un- 
 questioningly accepted certain social tradi- 
 tions and formulas. She had — owing 
 partly no doubt to her comfortable cir- 
 cumstances and secure position — clung 
 to them tenaciously through the course 
 of her life ; and now they ruled her 
 completely. If you deprived her of them 
 she would have felt like a lost child, 
 uncertain what to do and where to turn. 
 The foundations being shaken, the righteous 
 — as represented by Mrs. Mainwaring — 
 would have been in most doleful case. 
 She was gentle, tender-hearted, and calmly 
 devout : but her imagination was small, 
 and her sympathies were narrow. She 
 was lovable : but it was impossible to 
 deny that she was rather limited. Elizabeth
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 57 
 
 alarmed, distressed, and surprised her at 
 times. Elizabeth's faults and temptations 
 were incomprehensible to her. She was 
 always sensible that Elizabeth did not 
 repeat her experiences, or fulfil her ideal 
 under given circumstances. There had 
 always been a want of common ground on 
 which she and her niece could meet safely ; 
 and the little space which had formerly 
 existed seemed to have dwindled consider- 
 ably in extent since Elizabeth's marriage. 
 When the first strangeness and pathos 
 of her return began to wear off Mrs. 
 Mainwaring grew a little dissatisfied. 
 She was unconsciously on the watch 
 for her niece's failings and shortcomings. 
 Unfortunately Elizabeth was not a great 
 diplomatist, and had a tendency towards 
 a certain directness of thought and speech, 
 which often caused her to pluck, rather 
 rudely, at the conventional wrappings with 
 which her aunt decently covered her own 
 convictions and desires.
 
 S8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 One afternoon, about six weeks after 
 Elizabeth had come back to Claybrooke, 
 she and Mrs. Mainwaring were together 
 in the pretty little panelled sitting-room 
 upstairs, in which the latter lady generally 
 spent her mornings. There Mrs. Main- 
 waring made up tidy accounts, and ordered 
 her household and her husband's parish 
 with dignified kindness and unruffled 
 composure. 
 
 Elizabeth was sitting in one of the deep 
 window- seats, her hands resting idly in 
 her lap. Out of doors everything seemed 
 to be feeling the pleasant influences of 
 the spring, and awakening in hope and 
 freshness to a new lease of life. The elms 
 looked soft and bloomy with swelling 
 buds ; the pastures were green with the 
 springing grass ; the sober midland land- 
 scape lay sleeping in the pleasant sunshine. 
 Away among the trees in the distance, on 
 the other side of the brook, Elizabeth 
 could see the quaint, old, red-brick chim-
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 59 
 
 neys of the Manor -House. — Her mind 
 was full of gentle regret, and yet of hope. 
 At one -and -twenty one can easily, in 
 fancy at least, call a new world into ex- 
 istence to restore the balance of the old. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, with her pretty faded 
 face, sitting knitting by the fire so serenely, 
 — Mrs. Mainwaring, who had never known 
 a tangible trouble in all her life, — was 
 perhaps really more deserving of pity and 
 sympathy than this beautiful young woman, 
 with her obvious sorrows and her heavy 
 widow's gown. 
 
 " Smart told me the other day. Aunt 
 Susan," said Elizabeth, still looking out 
 over the sunny country, "that Miss Dadley 
 died last year. I hadn't heard it. What 
 has been done with the Manor-House ?" 
 
 " It is an unpleasant subject," answered 
 Mrs. Mainwaring slowly. " Mr. Dadley 
 behaved very strangely, considering the 
 length of time the place had been in the 
 family. He sold everything."
 
 6o MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " I wonder why," said Elizabeth. 
 
 " Oh ! nobody knows," repHed Mrs. 
 Mainwaring. " Sir Frederic Melvin bought 
 all the land, with the exception of 
 one or two fields adjoining Garner's 
 farm which your uncle took. But every- 
 thing was sold. The very chairs and 
 tables we had known for the last thirty 
 years — everything went. There was a 
 want of consideration and proper feel- 
 ing about it," added Mrs. Mainwaring 
 severely. " Your uncle was very much 
 annoyed." 
 
 Elizabeth turned and gazed out of 
 window again. 
 
 " Have you heard anything of Edward 
 Dadley, lately, Aunt Susan ?" she said. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring glanced up quickly 
 from her knitting : but she could only see 
 Elizabeth's profile as a silhouette against 
 a background of window-panes, and in 
 that position it was impossible to gain 
 any idea of her expression.
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 6i 
 
 " No ! nothing at all," she answered 
 quietly. 
 
 "Ah !" responded Elizabeth. 
 
 It would have been difficult to her to say, 
 at that moment, whether she felt relieved 
 or a little disappointed. She sat quite still 
 for a minute or two without turning her 
 head ; then, getting up, she walked across 
 to where her aunt sat knitting by the fire, 
 and knelt down before her on the rug. 
 
 " Dear Aunt Susie," she said, " I want 
 you to be very kind, and do me a great 
 favour." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring only smiled ; she had 
 a vague forecasting that Elizabeth was 
 going to ask her to do something which 
 she would not the least like to do. She 
 also wished that Elizabeth would sit down 
 on a chair like an ordinary person, when 
 she asked favours. Mrs. Mainwaring 
 objected to seeing people kneel, except 
 in church, or at prayers. The position 
 seemed to her a little exaggerated.
 
 62 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " Will you ask Frank Lorimer and his 
 wife to come down here for a week at 
 Easter?" Elizabeth went on, — "They 
 could get away from London then, I 
 think, and I should be so glad to see 
 them." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's smile died away. 
 She did not in the least wish to accede to 
 her niece's request : but it was decidedly 
 awkward to refuse it point-blank. 
 
 " I know you don't care to have 
 strangers staying in the house," continued 
 Elizabeth : " but I am very fond of them 
 — I mean of the Lorimers ; — and Frank 
 was wonderfully good to me, you know, 
 during that sad time abroad." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring waited a moment, while 
 she fingered her knitting-pins a little ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " I don't know, Elizabeth, what to say," 
 she answered at last : " but I am afraid 
 your uncle would not quite like it." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring found it tiresomely
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 63 
 
 difficult to say what she wanted to say, 
 with Elizabeth kneeling there and looking 
 up at her so sweetly. 
 
 "Dear me, why not?" exclaimed Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 "Your uncle and Mr. Lorimer did not 
 get on very well together the night you 
 came home. They differed about politics, 
 I believe," answered Mrs. Mainwaring 
 evasively. 
 
 " Dear me," said Elizabeth again. 
 
 She got up off the rug and stood op- 
 posite to her aunt. She felt hurt and 
 annoyed at Mrs. Mainwaring's manner. 
 
 " It must have been a very serious 
 difference of opinion," she added, " if it 
 should be sufficient to make Uncle Gerald 
 really object to Frank's coming here." 
 
 " In point of fact," said Mrs. Main- 
 waring, looking down at her knitting, but 
 feeling far more comfortable and self- 
 possessed now that her niece was no 
 longer kneeling so close to her, — " In
 
 64 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 point of fact, Elizabeth, Mr. Lorimer is 
 not quite the sort of person we have 
 been accustomed to have here." 
 
 " Possibly not," said Elizabeth, wilfully 
 mistaking her meaning. " This neigh- 
 bourhood is not very brilliant. Clever 
 men are not very common about here." 
 
 " I was not speaking merely of this 
 neighbourhood, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Main- 
 waring, looking up with some dignity. 
 
 She would not condescend to define more 
 particularly the society in which she had 
 always moved : but the memory of many 
 generations of Selfords crowded into her 
 mind. Everybody knew who the Selfords 
 were, and knew — or ought to know — the 
 sort of society they had always lived in. 
 
 Elizabeth's face flushed painfully. Her 
 pride was touched, and her loyalty towards 
 her husband demanded that she should 
 speak. She waited a moment, for she 
 found it a little difficult to control her 
 utterance.
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 65 
 
 " You forget, Aunt Susan, that Frank 
 Lorimer is my husband's brother," she 
 said at last. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring winced. It was almost 
 coarse, she thought, to put the matter in that 
 light : but there was a large fund of obstin- 
 acy in this fragile, gentle-looking, little lady's 
 nature. She had not the smallest disposi- 
 tion to haul down her colours because Eliza- 
 beth had not the delicacy to perceive how 
 much out of place her last observation was. 
 
 " Mr. Lorimer was a barrister," said Mrs. 
 Mainwaring. 
 
 " And Frank is a newspaper editor," re- 
 joined Elizabeth, speaking as quietly as she 
 could. " But the two men were brothers. 
 Aunt Susan; and you can hardly mean to 
 imply that my husband's claims " — she 
 paused a moment — " to be admitted into 
 the society you have been accustomed to 
 depended upon his profession." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring stood up too ; she 
 was extremely pained and distressed. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 MRS. LORIMER. tart i. 
 
 " This conversation has taken a most 
 unfortunate turn," she said. " I think you 
 must perceive yourself how unbecoming it 
 is, Elizabeth, under present circumstances. 
 I really cannot discuss the question further. 
 I must entreat you to let it drop." 
 
 And she slowly and severely rolled up 
 her long strip of knitting. 
 
 Elizabeth had generally repented after 
 one of these final rebukes of her aunt's. 
 She had generally been convicted of sin 
 — more from habit, perhaps, than from 
 anything else — and had humbled herself: 
 but this time something deeper than her 
 own personal pride was touched. All her 
 better nature was roused in defence of her 
 husband's memory. Mrs. Mainwaring, by 
 implication at least, had slighted him ; 
 and Elizabeth bitterly and fiercely resented 
 the slight. She did not answer, but 
 remained standing near the fire, with her 
 eyes fixed- upon the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring finished rolling up her
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 67 
 
 work in silence and moved away. Just as 
 she reached the door she turned and said 
 in her usual quiet even tones, — 
 
 " I am going to drive over to Slowby 
 this afternoon, Elizabeth. I have ordered 
 the closed carriage, so that there would be 
 no objection to your coming, if you cared 
 to do so." 
 
 " No, thank you," answered Elizabeth 
 shortly. " I prefer remaining at home." 
 
 She was determined to make no step, 
 this time, towards a reconciliation with 
 her Aunt Susan. She went hastily to her 
 own room, and, throwing on a hat and 
 jacket, went out quickly by a side door 
 into the garden, being careful to avoid a 
 meeting with Mrs. Mainwaring, for whom 
 the carriage was waiting in front of the 
 house. 
 
 There is a broad walk leading out of 
 the Rectory garden, at Claybrooke, towards 
 the church. It is divided from the main 
 road, which runs parallel to it, by a belt of
 
 68 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 trees and underwood ; on the other side is 
 a sunk fence, beyond which stretch the 
 pastures, sloping down towards the brook 
 that strayed through the valley, about half 
 a mile away. In the winter this walk is 
 sheltered from the bitter east winds by the 
 belt of wood, and in summer pleasantly 
 shaded by the overhanging trees ; while to 
 the westward, across the sunk fence, the 
 view — such as it is — is wholly uninter- 
 rupted. 
 
 Elizabeth had dreamed many pretty 
 dreams, during her quiet uneventful girl- 
 hood, pacing up and down this walk, while 
 her eyes wandered over the still green 
 country, and her thoughts wandered far 
 into the coming years, coloured by bright 
 hopes and charming fancies. Her steps 
 turned instinctively towards it now, though 
 her hopes were no longer very bright, and 
 though realities had arisen, like Pharaoh's 
 '' lean kine," and devoured all her fair 
 fancies one by one.
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 69 
 
 She was hurt and angry ; full of ten- 
 derness towards her dead husband and 
 towards his family. She knew that Mrs. 
 Mainwaring had not spoken without 
 thought and intention. The narrow 
 groove along which life at Claybrooke 
 moved already began to worry Elizabeth. 
 She had already observed that many 
 opinions which she expressed were unpal- 
 atable to her aunt ; that the latter feared 
 she was breaking free, in a somewhat dan- 
 gerous manner, from received doctrines ; 
 that she was too anxious to think for 
 herself. She knew that Mrs. Mainwaring 
 resented all eccentricity, all unusualness. 
 Elizabeth suspected that her aunt accused 
 the Frank Lorimers of encouraging her to 
 take her own way, and that their influence 
 was considered undesirable. 
 
 She stood still in the middle of the walk. 
 The rooks were flying, in a long black line, 
 home to their half-made nests in the elms 
 by the church ; the children shouted at
 
 70 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 their play in the village street ; and the 
 thin spring sunshine lay softly on the face 
 of the green meadows. Away across the 
 brook Elizabeth could still see the twisted 
 chimneys of the old Manor-House above 
 the trees. 
 
 For a moment the thought came to 
 her of how different all her life would have 
 been if she had married her first love — 
 the good-tempered fresh -faced young 
 squire, — and had settled down to the quiet 
 life of the country, with its simple round 
 of duties and pleasures. The quiet coun- 
 try life would have been pleasant enough 
 to her two years ago : but now she had 
 had experience of another and more ex- 
 citing sort of living. Elizabeth was very 
 young still. Though she had suffered, 
 though she had been cruelly disappointed, 
 she had not yet said her " vanitas vanita- 
 tum." She longed after all that is included 
 in that magic word, culture, — after books, 
 and music, and art ; after fanciful furnish-
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 71 
 
 ings and beautiful colours. She believed 
 that the philosopher's stone was still to be 
 found ; and she longed, poor child, to set 
 out in quest of it. She owed her aunt 
 and uncle a debt for their love and care 
 of her : but her loyalty to her husband 
 ranged itself alongside her desire for 
 beauty and knowledge, against her simple 
 duty to those who had stood to her in the 
 place of parents. 
 
 She could see that remaining at Clay- 
 brooke implied complete submission to 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's small moral and social 
 code. When the time of her mourning 
 should be over, there was no more exhil- 
 arating prospect before her than dreary 
 dinners with local magnates ; solemn 
 afternoon calls with Mrs. Mainwaring ; 
 visits to the schools and to certain cot- 
 tages ; occasionally the holding of a stall 
 at some bazaar for the restoration of a 
 neighbouring church ; now and again a 
 wearisome garden party. Of conversation.
 
 72 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 none worth the name — no change, no new 
 interests, nothing but the eminently "trivial 
 round" and the remarkably "common task." 
 Meanwhile Elizabeth seemed to see herself 
 growing older, and grayer, and duller, as 
 one quiet year slipped away after another. 
 Now she rebelled against the stagnation 
 of Claybrooke ; five or ten years hence 
 she would be accustomed to it — nay, at 
 last she might even come to like it. 
 
 She was capable of exciting herself very 
 greatly with her own speculations. The 
 picture she had called up of her future in 
 the still, sleepy, midland village was intol- 
 erable to her. She desired desperately to 
 get away and cast in her lot with the 
 Frank Lorimers. She saw clearly that 
 no middle course would be possible for 
 long — she would have, sooner or later, to 
 make her choice between her own and her 
 husband's relations. 
 
 As she stood, full of uncertainty and 
 of conflicting feelings, in the spring sun-
 
 CH. III. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 73 
 
 shine, the Rector — riding home over the 
 fields from visiting some outlying cottages 
 — stopped his comfortable fat cob on the 
 other side of the sunk fence, and looked 
 at her, 
 
 " Ah ! Lizzie," he said, smiling a little 
 sadly, " It is very pleasant to see you 
 moving about this old place again. I am 
 growing an old man, my dear, and I like 
 a beautiful young face to look at."
 
 74 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ** Sir," he said, " I take stock in everything that 
 concerns anybody." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, meanwhile, rumbling 
 along in the closed carriage towards 
 Slowby, was as unhappy as a person 
 supported by a strong sense of ac- 
 complished duty can well be. The 
 coachman's livery fitted excellently — it 
 was quite pleasant to behold his back ; — 
 the horses trotted cheerily along the broad 
 highroad ; the country looked pretty in 
 the afternoon sunshine ; the shopkeepers 
 in Slowby, moreover, would hurry with 
 unfeigned satisfaction to their doors, 
 anxious to supply any quantity of any 
 article that Mrs. Mainwaring might desire, 
 when they saw her carriage stopping in
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 75 
 
 High Street. All these things were wont 
 to yield her a gentle sense of gratification, 
 for, notwithstanding her traditions, Mrs. 
 Mainwaring was fundamentally a very 
 simple-minded person. She enjoyed her 
 own respectable and dignified position, and 
 still more she enjoyed the recognition of 
 her respectability and dignity by others. 
 It is distinctly agreeable to be persuaded 
 that the world in general shares in our 
 own good opinion of ourselves. To-day 
 the worthy lady ought, surely, to have 
 felt even more than usually serene and 
 satisfied, for she had got her own way. 
 She knew that, after their late conversa- 
 tion, Elizabeth's pride would prevent her 
 making any more inconvenient suggestions 
 respecting a visit from the Frank Lorimers. 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had fought and won the 
 little battle very successfully. She had her 
 desire : but, alas ! together with her desire, 
 she had leanness withal in her soul. 
 
 She believed, and rightly, that she loved
 
 76 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Elizabeth more truly than she loved any 
 other human being except her husband, 
 Gerald Mainwaring : but Mrs. Mainwaring 
 was not a very acute thinker, and had 
 never perceived that she loved, not Eliza- 
 beth as she really was, but Elizabeth as she 
 might be, — if that strong -natured young 
 woman renounced her individuality and 
 submitted herself entirely to her aunt's 
 guidance. She loved, in fact, a phantom 
 Elizabeth of her own creating, and was 
 perpetually distressed and annoyed with 
 the real Elizabeth, who bore but a slight 
 resemblance to her ideal. Mrs. Main- 
 waring just now was feeling acutely pained 
 at having had such a disturbing scene with 
 her niece ; and was confused and be- 
 wildered by the way in which Elizabeth 
 had spoken, and by the view which she 
 had taken of the matter. She could not 
 comprehend how any right-minded person 
 could see things from a different stand- 
 point to her own.
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 77 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had never been en- 
 tirely satisfied with Elizabeth's marriage. 
 She suspected a want of great-grand- 
 fathers in the Lorimer family. She did 
 not go as far as her maid Smart, who, 
 being blessed with aristocratic ideas, had 
 suggested on hearing of Robert Lorimer's 
 death, " that she hoped now Miss Eliza- 
 beth would take her maiden name again." 
 She did not certainly go as far as that : 
 but she had cherished a silent hope that 
 the connection would be quietly dropped, 
 and that Elizabeth would come to regard 
 her marriage merely as a slightly un- 
 fortunate episode, and adopt the Main- 
 waring and Selford view of things in 
 general. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring could not ignore the 
 fact that Frank Lorimer edited a news- 
 paper. No one whom she knew had ever 
 married a newspaper editor, or had taken 
 to that sort of employment as a profession. 
 Some people can accept no fact without a
 
 78 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 precedent. Then, too, from hints that 
 Elizabeth had dropped, Mrs. Mainwaring 
 feared that the Frank Lorimers knew all 
 sorts of queer people — writers, artists, 
 musicians, actors. People who live by 
 their brains and their talents instead of on 
 their means, are always a little doubtful. 
 Mrs. Mainwaring associated such persons 
 with lodgings and tinned meat, and with 
 an absence of horses and carriages, and 
 servants with long and admirable personal 
 characters. 
 
 This good lady's ideas of art did not 
 carry her beyond portraits painted by 
 Gainsborough and Sir Joshua; and it is 
 to be feared that even they were interest- 
 ing to her more as testifying to the high 
 respectability of the families whose de- 
 ceased members they so flatteringly re- 
 presented, than as examples of the great 
 masters' work. In the matter of music, 
 she was vexed if the village choir sang 
 flagrantly out of time or tune on Sunday
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 79 
 
 in church ; and she liked to hear a ballad 
 given in the mild and wholly unimagina- 
 tive way in which young ladies and gentle- 
 men do perform ballads, when possessed 
 by a praiseworthy desire to relieve the 
 tedium of the long evening which usually 
 follows a seven o'clock country dinner- 
 party ; any touch of true passion or even 
 of true pathos would have alarmed and 
 confused her with a suggestion of slight 
 impropriety. From the religious point of 
 view Mrs. Mainwaring had no objection to 
 the stage : but she recoiled from the idea 
 of publicity, and could not conceive how a 
 really pure woman, or high-minded man, 
 could be willing to earn their bread by 
 representing fictitious characters and ill- 
 regulated emotions before a large number 
 of spectators. In all ages, I suppose, 
 there have been a good many minds to 
 which the notion of a paid amuser of the 
 public has appeared contemptible and 
 degrading. As for Mrs. Mainwaring, she
 
 8o MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 failed to perceive any very distinct social 
 difference between one of the great leaders 
 of the dramatic profession and the strolling 
 acrobat, with his stock-in-trade of a little 
 carpet and pair of spangled tights, who 
 will go through a series of painful contor- 
 tions on the dusty pavement, in the hope 
 of gleaning a meagre harvest of perad- 
 venture pennies from the passers - by. 
 These being her views, it certainly was 
 not very surprising that Mrs. Mainwaring 
 should reckon it almost her duty to do 
 her best to wean Elizabeth from relations, 
 whose standpoint was so radically different 
 to her own. Yet that afternoon, as she 
 drove over to Slowby, Mrs. Mainwaring was 
 oppressed with a lurking fear that Eliza- 
 beth might be alienated from her in the 
 process. Life is very difficult sometimes, 
 and human beings very hard to manage, 
 even when we are entirely sure that our 
 intentions are excellent and the end we 
 propose to attain eminently desirable.
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 8i 
 
 But it was not merely upon her near 
 relations that poor Elizabeth was fated to 
 have rather a confusing effect. 
 
 The neighbours, who had called when 
 she first returned, with inquiries, — always 
 met by Bunton with the time-honoured 
 and enigmatical reply, " that Mrs. Lorimer 
 was as well as could be expected," — 
 now began to come to Claybrooke Rec- 
 tory with a distinct intention of seeing 
 the young widow, and judging for them- 
 selves of her appearance and state of mind. 
 Not only were her present circumstances 
 decidedly romantic and interesting, but she 
 had, so it was said, during the last twelve 
 months, wandered over half the countries 
 of Southern Europe — local imaginations 
 had considerably extended the area of 
 Elizabeth's peregrinations. Most of the 
 natives of Midlandshire feel a little in- 
 secure out of their own county, and would 
 appear, for some occult reason, to have a 
 considerable suspicion of foreign travel. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 They regard those persons who indulge 
 in it as remarkably daring and slightly 
 dangerous at the same time. Paris is im- 
 moral, Italy priest-ridden, Germany athe- 
 istical, Switzerland absurdly mountainous 
 and undoubtedly a bad hunting country, — 
 we all know these things in Midlandshire, 
 and consequently most of us stay at home. 
 At the same time, when any adventurous 
 wight does return from foreign parts, we 
 are sensible of a certain flutter of excite- 
 ment, which we do our best to conceal 
 under a smiling and slightly contemptuous 
 manner. It follows, therefore, that Eliza- 
 beth not only claimed attention in virtue of 
 her recent bereavement, but that she was 
 looked upon as a sort of spiritual daughter 
 of Christopher Columbus and of Captain 
 Cook. 
 
 Lady Melvin, stout, dignified, and kindly, 
 drove over in state from Melvin's Keeping, 
 and indulged in many well-intentioned 
 commonplaces, which she wished to be
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 83 
 
 sympathetic and consolatory, but which 
 were, in fact, extremely tedious. 
 
 Mrs. Adnitt, the wife of the squire of 
 Lowcote, came too, desiring sincerely to 
 say everything that was becoming and ap- 
 propriate to the occasion : but, out of the 
 fulness of the heart the mouth will speak, 
 and she soon exhausted her stock of senti- 
 ments regarding Elizabeth's sad loss, and 
 began pouring a catalogue of the sins and 
 offences of that much-misconstrued gentle- 
 man, Mr. Leeper, into Mrs. Mainwaring's 
 not unwilling ears. — Mr. Leeper actually 
 wanted what he called " free and open 
 sittings." Imagine her, Mrs. Adnitt, and the 
 Squire getting rather late to church some 
 Sunday morning — the Squire did certainly 
 take some time over his breakfast, and 
 liked, too, to go down to the stables and 
 just have a " look round "before starting 
 for church, so they were sometimes a little 
 late, — imagine, then, their arriving and 
 finding Jones, the Radical baker, who
 
 84 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 openly refused his vote to the Conservative 
 candidate at the last general election, 
 calmly established in their time-honoured 
 family pew. Such a possibility was 
 alarming and distressing in a high degree ; 
 and yet obviously such a thing might 
 easily happen, if the sittings were all free. 
 Mr, Leeper, like many other prophets, 
 had but a scant amount of honour in his 
 own country. 
 
 The Harbages called another day. 
 They drove over, a party of six, in a hired 
 vehicle — a hybrid kind of waggonette, 
 with a distant suggestion of a carrier's 
 cart about it, — blessed with a canary- 
 coloured body and wheels. This machine 
 is much patronised in the district around 
 Highthorne by those of the inhabitants 
 whose circumstances are not sufficiently 
 affluent to admit of their keeping a horse 
 and carriage of their own. Mr. Harbage 
 always drove ; that is to say, he held the 
 reins and fished gently at the horse's back
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 85 
 
 with the whip. His driving in no way 
 resembled that of Jehu the son of Nimshi, 
 and the waggonette proceeded very slowly 
 over the face of the earth. But Mrs. 
 Harbage made a great point of her 
 husband's driving, all the same ; for she 
 was possessed with a strong desire to 
 impress the passers-by with a sense of her 
 entire ownership of the vehicle. This 
 was a very innocent fraud, deceiving 
 nobody, inasmuch as the yellow body 
 and wheels are perfectly well known to 
 every one on that side of the county : 
 but it afforded Mrs. Harbage a little 
 anxious satisfaction, and saved an extra 
 shilling for the driver, and as it merely 
 caused other people some kindly amuse- 
 ment, perhaps it was, on the whole, 
 as good an arrangement as most other 
 arrangements in this piecemeal world. 
 
 Mrs. Harbage, leaving the two younger 
 girls in the carriage when the party at 
 last reached Claybrooke Rectory, pro-
 
 86 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 ceeded into the drawing-room with her 
 eldest daughter and Emily, her husband 
 mildly bringing up the rear. 
 
 Mrs. Harbage had driven over from 
 Highthorne, that day, cheered by a sense 
 that the mighty had fallen and that she 
 was going to have the delicate privilege of 
 seeing them lie prostrate. She had, in- 
 deed, brought Emily on purpose that that 
 dear girl might realise all the sorrow and 
 disaster she had escaped by remaining in 
 a state of single blessedness. But Eliza- 
 beth Lorimer looked so serene and hand- 
 some, notwithstanding the melancholy 
 suggestions of her deep mourning dress ; 
 the drawing-room at the Rectory was so 
 redolent of solid comfort ; the tea so 
 excellent ; the cream and cake so rich ; 
 Bunton so dignified and condescending in 
 helping the ladies to climb down from, 
 and later to struggle up into the wag- 
 gonette, — that poor Mrs. Harbage began to 
 be doubtful whether the mighty had fallen
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 87 
 
 after all, and whether Emily really had, 
 on the whole, so very much cause for 
 thanksgiving. The thought of an unpaid 
 coal - merchant's bill and butcher's book 
 haunted her mind : and a sense of the 
 curiously unequal division of the goods of 
 this world oppressed her spirit. It may 
 be difficult for the rich to enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven : but experience had 
 taught Mrs. Harbage, long ago, that it is 
 often difficult for the poor — harassed by 
 care, and worry, and weary with work — to 
 find time to think about the kingdom of 
 heaven at all. 
 
 Other friends and neighbours called 
 too ; and mostly went away with the 
 impression that Elizabeth Lorimer was, 
 perhaps, a trifle better than " could be 
 expected ;" and that she was quite un- 
 likely to drain dry their stock of ami- 
 able surface sympathy, by making too 
 great demands upon it. Perhaps they 
 were just a little annoyed, as they had
 
 88 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 counted on the circumstances of their 
 several visits to Claybrooke Rectory for 
 supplying them, both with a distinct 
 emotion, and with a subject for much 
 subsequent conversation. The ladies, 
 indeed, permitted themselves a mild 
 revenge, by hinting at Elizabeth's ap- 
 parent insensibility to her position ; and 
 their ruffled plumes were by no means 
 smoothed down by the fact that husbands, 
 brothers, and sons — who somewhat against 
 their will had been inveigled into paying 
 this visit of condolence — invariably re- 
 marked on the way home that " Mrs. 
 Lorimer certainly was, taken all round, 
 one of the handsomest women that they 
 — the speakers — had ever seen." It 
 is not a little trying in a very quiet 
 neighbourhood to be disappointed of 
 an emotion : but how greatly is that 
 disappointment embittered, when the 
 very person who has caused it is pro- 
 nounced, by those whose views of
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 89 
 
 female beauty are of peculiar import- 
 ance to you, to be an unusually pretty 
 woman ! 
 
 Elizabeth, though embarrassed and 
 slightly irritated at being thus regarded 
 in the light of a show which all the 
 country-side thought it had a right to 
 come and gaze at, was behaving with 
 considerable self-control and modera- 
 tion. Mr. Mainwaring's little speech had 
 moved her, and had laid the rebellious 
 spirit within her at least for a time. She 
 studiously avoided any allusion to their 
 late controversy, with her aunt ; and 
 though both women were sensible that 
 there was a certain want of cordiality in 
 their relations, — that they had taken a 
 step apart, and must look at each other 
 in future through the separating medium 
 of a distinct difference of opinion, things 
 were going on very fairly well on the 
 whole. One day, certainly, there seemed 
 some danger of a sharp collision : but
 
 90 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 they both were wanting in the courage 
 necessary for a real battle. 
 
 As the warm weather came on, Eliza- 
 beth . began to have a strong distaste for 
 her heavy, black, stuff dresses, with their 
 interminable crape trimmings. They 
 seemed so conventional and unimagina- 
 tive, so hot and dusty, altogether such a 
 blot on the fair hopeful spring-time, with 
 its delicate scents and colours, and pro- 
 mise of radiant blossoms. 
 
 Elizabeth had a very limited belief in 
 "the right thing." She was a little dis- 
 posed to tilt at custom, as Don Quixote 
 tilted at the proverbial wind -mills ; and 
 with the same result. For custom, like the 
 wind-mills, would certainly stand firm, while 
 poor Elizabeth, like the gallant though fan- 
 tastic knight, would only get an unpleasant 
 roll in the dust for her pains. In time 
 experience teaches most of us that custom 
 is, on the whole, wise in her verdicts : but 
 all vigorous and generous young souls have
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 91 
 
 to purchase their conviction of her wisdom 
 at the cost of a few tumbles — humbling 
 no doubt in the present, yet very salutary 
 in the long-run. 
 
 Elizabeth argued thus, — not only did 
 the crape -covered gowns weary her, but 
 surely her husband, who delighted to see 
 her enhance her natural beauty by wearing 
 graceful and becoming garments, would 
 have been the first to entreat her to lay 
 off these ugly conventional trappings of 
 woe. Surely she did not need these 
 commonplace, almost vulgar, outward 
 signs of sorrow to keep memory green, 
 and , remind her of that pathetic parting 
 down by the purple Mediterranean? These 
 unsightly stuffy dresses made her think no 
 whit more tenderly of the dead ; while 
 they seemed to her painfully out of har- 
 mony with the awakening beauty of 
 nature, which Robert Lorimer had loved 
 so well. 
 
 She had pulled the offending dresses
 
 92 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 out on to her bed one morning, and was 
 standing over them, in company with 
 Smart her aunt's maid, regarding them 
 with an air of strong distaste, when Mrs. 
 Mainwaring herself — with her neat little 
 figure, delicately pink cheeks, and spotless 
 white cap with its waving lappets — came 
 quietly into the room. She stopped and 
 looked at the pile of black garments with 
 just a faint suggestion of surprise. 
 
 Elizabeth was sensible of a restrain- 
 ing influence directly. Mrs. Mainwaring's 
 gentle astonishment seemed the visible 
 symbol of all those recognised proprieties 
 of life respecting " mourning," which Eliza- 
 beth was just proposing to violate. Mrs. 
 Mainwaring's surprise implied the surprise 
 of all respectable and well-regulated per- 
 sons. Individually, she was not very 
 alarming perhaps : but as the representa- 
 tive of a widely -accepted and deeply - 
 cherished idea she became very formid- 
 able, and Elizabeth found herself shifting
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 93 
 
 her ground and moderating her desires, 
 with a rapidity which she had to admit 
 was both humiliating and amusing. 
 
 " I have been looking through all my 
 clothes with Smart, Aunt Susan," she 
 said. " They are so dreadfully hot and 
 heavy, that I must have something done 
 to them." 
 
 The pink tint deepened a little in Mrs. 
 Mainwaring's cheeks ; she had a painful 
 sense that she was on the edge of one of 
 those struggles in which her love of her 
 niece, and her love of tradition, must meet 
 in battle array. 
 
 " You cannot, of course, think of making 
 any change in your mourning so soon, my 
 dear," she said, with gentle decision. 
 
 " These gowns are fearfully hot, now 
 that the weather is getting so warm," 
 Elizabeth observed, avoiding any more 
 direct reply. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring turned over one or 
 two of the dresses slowly. She wished to
 
 94 MRS. LORIMER. part h 
 
 appear open to conviction. She knew by 
 experience that mere assertions carried 
 very Httle weight with Elizabeth : but, it 
 was so utterly obvious to her mind that 
 within six months of a husband's death 
 no amount of crape could be too great to 
 testify to his widow's decent grief, that she 
 found it impossible to sympathise in her 
 niece's evident desire for some modifica- 
 tion of her costume. Mrs. Mainwaring 
 was as far from questioning the dictates of 
 custom, as she was from questioning the 
 existence of the sun in the pale spring sky 
 outside. 
 
 At last she said, looking rather at 
 Smart than at Elizabeth — 
 
 " Dresses of this description are always 
 worn for at least one year under such 
 circumstances, are they not ? " 
 
 Smart, having a strong desire to remain 
 neutral, and run no risk of offending 
 either of the contending parties, pulled 
 the dresses about a little, with a critical
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 95 
 
 and professional air, but wisely said no- 
 thing. 
 
 " Anyway," observed Elizabeth, with a 
 touch of impatience, " I must get some- 
 thing thinner for the summer. I should 
 half die of heat if I wore these things all 
 through the hot weather." 
 
 " The stuffs are very thick, ma'am," 
 remarked Smart, putting in a timid oar. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring stood quite still and 
 silent, feeling most unnecessarily unhappy. 
 To persons of her rather narrow nature 
 trivial matters are of almost dreadful 
 importance — a question of a little more 
 or less crape will often be more painfully 
 agitating to such a woman than the fall 
 of an empire is to a philosopher. She felt 
 acutely, too, that Smart was deserting her 
 meanly and going over to the enemy ; 
 that she stood alone in the defence of 
 sacred custom and propriety. To some 
 people it is infinitely depressing to be in 
 the minority.
 
 96 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " I think," said Elizabeth, suddenly 
 struck by a happy idea, " I'll write to 
 Fanny and ask her to get me some 
 summer things — thin, you know, and yet 
 suitable." 
 
 " Fanny ? " inquired Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 looking up. 
 
 "Yes, Fanny Lorimer — my sister-in- 
 law," answered Elizabeth a little defiantly. 
 " She dresses admirably. Aunt Susan. 
 She would find me exactly the right thing." 
 
 " I should have thought it would have 
 been wiser to trust to your own taste in 
 this matter — or mine," said Mrs. Main- 
 waring with mild dignity. 
 
 " But, in any case, the gowns must 
 have been made up in London," answered 
 Elizabeth, " so it is really simpler to get 
 some one to choose them who is on the 
 spot." 
 
 " There is an excellent dressmaker in 
 Slowby, Elizabeth," said Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 with a certain finality in her tone.
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 97 
 
 Smart was present, and she would not 
 let this discussion degenerate into anything 
 approaching to wrangling. She had stated 
 her own opinion ; she had indicated the 
 right road to Elizabeth. Mrs. Mainwar- 
 ing felt that circumstances were against 
 her : had she been alone with her niece, 
 she thought it would have been her duty 
 to say more. As it was, she determined 
 at least to save her own dignity. She 
 had protested ; now she washed her hands 
 of the matter, and retired in good order 
 from the scene of the fray ; leaving to 
 Elizabeth — along with her rather doubt- 
 ful victory — a sense of discomfort and 
 indecision, which resulted in her not 
 writing to Fanny Lorimer, but putting 
 on the heavy gowns again and wearing 
 them, with what patience she might, to the 
 end of the summer. 
 
 This little episode did not tend to in- 
 crease the limited cordiality existing be- 
 tween the two ladies. Elizabeth might 
 
 VOL. 1. H
 
 98 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 submit outwardly : but her spirit remained 
 free and uninfluenced. Each of these dif- 
 ferences of opinion helped to clear away 
 the mists of habit from her eyes. She 
 ceased to take Mrs. Mainwaring for 
 granted ; she stood outside her, and looked 
 at her, and judged her. The judgments 
 of the young are cruelly just. They have 
 not learned by experience of life, and ex- 
 perience of their own failings and short- 
 comings, to temper justice with mercy. 
 They cause the unhappy culprit to stand 
 in the full glare of the untempered sun- 
 light, and notice every spot, and blemish, 
 and rent, with terrible accuracy. The 
 young are charming, and beautiful, and 
 poetic, and the sight of them stirs our 
 more languid pulses with the memory of 
 past joys and hopes : but, when it comes 
 to judgment and criticism of conduct, in 
 pity, give us the tried hard-worked man 
 or woman, who has fainted and wrestled, 
 and through much tribulation has gained
 
 cii. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 99 
 
 a touch of the divine compassion that is 
 not " extreme to mark what is done amiss." 
 It is piteous to think that matters 
 of crape and black stuff, trifles of eti- 
 quette or of social standing, may loosen 
 the cords of love and embitter life 
 far more than great sorrows. But truly 
 the rubs and worries of every day, dif- 
 ferences of temperament, little misunder- 
 standings which almost inevitably arise 
 between persons of two different genera- 
 tions, are enough to cloud the sunshine 
 and turn the milk of human kindness 
 very sour. These wretched trifles — 
 hardly deserving of a moment's serious 
 consideration — have the power, in course 
 of time, of changing human relationships, 
 from the deepest source of joy, into a 
 perfect flood of discomfort. It is not 
 without a certain truth that Cupid has 
 been always figured with a broad band 
 over his pretty eyes. When he takes off 
 that band, and looks the object of his
 
 lOO MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 devotion fairly in the face, he is apt to 
 become more of a critic than a lover ; 
 and the critic has always a savour of 
 contempt in his composition. 
 
 The last two years of her life, which 
 had been spent with a man her equal in 
 intelligence, and her superior in culture 
 and knowledge of the world, had removed 
 the band from Elizabeth's eyes as far as 
 Mrs. Mainwaring was concerned, and she 
 regarded that lady's conduct and action 
 with rather unfortunate clearness. She 
 had ceased to believe in Mrs. Main war - 
 ing's small social code. She knew that 
 there was a great section of the world to 
 which Mrs. Mainwaring would appear 
 very provincial and unimportant. She 
 had learned that all social judgments are 
 relative rather that absolute ; and her 
 aunt's belief in the infallibility of her own 
 " set " was very irritating to Elizabeth. 
 With the logical intolerance of youth and 
 inexperience, she went farther still. Hav-
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. loi 
 
 ing discovered that Mrs. Mainwaring was 
 narrow-minded in some matters, she con- 
 cluded that she was narrow-minded in all. 
 She did not admit this to herself in so 
 many words, it is true : but she got into 
 a habit of expecting her aunt's views to 
 be inadequate and unimaginative, till 
 almost every word the poor lady said 
 raised an inclination to opposition within 
 her. 
 
 Towards her uncle Elizabeth's feeling 
 was quite different. Cupid still had his 
 eyes bandaged, and had not exchanged 
 love for criticism. To begin with, there 
 was the tie of common blood between the 
 uncle and niece ; the sympathy which 
 comes of hereditary instincts, and which 
 often unites persons whose characters 
 may, on the surface, seem to be very 
 different. For Mr. Mainwaring's wishes 
 and desires Elizabeth had an instinct- 
 ive regard. She was almost contented 
 to be dull at Claybrooke, if by remain-
 
 I02 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 ing there she made him happier and gave 
 him pleasure. 
 
 It was not only his true fatherly affec- 
 tion for her which made Mr. Mainwaring 
 so dear to Elizabeth ; she was a person 
 singularly influenced by her early emotions 
 and impressions. To most people, I sup- 
 pose, the Rector would not have appeared 
 a very romantic figure : but to Elizabeth's 
 childish imagination, on one of his great 
 raking hunters, clothed with the dignity 
 of hunting - boots and spurs, he had 
 seemed to embody all the gallant spirit 
 of chivalry. The little girl fancied that 
 the heroes of Sir Walter Scott's de- 
 lightful stories must have ridden just 
 such horses, and had the same air of 
 perfect physical strength and pleasant 
 courtesy about them. Elizabeth, as a 
 child, had never been fired with the idea 
 of military glory ; had never seen glitter- 
 ing uniforms, or been moved with a sense 
 of passionate exhilaration at the sound of
 
 CH. IV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 103 
 
 martial music ; had never been overcome 
 with the wonderful pathos of all that 
 brave show with its implied possibilities 
 of horror, and agony, and death. So it 
 happened that fox-hunting country gentle- 
 men, commonplace easy - going people 
 engaged merely in the pursuit of their 
 own pleasure, represented to her the 
 fine disregard of danger and indifference 
 to bodily discomfort and hurt, that is so 
 entirely captivating to most women's 
 minds. It is the fashion nowadays to 
 deprecate the poetry of broken bones as 
 uncultivated and archaic ; but, " higher 
 education," board -schools, and certificates 
 notwithstanding, most people are still 
 ruled more by their instincts and feelings 
 than by pure reason, or a delicate per- 
 ception of artistic cause and effect. A 
 man's voluntary disregard of danger still 
 claims a woman's sincere admiration. 
 The members of the softer sex have a 
 latent element of savagery in them which
 
 104 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 makes many of them disposed, even in the 
 nineteenth century, to rate brute courage 
 above the cardinal virtues. 
 
 Thus Elizabeth was strongly influenced, 
 in two very different ways, by her feeling 
 for Mr. Mainwaring. Notwithstanding her 
 admiration for the broader and more culti- 
 vated life which she knew her brother-in- 
 law and all his friends lived, from early 
 habit and association, Elizabeth was con- 
 scious of possessing a strange tenderness 
 for men of her uncle's type ; and she was 
 never quite certain to which of these two 
 very different orders of beings she really 
 belonged. 
 
 Anyway, she did not criticise Mr. Main- 
 waring much ; she asked herself no 
 questions about him : but loved him 
 simply, and as a natural result desired to 
 please him.
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 105 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 •' Whilst yet the calm hours creep, 
 Dream thou — and from thy sleep 
 Then wake to weep." 
 
 In the beginning of July the Rector left 
 home for a week. He went to receive 
 rents from, and listen to the complaints 
 of his tenants on a small property which 
 he owned in another county. This ex- 
 pedition was of yearly occurrence, and was 
 regarded as a grave event in the house- 
 hold. Mr. Mainwaring stayed at the 
 house of his bailiff; taking Bunton with 
 him, and thereby securing not only his own 
 comfort, but many interesting subjects of 
 conversation for the subsequent delectation 
 of the servant's hall at Claybrooke, — as the 
 worthy butler returned home with a budget
 
 io6 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 of gossip and stories not unworthy of 
 Scheherazade herself! 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, to whom the notion 
 of a railway journey was always a little 
 alarming, and whose devotion to her hus- 
 band made her — after nearly forty years 
 of married life — quite as unwilling to part 
 from him for a week as she had been 
 within six months of her wedding-day, an- 
 nounced, as usual, her intention of driving 
 over with the Rector to Slowby, and seeing 
 him safely off by the three o'clock up train. 
 
 There was a great sense of movement 
 in the usually quiet, well-regulated house- 
 hold. " The fine old English gentleman " 
 is always remarkably full of business and 
 importance on the day of even a short 
 journey. He gives orders in a loud 
 voice in the hall and passages ; walks 
 about with steps that resound through the 
 house ; is undecided about the number of 
 pairs of boots he will require to take with 
 him, and has a general air of severe pre-
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 107 
 
 occupation, as though urgent affairs of 
 state weighed heavy on his spirit. Bunton, 
 like all good servants, thought it right to 
 adopt a touch of his master's manner and 
 attitude of mind. He was as dignified 
 and seriously solicitous over the packing 
 of a couple of portmanteaus, as though he 
 was on the eve of starting with Mr. Main- 
 waring on an exploring expedition into 
 the heart of Africa. He intimated to the 
 maids, several times, during the course of 
 the morning that, though no doubt they 
 might be said to have some place — a small 
 one — in the general economy of things, 
 yet they were but trivial creatures at best, 
 and wholly unequal to great and solemn 
 undertakings, such as that which he now 
 had before him. 
 
 I fancy there is no class of men who 
 take themselves, and their occupations and 
 engagements, so entirely for granted as the 
 old-fashioned English country gentleman, 
 and the said gentleman's old-fashioned
 
 io8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 faithful man-servant. They do everything 
 with a seriousness and an amount of con- 
 viction which is at once comic and im- 
 pressive to the Bohemian " dweller in 
 tents," whose tendency is to smile at 
 everything — himself, most of all. But 
 though, to an emancipated mind, it may 
 seem a little absurd that any class of per- 
 sons should be possessed of such an earnest 
 and sincere belief in themselves, it must 
 be admitted that they have an amount 
 of solid individual character which is too 
 often wanting in more brilliant men. 
 They are at one with nature, in fact, — 
 though they have little enough imagina- 
 tive appreciation of her beauties ; and from 
 that at-one-ness springs a strength and self- 
 confidence which is rightly very powerful. 
 Elizabeth, when the travellers, with port- 
 manteaus, sticks, whips, umbrellas, and all 
 their various impedimenta — Mrs. Main- 
 waring included — had at last started for 
 the station, went up to her own room.
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 109 
 
 It was a large low chamber in an angle 
 of the house, with two long muUioned 
 windows. One of these looked out to the 
 west, across the broad pasture-lands, to 
 the faint blue line of the distant horizon. 
 The other looked south, over a foreground 
 of brilliant flower-beds, to a thick bank of 
 shrubbery and larch -trees, the tallest of 
 which were delicately outlined against the 
 sky. In this southern window — through 
 which the sun now poured, filling the low 
 room with mellow radiance — stood a 
 writing-table. Elizabeth pushed it a little 
 aside, to get the window clear ; and 
 after laying off her hot black dress, 
 and putting on a white linen wrapper, 
 she sat herself down comfortably in a 
 big chintz-covered chair and prepared to 
 give herself over to luxurious rest of body, 
 at least, if not also of mind. 
 
 The old house was quiet, with the sleepy 
 summer quiet which is so utterly restful 
 and soothing. Now and then there was a
 
 no MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 footstep on the gravel in the garden 
 below, or the comfortable rumble and 
 squeak of a wheel-barrow, or the hushing 
 sound of a broom, — nice careful noises, 
 implying tidiness, and gentle labour, and 
 a decent regard for appearances. The 
 breeze came in laden with the scent of 
 honeysuckle and jasmine through the wide 
 open casements ; and a bunch of tea roses, 
 set in an old blue-and-white china jar on 
 the table, added its delicate sweetness to 
 the atmosphere of the room. 
 
 Elizabeth sank back into the deep arm- 
 chair with a little sigh. The sunshiny 
 stillness was very pleasant ; all her sur- 
 roundings were thoroughly comfortable, 
 and eminently respectable ; but, at one- 
 and- twenty, stillness however sunshiny, 
 comfort however solid, and respectability 
 however obvious and undeniable, are hardly 
 enough to yield entire content and satis- 
 faction. At fifty or sixty, Elizabeth 
 thought they might be sufficient. Then
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. iii 
 
 life would be pretty well over, and the 
 shadows would be growing long, and a 
 calm evening would be soothing after the 
 busy day : but at her age it seemed sad 
 to have nothing better to do than count 
 the quiet hours growing into quiet days 
 and weeks, while the Rector took his little 
 journeys, and Mrs. Mainwaring mildly ruled 
 her docile household, and paid dignified 
 afternoon calls. At one-and-twenty, few 
 handsome young women, with plenty of 
 health and strength, busy brains, and unful- 
 filled desires, would care to settle down in a 
 land "in which it seemed always afternoon." 
 
 Perhaps, on this particular day Eliza- 
 beth was all the more ready to resent her 
 position and quarrel with her peaceful lot, 
 because she had received some letters by 
 the morning's post which had opened an 
 unexpected prospect before her. 
 
 She had only had time to glance 
 at them when they arrived, as Mr. Main- 
 waring's impending exodus had demanded
 
 112 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 her — as well as every one else's — com- 
 plete attention : but now, in her own 
 room, she hoped to give them her seri- 
 ous consideration, and arrive at some 
 definite conclusion regarding their contents 
 before Mrs. Mainwaring — who was sure to 
 do a little composed shopping in Slowby 
 — should get home, about half-past five 
 o'clock, to tea. 
 
 The first letter was from Robert Lori- 
 mer's old lawyer, and dealt merely with a 
 matter of business. In addition to an in- 
 come of about a thousand a year, her hus- 
 band had left to Elizabeth a house, in the 
 rather uninteresting district of south-west 
 London which stretches from around 
 Victoria Station down towards the river. 
 Robert Lorimer had taken this house on 
 a long lease shortly before his marriage. 
 The Frank Lorimers and various friends 
 lived near by ; and the young couple had 
 settled down in their London home, with 
 the expectation of spending many years
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 113 
 
 in it. But in point of fact they spent 
 barely one year there. Robert Lorimer's 
 health broke down, as has already been 
 stated ; he and his wife were hurried 
 abroad at very short notice, and the house 
 was let. Now, the lawyer wrote to inform 
 Elizabeth that the family, which had taken 
 the house, wished to give it up when their 
 year expired in the coming September ; 
 and to ask whether she desired that he 
 should put it into the hands of some 
 house-agent with a view to securing 
 another tenant, or whether she proposed 
 occupying it herself 
 
 The information and suggestion con- 
 tained in this letter came upon Elizabeth 
 with the force of a considerable surprise. 
 She had been too confused and unhappy 
 when she left London to trouble herself 
 about business ; and the matter of the 
 letting of the house had entirely passed 
 from her mind. 
 
 Her first feeling on reading this letter 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 was one of shrinking. How could she go 
 back and live alone in a place so full of 
 memories and disappointments? She did 
 not disguise from herself that her marriage 
 had, in some ways, not been an entire 
 success. It would be painful to be clearly- 
 reminded of all that it had not been, as 
 well as of all that it had been. Both 
 the sweet and bitter of memory would go 
 to swell the stream of her regret. 
 
 But, on the other hand, the prospect of 
 a long dreary winter in the cold damp mid- 
 lands, when the roads would be too bad to 
 admit of the interchange of the mildest of 
 social civilities, and when the fields would 
 be too muddy to walk over, was far from 
 exhilarating. Mr. Mainwaring's chief em- 
 ployment, and, alas ! his chief subject of 
 conversation, would be hunting. For days 
 and weeks Elizabeth would have no one 
 to speak to but her aunt ; and she was 
 beginning to feel a little nervous at the 
 idea of frequent tete-d-tetes with Mrs.
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 115 
 
 Mainwaring. Even in the summer sun- 
 shine the old Rectory - house, with its 
 inmates and surroundings, was a trifle 
 wearisome to her ; what would it be, 
 she wondered, in cheerless December or 
 January weather? She longed to live 
 vividly. It was better even to suffer than 
 to stagnate. Would the London house, 
 haunted though it was by memories of her 
 husband and her short married life — would 
 it not, she thought, after all be preferable 
 to the sameness and everlasting " after- 
 noon " of her Claybrooke existence ? 
 
 Elizabeth, lying back in the chintz- 
 covered chair in her soft white wrapper, 
 with the sweet scents wandering in through 
 the open window, wondered and pondered 
 and balanced these two views of the ques- 
 tion, and found it almost impossible to 
 arrive at any decision. 
 
 If her uncle had not been engaged with 
 the unusual turmoil of preparation for a 
 journey that morning, she would have
 
 ii6 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 consulted him, and probably some chance 
 word or look of his would have touched 
 the latent springs of tenderness and homely 
 duty within her, and she would have stayed 
 quietly at Claybrooke, — in which case her 
 subsequent history would probably have 
 been of a very simple and uneventful kind. 
 But early in the day she had perceived that 
 it was not a good opportunity for asking 
 Mr. Mainwaring to apply a calm and 
 judicial mind to the contemplation of her 
 affairs ; and so she found herself com- 
 pelled to arrive at an unaided decision. 
 
 The more she thought the matter over, 
 the more was Elizabeth disposed to enter- 
 tain the idea of going up to London for 
 the winter. She would give herself a little 
 time anyway. She would not write at once 
 and say that she wished the house to be let. 
 She would pause — perhaps to-morrow she 
 should see more clearly what to do. Only 
 she was sensible of an ever-growing desire 
 to be free, to be her own mistress again.
 
 CH, V. A SKETCH^ IN BLACK & WHITE. 117 
 
 I am afraid it cannot be denied that 
 my poor Elizabeth was egotistical, and 
 looked at most things from the point of 
 view of her own wishes : but strong na- 
 tures are inevitably a good deal occupied 
 with themselves and their own sensations. 
 Let those who are wiser reckon them as 
 fools if they will ; and then proceed to 
 suffer them gladly, being sure that they are 
 pretty certain to find their own level in time. 
 
 The other letter was of a very different 
 nature, and Elizabeth picked it up with a 
 sense of relief after her mental struggle with 
 the intricate question of the London house. 
 
 It was written in Mrs. Frank Lorimer's 
 very neat little hand, adorned with many 
 notes of admiration and much underlining, 
 intended to point out and emphasise the 
 writer's exact meaning in each sentence. 
 But notwithstanding the exuberance of 
 feeling that might be suggested by this 
 style of caligraphy, and by the frequent 
 use of superlatives, there was a force
 
 ii8 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 and clearness in the handwriting which 
 implied that Mrs. Frank Lorimer, though 
 of a lively disposition, was by no means 
 in doubt as to her own intentions ; that 
 she knew her own mind and would have 
 no hesitation in speaking it, when it might 
 suit her purpose to do so. 
 
 " Dearest and sweetest Elizabeth," the 
 letter began, " I have been in a state of 
 absolute distraction at not being able to 
 write to you for so long : but all my 
 time has been taken up with the babies. 
 Imagine, they caught the measles from 
 some horrid children their nurse let them 
 play with in the square, unknown to me ! 
 Of course I was furious. Other people's 
 children have no right to give my children 
 measles. However, fortunately, they were 
 not at all seriously ill ; only, poor darlings, 
 more cross than I can say. They have 
 been a pair of perfect little bears for the 
 last month, and nurse and I have been at 
 our wits' ends with them. Now they are
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 119 
 
 getting all right again : but, as they still 
 look wretchedly white and pulled, I have 
 decided to take them out of town at once. 
 It is rather a nuisance in some ways, as I 
 didn't mean to go away till the beginning 
 of August, but that can't be helped. I 
 have settled to go off next week to a nice, 
 dull, healthy, little place on the coast of 
 Normandy, where we spent two months 
 last summer. It is ten miles from a 
 railway, and quite charming, — when you 
 get there ! Frank will take us over, and 
 then come back to his newspaper, and 
 join us again later on. 
 
 "And now, my dearest Elizabeth, at 
 last I come to Hecuba. The babies and 
 their odious little tempers — pretty dears, 
 — and their measles are only a prelude. 
 Won't you come too ? — Imagine how 
 enchanted I should be to have you ! 
 And it would do you no end of good. I 
 am sure, saving your presence, that you 
 must be getting uncommonly bored at
 
 I20 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Claybrooke. Frank told me it was a 
 lovely old house : but that the country 
 was infinitely dismal, and that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Mainwaring — please don't be angry 
 — were immensely impressive and stately, 
 — he trembled before them, — but that 
 respectability reigned to a truly alarming 
 extent. My dear, I feel a little stifled 
 when I think of you guarded by these 
 proprietous and unimaginative dragons. 
 For goodness' sake, Elizabeth, escape for 
 a little while, and come and build sand 
 castles with the babies and me in Nor- 
 mandy ! We should have a lovely time. 
 
 " I can't promise you that we shall be 
 quite alone. If Frank was to set up 
 business at the North Pole, or in the 
 moon, some of his adoring friends would 
 turn up even there, I believe. But the 
 friend in chief just now — a certain Mr. 
 Fred Wharton — is the only one of the 
 society who is booked to stay long. And 
 he really is charming — plays delightfully,
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 121 
 
 is by way of making enormous sums by 
 his pictures, and will talk any amount of 
 mild philosophy. He and I quarrel in- 
 cessantly ; but that gives a delicate point 
 to existence, you know, and is rather 
 agreeable than otherwise. Of course 
 you will have a difficulty in escaping 
 from the dragons — from what Frank 
 told me, I feel sure they think us most 
 dangerous and undesirable. But, my dear, 
 never mind them, just take your courage 
 in both hands and come. I shall be 
 perfectly delighted to have you, and so 
 will Frank — he is your most truly devoted 
 admirer. We start on Thursday week. 
 Now, Elizabeth, come, I entreat you. 
 The babies send kisses. — Always your 
 
 most affectionate, 
 
 "Fanny Lorimer." 
 
 Elizabeth could not help smiling at her 
 sister-in-law's remarkable volubility as 
 she laid down the letter ; and yet she was 
 sensible of feeling a little annoyed. It is
 
 122 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 one thing to think slightly uncivil things 
 of one's own relations, and quite another 
 thing to have somebody else say them. 
 Elizabeth had remarked, several times 
 before this, that Mrs. Frank Lorimer's 
 vivacity occasionally betrayed her into 
 indiscretions. Elizabeth did not quite 
 approve of the way in which she spoke of 
 the Mainwarings, for it is never entirely 
 agreeable to have an outsider put our 
 secret thoughts into words, thereby gen- 
 erally showing us that the said thoughts 
 are by no . means wholly graceful and 
 unselfish. Elizabeth was aware of a 
 sudden movement of tenderness towards 
 Claybrooke and her relations there, in 
 consequence of Fanny Lorimer's strictures 
 upon them. 
 
 It would undoubtedly be very pleasant 
 to go off to the breezy French coast, and 
 play with the two pretty, curly -headed, 
 little children on the sea-shore, and listen 
 to Mrs. Frank's amusing chatter, and talk
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 123 
 
 mild philosophy to Frank and his society 
 of friends : but the idea of going up to 
 London for the winter commended itself 
 more and more to her mind. And the 
 thought of giving up this trip with the 
 Lorimers for the sake of remaining with 
 her aunt and uncle was a little salve to 
 Elizabeth's conscience — which, she fore- 
 saw, might give her some trouble regarding 
 her leaving Claybrooke for the winter. 
 
 The afternoon grew more and more 
 hot and sultry, and Elizabeth's medita- 
 tions, as she lay stretched out in the deep 
 chair with her feet resting on the oak 
 window-seat, grew more and more vague 
 and misty. At last her eyes closed, and 
 she lost consciousness of her surround- 
 ings. She and Mrs. Mainwaring seemed 
 to be building sand castles on the sea- 
 shore : but the incoming tide always 
 washed Elizabeth's castles away first. She 
 built up one after another with desperate 
 haste. It seemed that the whole happi-
 
 124 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 ness of her future depended on her castles 
 outlasting Mrs. Mainwaring's : but the 
 frothy salt water undermined one after 
 another, and they sank away into the 
 plain level of the wet sand. Elizabeth 
 shifted her position uneasily once or 
 twice, and then, settling into a more 
 comfortable posture, slept on quietly, while 
 the little gusts of wind tangled her brown 
 hair into pretty confusion over her low 
 forehead, and a soft blush came up into 
 her cheeks, as into those of a sleeping 
 child. 
 
 One of the many unamiable peculi- 
 arities of the climate of Midlandshire — 
 stoutly denied, however, by the natives, 
 who, one and all, maintain that if our 
 climate is not precisely Italian, it is still 
 thoroughly good and eminently bracing 
 and healthy — is, that you rarely get a 
 really clear sky for more than a few hours 
 together. 
 
 During the morning, and even till the
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 125 
 
 time that Mr. Main waring started for 
 Slowby, the day had been radiantly 
 bright : but as the afternoon wore on, a 
 thin layer of white cloud wove itself, as 
 usual, over the face of the sky, and the 
 sun shone through it with a pale diffused 
 light. At last, the breeze dropped, while 
 the atmosphere became more and more 
 oppressive ; and heavy masses of reddish 
 white cloud began to rise out of the 
 south-east, obscuring the dim sunlight 
 and threatening a storm. 
 
 Elizabeth slept on quietly for some 
 time, and was awakened at last by a long 
 growl of still distant thunder. She got 
 up hastily, and, looking out of the window 
 over the hot misty country, observed the 
 unmistakable signs of an on-coming storm. 
 The sky was becoming covered with 
 rapidly-moving lurid clouds ; quick irri- 
 table little winds ruffled the heavy foliage 
 of the trees for a moment and then died 
 suddenly away.
 
 126 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Elizabeth had that uneasy suspicion of 
 approaching trouble and disaster which 
 often oppresses persons of a sensitive 
 organisation before the breaking of a 
 bad storm. She remembered that Mrs. 
 Mainwaring must just be driving along 
 the exposed highroad from Slowby, and 
 wished nervously that she was already 
 home. 
 
 Partly to overcome her instinctive feel- 
 ing of loneliness, and partly to ensure 
 hearing the carriage directly it should stop 
 at the front door, she set the door of her 
 own room wide open on to the broad 
 landing, at the farther end of which the 
 main staircase of the house led down 
 into the hall. Then coming back to her 
 chair near the window, she sat down to 
 watch the storm and listen for the arrival 
 of the carriage. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, Elizabeth knew, had 
 an intense dislike of thunder, amounting 
 almost to terror. She regarded a thunder-
 
 CH. V. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 127 
 
 storm much as she might have regarded 
 a revolution. It seemed to her a horrible 
 subversion of the recognised order of 
 things. It surprised and confused her. 
 She liked well-regulated nature, useful 
 fields and trim hedgerows, lazily-flowing 
 streams, well-kept roads, and nicely laid- 
 out gardens. Nature should be dominated 
 by man and be educated by him, Mrs. 
 Mainwaring thought. Mountains and 
 forests seemed to her somewhat too dis- 
 organised to be contemplated with any- 
 thing but a disturbed sense of astonish- 
 ment. In the same way she appreciated 
 moderate sunshine and convenient rains, 
 with an orthodox allowance of frost and 
 snow during the winter : but storms, and 
 tempests, and droughts, alarmed and dis- 
 tressed her. They made everything seem 
 so dreadfully insecure and doubtful. Poor 
 Mrs. Mainwaring clung, with an almost 
 painful tenacity, to that which is usual, 
 and orderly, and well known. Everything
 
 128 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 violent and unexpected, whether in outward 
 nature or in human emotion, was entirely 
 bewildering and incomprehensible to her. 
 
 It was past five o'clock when Eliza- 
 beth at last heard the sound of carriage 
 wheels and the opening of the front door. 
 She hurried out on to the landing, while 
 the thunder rolled and crackled overhead. 
 Martha the housemaid, — who reigned be- 
 low stairs in the temporary absence of 
 Bunton, — was just saying, in answer to 
 a faint inquiry of Mrs. Mainwaring, that 
 Mrs. Lorimer was upstairs, she believed, 
 in her own room.
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Virtue, how frail it is ! 
 Friendship, how rare ! 
 Love, how it sells poor bliss 
 
 For proud despair ! 
 But we, though soon they fall, 
 Survive their joy, and all 
 
 Which ours we call." 
 
 Elizabeth waited, a tall, glimmering, 
 white figure, in the dusky gloom of the 
 landing, while Mrs. Mainwaring — her 
 small face pale with agitation — hurried 
 upstairs, anxious to find repose and 
 security after the turmoil of her stormy 
 drive home. Like most women of a 
 strong and ardent nature, Elizabeth was 
 quickly moved to loving compassion by 
 the sight of weak and timid creatures in 
 distress. Mrs. Mainwaring, in the serene 
 comfort of her daily life, was irritating to 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 her : but Mrs. Mainwaring, tired, wan, and 
 frightened, was a very touching and ap- 
 peahng spectacle. 
 
 " Ah ! dear Aunt Susan, I'm so glad 
 you are home," she said, taking her aunt's 
 hand and leading her gently into her own 
 room, the door of which still stood open. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring turned to her with a 
 clinging desire for support and encourage- 
 ment. A thunder-storm, and Gerald on 
 a railway journey, seemed to her a con- 
 junction of alarming circumstances, which 
 justified her in claiming all the tenderness 
 and affection that she could possibly get 
 hold of 
 
 " Sit down," said Elizabeth, pushing the 
 big arm-chair round into a shady angle of 
 the room. " You won't see the lightning 
 so much there ; and let me take off your 
 things ; and let us have tea cosily up here, 
 and then you'll feel all right again. I 
 believe the worst of the storm is over 
 now."
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 131 
 
 While she spoke, she busied herself in 
 taking off Mrs. Mainwaring's bonnet and 
 overjacket, and in arranging the cap with 
 white lappets, which she hastily fetched 
 from her aunt's room. I imagine that 
 when a middle-aged woman has once ac- 
 cepted the inevitable, and taken to caps, 
 there is nothing more confusing and dis- 
 turbing to her than being without one, 
 even for a very few minutes. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had often lamented 
 privately that her niece's hands were not 
 smaller. They were white and well- 
 shaped, she admitted : - but they had 
 always appeared to her a little too large 
 and strong for perfect womanly refine- 
 ment. On this occasion, however, as 
 Elizabeth adjusted the afore-mentioned 
 cap, and smoothed down her gray hair 
 with gentle reassuring touches, they 
 seemed very lovely hands to Mrs. Main- 
 waring. She put out her arms with a 
 sudden impulsive movement, and drawing
 
 132 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 the beautiful pitiful face of the young 
 woman down towards her, kissed it with 
 quite unwonted ardour. 
 
 " You are a dear, dear child, Elizabeth," 
 she said tenderly ; " and it is very sweet 
 to have you so kind to me." 
 
 Her voice was a little tremulous, and 
 her eyes were full of tears. Mrs. Main- 
 waring had lost for a moment that pro- 
 prietous self-command and calm dignity 
 of demeanour, which — though very laud- 
 able in themselves — were certainly liable 
 to keep most people at a very respectful 
 distance from her. The two women had 
 not felt so thoroughly at one for a long 
 while. They had got away from all that 
 is passing and superficial, into a region of 
 simple and kindly sympathy. There was 
 a delicate harmony between them, which 
 both felt to be eminently refreshing after 
 the discords and differences of the last 
 few months. 
 
 " Poor Aunt Susan," said Elizabeth,
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 133 
 
 smiling as she looked down at the dainty^ 
 pretty, old lady. " You have been so 
 frightened and agitated. I have been 
 listening for the carriage for ever so long. 
 Then you were driving that young ches- 
 nut horse, that Uncle Gerald wanted to 
 try, — I was in a great fuss about it, 
 because I thought very likely it would be 
 troublesome." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Mainwaring, " I was 
 very nervous. William drives very well : 
 but I never feel really safe without your 
 uncle. I can't bear being alone. I had 
 begged that we might try the chesnut 
 some other day, but your uncle was in a 
 hurry — he had given the orders, and I 
 didn't like to worry him just when he was 
 going away." 
 
 " Then the last bit of the Slowby road 
 is so exposed," added Elizabeth. 
 
 " Oh yes ! it was horrible. I don't 
 approve, you know, of strong expressions, 
 but it really was horrible. I am so thank-
 
 134 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 ful to be at home safe," continued Mrs. 
 Mainwaring, with a Httle sigh of relief, 
 while she softly patted Elizabeth's hand, 
 which she still held. 
 
 The arrival of Martha with the tea 
 created a diversion ; and Elizabeth, having 
 no more convenient place to set the tray 
 on, cleared a space at one end of the 
 writing-table, bundling her various books 
 and papers into a heap at the other end, 
 to make room for it. This arrangement 
 was not altogether a tidy one, and conse- 
 quently not altogether to Mrs. Main- 
 waring's taste. She could not help ob- 
 serving it with discomfort — all disorder 
 was painful to her — but she forbore to 
 make any open comment. 
 
 On the top of the other papers, con- 
 spicuous both from its shape and colour, lay 
 the lawyer's letter that Elizabeth had lately 
 been reading. It lay open rather courting 
 notice; and Mrs. Mainwaring's attention, 
 as she sat waiting passively for her cup
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 135 
 
 of tea, was easily won. She could not 
 help noticing that it was a business 
 letter, and she began wondering vaguely 
 what it contained. At another time, she 
 would have disdained to appear to take 
 any unasked- for interest in a private 
 matter of her niece's ; it would have been 
 almost impossible to her to put questions 
 about it : but her recent fright, and present 
 sense of returning comfort and security, 
 had somewhat relaxed her moral fibre, so 
 to speak. She felt idly fascinated by the 
 open letter ; her eyes wandered towards it 
 repeatedly, as Elizabeth poured out and 
 handed her her tea, — chatting all the while 
 about the storm, which still rolled over- 
 head, about Mr. Mainwaring's journey, 
 about the road from Slowby, and the 
 young chesnut horse. Mrs. Mainwaring 
 was aware of a growing desire to know 
 what business the letter could refer to ; 
 and became more and more disposed, 
 as she drank a second excellent and re-
 
 136 MRS. LORIMER. part 1. 
 
 assuring cup of tea, and began to feel 
 quite secure of herself and at her ease 
 again, to ask some direct question con- 
 cerning it. Poor lady, her recent adven- 
 tures and emotions had shaken her out of 
 the safe little rut along which she generally 
 travelled ; and now that she was recovering 
 her footing, her state of mind was one in 
 which she was liable to make unfortunate 
 excursions in various directions ! 
 
 As Mrs. Mainwaring finished her second 
 cup of tea, the temptation became alto- 
 gether too strong to be any longer resisted. 
 Elizabeth's thoughts had wandered away 
 to the Frank Lorimers' proposal. She was 
 just remembering how she had fallen 
 asleep after reading her sister-in-law's letter, 
 and recalling her uncomfortable dream 
 about Mrs. Mainwaring and the sand 
 castles, when that lady suddenly spoke. 
 Elizabeth was roused immediately from 
 her reverie ; there seemed to be some 
 subtle connection between her own
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 137 
 
 thoughts and her aunt's unexpected 
 question. 
 
 " Is that a letter from your lawyer, 
 Elizabeth?" asked Mrs. Mainwaring. 
 
 She felt rather glad that she was sitting 
 in the dark, for she was aware that she 
 flushed a little, and she wished to appear 
 perfectly easy and composed. 
 
 " Yes," answered Elizabeth. 
 
 She was sorry, somehow, that her aunt 
 had asked her ; and, but for the softening 
 influences of their late meeting, and of 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's loving kiss, which still 
 lingered pleasantly with her, she would 
 probably have contented herself with that 
 laconic reply. Just now, however, she felt 
 but slight temptation to be ungracious to- 
 wards her aunt, even though she did ask 
 uncalled-for questions, — it is wonderfully 
 soothing and agreeable to be at peace 
 with other people. So after a moment's 
 pause, Elizabeth continued — 
 
 " It is from Mr. Pimbury, about the
 
 138 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 house we had in London. It seems that 
 the present tenant gives it up in Sep- 
 tember." 
 
 " Indeed," said Mrs. Mainwaring, — tea 
 and, darkness made her brave ; she began 
 to think she had quite a right to know a 
 little more of this matter. " Did you 
 expect that it would be given up so 
 soon ?" 
 
 " No/' said Elizabeth, turning her face 
 away, and looking sadly out of the window 
 at the dull stormy sky. " I didn't re- 
 member on what terms the house was let. 
 I was thinking of very different things 
 just at the time the arrangement was 
 made, you know. Aunt Susan." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Mrs. Mainwaring 
 hastily : but she had no disposition to let 
 the conversation drop. 
 
 Elizabeth felt a little worried ; she had 
 not any desire to enter fully into this 
 question, and to hint at her own half- 
 formed plans. At the same time she
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 139 
 
 wanted to be amiable ; and she had a 
 consciousness, too, that Mrs. Mainwaring 
 was sitting still there merely waiting for 
 further communications. It is never 
 pleasant to have information silently ex- 
 tracted from one. 
 
 " The letter only came to-day," said 
 Elizabeth at last, turning towards her aunt, 
 " I should have spoken to Uncle Gerald 
 about it : but he was so busy this morn- 
 ing that I didn't like to bother him with it." 
 
 " Yes ?" answered Mrs. Mainwaring; but 
 with more of inquiry than of mere assent 
 in her tone. 
 
 The good lady was quite alert now. 
 All the limpness of half an hour ago 
 had gone out of her. She was refreshed 
 by tea and by sitting still In a safe 
 place ; the thunder, too, was slowly dy- 
 ing away in the far distance, which was 
 decidedly encouraging to her spirits. She 
 was beginning to feel a little irritated at 
 Elizabeth's want of communicativeness: but
 
 I40 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 her moral fibre was no longer relaxed, and, 
 though she wanted more than ever to 
 know all about the matter, she had re- 
 gained sufficient self-control to be deter- 
 mined to ask no more direct questions. 
 
 There was rather a long pause. Eliza- 
 beth was stationed between the two 
 windows, so that the light was con- 
 centrated about her white figure. She 
 sat resting one elbow on the corner of the 
 writing-table, and was apparently deeply 
 engaged in the not very intellectual 
 employment of balancing her tea-spoon 
 on the edge of her cup. It was the sort 
 of thing Mrs. Mainwaring could not 
 manage to be unconscious of She hated 
 to see things put to wrong uses. Some- 
 how the delicate sympathy which had 
 subsisted, a little while before, between the 
 two women seemed to be growing fainter 
 and fainter, and to be losing itself in the 
 light of common day. Each of them, 
 from different causes, felt a trifle annoyed
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 141 
 
 with the other. At last Elizabeth's spoon 
 slipped with a little flop and splash into her 
 cup. It seemed, somehow, to bring her to 
 a sudden decision, for she looked up and 
 spoke again. 
 
 " Mr. Pimbury wants to know whether 
 I wish to have the house let again at once, 
 or keep it in my own hands." 
 
 " There cannot be any doubt as to your 
 answer, my dear," Mrs. Mainwaring re- 
 marked quietly, but a little incisively. 
 
 " Why ? I don't quite understand you," 
 answered Elizabeth, who, being conscious 
 of her own growing desires in the matter, 
 wished that her aunt did not think the 
 question so perfectly obvious and simple. 
 
 " Of course you must let the house." 
 
 " I don't quite see why it should be of 
 course," said Elizabeth, emphasising the 
 last two words, and beginning to feel 
 rather obstinate. " It really seems to me 
 
 r 
 
 a matter that requires some little con- 
 sideration."
 
 142 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 "My dear, how can it?" replied Mrs. 
 Mainwaring. 
 
 She sat up quite straight in her chair. 
 The pink flush in her cheeks deepened. 
 She looked at Elizabeth with an air of 
 surprise, not to say consternation. It was 
 very tiresome, Mrs. Mainwaring felt, that, 
 just at the moment when everything seemed 
 to be going so pleasantly and smoothly, this 
 apple of discord should drop down between 
 them : but the proprieties were reasserting 
 their usual sway over her, and she felt 
 bound to speak clearly and decidedly, 
 however disagreeable it might be to do so. 
 
 " It would be quite impossible for you 
 to live in London alone, you know ; and 
 there can be no object in the house stand- 
 ing empty," she said. 
 
 " I don't see that it would be at all 
 impossible for me to spend the winter in 
 London," answered Elizabeth. " I could 
 let the house again for the season and 
 come back here."
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 143 
 
 Mrs. Malnwaring leant a little forward 
 in her dusky corner, and pressed the palms 
 of her hands together rather nervously as 
 they lay in her lap. 
 
 " But, my dear Elizabeth, don't you 
 understand that a young woman of your 
 age and position ought not to live by 
 herself? It would appear so very strange; 
 I don't know what people would say. I 
 don't ask you to consider your uncle and 
 me, or our feelings at your leaving us ; 
 I merely ask you to think for a moment 
 how very strange this plan of yours must 
 appear to every one. You must see at 
 once that it is impossible. It couldn't be 
 done," said Mrs. Mainwaring with con- 
 siderable dignity and decision. 
 
 "But why couldn't it be done?" re- 
 joined Elizabeth. The fact that her aunt 
 treated the idea as utterly preposterous 
 raised a strong spirit of opposition in 
 her. 
 
 It is an unpleasing, but unfortunately a
 
 144 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 certain fact, that two people are never 
 more likely to have a serious and bitter 
 quarrel than just when they are recover- 
 ing from an attack of unusually expansive 
 affection. The excitement produces a 
 reaction, which, too frequently, is very 
 dangerous. 
 
 " Of course I only want to go for a 
 time. Aunt Susan," Elizabeth continued. 
 " You know how glad I am to be with 
 you and Uncle Gerald : but I should 
 be very glad to spend a few months 
 in London. And, after all, why is it 
 so absurd for me to think of living 
 alone ? Lots of other women are obliged 
 to do it." 
 
 " But you are not obliged to do it, my 
 dear," said Mrs. Mainwaring. " Here is 
 Claybrooke ; here are your own relations ; 
 here is the home you have always been 
 accustomed to. There is no reason for 
 you to seek another. You are not in the 
 position of a woman who is obliged to
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 145 
 
 live alone; in your case — indeed — it 
 would be obviously unbecoming." 
 
 "You speak altogether too strongly, Aunt 
 Susan," said Elizabeth quickly, straight- 
 ening herself up. " I am not in the habit 
 of proposing to do things that are ob- 
 viously unbecoming." 
 
 There was a pause. Mrs. Mainwaring 
 was aware that she had made a false step. 
 
 " I wish, and I intend," said Elizabeth, 
 " to see something of my — of Robert's rela- 
 tions this year." She waited a moment to 
 steady her voice, which was a little shaky, 
 and then went on distinctly. " Fanny 
 Lorimer tells me how much they want to 
 see me. She asked me to go abroad with 
 them this month. I don't care to do 
 that just now : but I really must see some- 
 thing of them later on. They would be 
 close to me in London, and I should like 
 to see them quietly in my own home. I 
 should prefer that to staying with them 
 for any length of time." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring looked down at her 
 clasped hands and said softly — 
 
 " It would surely be unnecessary for 
 you to do that, in any case." 
 
 " But I don't think so, you see," re- 
 joined Elizabeth rather hotly. " And in 
 this matter I really must follow my own 
 judgment, Aunt Susan." 
 
 " I can't agree with you, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Mainwaring with quiet persistence. 
 "In a question like this, the opinion of 
 those who are older and more experienced 
 than you are, — of those who stand to you, 
 as your uncle and I do, in the place of 
 parents — their opinion, I must think, 
 should be not only considered, but abided 
 by." 
 
 " Uncle Gerald has not had an oppor- 
 tunity of giving his opinion yet," said 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 " Well, then, in his absence, Elizabeth, 
 I hold it to be my duty to speak quite 
 plainly to you." Mrs. Mainwaring paused ;
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 147 
 
 she gathered up all her courage, and then 
 said, " Understand that I entirely disap- 
 prove of this proposal, entirely." 
 
 Elizabeth stood up, and rested her 
 hands on the back of her chair. She was 
 growing a little excited, and sitting still 
 was irksome to her. She would have 
 been glad to avoid a scene with her aunt : 
 but she felt strongly that if she wanted to 
 secure her independence, it was a case of 
 " now or never." Also she believed that 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's social objection to the 
 Frank Lorimers was at the bottom of her 
 strong opposition to this London scheme. 
 Elizabeth was almost fiercely determined 
 to stand by her husband's relations. Her 
 very doubt as to her entire devotion to 
 Robert Lorimer made her desperately 
 anxious to pay all due honour to his 
 people. And, at this moment, her desire 
 for a larger and more vivid sphere of life 
 than that which Claybrooke offered her 
 ranged itself alongside her loyalty to the
 
 148 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 dead, and made her ready to fight out the 
 battle with poor little Mrs. Mainwaring to 
 the bitter end. 
 
 " I must speak plainly too," she said. 
 *' The real truth is that you can't endure 
 the Frank Lorimers, — you don't think 
 them up to the mark, — you want me to 
 ■drop them altogether." 
 
 " Pray, pray," cried Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 with an agitated little wave of her hands, 
 as though dismissing Robert Lorimer's 
 tiresome relations to the remotest quarter 
 of the globe, " Pray don't let us begin dis- 
 cussing that unfortunate subject." 
 
 " You want me to settle down," Eliza- 
 beth went on, with increasing warmth, 
 ignoring the Frank Lorimers' dismissal, 
 *' as if nothing had happened, — as if 
 there was no difference between what I 
 am now and what I was as a girl. You 
 want me just to miss out all the last few 
 years, — except in the way of wearing 
 black gowns. Don't you see, don't you
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 149 
 
 understand, that it is impossible for me 
 not to want to see Robert's relations ? 
 that I can't give up the past altogether ? " 
 
 " You are quite wrong and mistaken/^ 
 answered Mrs. Mainwaring quickly. " I 
 have no wish that you should not be 
 different, — that you should not realise 
 your situation. It is you, Elizabeth — I 
 must say it — who seem to me to disre- 
 gard your situation. Oh ! dear me," cried 
 the poor lady, in much agitation and dis- 
 tress, " don't you see that it is hardly 
 decent — yes, really hardly decent for you 
 to propose to settle in London, and go 
 about and entertain people, when you 
 have been only a few months a widow ? 
 Don't you see that it is absolutely want- 
 ing in proper respect for your husband's 
 memory ? 
 
 Elizabeth's face flamed scarlet. Now 
 she did not care what she said. Every 
 little unpleasant word that Mrs. Mainwar- 
 ing had ever spoken, every worldly sug-
 
 150 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 gestion, every small act of repression, 
 every want of comprehension of the posi- 
 tion of others, every stupidity that her 
 aunt had ever committed, rushed into 
 Elizabeth's mind. Like most of us, she 
 had an excellent memory for the faults of 
 her near relations. All the bitter feelings 
 she had nourished in secret against Mrs. 
 Mainwaring filled her, and overflowed, 
 pouring themselves forth in a torrent of 
 excited words. 
 
 " How dare you say such a thing. Aunt 
 Susan ?" she cried. " How dare you 
 accuse me of such a thing ? You to 
 speak to me of want of proper respect, 
 when you are trying to make me give up 
 Robert's own brother, and hold myself too 
 fine to associate with him and his wife ! 
 What would he have cared for the sort of 
 respect which consists in sitting upstairs 
 with the blinds half down, and wearing 
 loads of crape, and wondering whether 
 this and that and the other person thinks
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 151 
 
 you look unhappy enough? — A very 
 precious sort of respect that, consisting 
 in clothes merely, and little trivial 
 forms ; a careful paying of the tithe of 
 mint, and anise, and cummin, while the 
 weightier matters — the love, and the 
 justice, and gratitude, gratitude to his own 
 brother, to his own flesh and blood — 
 are forgotten and neglected ! You don't 
 understand me!" cried Elizabeth, "you 
 never have understood me ! You want 
 to run me into your own little social 
 mould, and have me for ever thinking 
 what a set of stupid, ignorant, unimportant 
 people are saying about me, instead of 
 letting me be honest and faithful, as I 
 want to be." 
 
 "You are cruel, you are very cruel, 
 Elizabeth," said Mrs. Mainwaring slowly. 
 She pressed her hand to her side, as if in 
 actual physical pain. 
 
 " It is you, you that are cruel," answered 
 Elizabeth passionately. " You who want
 
 152 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 to cramp and maim my poor life, and 
 build it in on every side with miser- 
 able conventional usages. I want to 
 live ! Think ! already, though I am so 
 young, I have had troubles which you 
 know nothing about, — I have had to 
 bear disappointment, sorrow, and anguish. 
 Haven't I suffered enough already, but 
 that I must be thwarted and hedged in 
 at every turn with these wretched worldly 
 considerations? — that I must submit tamely 
 to be bored almost to death ? — that I must 
 settle down, finally, at one-and-twenty, in 
 the dullest of country neighbourhoods, 
 without a hope or prospect in the future ? 
 Don't you see I long to gather up my 
 life and begin again ; to do something ; 
 to be interested in living ? I am young 
 and strong ; I can't make up my mind to 
 stagnate here, wasting myself in useless 
 regrets. You have your husband. Aunt 
 Susan, and your home, and your life is 
 full of what you like. But I — look," she
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 153 
 
 said, spreading out her hands with a de- 
 spairing gesture. " I have absolutely 
 nothing. Surely you can get on perfectly 
 well without me? Let me go, at all 
 events, for a time ; let me see and know 
 the world; let me live a little, and not 
 rust here. Ah ! life may be so full and 
 beautiful for me somewhere else. Let me 
 go, — you have no right to prevent me !" 
 
 Just then the clouds parted, and the 
 glare of a stormy sunset filled all the room. 
 Elizabeth's white dress, as she stood in the 
 gaudy light, was stained with an angry 
 orange glow. Shaken with her passion 
 and with her own wild words, her brown 
 hair disordered and her eyes flashing, she 
 looked like the very spirit of the fierce and 
 beautiful sunset, away there, down in the 
 west. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had risen too. She 
 stood in the dim and dusky corner of the 
 room, where Elizabeth had set the arm- 
 chair for her with so much tender solicitude
 
 154 ' MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 hardly an hour ago. Truly, only those 
 whom we love can really torture us in this 
 world. In that short hour, half the joy of 
 poor Mrs. Mainwaring's heart had withered, 
 and faded, and died. The child whom she 
 had brought up, whom she had tried to 
 persuade herself she loved as her very 
 own, had turned upon her and shown her 
 that there was a great gulf fixed between 
 them — had plucked the very heart out 
 of her poor, respectable, unimaginative 
 life, and trampled it under strong, relent- 
 less, young feet. Mrs. Mainwaring was 
 filled with bitterness. She and Elizabeth 
 could never be the same to each other 
 again. There was a rent in their mutual 
 love, which could only be patched, and 
 never, it seemed to her, be mended wholly. 
 Mrs. Mainwaring felt very tired, she 
 wanted to go away and be quiet some- 
 where : but she could not go without a 
 parting word. She steadied herself for a 
 moment, with one hand, on the arm of
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 155 
 
 her chair ; then she said, in a thin, hard 
 voice — 
 
 " You are quite right, Elizabeth ; I do 
 not understand you. At this moment, I 
 confess, I have no wish to understand you, 
 for you seem to me to be in a singularly 
 exaggerated and ill -regulated state of 
 mind. We think very differently. I 
 may be rather old-fashioned : but you are 
 so painfully violent that it is quite useless 
 for us to attempt to have any further 
 conversation on this matter. While you 
 remain at Claybrooke, I must ask you to 
 treat me and my friends — whom you so 
 greatly despise — with common courtesy 
 and respect. And, for my part, you may 
 rest assured," she added, "that I shall not 
 interfere in any way with your plans and 
 arrangements in future." 
 
 As she finished speaking, Mrs. Main- 
 waring moved out from her shadowy 
 corner into the glare of the fierce sunlight. 
 Elizabeth was shocked when she saw how
 
 156 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 pinched and aged she looked, as the light 
 fell on her. Her heart smote her, and she 
 came forward quickly. 
 
 " Ah ! you are tired, you are ill, Aunt 
 Susan," she said. " I have " 
 
 But Mrs. Mainwaring put her sternly 
 aside. 
 
 " I will begin at once to learn to do 
 without you, Elizabeth," she answered, and 
 went slowly out of the room. 
 
 Elizabeth flung herself down on the 
 floor, in the midst of the lurid sunshine, 
 and, resting her head on the hard window- 
 seat, sobbed bitterly. 
 
 Pride and remorse struggled together 
 within her. The picture of her past 
 troubles, and of her present desolation, 
 which she had called up by her own 
 words, affected her profoundly. Every- 
 thing seemed to have fallen short of her 
 hopes and expectations ; everything had 
 yielded her less joy and satisfaction than 
 she asked of it. Poor child ! she had
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 157 
 
 always desired so passionately to be happy ; 
 she had tried so hard to be happy. Her 
 aunt had told her to be ladylike ; her hus- 
 band had told her to be good ; her own 
 heart told her always to be happy. And it 
 told her so still. Still she longed and 
 hungered and struggled ; and still the 
 phantom of happiness eluded and escaped 
 her. She said, " Give me this one thing 
 more, and I shall be happy." She got the 
 one coveted thing, and found that the 
 old longing and unrest clung to her yet. 
 Sometimes it made her hard, selfish, and 
 inconsiderate, as she knew she had been 
 to-day. She hated herself, and yet craved, 
 all the same, for the thing which seemed 
 as though it might possibly bring her 
 happiness. Good and evil are most subtly 
 mixed up in us ; the wheat and the tares 
 flourish only too well close side by side. 
 Elizabeth was generous and selfish, cruel 
 and tender-hearted, all at the same time. 
 She needed many a lesson yet from the
 
 158 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 hard and steady teacher — Experience ; 
 whose teaching, though slow, is so abso- 
 lutely and awfully conclusive at last. 
 
 The dinner-bell rang while she was still 
 crying her heart out in the dying sunshine, 
 with her sweet face pressed down on the 
 window-seat A minute or two later 
 Martha knocked at the door. Elizabeth 
 jumped up hastily, and stood with her 
 back to the light, so as, if possible, to hide 
 the signs of her late agitation from that 
 WQrthy woman's eyes. She felt that it 
 would be impossible to go downstairs and 
 talk good little commonplace talk to her 
 aunt over her dinner for Martha- and -pro- 
 priety's sake ; so she sent word that she 
 had a bad headache, and wanted to be 
 quiet. And Mrs. Mainwaring — who, from 
 pure habit, would have sat down to dinner 
 at seven o'clock if all the world had been 
 coming to an end at half-past eight, — found 
 herself obliged to take her evening meal 
 in melancholy silence and solitude.
 
 CH. VI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 159 
 
 Poets and lovers, and other persons of 
 an excitable habit of mind, have a pretty 
 fiction that Nature laughs over their joys, 
 and weeps with them in all their griefs : 
 but, to a calm observer, this seems to be 
 rather an optimist view of the matter. 
 The two women, who, in that pleasant, 
 quiet, old Rectory-house, should have stood 
 to each other in the gentle and beautiful 
 relation of mother and daughter, lay awake 
 far into the summer night, each in her 
 own chamber alone : — Elizabeth, with pas- 
 sionate tears, asking why the husband who 
 might have guided, trained, and saved her 
 was taken from her side so soon : — and 
 Mrs. Mainwaring, with the cruel, dry-eyed 
 sorrow of age, asking bitterly, as she had 
 asked many times these thirty years, why 
 God had seen fit to deny her the sacred 
 joys of motherhood, for which she had so 
 ardently prayed and yearned. Yet the 
 night was serene and cloudless. The stars 
 shone peacefully out of the deep, purple,
 
 i6o MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 summer sky. The pastures spread fresh 
 and sweet under the soft breeze. And in 
 the morning the sun arose, rejoicing like a 
 giant to run his course. The night was 
 as solemnly glad and the morning as 
 radiantly gay, as though no poor human 
 hearts were torn with painful struggle and 
 contending, and burdened with the deadly 
 weight of love grown cold.
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. i6i 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Nurse no extravagant hope." 
 
 The week during which the Rector was 
 away was a very wretched one at Clay- 
 brooke. Mrs. Mainwaring wrapped herself 
 in a garment of cold and rigid civility — 
 fortunately for her there were no more 
 thunder-storms; — and Elizabeth, alter- 
 nately wrathful and penitent, spent a 
 good many hours in her own room writing 
 letters to Mr. Pimbury and tearing them 
 up again. 
 
 She was compelled to answer Mrs. 
 Frank Lorimer's letter without delay, 
 so she wrote a short and rather irritable 
 note, saying that Normandy was out of 
 the question for her at present ; holding 
 out vague hopes of a meeting in London 
 
 VOL. L M
 
 i62 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 in the autumn ; and bestowing so few 
 words on the babies and their ailments, 
 that her sister-in-law, who always had a 
 lively inclination to read between the lines, 
 immediately arrived at the conclusion 
 that " the old Mainwarings " — as she 
 irreverently called them in familiar con- 
 versation with her husband — " must have 
 been perfectly odious ; and that Elizabeth 
 must have suffered such a martyrdom at 
 their hands, that she had no sympathy 
 left, poor dear, to expend on anybody but 
 herself." 
 
 People are strong, one sometimes fears, 
 in proportion to their limitations. Mrs. 
 Mainwaring, in virtue of her limited 
 imagination, had a remarkable power of 
 maintaining a fixed attitude of mind and 
 of manner. Elizabeth's feelings, on the 
 contrary, fluctuated a good deal. More 
 than once, a word from her aunt would even 
 now have opened the flood-gates of repent- 
 ance, and she would have humbled herself
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 163 
 
 and asked pardon : but Mrs. Mainwaring 
 remained hopelessly the same. Every 
 look and every word implied, delicately but 
 surely, that she was outraged, astonished, 
 greatly pained, utterly shocked ; that she 
 was well aware that she and Elizabeth 
 were aunt and niece, and owed each other 
 a certain consideration from that fact : 
 but everything stopped there. — Mr. Main- 
 waring was coming home in a few days, 
 he must speak the final word ; meanwhile, 
 she would stand by her colours, support 
 the position she had taken up, and main- 
 tain a dignified and suggestive silence. 
 
 There is nothing more irritating than 
 being in disgrace. A very few days of 
 this state of things were enough to ex- 
 haust all Elizabeth's latent tenderness 
 and harden her in rebellion ; and two 
 days before Mr. Mainwaring's return 
 she wrote definitely to the lawyer, to 
 inform him that she should take up 
 her residence in London in September,
 
 164 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 and to request him, therefore, to take no 
 further steps regarding the letting of her 
 house. 
 
 Conversation under these unfortunate 
 conditions was difficult ; and the two 
 ladies found time hang so heavily on their 
 hands that they welcomed warmly any 
 little incident which broke in upon the 
 monotonous round of half-silent breakfasts, 
 luncheons, teas, and dinners. Mr. Leeper,. 
 the Vicar of Lowcote, who has already 
 been mentioned in these pages, was not 
 an object of great admiration either to 
 Mrs. Mainwaring or to Elizabeth. It was 
 rather surprising to observe in what a re- 
 markably kindly spirit they both received 
 him at this juncture, when he came one 
 afternoon to pay a long-owed visit. 
 
 Mr. Leeper had given himself a day's 
 holiday. Time was precious, he measured 
 it out with a sparing hand — and having 
 done one social duty by taking luncheon 
 with the Harbages at Highthorne, he
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 165 
 
 thought it well, as the day must it seemed 
 be given over to trivialities, to walk on the 
 five miles from there and pay this visit 
 at Claybrooke Rectory. Mr. Harbage 
 had started to walk with him, but the 
 roads were dusty and the day extremely 
 warm. Mr. Harbage was a portly man, 
 of a soft lymphatic temperament, — more- 
 over, he had partaken generously of a hot 
 one-o'clock dinner, prepared with unusual 
 delicacy and plenty in honour of the 
 expected guest. By the time he reached 
 the outskirts of Highthorne Parish, Mr. 
 Harbage was aware that his courage was 
 oozing out at every pore. He began to 
 think it might be dangerous for a man, at 
 his time of life, to take a long walk so soon 
 after eating ; he had uncomfortable visions 
 of sunstroke and apoplexy. Mrs. Harbage, 
 who entertained hopes that her eldest 
 daughter's undeniable abilities as an 
 organist and district visitor might have 
 made some impression on Mr. Leeper's
 
 i66 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 mind, had suggested privately that this 
 walk would be an excellent opportunity 
 for finding out how far that gentleman's 
 heart was entangled by Louisa's useful — 
 if not romantic — qualifications for the 
 position of a clergyman's wife. But Mr. 
 Harbage was altogether too hot for delicate 
 diplomacy. He longed for his own study, 
 slippers, and an old and easy coat at this 
 moment, far more than for any matri- 
 monial advantages that might accrue to 
 his eldest daughter. Therefore, he sud- 
 denly remembered that he had forgotten 
 something very important ; and bidding 
 — with many protestations of regret — his 
 younger and more vigorous companion a 
 warm adieu, he turned homewards, walk- 
 ing erect and fast, to carry out the idea of 
 urgent business, as long as there was any 
 chance of Mr. Leeper turning back and 
 seeing him. Then, after wiping his face 
 several times and leaning for a while 
 against a shady five -barred gate, he
 
 CH. vir. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 167 
 
 trudged slowly homewards, to baffle his 
 wife's anxious inquiries, concerning his 
 conversation with their late guest, with as 
 much ingenuity and as few equivocations 
 as he might. 
 
 Mr. Leeper was a tall, thin, bilious-com- 
 plexioned man, with a sparse black beard, 
 and a rather high forehead which had a 
 tendency to crumple itself up into irritable 
 lines. He was almost distressingly ener- 
 getic, and took real comfort in the thought 
 of his mental and physical activity, and 
 in the fact that he was a total abstainer. 
 He believed that he possessed the original 
 healthy mind in a healthy body. This 
 belief gave him a certain inclination to 
 sit upon his friends and aquaintances. 
 He felt convinced that if every one 
 would only take his advice and follow his 
 example, a sort of millennium of peace and 
 plenty would immediately set in. 
 
 Mr. Leeper belonged to that section of 
 English Churchmen which, not contented
 
 i68 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 with trying to rule the Church, has a strong 
 desire to rule the world as well. They 
 dominate the life of their parishes in the 
 most alarming way. Everything, from the 
 Eastward Position to the state of the 
 cottagers' pig-styes, seems to come within 
 their province. As a rule, they are not 
 greatly beloved. Poor Mr. Leeper was 
 really a very admirable, pure-minded, and 
 devoted man : but he made himself the 
 measure of the universe, and, unfortunately, 
 that measure seemed not to be entirely 
 correct somewhere. He had cast up all 
 social and religious problems according 
 to it, over and over again : but though he 
 felt sure he was right, the answer did not 
 work out in universal peace and goodwill, 
 as it so obviously ought to have done. 
 
 Mr. Leeper arrived, warm, energetic, 
 and argumentative, at Claybrooke Rec- 
 tory that afternoon, and was ushered into 
 the cool shaded drawing - room, where 
 Elizabeth Lorimer received him with
 
 CH, VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 169 
 
 unusual kindness of demeanour. Mr. 
 Leeper rather prided himself on a stern 
 indifference to his surroundings, but it 
 was impossible for him not to be distinctly 
 aware of the contrast between the bare 
 dining-room at Highthorne, steaming with 
 early dinner, the ill-dressed angular Miss 
 Harbages, with their distressingly-anxious 
 mother, and the pleasant repose of this 
 stately old room, and quiet self-posses- 
 sion of the graceful young widow. Mr. 
 Leeper tried to be practical, and tell him- 
 self that fundamentally it was merely a 
 difference of so many hundreds, or perhaps 
 thousands, a year, and that the Harbages 
 ought not to be blamed or Mrs. Lorimer 
 admired for the difference : but, unfortu- 
 nately, when one's eyes are pleased it is a 
 little difficult to keep fundamental facts in 
 view. Mr. Leeper could not help being 
 rather gratified at his reception. He 
 had no great respect for Mr. Mainwar- 
 ing, but he began, charitably, to think it
 
 I70 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 more than possible that this handsome 
 serious - looking young lady might be 
 considerably less darkened by prejudice, 
 or wilful ignorance of important social 
 and ecclesiastical questions, than her rela- 
 tions. 
 
 Elizabeth listened so graciously to his 
 conversation that a sudden thought flashed 
 into Mr. Leeper's mind. He knew that it 
 was a little unworthy of his stern, some- 
 what ascetic, ideal of life, but still there 
 it was. How would it be to convert and 
 then take possession of this fair daughter 
 of the Philistines, and use all the Philistine 
 power and gold against the Philistines 
 themselves ? To use it for the furthering 
 of the temperance cause and of diocesan 
 conferences, the spread of sound Church 
 teaching and the just administration of the 
 poor law? The parish of Lowcote was 
 too small by any means to exhaust Mr. 
 Leeper's large stock of energy. This 
 audacious idea, which had started all
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 171 
 
 unbidden into his brain, seemed to him 
 a very attractive outlet for much of his 
 bottled-up force. As he sat talking to 
 Elizabeth, enjoying the cool atmosphere 
 and — though he would hardly have liked 
 to admit it — the sight of her sweet face, 
 this idea gave to his manner just that 
 touch of softness and respect in which 
 it was generally wanting. He waxed 
 eloquent concerning free and open sittings, 
 the miserable condition of the cottages of 
 some of the labouring poor at Lowcote, 
 and the sorrow and degradation consequent 
 on drink ; till Elizabeth, who had only 
 hailed his coming as a relief from her 
 sense of discomfort and ennui, began to 
 think him not only endurable, but really 
 rather interesting ; and Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 though she knew it was high treason to 
 agree with him, became willing to concede 
 that his " motives might be good, though, 
 poor young man, he was lamentably wrong- 
 headed on some points, and not at all the
 
 172 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 sort of person she had always been 
 accustomed to." 
 
 Life seemed full of possibilities to Mr. 
 Leeper as he strode home that evening in 
 the gloaming. He left practical matters 
 alone for a while, and indulged himself 
 with building a series of pleasing castles 
 in the air. He saw himself on the high- 
 road to a general making of the crooked 
 straight, and of the rough places plain. He 
 was more than ever confident in the cer- 
 tain arrival of a millennium, consequent on 
 the unconditional acceptance of his views 
 by the world at large. 
 
 But — alas ! for Mr. Leeper's visions of 
 future triumph — when he reached home, 
 he found an angry letter from Mr. Adnitt, 
 saying that his servants refused, in a body, 
 to attend Lowcote Church, unless orders 
 were distinctly given by the vicar that 
 strangers were not to be put into their pew. 
 While Mr. Doughty, the principal bass in 
 the choir — who, as he said himself, " had
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 173 
 
 sung there, man and boy, this twenty years 
 come next Easter" — was waiting in the 
 study to announce, with more directness 
 than urbanity, that " as Mr. Leeper 
 thought his-self such an uncommon good 
 musician and took people down so sharp 
 at the practices, he might sing bass for 
 his-self in future ; as he — Mr. Doughty 
 — wasn't going to stand up there to be 
 spoke to before a lot of boys. He 
 should go to chapel next Sunday, where 
 folks knew when they'd got hold of a 
 tidy singer, and behaved according." 
 
 Mr. Leeper's forehead crumpled itself up 
 very much. His charming castles resolved 
 themselves into the fine air out of 
 which they were originally constructed. 
 He gave up thinking of the conquest of 
 the fair daughter of the Philistines for a 
 time, and plunged wearily back into the 
 actual. 
 
 But though vexation, and the sudden 
 reaction from his unusually exalted state
 
 174 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 of feeling, caused him thus to put the idea 
 aside for a while, he did not relinquish it 
 altogether. He was sensible that there 
 was a new element in his life. 
 
 At last Mr. Mainwaring came home, 
 and the inmates of the Rectory were 
 awakened from the state of torpor and 
 discomfort in which they had existed 
 since the evening of the thunderstorm. 
 Nothing regarding Elizabeth's revolt was 
 said on the night of his return. Indeed 
 it would have been difficult to get time to 
 make any announcement. Mr. Mainwar- 
 ing was not usually a great talker : but 
 he kept up the pretty old-fashioned habit 
 — falling sadly into disuse in these hurry- 
 ing days — of telling his wife " all about 
 it " when he came home from any little 
 journey. What he had said, and what 
 everybody else had said ; what he had 
 done willingly, and what he had been 
 compelled to do unwillingly ; repairs, 
 gates, and fences ; this man's beasts, and
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 175 
 
 that man's sheep ; what local magnates 
 had called ; what sort of dinners the 
 bailiffs wife had prepared for him ; how 
 late the train was ; how long he took 
 going here and going there ; finally, how 
 glad he was to be at home again, — all 
 these matters were retailed with simple 
 cheery dignity as though highly import- 
 ant, and received by Mrs. Mainwaring 
 with unwavering attention and appropriate 
 remarks. It was a very real relief to 
 both women to listen to this stream of 
 unagitating talk after the silence and 
 constraint of the last week. It was com- 
 fortable and reassuring to have the sound 
 of a man's footstep about the house again, 
 and to hear Mr. Mainwaring clear his 
 throat in that loud unmitigated way so 
 much affected by the English country 
 gentleman. 
 
 Elizabeth was rather excited, and almost 
 disposed to repent of her decided action 
 regarding the London house. She re-
 
 176 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 gretted that she had not had an oppor- 
 tunity of talking the matter fairly over 
 with her uncle ; now she feared he would 
 hear a very one-sided account of the busi- 
 ness from her aunt Having decided for 
 herself, she felt it would be out of place 
 for her to speak to him on the subject 
 first ; he must speak to her, and he could 
 only do so when Mrs. Mainwaring had 
 put him in possession of the facts from 
 her point of view. 
 
 Elizabeth had a large confidence in 
 Mr. Mainwaring's charity and comprehen- 
 sion; she felt sure he would not judge 
 her harshly or narrowly ; still he would 
 be pained, he must be pained, at learn- 
 ing her strongly expressed desire — and 
 it would lose none of its force in her 
 aunt's recital of it — to leave Claybrooke. 
 Most likely Mrs. Mainwaring would have 
 the whole matter out with her husband 
 next morning; to-night she was evidently 
 too happy at getting him back, and had
 
 CH. VII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 177 
 
 too much respect for the time-honoured 
 custom of " hearing all about it," to in- 
 terrupt the harmony of the occasion by 
 the introduction of jarring home matters. 
 To-morrow poor Elizabeth felt she would 
 be judged ; she almost prayed that the 
 verdict might be a merciful one. She 
 had taken the responsibility upon herself: 
 she intended to depart : but she earnestly 
 desired to depart in peace, — at least with 
 her Uncle Gerald. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " We fell out, my wife and I, 
 
 Oh ! we fell out, I know not why, 
 And kissed again with tears." 
 
 There had been a heavy shower of rain 
 in the night, and the morning was hot, 
 damp, and steamy, even on the high land 
 where the village stood. Down in the 
 valley, and along the winding course of 
 the brook, lay long lines of mist, which 
 the sun, veiled by a layer of thin gray 
 cloud, had not as yet sufficient power to 
 burn up. It was one of those very quiet 
 summer mornings when the damp earth 
 smells sweet ; and the cattle lie lazily 
 down in the rich growing grass ; and the 
 birds keep up such a lively search over 
 lawns and garden-beds for worms, that 
 they have hardly time to sing.
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 179 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring stood on the flight of 
 stone steps which led from the bow-window 
 of his study down into the garden. He 
 was smoking a comfortable after-breakfast 
 cigar, and looking over the day's paper, 
 which Bunton had just brought him, 
 Mr. Mainwaring was in a particularly 
 pleasant and serene attitude of mind. He 
 was conscious of having done a good 
 week's work, and of being glad to be at 
 home again. He felt a quiet satisfaction 
 at being surrounded with familiar objects, 
 and at being sure that there would be no 
 peculiarities in the cooking of his dinner ; 
 he thoroughly appreciated the order and 
 solid comfort of his own house after his 
 short absence from home. 
 
 Billy and Boxer, the two fox-terriers, 
 sat on the gravel walk just in front of 
 him, in a trembling agony of repressed 
 excitement ; prepared, if their master 
 showed the smallest disposition of quitting 
 his present occupation and going for a
 
 i8o MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 stroll, first to spring into the air with 
 frantic joy, and then rush madly after him 
 and before him in any direction. Rufus, 
 the brown retriever, lay on the steps in 
 a state of absolute repose, occasionally 
 turning a meditative and contemptuous 
 eye upon the two anxious watchers below. 
 He possessed all the dignified calmness of 
 manner which belongs to an assured posi- 
 tion in the world ; while the fox-terriers 
 were victims to the ill-regulated vivacity 
 of youth, and to that excessive desire for 
 notice which belongs both to dogs and 
 men who are still on their promotion. 
 
 The blue smoke-wreaths from Mr. Main- 
 waring's cigar rose and floated out slowly 
 on the heavy air. He felt thoroughly 
 contented with himself, and at peace with 
 all mankind — not the most violent speech 
 of the most Radical member of the Govern- 
 ment would have had power to irritate 
 him greatly just then. 
 
 The inner door of the study opened
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. i8i 
 
 gently. Mr. Mainwaring looked round 
 with a smile ; he recognised at once the 
 quiet way in which his wife always opened 
 and shut a door — without noise and with- 
 out hurry. 
 
 " Well, Susie," he said, still smiling, and 
 using, naturally enough in his present 
 complacent state of mind, the old pet- 
 name by which he had called her in 
 pleasant hours for so many years. " Well, 
 Susie, what do you want?" 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring was just a trifle ner- 
 vous ; she walked rather more rapidly 
 than usual across the room to the open 
 window, looking at her husband all the 
 while with a timid suggestion of apology 
 in her expression. She saw that he was 
 happy and contented. She came as the 
 bearer of evil tidings, and it grieved her. 
 
 " I am so sorry to interrupt you, Gerald," 
 she said, laying a small dainty hand upon 
 the arm of his rough shooting-coat : "but I 
 have been sadly disturbed and distressed
 
 i82 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 while you have been away. I had no 
 opportunity of talking to you last night, 
 but I'm afraid I must trouble you with it 
 this morning." 
 
 "Dear me!" said the Rector, looking 
 down at her, " what's the matter ? Has 
 Jones broken out in vestments all of a 
 sudden ? — or has there been a row with 
 Evans about the widows' outdoor relief? 
 That fellow Leeper's always making some 
 bother at the Board, and trying to make 
 Evans cut off a shilling here and a loaf 
 there. If there was any chance of that 
 man's having to go into the house himself 
 some day, he'd look at the matter from a 
 very much more merciful point of view, I 
 suspect." 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring took a long pull at his 
 cigar in rather a vindictive way, as if by 
 so doing he hoped, in some mysterious 
 manner, to reduce Mr. Leeper's income so 
 sensibly, that that obnoxious individual 
 might speedily find himself in imminent
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 183 
 
 danger of ending his days in the work- 
 house. 
 
 " It has nothing to do with Evans," 
 answered Mrs. Mainwaring. In truth she 
 found it very difficult, with her husband 
 standing there unsuspicious of any serious 
 trouble, to embark in her story. 
 
 "Johnson hasn't given warning, I hope?" 
 said Mr. Mainwaring. " I spoke to him 
 rather sharply, just before I went away, 
 about leaving the carriage-drive in such a 
 mess. He was surly, but I thought he'd 
 have got over it by the time I came back." 
 
 " No ; Johnson is just as civil and re- 
 spectful as usual." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring sat down. There was 
 a favourite arm-chair of the Rector's drawn 
 into the window, and she felt that she 
 could talk better sitting down. Her heart 
 was beating fast, and it was a little trying 
 to stand up. 
 
 " It is about Elizabeth, Gerald," she said, 
 " that I want to speak to you."
 
 i84 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 "Elizabeth?" 
 
 The Rector took his cigar out of his 
 mouth, and let the newspaper drop to the 
 ground, — thereby causing Billy and Boxer 
 to jump at the wholly unwarrantable con- 
 clusion that he was going for a walk, and 
 throwing them into a frightful state of 
 agitation. 
 
 " Get down, dogs," he said, rather 
 roughly, and then added, " Why, my dear, 
 what in the world has Lizzie done?" 
 
 " Elizabeth hasn't done anything yet," 
 replied Mrs. Mainwaring. " But she pro- 
 poses doing something which I am sure, 
 Gerald, you will agree with me in thinking 
 most undesirable." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mr. Mainwaring, with a 
 touch of surprise. 
 
 Gerald Mainwaring loved his wife very 
 faithfully — too faithfully to stand aside 
 from and criticise her. He would not 
 permit himself to be clear-sighted re- 
 garding her. The boyish devotion with
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 185 
 
 which, as a tall fine-looking lad, he had 
 wooed and won pretty Susan Selford, — 
 with her sweet pink- and -white face and 
 little, clustering, auburn curls, — arose in him 
 even now and blinded him to her faults, 
 and weaknesses, and imperfections. Only 
 when she laid hands on Elizabeth, who 
 looked at him with the same clear gray 
 eyes and spoke to him in the same full- 
 toned voice, as the younger brother whom 
 he lost years ago and mourned so deeply 
 — then, and then only, did Gerald Main- 
 waring's loyalty relax a little, and did he 
 allow himself to question, for a moment, 
 the entire wisdom of his wife's thought 
 and action. 
 
 Her husband's tone might have warned 
 Mrs. Mainwaring that he was not prepared 
 to be actively sympathetic : but the whole 
 bitterness of the scene with her niece and 
 of her own subsequent meditations, over- 
 whelmed her as soon as she had fairly 
 begun her narration. She went on with
 
 1 86 
 
 MRS. LORIMER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 an almost painful insistence, and with 
 very little perception of her listener's real 
 state of mind. 
 
 " Elizabeth," she said, " is tired of Clay- 
 brooke already, Gerald. She told me so 
 violently, and without any regard for my 
 feelings. Her heart is set upon being a 
 great deal with poor Mr. Lorimer's rela- 
 tions, of whom, I'm sure, you have just the 
 same opinion that I have myself — very 
 respectable people perhaps for their position 
 in life, but not at all the sort of companions 
 we should choose for Elizabeth." 
 
 " Ah!" said the Rector. The thought of 
 the Frank Lorimers was unpalatable to 
 him ; still he did not like to have Eliza- 
 beth blamed. 
 
 " She cannot be content with what we 
 have to offer her here," Mrs. Main waring 
 continued. "She told me very plainly that 
 our neighbours bored her to death. She is 
 full of all sorts of wild ideas about a larger 
 life, great interests, and I don't know what
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 187 
 
 besides, I should not have thought Eliza- 
 beth capable of using such very strong 
 expressions as she did." 
 
 " And when did all this happen ?" asked 
 Mr. Mainwaring. He wanted to get hold 
 of his facts before venturing into the slip- 
 pery region of opinions. 
 
 " The day you went away. There was 
 a thunder-storm, as I wrote you word, when 
 I was driving back from Slowby. I arrived 
 at home very much agitated — you know 
 how I dislike thunder — and Elizabeth was 
 most loving and gentle to me" — Mrs. 
 Mainwaring paused. She had a painful 
 choking sensation in her throat, just for a 
 moment, but she mastered it and went on. 
 " And then I most unfortunately asked 
 some questions about a letter from her 
 lawyer, and this terrible scene was the 
 result." 
 
 " Well, and what does Elizabeth propose 
 to do?" inquired Mr, Mainwaring, still 
 anxious to possess himself of facts.
 
 i88 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 " Why, she declares she will go up and 
 settle . in London alone. Fancy, alone, 
 Gerald, at her age ! — a mere girl like her. 
 It is impossible — it would be absolutely 
 scandalous if we allowed her to." 
 
 "But where does she mean to live?" 
 asked the Rector. 
 
 " In the house poor Mr. Lorimer left 
 her. Didn't I tell you the tenant gives it 
 up in September ? That was what her 
 lawyer wrote about." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mr. Mainwaring slowly. 
 
 He began to see daylight now, but he 
 wanted a few minutes to arrange his ideas 
 before he spoke. He was still standing 
 on the step just outside the open bow- 
 window, and he turned and looked out 
 over the lawn. Billy and Boxer had 
 gone off in despair, and were doing a 
 little independent rabbiting in the shrub- 
 bery on the left. The Rector could see 
 their white bodies glancing in and out of 
 the underwood as they ran hither and
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 189 
 
 thither. He whistled to them once or 
 twice ; not because he in the least wanted 
 them, but merely because he wanted to 
 gain time. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring sat up stiffly in the 
 arm-chair. She had not produced the 
 effect she had intended to, and was feeling 
 a little piqued at her husband's apparent 
 indifference. Words did not come easily 
 to her, and she was afraid she had given 
 rather a lame account of the affair. She 
 had hoped for instant justification and 
 strong support — she did not despair of 
 getting it even now : but it seemed to 
 linger a good deal on the road, and mean- 
 while she felt somewhat sore and injured. 
 
 At last Mr. Mainwaring turned round. 
 There was a strangely wistful look on his 
 face, which became his stern features won- 
 derfully well. It was a look that Mrs. 
 Mainwaring could remember long years 
 ago. She thought he had looked like 
 that sometimes when he used to say
 
 igo MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 good-bye to her, after one of those happy 
 days at Selford Hall, before they married. 
 
 He said quite quietly — 
 
 " I'm afraid we must let the child go, 
 Susan." 
 
 "Gerald!" cried Mrs. Mainwaring, 
 amazed and outraged beyond words. 
 
 "We've no right to keep her," he went 
 on sadly, "just to please our own eyes 
 with her grace and beauty. You and I 
 are growing old, Susie, and this house is 
 dull for her. The young love the young, 
 you know — we did, and why shouldn't she? 
 Of course she wants to get away and be 
 with people of her own age." 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring looked out over the 
 lawn again towards the shrubbery, but 
 he did not see anything very clearly: there 
 was a mist before his eyes. 
 
 For a minute or two neither spoke ; 
 then Mrs. Mainwaring asked coldly — 
 
 " But how is she to live alone?" 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose she'll find servants as
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 191 
 
 Other people do. You'd better send Smart 
 or Martha with her to help her manage at 
 first." 
 
 This was just the last straw to poor 
 Mrs. Mainwaring. That Elizabeth should 
 go unpunished — nay, that she should be 
 supported in her rebellion — was surely bad 
 enough : but, as a climax, that she — Susan 
 Mainwaring — should be ordered to give 
 up one of her two favourite servants, to 
 prevent this young prodigal suffering in 
 any degree from the result of her own rash 
 actions, was intolerable and not to be 
 endured. As soon as she was sufficiently 
 recovered from the shock to be capable of 
 speaking at all, Mrs. Mainwaring said, in a 
 harsh deeply-displeased voice — 
 
 " You surprise me, Gerald. I did not 
 expect this from you. It seems that I 
 and the comfort of our household — every- 
 thing, in fact, is to be sacrificed to Eliza- 
 beth's headstrong whims and fancies." 
 
 " I cannot see that we have any right
 
 192 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 to prevent her going," he said again. " I 
 don't want to make you unhappy, or part 
 you and Lizzie, God knows, Susan, but 
 I can't see any other way out of this 
 business." 
 
 " Oh ! that I only had a child of my 
 own !" cried Mrs. Mainwaring suddenly, 
 in her extreme distress. She pressed her 
 hands passionately together, and her face 
 grew pale and pinched with the excess of 
 her emotion. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring drew himself up to his 
 full height, and an unpleasant straight line 
 cut itself deep into his forehead, between 
 his thick grisled eyebrows. 
 
 These two people very rarely mentioned 
 the real sorrow of their lives to each other : 
 but it was hardly ever absent from Mrs. 
 Mainwaring's mind, all the same. The 
 want, the disappointment, was always 
 present with her, terrible, urgent, impor- 
 tunate. She tried to hide and conceal 
 it, and only in moments of very strong
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 193 
 
 feeling did she give voice to the sorrow 
 that she always felt. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring had desired a child as 
 ardently as his wife. At this moment he 
 would have given his right hand to see a 
 tall handsome boy, who would call him 
 father, leap that sunk fence out of the 
 meadow and swing across the smooth lawn 
 to greet him. But men are much less im- 
 patient of the inevitable than women. Mr. 
 Mainwaring had got accustomed to the fact 
 of having no child. It was, speaking para- 
 doxically, one of the very foundation stones 
 of his life, utterly immovable. Nothing 
 could alter the fact. He took it for granted ; 
 and it was only when his wife's bitter cry 
 rang in his ears, as it did just now, that he 
 realised clearly how great his loss was. 
 
 "The very tramp under the hedge has 
 children, and why not I?" cried Mrs. 
 Mainwaring again. 
 
 The Rector stepped inside the window : 
 he laid his hand quietly on her shoulder. 
 
 VOL. L O
 
 194 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " My darling," he said, " if you had 
 had a child it might have caused you 
 infinitely deeper sorrow than any you 
 know now. Your heart is empty : but 
 it might have been tortured and broken 
 with agony of which, thank God, you know 
 nothing." 
 
 He waited a moment, and then added : — 
 
 " We have each other, after all, Susie, 
 and the memory of long, peaceful years to 
 look back upon. And I hope — though we 
 might have done more for this place — 
 that still we have not lived here quite in 
 vain, and that we shall leave things just a 
 trifle better than we found them. Take 
 comfort, dear heart ; let the child go, and 
 trust for the best in the future." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring stood up. Her heart 
 melted within her. 
 
 " Gerald," she said very quietly, and, 
 putting her arms round his neck, gave 
 him a long, sighing kiss. 
 
 The first kiss of the youth and the
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 195 
 
 maiden — he in the glory of his strength 
 and she in the glory of her beauty — is the 
 very blossom of life, the inspiration of the 
 poet, and makes the round world laugh 
 with joy. But the kiss of man and wife, 
 in the dusty afternoon of life, when the 
 transport and illusion of youth are dead, 
 after long years of disappointment, struggle, 
 and hope grown tired in the stress and 
 strain of daily living — the kiss of those 
 two, pausing for a moment and turning to 
 each other in faithful love, while the road 
 stretches out before them, pale and misty, 
 into the silence of the great unknown land 
 — telling, as it does, of vanquished tempt- 
 ation and patient endurance, may well fill 
 heaven itself and the clear-eyed passionless 
 angels with a solemn gladness. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's soul received comfort. 
 She protested no longer ; she would utter 
 no complaint, though the most excellent 
 of her maids was taken from her. She 
 did not approve, but for love's dear sake
 
 196 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 she submitted. She would let Elizabeth 
 Lorimer depart in peace. 
 
 When he was left alone, Mr. Mainwaring 
 took a turn or two up and down the study. 
 He had been deeply moved. For a 
 moment he had seemed to look into the 
 everlasting heart of things. It was a fine 
 sensation undoubtedly : but the air on 
 these extreme heights of feeling is too 
 highly rarefied for ordinary human lungs 
 to stand it long. The Rector felt he must 
 descend to lower ground again as soon 
 as possible, and walk in common, com- 
 fortable, everyday paths. He shrank 
 modestly from the thought of his own 
 emotion, and wanted to get back to his 
 usual level without delay. There was 
 none of that unwholesome sentimentality 
 about him which treasures up and caresses 
 the remembrance of strong feeling, when 
 the feeling itself has passed away. He 
 went out on to the steps and drew a long 
 breath of the sweet summer air ; flung
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 197 
 
 away the stump of his cigar, and, picking 
 up the paper, tried to compose himself by 
 glancing over the foreign telegrams, the 
 weather forecast, and the state of the 
 markets. 
 
 By this time the morning was pretty far 
 advanced, and the sun had risen high, 
 overcoming the clouds which had obscured 
 it earlier, and burning up the mists which 
 lingered about the valley. It was evidently 
 going to be a roasting day. 
 
 The two terriers, tired with their ex- 
 cursion into the shrubbery, were lying 
 panting on the gravel walk with their 
 red tongues lolling out of their mouths. 
 They were very hot, and yet they earnestly 
 desired some fresh excitement, having, 
 like most light-minded people, an unlimited 
 swallow for sensation of any kind. The 
 Rector was just settling down comfortably 
 to the news from Constantinople, and the 
 latest fight in the French Chamber, when a 
 little incident occurred which satisfied the
 
 198 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 dogs' craving for diversion, and threatened 
 to force Mr. Mainwaring back into the 
 region of emotion from which he was just 
 successfully escaping. 
 
 Elizabeth had roamed aimlessly about 
 the house for some time after breakfast. 
 She fully expected a summons from her 
 aunt or uncle, and listened rather anxiously 
 for a call or for the ringing of the study 
 bell ; but the house was unusually quiet. 
 She could hear the maids moving about in 
 the upper rooms, and talking a little over 
 their work. The warm air was filled with 
 the drowsy hum of bees, which, attracted by 
 the plants and cut flowers in the sitting- 
 rooms, had wandered in through the wide 
 open windows, and were now becoming a 
 little worried and angry in their unsuccess- 
 ful efforts to get out again. Elizabeth 
 grew more and more nervous. It is hor- 
 rible to know that people are discussing 
 you and your conduct, especially when you 
 have a lurking suspicion that it is possible
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 199 
 
 to view both one and the other in a very 
 unpleasant light. Elizabeth found that 
 she could not fix her attention on any- 
 thing ; her thoughts would keep wandering 
 away to the study, and to the little scene 
 which was probably being enacted there. 
 At last she picked up a book, and, taking 
 her parasol, made her way out into the 
 garden, hoping to attain there to that 
 philosophic calm of mind which was obvi- 
 ously unattainable indoors. 
 
 She thought, after wandering about for 
 a little while, that she would go to the 
 Broad Walk, which at this time of day 
 would be pleasantly shaded ; and where, 
 as the wind was in the west, she would 
 benefit by all the breeze that might be 
 stirring. To reach this cool retreat she 
 had to cross the bottom of the lawn on to 
 which the study windows opened. 
 
 Billy and Boxer seeing Elizabeth in the 
 distance, as she walked slowly across the 
 lawn, and thinking that she presented an
 
 200 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 excellent object on which to expend their 
 superfluous energies, — and thinking also 
 that she might possibly be coaxed into 
 taking them for a walk, — made a simul- 
 taneous rush at her over the grass, and 
 leapt up on her with excited and foolish 
 delight. 
 
 Mr. Mainwaring, aware — even amid the 
 fiery assertions and denunciations of the 
 members of the French Chamber — that 
 something had moved near him, looked 
 up sharply, and, perceiving Elizabeth's 
 predicament, shouted to the dogs and 
 hurried across to her rescue. 
 
 He thought Elizabeth wonderfully 
 pretty, as with a flushed face, half vexed 
 and half laughing, she struggled with her 
 book, and parasol, and the two irrepressible 
 terriers, all at once. 
 
 " I wish you would teach your dogs to 
 practise a little more self-control, Uncle 
 Gerald," she said, looking up at him, — quite 
 forgetting in the confusion of the moment
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 201 
 
 that Mr. Mainwaring had, in all proba- 
 bility, just been hearing a very full and 
 particular account of her sins. " They 
 have almost torn me to pieces, and made 
 me so frightfully hot." 
 
 He did not answer, but applied himself 
 to reducing the two delinquents, by a 
 short and summary process, to a becoming 
 state of humility and obedience. Then 
 taking Elizabeth's book from her he 
 walked silently beside her to the Broad 
 Walk. 
 
 As she recovered from the flurry of 
 the last few moments all her nervous- 
 ness returned. Her uncle's silence made 
 her fear that he might have accepted 
 Mrs. Mainwaring's account of their differ- 
 ence of opinion as literally true, and might 
 put the worst construction on her action. 
 She was afraid he thought her ungrateful 
 and inconsiderate, indifferent not only to 
 her relations' pleasure, but wanting — as 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had told her — in proper
 
 202 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 respect to her husband's memory. If 
 Mr. Mainwaring did think these things, 
 then Elizabeth felt that she should be 
 deeply ashamed, that she should lose her 
 self-confidence, and be obliged to confess 
 that she had made a most contemptible 
 mistake. 
 
 Stung by a sharp sense of discom- 
 fort and self- distrust, Elizabeth stopped 
 suddenly and glanced at Mr. Mainwaring, 
 hoping to gather some information from 
 the expression of his face. Their eyes met. 
 Mr. Mainwaring looked at the beautiful 
 young woman earnestly and sadly, for a 
 moment, then he said — 
 
 "So you want to go away from us, 
 Lizzie?" 
 
 The tone of her uncle's voice affected 
 Elizabeth strongly : but she read in his 
 face that he did not wholly condemn her, 
 and immediately she desired to justify 
 herself. She dug the point of her parasol 
 rather nervously into the ground as she
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 203 
 
 spoke, but she answered clearly and 
 directly. 
 
 " I have several good reasons for wish- 
 ing to go up to London this winter. I 
 believe that I owe a certain duty to 
 Robert's relations." 
 
 She paused a moment, and Mr. Main- 
 waring turned his head away. There was 
 something very painful to him in the 
 thought that this young creature was a 
 widow. It seemed so incongruous, so out 
 of the reasonable course of things. He 
 disliked to hear her make any direct 
 allusion to her husband. 
 
 " I know Aunt Susan does not recognise 
 any duty to them on my part, but I 
 can't help that. I must judge for myself 
 in some matters." 
 
 Elizabeth drew herself up a little 
 proudly. She had regained her confidence 
 in the justice of her own cause. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Mainwaring, speaking 
 slowly, " so I have been telling your aunt.
 
 204 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 You want to see more of the world than 
 you can in a quiet, out-of-the-way, country 
 parsonage like this. It is quite natural. I 
 don't blame you. You are still very young, 
 and life is still full of promise to you. 
 Everything here is old, and has very little 
 promise in it — except the sure promise of 
 decay," he added, half to himself, smiling 
 rather sadly, and sticking out his under lip. 
 
 Elizabeth turned to him suddenly. 
 
 " I don't want to leave you," she said, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 *' Ah ! but there's the rub, Lizzie," 
 answered the Rector. " You see, unfor- 
 tunately in this world we can't take a 
 bit here and a bit there, just as we like. 
 With a little trouble we can generally get 
 the thing we want : but in the getting of 
 it we are pretty sure to lose something 
 else we care a good deal about too. It 
 isn't pleasant, my dear, but like a good 
 many other unpleasant things it's true." 
 
 Mr. Main waring spoke seriously, out of
 
 CH. VIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 205 
 
 the fulness of his own experience. Eliza- 
 beth stood gazing away to the far blue 
 horizon, and wishing that Truth was of a 
 less harsh and angular nature. That the 
 law of all attainment should be sacrifice, — 
 
 in some form or other, — seems rather hard 
 at one-and-twenty. 
 
 " So, my dear child," said Mr. Main- 
 waring more cheerfully, " see and know 
 all that you can. Live in the thick of the 
 stir and the turmoil. And then some day, 
 perhaps, when you have grown a little 
 sick and tired of it all — most people grow 
 sick and tired at last — you may be glad 
 to come back to poor, sleepy, old Clay- 
 brooke again." 
 
 Elizabeth might go, but she wanted 
 more than just leave to do that. She 
 wanted to feel sure that it was all right 
 between her and her uncle. She laid her 
 hand gently on his arm, and said simply, 
 as she might have done when she was 
 quite a little child —
 
 2o6 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " But you're sure you are not very 
 angry with me, Uncle Gerald ?" 
 
 " No, no," he answered quickly, looking 
 at her with keen, kindly, gray eyes. " I 
 have never been very angry with you in 
 all your life, have I, Lizzie ? Come now, 
 that matter's settled and done with. 
 We'll say no more about it, but go round 
 to the stables and have a look at the 
 horses."
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 207 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " remember, if you mean to please, 
 
 To press your point with modesty and ease." 
 
 It would not be true to say that the 
 energetic and active Vicar of Lowcote 
 had actually fallen in love with Elizabeth 
 Lorimer on the hot afternoon when, de- 
 serted half way by worthy Mr. Harbage, 
 he called alone at Claybrooke Rectory. 
 Falling in love is altogether too poetical 
 and fanciful a term to apply justly to Mr. 
 Leeper's state of feeling. Yet when he 
 recovered from the irritation into which 
 his squire's letter, and Mr. Doughty's dis- 
 position to join a schismatic and heretical 
 body, had thrown him, he began to think 
 almost oftener than he wished of Mrs. 
 Lorimer.
 
 2o8 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 Of all things in the world, he loved 
 power. He would use power for the 
 best and highest ends, of course, but 
 still the enjoyment of the mere posses- 
 sion of it was enormous to him. As 
 he prepared severe sermons in his bleak 
 uncomfortable study ; as he went about 
 his parish admonishing the backsliders, 
 and giving rather grim consolation to 
 the afflicted ; even in church on Sun- 
 day, — Mr. Leeper could not help seeing 
 visions of all he might gain, of the ex- 
 tended sphere of influence he might 
 possess, if — he really hardly liked to put 
 the thought into words — he could marry 
 Mrs. Lorimer ! How far her personal 
 charms influenced him, Mr. Leeper did 
 not care to ask himself He affected a 
 certain asceticism of thought, which made 
 him disinclined to admit that he was in any 
 way moved by the fact that Mrs. Lorimer 
 was a singularly handsome woman. He 
 had never quite decided in his own mind
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 209 
 
 whether celibacy was not, after all, the 
 higher state. Certain expressions of St. 
 Paul's, bearing apparently on the subject, 
 troubled him a good deal ; not to men- 
 tion the very clearly expressed views of 
 many of the Fathers. 
 
 Mr. Leeper believed he was working for 
 a great Cause. He was a young man and 
 spelt the word with a capital letter, though 
 perhaps he would have found it a little 
 difficult to define exactly what he meant 
 by it. Any way, he was enthusiastically 
 devoted to the unknown quantity repre- 
 sented by this word ; and — so strangely 
 do we, even the most earnest of us, deceive 
 and mystify ourselves — he was prepared 
 to persuade himself that there was a touch 
 of noble self-sacrifice in giving up the 
 honours of the celibate priest, if by 
 marrying he could advance the opinions 
 and reforms which he believed would be 
 so beneficial both to the Church and people 
 of England. Mr. Leeper must not be 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 210 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 accused of being mercenary. It would 
 not satisfy him merely to carry off the 
 fair daughter of the Philistines. She 
 must be converted too, and work as 
 earnestly for the Cause as he did him- 
 self Mr. Leeper had often said rather 
 sharp things about the excellent ladies of 
 the clergy, and their undeniable power of 
 setting their husbands and their husbands' 
 parishioners by the ears. But Mr. Leeper 
 did his best to forget his own accusations 
 and statements now. Gradually he began 
 to see that there might be a good deal, 
 under certain circumstances, to be said 
 for a married clergy. He was rather 
 annoyed when he detected an inclination 
 in himself towards this modification of his 
 views : but still the thought of Mrs. Lori- 
 mer haunted him, and after a week or two 
 he became very anxious to see her again. 
 Heretofore, however, his visits to Clay- 
 brooke Rectory had resembled those of 
 angels, at least in the particular of being
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 211 
 
 " few, and far between ;" and he did not 
 see his way now to changing his custom 
 and calling there frequently for no osten- 
 sible cause. 
 
 After the interview with her husband, 
 Mrs. Mainwaring had taken up a new 
 attitude with regard to Elizabeth's plans. 
 She did not pretend to think it desirable 
 that her niece should settle alone in Lon- 
 don, and become a recognised member 
 of the Frank Lorimers' dangerous and 
 Bohemian set : but she exerted a severe 
 self-control, and managed to abstain from 
 any more open objections. She was sup- 
 ported by a very sincere wish to please 
 Mr. Mainwaring, and by a comfortable 
 sense that, for his sake, she was nobly 
 enduring a mild form of martyrdom. 
 The sacrifice of her own opinions was 
 valuable, she felt, in proportion as it was 
 painful. She would deny Gerald nothing ; 
 but it would be unreasonable to expect 
 that she should forego a little secret
 
 212 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 self-complacency when she remembered 
 how much she was giving up to please 
 him. Martha should go with Elizabeth 
 — that, of course, was determined. It 
 was the very crown and glory of her 
 self-abnegation. And, when her niece 
 protested against thus depriving her of a 
 valued and trusted servant, Mrs. Main- 
 waring firmly intimated, " that there were 
 limits even to her powers of giving way :" 
 that Elizabeth, being left in all other 
 ways entire mistress of her own actions, 
 must, in this one particular, respect the 
 wishes of those who, " though they were 
 perhaps behind the world, were still not 
 entirely devoid of common sense." Meta- 
 phorically speaking, Mrs. Mainwaring re- 
 garded the worthy and excellent Martha 
 in the light of the proverbial "coals of 
 fire," and heaped her with much stern joy 
 upon Elizabeth's devoted head. 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring indulged, too, in an- 
 other delicate form of revenge. She did
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 213 
 
 not conceal the fact that she was terribly 
 oppressed and worried by the thought 
 of having to engage a fresh housemaid. 
 She drew dismal pictures of dusty corners, 
 of broken china, and of quarrels for pre- 
 cedence in the servants' hall. Smart, of 
 course, did her best to deepen her mis- 
 tress's melancholy. She had fought 
 deadly battles with Martha, many times, 
 during the years they had lived together : 
 but now, in the face of her approaching 
 departure. Smart saw her fellow-servant's 
 virtues in the highest relief, and fore- 
 told ruin and disaster in the event of any 
 change. 
 
 About three weeks after the Rector's 
 return, Mrs. Mainwaring decided one day 
 to drive over to Lowcote and pour forth 
 all her domestic griefs to Mrs. Adnitt, 
 who had the reputation of being an admir- 
 able housewife, and who might possibly 
 be able to recommend her some jewel of 
 a housemaid.
 
 214 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Elizabeth was in a very submissive state 
 of mind ; she tried to conciliate Mrs. Main- 
 waring in all small ways, after having 
 opposed her so vigorously in one large 
 one. Of course she was willing to go to 
 Lowcote, or anywhere else at that rate, 
 when her aunt asked her. 
 
 Mr. Leeper happened to be standing just 
 inside the doorway of one of the Lowcote 
 cottages as the Claybrooke carriage rolled 
 up the village street in a cloud of dust. He 
 was delivering himself of rather strong ex- 
 pressions regarding the iniquity of parents 
 who did not send their children regularly 
 to school. His listener, a stout comfort- 
 able-looking woman, — to whose mind the 
 advantages of a high standard of educa- 
 tion had never presented themselves very 
 forcibly — kept her eyes fixed on the open 
 door, with a provoking and stolid indiffer- 
 ence to her minister's fiery denunciations. 
 Though apparently her attention was wholly 
 absorbed in watching what was passing
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 215 
 
 outside, she was really prepared, at the very 
 first opportunity, to open a lively fire of 
 querulous objections and excuses upon her 
 unwelcome guest. Mr. Leeper heard the 
 carriage go by, and involuntarily looked 
 round. He caught sight of Elizabeth 
 Lorimer's face, and, ending his peroration 
 rather hastily, left the good wonaan with 
 her mouth open just ready to begin her 
 string of objections, and hurried up the 
 village street in the direction in which the 
 carriage had gone. 
 
 Lowcote House stands, like many of 
 our Midlandshire houses, in a hollow, 
 backed by woods. To the south the 
 gardens and lawns stretch towards a broad 
 piece of artificial water, where coots and 
 moor-hens swim busily about among the 
 green lily -pads and floating weeds. Be- 
 yond are pastures with their herds of quiet 
 cattle ; and plough-lands covered, at the 
 time of which we are speaking, with 
 yellow standing corn. Beyond, again, are
 
 2i6 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 line after line of blue hedgerows and 
 round-headed elm -trees, broken here and 
 there by the tall straight spire of a solitary 
 poplar, and fading at last into the faint 
 tender gray of the horizon — a common 
 type of midland landscape, but pleasant, 
 in sunny summer weather, with a sugges- 
 tion of prosperity and repose. 
 
 Life would be very dull in the country 
 unless we all prided ourselves a good deal 
 on our own possessions ; and indulged in 
 a wholesome contempt — not unmixed with 
 envy sometimes — for the possessions of 
 our neighbours. Mrs. Adnitt prided her- 
 self on the beauty of her flowers, the 
 smoothness of her lawns, and on the wide 
 stretch of her view. When you called on her, 
 you were certain to be conveyed out into 
 the garden — let the grass be as damp as it 
 might — and were expected to fall into dis- 
 creet ecstasies concerning the said lawns, 
 flowers, and view. Mrs. Mainwaring and 
 Elizabeth, of course, suffered this fate.
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 217 
 
 Mrs. Adnitt established herself and 
 her guests in garden-chairs under a broad, 
 spreading cedar - tree, and then plunged 
 into the edifying question of housemaids. 
 
 Elizabeth tried to feel interested in 
 housemaids, but her domestic instincts 
 were not very strong, and the subject 
 palled upon her after a while. She tried 
 to amuse herself by watching the coots 
 darting about among the green lily leaves 
 on the pond : but there seemed no par- 
 ticular object in all their hurried fussy 
 gyrations, and she felt a little provoked 
 with so much cheerful alacrity all about 
 nothing. In fact, Elizabeth was a good 
 deal bored ; and, for the second time 
 during their acquaintance, she was far from 
 displeased at the advent of Mr. Leeper, 
 when that gentleman's tall, angular, black 
 figure emerged from the house, and he 
 came across the turf to the little group 
 under the cedar-tree. 
 
 The two elder ladies were too much
 
 2i8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 engrossed in their conversation to have any- 
 time to bestow upon the new-comer ; it 
 followed therefore that after a very few 
 minutes Mr. Leeper found himself perfectly 
 free to devote his undivided attention to 
 Elizabeth Lorimer. He drew up a chair 
 almost in front of her, and prepared to 
 make the most of his unexpected oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 Mr. Leeper was not naturally a diffident 
 person, especially when he had some end 
 which he wanted to gain in view. He 
 was not at all in the habit of feeling any 
 lack of self-confidence : but on this occa- 
 sion he did feel slightly embarrassed. The 
 garden -chair was low, and he was con- 
 scious that it forced him into a rather 
 unbecoming position. He looked, in fact, 
 very much like a diagram of right angles. 
 It was Mr. Leeper's misfortune always to 
 suggest to one's mind a problem in Euclid 
 rather than any satisfactory type of human 
 beauty. He had been thinking so fre-
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 219 
 
 quently during the last few weeks about 
 the handsome, graceful young woman who 
 sat opposite to him, that he could not help 
 having a sort of nervous sense that she 
 must be somewhat aware of his thoughts 
 and plans concerning her. Then her 
 very beauty was disturbing. Mr. Leeper 
 began to fear that the world at large 
 might hardly recognise his entire disinter- 
 estedness in sacrificing himself upon the 
 altar of Hymen for the sake of the 
 Cause. Still he did not swerve from 
 his purpose. In truth, the purpose seemed 
 to become more clear and distinct every 
 moment. The glories of his promised 
 millennium seemed to glow around him. 
 The triumph of wisdom — his own opinion 
 — over folly — other people's opinions — 
 seemed beautifully sure and certain. But 
 first he must try to convince and convert 
 this charming woman. On the whole, he 
 could not help fancying that she seemed 
 a little glad to see him.
 
 220 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 After a few preliminary observations 
 about the weather and the crops, — two 
 subjects which stand on the threshold of 
 conversation, and must be overcome before 
 an attempt upon more interesting themes 
 is possible, — Mr. Leeper began to dis- 
 course ardently about those matters which 
 lay so near his heart. He was most 
 anxious to know how far his companion 
 was of his way of thinking ; how far there 
 was a hope of imbuing her with a real 
 enthusiasm for the Cause. He talked 
 well about the questions he cared for ; and 
 now, inspired by the determination to 
 impress and, if necessary, convert her, he 
 became almost eloquent. 
 
 At last, Mrs. Adnitt and Mrs. Main- 
 waring, having, after much confabula- 
 tion, pretty well exhausted the prolific 
 subject of housemaids, rose from their 
 chairs. 
 
 " We are going to the conservatory, 
 Elizabeth," said Mrs. Mainwaring, turning
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 221 
 
 to her niece. " Are you not coming with 
 us?" 
 
 Elizabeth felt that the inquiry partook 
 somewhat of the nature of a command. 
 Her aunt evidently thought she had be- 
 stowed quite sufficient attention upon Mr. 
 Leeper. But she was interested in the 
 conversation, and felt no disposition to 
 cut it short. 
 
 " I'll follow you in a minute or two, 
 Aunt Susan," she answered, smiling at the 
 two ladies. " I know how lovely Mrs. 
 Adnitt's flowers always are." 
 
 Mrs. Mainwaring waited for a moment : 
 but Elizabeth sat still, — so absolutely re- 
 fusing to take her gentle hint that she 
 had nothing left but to turn away with 
 her hostess, leaving her niece and Mr. 
 Leeper deep in conversation. 
 
 " I am very much interested in all you 
 have been saying," said Elizabeth, as soon 
 as they were alone. " I can quite imagine 
 that these subjects might become very
 
 222 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 absorbing : but, for my own part, I am 
 afraid I am too selfish and indolent to 
 care very much about them." 
 
 She looked at Mr. Leeper as she spoke 
 rather fixedly ; — what a pity it was that 
 his forehead went into such hard lines, 
 and that his face had always a touch of 
 vexation in its expression ! 
 
 "You do yourself an injustice, believe 
 me, Mrs. Lorimer," said he earnestly, 
 leaning forward with his hands on his 
 knees, and looking more rectangular than 
 ever. " You may have had disadvantages, 
 you may have had no opportunity of 
 studying these things : but if you once 
 understood their immense importance you 
 would, I am sure, take an active, practical 
 interest in them. Think what a noble 
 work, — assuring and consolidating the 
 position of the Church, helping forward 
 the cause of progress and morality among 
 the masses ! Ah," said Mr. Leeper, in- 
 spired with the magnitude of his own
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 223 
 
 conceptions of future virtue and happiness, 
 " these things are indeed worth giving 
 one's life for ! " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Elizabeth slowly. 
 
 " No, no, Mrs. Lorimer," he answered 
 quickly ; " it is no doubtful perhaps, it is 
 a very distinct and absolute certainty. 
 Remember," he added in a slightly pro- 
 fessional tone, — "a time must come, to 
 each one of us, when we shall hardly be 
 careful to ask ourselves whether our past 
 years have been easy and agreeable : but 
 rather whether they have been as useful 
 and admirable as it was possible for us to 
 make them. The remembrance of solid 
 work, of work accomplished and com- 
 pleted, will form our only lasting satis- 
 faction in looking back." 
 
 There was something compelling in the 
 strength of Mr. Leeper's personal convic- 
 tion. It commanded Elizabeth's respect, 
 and yet she had a lingering feeling that 
 his ideal shut out much that is lovely, and
 
 224 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 precious, and worthy to be made room for 
 in this world. Mr. Leeper's ideal seemed 
 to her rather bare and commonplace, and 
 wanting in poetry. There is nothing very 
 romantic in well -ventilated drains, or in a 
 substitution of lemonade for wine at dinner, 
 I am afraid : — and to certain natures even 
 the thought of Church Congresses is devoid 
 of any very keen dramatic interest. Mr. 
 Leeper's ideal seemed to her of a painfully 
 urgent, practical, business-like descrip- 
 tion. It suggested the notion of getting 
 up so very early in the morning, and sitting 
 down to dinner in walking boots to save 
 time, and living in a condition of severe 
 indifference to the graceful and leisurely 
 side of things. Yet it was noble. 
 
 Elizabeth felt puzzled. She turned 
 away and let her eyes wander over the 
 quiet sunny landscape to the blue distance 
 of the horizon. Her face was serious — 
 almost sad, in its expression. 
 
 Mr. Leeper sat looking at her. He was
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 225 
 
 aware that he had made an impression. 
 And yet he found it very difficult to 
 keep his mind steady to the Cause, just 
 in this critical moment of possible success. 
 He wished to be hard and ascetic ; but 
 alas ! the pathetic beauty of this woman 
 was more powerful than he had calculated 
 for. Mr. Leeper would have rather liked 
 to scourge himself, yet he could not help 
 gazing still at Elizabeth. 
 
 At last she turned to him again, and 
 said : — 
 
 " But I have known people work, and 
 strive, and wear themselves out for these 
 things, and yet, in the end, the result of all 
 their labour seemed remarkably small, a 
 mere drop in the ocean. They sacrificed 
 themselves, and really it seemed, on the 
 whole, to make no great difference." 
 
 " Ah," answered Mr. Leeper, " we must 
 give the progressive movement time. In 
 time everybody must come round to our 
 point of view." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 He drew himself up and summoned all 
 his enthusiasm to his rescue. 
 
 " In time," he said, " every one must 
 acknowledge the advantage of strongly- 
 restrictive measures regarding the liquor 
 traffic ; of a more thorough system of 
 Church organisation ; and of greater unity 
 of purpose among the clergy themselves, 
 to be arrived at by frequent meetings — 
 diocesan synods, and so on. The country 
 is not sufficiently educated in these ways 
 yet ; and there has been a lamentable 
 degree of supineness among the clergy 
 themselves till the last few years. But 
 a better state of things is beginning. 
 There is a growing spirit of devotion and 
 earnestness among us, and I sincerely 
 believe that the common -sense of the 
 majority of the lay-world is on our side. 
 I have no fear as to the ultimate success 
 of our cause if we can get workers enough. 
 The harvest is ripe, the call now is for the 
 labourers."
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 227 
 
 Mr. Leeper paused a moment. Then 
 he leant forward towards his fair com- 
 panion, and tried to throw a tone of 
 supplication and delicate appeal into his 
 voice and manner. Unfortunately Mr. 
 Leeper was always observed to be most 
 successful in denunciation ; his appeals 
 were liable to appear slightly forced, and 
 seldom produced a very satisfactory effect 
 upon his auditors. 
 
 " We need the help of women, as well 
 as of men, Mrs. Lorimer," he said. " In 
 her most glorious and fruitful seasons the 
 Church has always claimed the labour of 
 her daughters, as well as that of her sons. 
 In her great harvest-field there is room — 
 nay, there is a distinct and absolute need 
 for the feminine as well as the masculine 
 virtues. She can use the humility, the 
 devotion, and that fondness for detail 
 which is common to your sex, as well 
 as the strenuous thought and persistent 
 vigour which is the prerogative of ours.
 
 228 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 The priest is the authorised and recognised 
 leader : but he must be supported, his 
 work must be supplemented. In every 
 diocese, and, on a smaller scale, in every 
 parish, we want to establish a thoroughly 
 adequate and well-adjusted organisation, 
 in which man and woman, young and 
 mature," — Mr. Leeper paused a moment, 
 and then went on with a little rush, 
 — " married and single, will each and 
 all find their proper place and proper 
 sphere of usefulness. — Does not this ap- 
 peal to your mind, Mrs. Lorimer ^ Do 
 you not see what a grand opening there 
 is here for all kinds of talents, — while each 
 individual worker is upheld by the sym- 
 pathy and concurrence of the whole body ? 
 Singly we are powerless, united we may 
 successfully struggle with and subdue all 
 the evils of our day." 
 
 Elizabeth sat still gazing into the dis- 
 tance, while the summer wind fanned her 
 cheek, and the rich resinous odour of the
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 229 
 
 cedars filled the warm air. Great ideas 
 were very attractive to her. For a moment 
 her own desires and disappointments 
 seemed very small and unimportant. 
 Would it not be better, she wondered, to 
 give up all idea of personal happiness, and 
 throw herself into this movement for the 
 good of the Church and of the people ? 
 
 The proverb says that one man's meat 
 is another man's poison. It is a slightly 
 confusing fact. Elizabeth had been some- 
 what carried away by Mr. Leeper's address, 
 when suddenly it struck her how very 
 lightly her uncle would treat these schemes 
 of Church government ; how he would 
 probably call Mr. Leeper a wind-bag, and 
 his fine fancies so much impracticable and 
 pernicious rubbish. The thought of Mr. 
 Mainwaring's cheerful contempt caused 
 Elizabeth a certain revulsion of feeling. 
 She turned to Mr. Leeper — who, excited 
 and warm with his own eloquence, was 
 sitting bolt upright, with an expression on
 
 230 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 his face in which triumph struggled with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " But think now of Claybrooke," she 
 said. " My uncle, you know, cares very 
 little for all these views. He is quite 
 willing that things should go on in their old 
 quiet fashion. I don't suppose anything 
 would induce him to go to a Church Con- 
 gress, or preach a crusade against poor 
 old Davenport, who keeps the Red Horse ; 
 or to lead the very active life you have 
 suggested. Yet his parish is orderly and 
 well conducted, the people come to church 
 regularly, and, as far as I can make 
 out, we haven't half the squabbles and 
 disagreements there that there seem to be 
 in all the parishes round about. How do 
 you account for that ?" 
 
 Mr. Leeper had an unpleasant sensa- 
 tion, — a little as though he had been going 
 downstairs, and had mistaken two steps for 
 one. This speech brought him up with a 
 nasty jar. He did not quite see how to
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 231 
 
 answer it, with an accurate regard both 
 for truth and for Mrs. Lorimer's feelings. 
 It was a regular woman's argument, he 
 thought impatiently — personal affection, as 
 usual, preventing a clear understanding of 
 the matter in hand. He had just been 
 making such a lot of room for the feminine 
 virtues, and now the chief of them, un- 
 reasoning devotion, was getting sadly in 
 his way. It was very trying to be put 
 in such a situation. After a pause he 
 said, rather shortly — 
 
 " Claybrooke is an exceptional case. 
 The feudal feeling there is very strong 
 still. I, personally, am too sincere a 
 Liberal to admire feudal feeling ; I think 
 it begets servility and want of true manli- 
 ness in the poor : but I cannot say that 
 it may not sometimes be used for good 
 ends. At Claybrooke this may be the 
 case." 
 
 He felt a little unhappy when he had 
 spoken ; a little afraid that he was soften-
 
 232 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 ing down the hard edges of truth for the 
 sake of a pretty woman ; a little afraid 
 that he had been called upon to make a 
 choice between Mrs. Lorimer and a clear 
 conscience, and that he had chosen the 
 former ; a little afraid that he was not 
 quite such a whole-hearted straightforward 
 man as when he had stood in the cottage 
 doorway, an hour before, scolding the 
 woman for not sending her children to 
 school. It is never pleasant to sink in 
 one's own estimation. To a man of Mr. 
 Leeper's order of mind, whose whole life's 
 work is grounded upon a strong belief in 
 his own infallibility, it is simply intolerable. 
 He felt compelled to set his conscience at 
 rest again. He turned to Elizabeth and 
 spoke eagerly, desiring earnestly to win 
 her to his opinions, and thereby justify, in 
 the end, his own momentary deflection 
 from the strict path of virtue. 
 
 " I wish," — he said, " I do wish most 
 truly, Mrs. Lorimer, that I could persuade
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 233 
 
 you to take a living interest in these 
 matters." 
 
 Elizabeth felt almost annoyed by the 
 insistence with which he spoke. Just 
 then a servant came across from the 
 house to announce that tea was ready 
 indoors. Elizabeth rose, and Mr. Leeper, 
 before turning to follow the messenger, 
 spoke again. 
 
 " I wish it very much," he said. " Mrs. 
 Lorimer, will you let me lend you some 
 books and pamphlets which will put 
 before you — much more clearly and 
 forcibly than I can — the importance of 
 these questions ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid I shouldn't have time to 
 read them now," she answered, wishing 
 that he would not make the matter such 
 a personal one. 
 
 " Then later, in the autumn," he in- 
 sisted, " I will bring them over to Clay- 
 brooke. There is always plenty of time 
 for reading during the long evenings."
 
 234 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " I shan't be here then," said Elizabeth. 
 
 They were walking across the lawn to 
 the house. Mr. Leeper stopped short and 
 asked quite sharply, with a decided touch 
 of his usual irritability — 
 
 " Why, where are you going ? " 
 
 " To London," she answered ; and added 
 slowly, " I don't quite know when I shall 
 come back." 
 
 She remembered Mr. Mainwaring's 
 words — she would only come back when 
 she had seen everything and grown tired 
 of everything. It seemed to Elizabeth, 
 standing opposite to Mr. Leeper, with 
 his vexed and anxious face, in the quiet 
 sunny light of the summer afternoon, that 
 it might be a very long time before that 
 came to pass. 
 
 Mr. Leeper drank Mrs. Adnitt's ex- 
 cellent tea in silence, and devoured her 
 perfect bread and butter without a word. 
 He was intensely annoyed. All his plans 
 seemed to be broken off short. His
 
 CH. IX. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 235 
 
 millennium had been coming on so nicely, 
 and now everything seemed over. Mrs. 
 Lorimer was going away, and — Mr. Leeper 
 mentally had recourse to the scourge 
 again — he did not quite like to think how 
 very much he minded her going.
 
 236 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 *' Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan?" 
 
 There is always something not only- 
 painful but bewildering in going back 
 after a lapse of time to a house one has 
 known very intimately under other cir- 
 cumstances. It is haunted by dead and 
 absent faces. And it is haunted, too, by 
 an importunate past-self, which dogs one's 
 footsteps, for ever crying reproachfully, 
 " Why are you different ? why are you 
 no longer what you were ? Which is the 
 true and eternal, which is the false and 
 passing self?" The past and the present 
 struggle together, and it is difficult to 
 reconcile them. One has a necessity 
 upon one to justify the present to that 
 importunate past ; and yet, a wild yearn-
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 237 
 
 ing at times to take the latter to one's 
 heart again, and bid the commonplace 
 present begone. To a sensitive and im- 
 aginative nature this struggle becomes 
 absolutely terrible. 
 
 The first few days that Elizabeth spent 
 in London were very sad and weary and 
 confusing. The coldness of Mrs. Main- 
 waring's farewell to her had been painful : 
 but perhaps the kindness of the Rector's 
 farewell had been even more so. Clay- 
 brooke, after all, was a very peaceful 
 harbour of refuge. Now she felt that she 
 was faring forth on to the great ocean of 
 life, to sink or swim as she might, with 
 only her own courage and wit and per- 
 sistence to guide her. She had set sail — 
 like many another young soul — to search 
 for an unknown good, and the first few 
 days of the voyage were anything but 
 encouraging. Elizabeth felt that if she 
 had realised clearly beforehand how pro- 
 foundly the return to this house would
 
 238 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 have affected her, she should certainly 
 have stayed quietly at the Rectory, swal- 
 lowed all her aunt's social nostrums, and 
 submitted without a murmur to any 
 amount of Midlandshire monotony. She 
 was too prone, at all times, to take a 
 mental review of her situation ; to ask 
 herself what she had accomplished so far, 
 and what she intended to accomplish in 
 the coming time ? In the loneliness and 
 silence of this familiar house, she became 
 a perfect prey to melancholy meditations. 
 Her thoughts centred upon herself and 
 her present position, till she was overcome 
 with morbid self-pity. 
 
 Outwardly everything was just as she 
 had left it little more than a year before, 
 when, in hurry and anxiety, she had packed 
 away the things she valued most, and 
 left the rooms swept and garnished for 
 the incoming tenant. It was all just the 
 same, only there were the traces of a 
 year's wear and tear upon it, a year's
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 239 
 
 freshness gone out of it. Elizabeth felt 
 that she and her furniture had suffered 
 the same fate. But alas ! how much 
 more tender human flesh and blood can 
 suffer, how much more of its youth and 
 freshness it can lose in a year's time than 
 these inanimate things can ! There is 
 something painful, and yet almost absurd, 
 in comparing notes with one's own chairs 
 and tables ; and in observing how far more 
 indifferent they are to the " ravages of 
 time," than one is oneself. A meditation 
 of this kind does not tend to an increase 
 of personal vanity. 
 
 London was very empty still, and the 
 Frank Lorimers were still abroad, so that 
 there was no hope of any acquaintance 
 looking in upon Elizabeth whose advent 
 might relieve the tedium of her first week 
 or two at home. Mrs. Frank — who had 
 a remarkable power of deriving interest 
 and amusement from other people's affairs 
 — felt immensely sorry at not being on
 
 240 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 the spot to superintend her sister-in-law's 
 settling in London. She was worried 
 with the notion that Elizabeth would 
 spend more money than was necessary, 
 and longed to regulate all her domestic 
 concerns. Mrs. Frank Lorimer loved a 
 bargain — to do things in the very best 
 way at the very smallest cost, seemed to 
 her a perfect combination of duty and 
 pleasure. She always wanted her money's 
 worth. All her investments had been 
 good so far. She was thoroughly satis- 
 fied with her husband, her children, her 
 house, her servants, her friends, and per- 
 haps — herself She was a little afraid 
 that Elizabeth was not altogether acute 
 regarding investments. She had a lurking 
 idea that people who were acute regarding 
 investments were rarely widows at one- 
 and-twenty, unless they had married for 
 money, and then, of course, the case was 
 materially altered. Mrs. Frank wished 
 very much that on this occasion she could
 
 / 
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 241 
 
 have been at hand to overlook Elizabeth's 
 affairs with advice, warning, and encourage- 
 ment. However, since that was impos- 
 sible, she wrote a much emphasised letter 
 offering her sister - in - law all the help 
 which the servants she had left at home 
 could give ; and dwelling, at some length, 
 on her own and her husband's satisfaction 
 at the thought that Elizabeth had success- 
 fully effected her escape from Claybrooke, 
 and was really going to be their near 
 neighbour in town. 
 
 On the third morning after her arrival 
 poor Elizabeth came downstairs to break- 
 fast feeling extremely wretched. She had 
 found it impossible to sleep much. The 
 house seemed intolerably hot and stuffy 
 after the large rooms and passages of the 
 old Rectory. She was depressed by a sense 
 of loneliness. She had wished to be inde- 
 pendent, and her independence was already 
 terribly dreary. She asked herself what 
 she meant to do ; — was day after day to 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 pass in this melancholy, aimless way ? 
 Was she going to remain in this state of 
 torpor till the Frank Lorimers came back, 
 and depend entirely on them for all future 
 interest and employment ? Elizabeth, as 
 she sat in the bare dining-room, with the 
 untasted breakfast on the table before her, 
 actually failed so in courage that she felt 
 disposed to own herself beaten, and go 
 back to Claybrooke again. But her pride 
 revolted against the idea. She put it from 
 her angrily. 
 
 Roused from her lethargy by her own 
 anger, seeing how desperate her situa- 
 tion must be if she had even for a 
 moment contemplated such a step, she 
 summoned all her energy, and determined 
 to find some simple occupation which 
 should so engage her attention as not to 
 leave her time for any more brooding. 
 She must be busy all day, and not allow 
 herself a moment for thought, if she 
 meant to avoid the humiliation, and resist
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 243 
 
 the temptation, of a sudden return to the 
 Rectory. She could, at least, rearrange 
 this house which looked so sad and empty. 
 Perhaps when she had filled the rooms 
 with china, and books, and nick-nacks, 
 and all those innumerable odds and ends 
 which are to a house just what ribbons, and 
 frills, and laces, are to a woman's gown — 
 unnecessary in fact, and yet all important 
 for effect ; — perhaps when she had all these 
 little things about her, the rooms would 
 seem less silent and ghostly, and she would 
 be better able to shake off the load of loneli- 
 ness and sorrow which oppressed her. 
 
 Strengthened with this thought, Eliza- 
 b'eth, leaving her hardly-tasted breakfast, 
 called Martha and went upstairs to her 
 own room to examine the contents of 
 some cupboards, in which she had put 
 away her wedding-presents and other little 
 household gods. Martha, having dusted 
 china at Claybrooke herself, and scolded 
 under -housemaids for not dusting it pro-
 
 244 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 perly, for many years, and having, more- 
 over, a disposition, like many good servants, 
 to respect a mistress in proportion to the 
 quantity and value of her goods, went, 
 nothing loth, to assist at the unearthing of 
 these stores of reputed treasures. 
 
 Elizabeth, when she opened the first 
 cupboard, could not help feeling a childish 
 sense of pleasure. She took the pretty 
 things from their hiding-place — standing 
 on a chair so as to get at the top shelves — 
 and handed them down to Martha, who, 
 with various commendatory observations, 
 wiped them and put them ready to carry 
 downstairs. The windows of the bed- 
 room were open, and the room was full of 
 sunny light. 
 
 But Elizabeth had passed a sleepless 
 night, and had hardly eaten anything that 
 morning. Suddenly she felt herself turn 
 sick and faint. The sight of all these foolish 
 little bits of china, and wedding -gifts, be- 
 came intolerable to her. They reminded
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 245 
 
 her too strongly and vividly of the past. 
 Each thing had its history — trivial and 
 unimportant, and yet telling, with terrible 
 clearness, of hours and days dead for ever, 
 of change and loss, of unfulfilled hopes, 
 and of past tenderness — that might have 
 been little regarded at the moment — and 
 could never never be repaid now. Eliza- 
 beth steadied herself with one hand on 
 the shelf of the cupboard : but a tiny 
 delicate cup she was holding in the other 
 slipped from her grasp and fell shattered 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "Oh! dear ma'am, it's broken !" cried 
 the worthy Martha in a lamentable voice. 
 
 Elizabeth stepped down from the chair, 
 and leaning her two hands for support 
 on the back of it, said — 
 
 " I can't go on, Martha. It's dreadful." 
 
 " It is a sad pity you dropped it, ma'am," 
 answered Martha. " It's broke past mend- 
 ing now. It's lucky it's not one of the 
 best, though ; — these blue ones, like the
 
 246 MRS. LORIMER. part 1. 
 
 set Mrs. Mainwaring is so precious of, in 
 the glass cupboard on the landing at 
 home, — it would have been a real pity if 
 you had broke one of them " 
 
 "Oh, it isn't that," said Elizabeth, hardly 
 knowing whether to laugh or to cry at the 
 contrast between her own sensations and 
 Martha's conception of them. " I don't 
 care about breaking the cup ; — it's the 
 whole thing. It is dreadful being here. 
 I wonder why I ever came." 
 
 "It is strange at first," answered Martha, 
 with a slight glimmering of the situation. 
 " But it will seem more natural after a bit, 
 ma'am. Yes, it's broke past mending," 
 she added to herself, as she stooped down 
 to collect the scattered fragments of the 
 poor little china cup. 
 
 Elizabeth stood still, leaning her hands 
 on the back of the chair, her eyes fixed 
 on the open window, and a far-away look 
 on her face. She could see the gray 
 houses on the other side of the street, —
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 247 
 
 which were mostly shut up still, with 
 closed blinds and shutters, — they looked 
 singularly dull and unresponsive in the 
 glare of the dusty morning sunshine. An 
 organ was droning the airs from the last 
 comic opera a little way off. Street cries, 
 in tones once fresh but now strained and 
 hoarse, rose now and again in pathetic 
 cadence from the street below ; while the 
 confused muffled roar of the great thorough- 
 fare leading down to Vauxhall Bridge 
 formed a dull heavy bass to the nearer 
 sounds. Elizabeth stood involuntarily 
 listening. Everything seemed to her very 
 sad, very trivial, very indifferent, very 
 terrible at that moment. Life was far too 
 vast and multitudinous and dark for her 
 to try to comprehend it all. She could 
 not understand why she was left alone 
 like this with no one to train and help 
 and guide her. The strain of the last few 
 days was telling upon her heavily. She 
 seemed to suffer a moral and spiritual
 
 248 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 collapse, and to lose her hold upon all 
 realities. Past, present and future, were 
 alike an enigma to her. 
 
 Martha, rising from her stooping posture 
 with a slightly heated face, after collecting 
 the fragments of the broken cup, gazed at 
 her in alarm. 
 
 " Dear, dear, how white and ill you do 
 look, ma'am !" she said hastily. "Shall I 
 fetch you some wine or something? — how I 
 wish Mrs. Smart was here to see to you ; I 
 never was a very good hand at nursing." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall be all right in a minute," 
 answered Elizabeth, sitting down wearily. 
 " But I can't go on unpacking the china. 
 You must do it yourself, please, Martha. 
 I'm so tired. I'll go downstairs and be 
 quiet." 
 
 She got up after a few minutes, and 
 went down into the bare drawing-room : 
 but it was impossible in her present 
 frame of mind for Elizabeth to be quiet. 
 Being quiet, meant sinking back into the
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 249 
 
 state of morbid melancholy from which she 
 had tried so hard to rouse herself at break- 
 fast time. Being quiet, meant crying till 
 she was utterly tired out, and then in de- 
 spair deciding to own herself beaten, and 
 going back to Claybrooke. Things had 
 come to a crisis. Elizabeth felt she must 
 make up her mind once and for all. 
 
 The atmosphere of the room seemed to 
 stifle her; she went hastily and threw both 
 the sash-windows on to the balcony up as 
 high as they would go, letting the fresh air, 
 and all the confused stir and murmur of 
 the street, in with a rush. Then she 
 turned and walked up and down the two 
 rooms, trying hard to master her sense of 
 loneliness and indecision, and to regain 
 her determination and self-confidence. 
 
 There was a little charcoal sketch of 
 Robert Lorimer hanging in the back 
 drawing-room. Just a slight sketch, but 
 half finished ; yet, like so many mere 
 sketches, giving a much more living sug-
 
 250 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 gestion of the original than a more finished 
 portrait. It had been done by one of 
 Frank Lorimer's innumerable artist friends 
 a few months before his brother's marriage. 
 In the hurry of her departure a year before 
 Elizabeth had left it behind hanging on 
 the wall ; and it was one of the first things 
 that had greeted her when she returned 
 to her own house. She had hardly dared 
 to look at it, hardly dared to go into the 
 room with it during the last three days. 
 She fancied there would be something 
 almost reproachful in the pictured face. 
 
 Now in her urgent walk Elizabeth 
 stopped suddenly opposite to the sketch. 
 She had arrived at a decision. She 
 would neither relent nor give way any 
 more ; she would cast her sorrow behind 
 her, and throw herself entirely upon the 
 future. Elizabeth hardly knew how much 
 she meant by this decision : but she had 
 a vague conviction — notwithstanding the 
 difficulties about Robert's relations — that
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 251 
 
 her duty to her aunt and uncle and her 
 duty to her husband were, in some strange 
 way, linked together; — that in renouncing 
 Claybrooke finally, she also repudiated 
 the tenderness which she owed to Robert 
 Lorimer's memory. She was going to try 
 to live a new life. She felt that she could 
 not have her husband a silent witness of 
 that attempt. 
 
 Elizabeth moved forward and took the 
 sketch down from its place on the wall ; 
 and while she looked earnestly at it hot 
 tears gathered in her eyes, blurring the out- 
 line, and making it hazy and indistinct. 
 
 In a sudden paroxysm of feeling — half 
 penitent and half defiant — she raised the 
 picture to her lips and kissed it passion- 
 ately over and over again, crying — 
 
 " Oh, my darling ! my darling ! why did 
 you die ? why did you leave me alone ? — 
 
 you who loved me " She paused, and 
 
 then added quietly — "Ah, indeed, why?" 
 
 Still the organ ran through the light
 
 252 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 airs from the opera, and the street cries 
 sounded plaintive in the summer air, and 
 the murmur of the busy thoroughfare 
 came hoarse from the distance in through 
 the widely open windows. 
 
 Elizabeth kissed the picture once more, 
 very gently and reverently, as we kiss the 
 dead when we bid them good-bye for 
 ever ; then kneeling down before her 
 writing-table, she unlocked a little drawer, 
 and laid it away, face downwards, in the 
 narrow place. Rising, she locked the 
 drawer again. 
 
 " That is done," she said softly. 
 
 She turned and walked thoughtfully to 
 the open window, and stood for some 
 minutes in the sunshine and fresh air. 
 
 There was something soothing and 
 comforting to her, after her burst of 
 lonely passion, in the life of the dusty 
 street. People moved by, on their business 
 or pleasure, looking satisfied and com- 
 monplace. Life did not seem to be a
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 253 
 
 mystery and death an enigma to them. 
 They seemed to take it all for granted, 
 without being troubled by any strange 
 misgivings regarding themselves or any- 
 thing else. Elizabeth, looking at them, 
 felt herself growing quiet, growing condi- 
 tioned again. Right or wrong, she felt 
 strengthened and encouraged. She told 
 herself she had done well to venture 
 forth once more. The coming years 
 might hold sweet compensation for her 
 past sorrow. She would have courage. 
 Just now, in the prime of her youth- 
 ful beauty and enthusiasm, Elizabeth 
 demanded to live largely rather than 
 ideally. Self-renunciation seemed to her 
 less beautiful than self-development ; and 
 she turned, once more, towards the future 
 with an almost buoyant motion of hope. 
 
 . When she moved away from the window, 
 there was a new, very resolute, look on her 
 handsome face. 
 
 She went out on to the stairs and
 
 254 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 called Martha ; and when that worthy- 
 woman appeared in a lively state of agita- 
 tion — foreseeing faintings and disaster — 
 Elizabeth said to her in a clear voice, with 
 no traces of her late weakness, — 
 
 " Bring down all that china, Martha, 
 please, and I'll arrange it ; and tell one of 
 the maids to have a hansom here at half- 
 past two. I shall want you to go out 
 with me." 
 
 Then after a pause she added : — 
 
 " I don't like the house as it is. I want 
 to go to a decorator's this afternoon and 
 make arrangements about its being done 
 up. Thanks," in answer to some inquiries 
 concerning her health, " I feel perfectly 
 well now." 
 
 During the remainder of September 
 and the first weeks of October, the 
 house was given over to painters and 
 paperers, notwithstanding the groans of 
 the servants. Elizabeth wanted something 
 to do, so she amused herself by gratify-
 
 CH. X. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 255 
 
 ing every passing fancy in the matter of 
 spindle - legged tables and chairs, rich 
 heavy curtains, soft-coloured Indian car- 
 pets, inordinate mantel-shelf arrangements, 
 and those strange combinations of colour 
 which turn modern dwelling-houses into 
 dark abodes full of mysterious suggestions 
 of almost oppressive luxury. Fortunately 
 Elizabeth had a fairly good balance at 
 her banker's, for these transformations are 
 pretty costly affairs : but even so, it did 
 occur to her to wonder, once or twice, if she 
 was not spending a good deal of money. 
 
 When the work-people at last departed, 
 and Elizabeth surveyed her house, she 
 felt a little like a child with a new box 
 of toys. It really was all wonderfully har- 
 monious and charming. But it is dull to 
 play with a new box of toys all alone, and 
 she still felt lonely enough at times and 
 unhappy ; and still the picture of Robert 
 Lorimer lay, face downwards, in the writ- 
 ing-table drawer.
 
 256 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ** . . . En effet, ce qu'il y a de plus difficile a apprendre, 
 c'est le genre de politesse qui n'est ni ceremonieux ni 
 familier." 
 
 " My dear Elizabeth, it is perfectly de- 
 lightful to see you again, and have you 
 settled so near us," exclaimed Mrs. Frank 
 Lorimer, coming, with a pleasant rustle of 
 many-flounced garments, into Elizabeth's 
 drawing-room one (oggy afternoon towards 
 the end of October. 
 
 Mrs. Frank took the stage admirably ; 
 her entrances and exits left nothing to be 
 desired. She always looked equally neat 
 and fresh ; always equally mistress of her- 
 self and of the situation. Wherever she 
 was she appeared to become, quite natur- 
 ally, the centre of the system of things ; 
 everything revolved round her. She was
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 257 
 
 more highly finished, both in looks and 
 manner, than is usual with our country- 
 women, — who too often have a tendency 
 towards uncertainty of outline. I suppose 
 it may be reckoned as one of the many 
 unfortunate results of our misty, dingy^ 
 English climate, that Englishwomen are 
 apt to be slightly indistinct. They fre- 
 quently suggest the notion of persons 
 moving about in the twilight, who are 
 nervous lest they should be betrayed into 
 compromising mistakes by the semi-dark- 
 ness around them. There is something 
 agreeable, if a little startling, in meeting 
 with a woman like Mrs. Frank Lorimer, 
 in whose mind the brightest daylight 
 always reigns, and who moves through 
 life with admirable self-confidence, con- 
 sequent on the clearness of her mental 
 atmosphere. 
 
 She was a dainty little person, with a 
 creamy-white complexion, large blue eyes, 
 — rather too light in colour, perhaps, — 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 and fair brown hair, arranged low on her 
 forehead in soft waves. Her features were 
 small and neat. Without having any 
 claims to remarkable beauty, she was ex- 
 ceedingly pleasant to look at. There 
 were no mysteries, surprises, or sudden 
 illuminations about her ; having seen her 
 once, you had seen her always ; she did not 
 enchant you unexpectedly ; on the other 
 hand, she never disappointed you, but 
 always produced the same effect of com- 
 fortable security and refined self-satisfaction. 
 
 On the whole, women liked Mrs. Frank 
 Lorimer more than men did. They found 
 her so capable and so supporting. A few 
 of her acquaintances certainly accused her 
 of taking up a little too much room and 
 having too great a disposition to insert 
 her pretty fingers into every pie : but then, 
 who shall escape calumny altogether ? 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer was not only truly 
 glad to see Elizabeth again, but she had a 
 little bit of diplomacy on hand; and no-
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 259 
 
 thing raised her spirits and gave such a 
 delicate zest to her intercourse with her 
 fellow-creatures as the consciousness that 
 it was necessary for her to manage them, 
 and do her best, gently and unobtrusively, 
 to get her own way with them. 
 
 That morning at breakfast Frank Lori- 
 mer, to whose kindly and easy-going na- 
 ture anything in the shape of a scene was 
 utterly distasteful, had said to her, from 
 behind his morning paper : — 
 
 " Fanny, you'll ask Elizabeth to dine 
 here to-morrow night." 
 
 " Yes," she had answered somewhat 
 abstractedly. She was deeply engaged in 
 ministering to the wants of her eldest 
 child, a slim, curly- headed, little girl of 
 about three, who sat perched upon a high 
 chair at the breakfast table ; and whose 
 behaviour, as soon as her hunger was 
 satisfied, had become decidedly more 
 cheerful than decorous. 
 
 "I think I'll ask Clement Bartlett or
 
 26o MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Wharton to dinner too," continued Frank, 
 emerging from behind his paper again. 
 
 " Why ? — My darling child, do remem- 
 ber to hold your spoon with your right 
 hand. — The first time she comes, Frank, I 
 should really think Elizabeth would prefer 
 to be alone with us." 
 
 Frank Lorimer was feeling rather dis- 
 mal and rather irritable. The memories 
 of a very bad passage across the Channel, 
 the day before, still haunted him. He 
 was sensible that his play-time was over 
 for this year, and that nine months of 
 hard work stretched themselves out unin- 
 vitingly before him. He was very fond 
 of Elizabeth, he admired her greatly : but 
 he shrank from the idea of a pathetic 
 interview with her, and desired to erect a 
 barricade of indifferent friends between 
 himself and any unnecessary displays of 
 emotion on her part. 
 
 " Well, you see, really, Fanny," he 
 answered in slightly a depressed and
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 261 
 
 grumbling tone, " the meeting must be 
 rather painful any way. I haven't seen 
 Elizabeth since February, and of course 
 she'll feel coming here again. You can't 
 be sure of Elizabeth, you know ; and I 
 hate to see a woman upset, it's so very 
 unpleasant. I really think the meeting 
 would go off better if somebody else was 
 here too." 
 
 " Nini, darling, a little more milk ? 
 Don't spill it — there. Yes, perhaps it 
 would be best," said Mrs. Frank meditat- 
 ively. " Only, Frank, if we must have 
 somebody, pray ask Mr. Wharton. Cle- 
 ment Bartlett was never very intelligent, 
 and he is too utterly tiresome now that he 
 has gone on to the stage. He talks the 
 most unlimited shop. Young gentlemen 
 always are a bore when they like their 
 professions ; they treat one to so much 
 unnecessary information about them. — 
 Oh ! my good child," she cried suddenly, 
 " what an awful mess ! "
 
 262 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 During the time that her mother had 
 been occupied in commenting on poor Mr. 
 Bartlett's shortcomings, Nini had indulged 
 in a Httle experiment in landscape-garden- 
 ir^g» t>y pouring half the contents of her 
 mug on to the table-cloth. A shallow 
 milky river, after meandering among the 
 plates and forks and spoons, was now 
 pouring cheerfully, in a miniature cascade, 
 off the edge of the table and on to the 
 little girl's white-pinafored lap. 
 
 " Quick, a napkin, Frank," cried his 
 wife ; " her frock will be utterly ruined." 
 
 While Frank assisted to dam up the 
 river, and mop Nini's wet pinafore, he 
 continued his little grumble. 
 
 " I'm sure Bartlett's a charming fellow, 
 Fanny. You never have appreciated him. 
 Women are so horribly prejudiced." 
 
 " There, that'll do, Frank, you're doing 
 more harm than good now. I always 
 dislike anybody I'm always being told to 
 admire. It is only natural. — Now, Nini,
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 263 
 
 be careful and don't make any more 
 messes. — Very well, then, I'll ask Eliza- 
 beth to come ; and Mr. Wharton is to 
 come too. Shall I tell her that ? Really, 
 I'm afraid," she said, looking across at 
 her husband, " it will seem rather odd. 
 What shall I say?" 
 
 But Frank Lorimer, having gained his 
 point, became quite ready to dismiss all 
 further consideration of the matter in a 
 light and airy manner. 
 
 " Oh, anything you like," he said. 
 " You're far more ingenious than I am. 
 Now, I must go. — Good-bye, you dirty 
 little dear," he added, as he stooped down 
 and kissed the little maiden in the high 
 chair. 
 
 It was in consequence of this conversa- 
 tion that Mrs. Frank Lorimer arrived at 
 Elizabeth's house, that afternoon, with a 
 sense that she had a diplomatic mission to 
 accomplish. She had quite settled in her 
 own mind that, for everybody's comfort,
 
 264 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 there had better be as little allusion to the 
 past as possible. She strongly objected 
 herself to sorrow, misfortune, or death, 
 and did her best to ignore their existence. 
 So she decided to meet her sister-in-law 
 in a cheerful and easy spirit. 
 
 " It is perfectly charming to see you 
 again, and have you really settled near us," 
 she said, as she kissed Elizabeth on both 
 cheeks, holding her hands, and smiling at 
 her in a composed and brilliant way. 
 
 " Now, my dear, I've only come in 
 for five minutes. Yes, thanks, I will sit 
 down here by the fire and warm my feet ; 
 I am frightfully cold. There, that's nice. 
 — You dear creature," she continued, 
 smiling at Elizabeth again, as soon as she 
 had established herself comfortably, " you 
 can't think how glad I am that you have 
 come. I really am thankful you made 
 up your mind to leave Claybrooke. You 
 must have been nearly bored to death. 
 How anybody ever manages to live in
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 265 
 
 the country all the year round I, for 
 my part, simply can't imagine. — Tea ? — 
 Yes, please, and plenty of sugar. Thanks, 
 dear. — What lovely hands you have, 
 Elizabeth I" 
 
 Elizabeth smiled too as she gave Mrs. 
 Frank her cup of tea. 
 
 The two women were sitting in front 
 of the fire, with a low tea-table between 
 them — Mrs. Frank warming her feet, en- 
 cased in a remarkably neat pair of French 
 boots, on the stone fender. 
 
 Elizabeth was inclined to accuse her 
 sister-in-law of being rather unsympa- 
 thetic ; at the same time she could not 
 help being amused at her volubility. She 
 had been almost entirely alone for the 
 last six weeks, and felt somewhat out of 
 the habit of talking herself Conversation, 
 too, in the neighbourhood of Claybrooke 
 is wont to move forward with singular 
 deliberation — a sluggish, not a rapid 
 stream, flowing slowly round large islands
 
 266 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 of silence, which seem to throw dense 
 heavy shadows across its lazy waters. 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer's great determination 
 of words to the mouth struck Elizabeth 
 as really surprising, for the Claybrooke 
 influences were strongly upon her still. 
 
 " We only got home last night," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Frank, sipping her tea com- 
 placently, " after such an indescribably 
 detestable passage. Nurses, babies, every- 
 body, even Frank himself reduced to a 
 state of limp misery, which — well, my dear, 
 I'll leave it to your imagination. How- 
 ever, here we are, and we've had a lovely 
 summer. And actually I left the children 
 for a whole week, and went off to Paris 
 alone with Frank. It was delightful. I 
 thought I should have been miserable at 
 being away from the children, you know. 
 I ought certainly to have been entirely 
 miserable : but, in point of fact, I wasn't. 
 The maternal instinct went to sleep for a 
 week, which was a mercy. Frank wanted
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 267 
 
 to take me straight off to pictures and 
 churches and all manner of things : but I 
 retired to shop for some time first. I 
 simply can't walk about Paris in English 
 clothes. There's no real pleasure in life 
 if you know you've too many or too few 
 buttons on the back of your jacket. I'm 
 dreadfully weak-minded, I want a lot of 
 material support. If my clothes are not 
 all right my mind won't work a bit. Exist- 
 ence becomes a nightmare. — Please, may 
 I have some more bread and butter ? — 
 Thanks. But, my dear Elizabeth," she said 
 suddenly, " how perfectly lovely you've 
 made this house ! It's absolutely charm- 
 ing. I am consumed with envy. I shall 
 feel broken-hearted when I see my own 
 drawing-room again to-night — but, you 
 know, I never seem to have any money to 
 go in for this sort of thing." 
 
 Elizabeth could not help looking rather 
 expressively at her sister-in-law's gown. 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Mrs. Frank ; " but
 
 268 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 it really wasn't expensive. I always 
 bargain. Now just look," she added, 
 standing up and turning her back on 
 Elizabeth, " doesn't it fit divinely in the 
 waist ? And look at the hang of the 
 skirt. I'm French," she said, turning 
 round again suddenly, " from my bonnet 
 to my boots ; consequently I am utterly 
 happy, and defy the universe. Ah, you 
 dear, sweet, sober Elizabeth," she went on, 
 laughing and catching hold of Elizabeth's 
 hand — extended to save the tea-cup, which 
 during these little gymnastics of Mrs. 
 Frank's had been in imminent danger of 
 spilling its contents all over the carpet 
 and her gown, " you think me horribly 
 trivial, don't you ? Don't I bore you 
 dreadfully ? " 
 
 " No; on the contrary," answered Eliza- 
 beth, smiling, " I think you very clever ; 
 and you entertain me immensely." 
 
 " Ah, I'm thankful for that," said Mrs. 
 Frank, subsiding into her chair again.
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 269 
 
 " You must have been quite enough bored 
 in the country without being bored here as 
 well. Now do tell me," she added, bend- 
 ing forward and looking rather hard at 
 Elizabeth with her large, innocent, blue 
 eyes, " weren't the Mainwarings tremen- 
 dously annoyed at your coming away ? " 
 
 " My aunt objected to it," answered 
 Elizabeth, drawing herself up. 
 
 She did not quite like Fanny Lorimer's 
 tone ; and she felt that it would be im- 
 possible to make her comprehend the 
 mixed feelings with which she regarded 
 her relations at Claybrooke. Fanny Lori- 
 mer belonged to a different world : Eliza- 
 beth knew that she could not understand 
 the Mainwarings. It seemed to be her 
 fate, poor Elizabeth thought, always to 
 defend absent relations from the sharp 
 criticism of present ones. 
 
 " I fancy she does not regard us with at 
 all favourable eyes, does she ? " said Mrs. 
 Frank, looking brightly in Elizabeth's face.
 
 270 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 " She doesn't know you, Fanny ; and 
 she has strong " 
 
 Elizabeth paused. 
 
 " Prejudices," said her sister - in - law. 
 " Oh yes, I understand perfectly. She 
 detests us, and was very angry at your 
 coming, and wanted you to drop us alto- 
 gether ; and you defied her in an heroic 
 way — charming, Elizabeth ! And your 
 uncle, you know, I want to know about 
 him ? Frank was immensely impressed 
 with him, and gave me quite an excited 
 account of his looks, and manner, and so 
 on. But I don't by any means fancy Mr. 
 Mainwaring returned all the admiration 
 Frank kindly bestowed on him. I think 
 I made that out." 
 
 " I am very fond of my uncle," said 
 Elizabeth rather stiffly. " Perhaps I care 
 for him more than for any one else." 
 
 "Oh!" said Mrs. Frank, with a little 
 comprehensive nod. 
 
 She saw that she had touched on
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 271 
 
 dangerous ground ; but she was not easily 
 abashed. 
 
 " Well now, you know, I came not only 
 to welcome you, you dear creature, and to 
 tell you how delighted I am that you've 
 come, but to ask you to dine with us to- 
 morrow. Frank's fearfully busy ; he is 
 longing to see you, but he has nothing but 
 his evenings just now. He thought, per- 
 haps, you would come and see him, as 
 there is a difficulty about his coming to 
 see you. Do dine with us to-morrow 
 night. We shall only be four." 
 
 " Four ? " inquired Elizabeth. 
 
 Mrs. Frank shrugged her shoulders and 
 smiled. 
 
 "Ah," she said, looking up at her 
 hostess in a charmingly apologetic way, 
 "you must make up your mind to the 
 friends, Elizabeth ; they are quite inevi- 
 table. Only Mr. Wharton is coming to 
 dinner to-morrow, at seven o'clock, — 
 did I tell you seven ? He really is very
 
 272 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 pleasant and cultivated and musical. You 
 won't mind him, will you ? " 
 
 Elizabeth felt disappointed and vexed. 
 She had looked forward to seeing Frank 
 alone. It seemed to her strange that any 
 outsider should be permitted to intrude 
 upon them at their first meeting. Eliza- 
 beth was certainly rather inconsistent. 
 She was too much disposed to ignore her 
 circumstances herself, but she remarked 
 any tendency to ignore them on the part 
 of others with considerable irritation. Our 
 faults are generally distasteful to us when 
 we see them committed by another person. 
 
 However, as she could not reasonably 
 object to meet Mr. Wharton, she answered, 
 after a minute's consideration — 
 
 " Oh no, I shall not mind." 
 
 " That's all right," said Mrs. Frank 
 Lorimer, getting up, settling down the 
 waist of her dress with both hands, and 
 then proceeding to button her gloves 
 leisurely.
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 273 
 
 "To tell you the truth, Elizabeth," she 
 continued slowly, without looking up, 
 *' Mr. Wharton is very desirous of seeing 
 you. He hoped so much to have met 
 you abroad with us. I wonder what 
 he will say about you. He has views 
 about everybody. I think he will say 
 you are very original. I think you are 
 .very original myself, certainly. But," she 
 added, turning towards Elizabeth, who was 
 still sitting by the tea-table, with a slightly 
 annoyed expression on her face, " do you 
 know, you give me rather an uncomfort- 
 able impression, Elizabeth; you always 
 have done so. I always feel as if there 
 was a lot more behind ; as if you would 
 surprise us all very much some day, — go 
 into a convent, or do something else very 
 magnificent and slightly unpleasant." 
 
 Elizabeth got up hastily. 
 
 " Don't be so foolish, Fanny," she said. 
 Sometimes she thought her sister-in-law 
 went a good deal too far, and was de- 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 cidedly wanting in delicate consideration 
 for other people's individuality. 
 
 Elizabeth had none of her companion's 
 easy self-assurance. Her pride and her 
 natural sensibility shrank equally from 
 such personal observations. The idea 
 of Mr. Wharton or any other unknown 
 young man venturing to give an opinion 
 about her, one way or the other, seemed 
 an intolerable impertinence to her. Eliza- 
 beth was in a self-conscious and sen- 
 sitive state of mind, owing partly to her 
 loneliness and to the lingering influence 
 of the uncomfortable circumstances under 
 which she had left Claybrooke. It seemed 
 hard, too, that while one set of relations 
 accused her of being light-minded and 
 indifferent, the other set should represent 
 her as a sort of Hamlet in petticoats, 
 who might be expected to indulge in 
 all manner of strange vagaries. 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer went on calmly 
 buttoning her gloves. There was a good
 
 CH. XI. A SKETCH IN BLACK Sc WHITE. 275 
 
 deal of intention in her talk as a rule, 
 though she often seemed to speak at 
 random. She generally contrived to say 
 just what she wanted to say ; and there 
 always was something that she did want 
 to say. When the last two buttons had 
 been successfully fastened, she turned a 
 perfectly amiable and innocent face upon 
 Elizabeth, and said — 
 
 " Well, then, you come to us to-morrow. 
 That's delightful. Good-bye, my dear ; it 
 is most pleasant to have you here. And 
 your house is hopelessly — quite hopelessly 
 — lovely. Your taste is admirable, Eliza- 
 beth. Good-bye, again." 
 
 And she rustled off downstairs, seeming 
 to take rather a large share of the general 
 stock of vitality away with her — leaving 
 Elizabeth a trifle worried and exhausted, 
 with an unpleasant sense, too, that she 
 was only on the edge of things, while 
 Fanny Lorimer was in the very centre of 
 them.
 
 276 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 * ' All free spirits, mutually permitting one another the 
 liberty of philosophising without any breach of friend- 
 ship." 
 
 Perhaps there is no position in the world 
 so entirely pleasant, so free from care and 
 anxiety, as that of a young man of about 
 five -and -twenty, with some means, some 
 talents, and no wife and family ; who 
 lives in " rooms," cultivates his artistic 
 sympathies, and devotes himself exclu- 
 sively to himself, and to the friends whom 
 he delights to honour. The position 
 is absolutely ideal in its freedom and 
 serenity. No more serious misfortune 
 ever seems to befall the lucky creature 
 than a cold in the head, a romantic 
 quarrel with a dear friend, or a temporary 
 shortness of cash. Like the lilies of the
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 277 
 
 field, he is innocent of toiling and spin- 
 ning, and yet is clothed in a manner not 
 unworthy of a well-bred modern Solomon. 
 He partakes freely of the cream of life, — 
 he is petted, he is welcome everywhere, he 
 is exquisitely untroubled, and rejoices in an 
 entire absence of duty and responsibility. 
 
 What wonder if we, who are older, less 
 agile, whose clothes are selected for their 
 lasting rather than their fashionable quali- 
 ties ; who are not unconscious of the collar 
 as we laboriously drag our well-filled family 
 coach after us ; who have, in fact, finished 
 up all our small portion of cream long 
 ago, and are confined to a pretty constant 
 diet of the skim-milk of life, — what won- 
 der if we, I say, contemplate these young 
 favourites of circumstance with consider- 
 able feelings of envy ? Domestic joys, 
 the sacredness of home, — yes, we are quite 
 conscious of the magnitude of these bless- 
 ings: but I grieve to say there are moments 
 when we would exchange them willingly
 
 278 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 — almost with alacrity — for that slim 
 
 figure, bunch of Parma violets, well -cut 
 coat, air of gentle resignation, and en- 
 chanting immunity from near relations ! 
 
 Fred Wharton — towards whom Elizabeth 
 Lorimer had conceived somewhat of a 
 dislike, owing to the rather forcible manner 
 in which her sister-in-law had pressed him 
 upon her notice — belonged to the happy 
 order of beings that we have tried to 
 sketch above. 
 
 He was a very pleasant young gentle- 
 man, with a remarkable capacity for 
 enjoying everything — himself included. 
 He was a charming companion, and, 
 though not actively or enthusiastically 
 zealous in the service of his fellow-creatures, 
 he had the delightful faculty, too often 
 wanting in greater souls — in saints, and 
 prophets, and reformers, and all those 
 other admirable people whom we admire 
 immensely at a distance, and canonise 
 with sincere veneration when they are
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 279 
 
 safely dead, — of never being in the way. 
 He was never urgent, and never attempted 
 to encroach on his neighbour's individu- 
 ality. He had constructed a pretty little 
 system of philosophy of his own ; and 
 instead, like most philosophers, of spending 
 all his time in compassing sea and land to 
 make a few unwilling proselytes, he was 
 satisfied with applying his system practi- 
 cally to his own life. He was so entirely 
 convinced of the virtues and adequacy of 
 his philosophy, that he was quite content 
 to keep it to himself, not feeling that he 
 required the support of agreement on the 
 part of others to confirm his own faith 
 in it and give his system stability. 
 
 Wharton was by way of being an artist. 
 He had considerable talent ; but his powers 
 of application were not very highly de- 
 veloped. He really preferred contemplat- 
 ing his fellow- creatures from a stand- 
 point of philosophic calm to any more 
 practical occupation ; and only worked
 
 28o . MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 earnestly when some particularly attractive 
 subject presented itself to him, or when 
 the state of his exchequer warned him 
 that times of scarceness were not far off. 
 
 Wharton had a natural inclination to 
 like most people. He had many comrades 
 in many different grades of society. He 
 had a strong belief that it was a little 
 stupid to rest content with any one side 
 of society, however agreeable or cultivated. 
 He did not imagine that any one person, 
 or set of persons, could satisfy the whole of 
 his nature. So he selected many different 
 friends, each of whom satisfied some one 
 portion of it, believing that it is the highest 
 wnsdom to live in as many lives as possible. 
 
 At the same time, the very power of 
 imagination, which enabled his friendships 
 to rest on such a wide social basis, made 
 some persons intolerable to him. There 
 was a certain unworldliness or obstinacy 
 — call it which you will — about him which 
 often caused him to sacrifice some obvious
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 281 
 
 advantage to one of these unreasoning fits 
 of repulsion and dislike. Frank Lorimer, 
 who, out of regard for the necessities of a 
 wife and children, had come to temper all 
 personal feeling with a touch of worldly- 
 wisdom, often took his friend to task on 
 this point. 
 
 " My dear fellow," he would say, " what 
 on earth can it matter whether you like 
 so-and-so or not ? He is ready to give 
 you fifteen or twenty guineas for a drawing 
 of his wife — you want the money — she is 
 a very pretty woman — and then they know 
 everybody. And, after all, the poor man 
 has really never done you any harm." 
 
 " It's no good," Wharton would reply 
 hopelessly. " He rubs me the wrong way, 
 and no number of guineas is worth the 
 annoyance of having to know a person I 
 don't like." 
 
 In fact, Wharton's urbanity was not 
 quite universal yet. The consequence was 
 that he was regarded by some people as
 
 282 ■ MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 rather an uncertain and fantastic young 
 man, sadly wanting in that delicate per- 
 ception of what might tend to his own 
 social advancement, which is in itself so 
 admirable, and so invariably commands 
 the sincere respect of others. 
 
 I suppose everybody's sense of humour 
 is more or less intermittent. Wharton's 
 sense of humour was certainly defective 
 where those whom he disliked were con- 
 cerned. Otherwise, as he stood and con- 
 templated things around him, he was 
 sensible of extracting an immense amount 
 of amusement from the show. Nothing 
 matters very much, after all. From a 
 secure position people have managed to 
 watch the progress of the bloodiest battles 
 with considerable composure. Sometimes, 
 for a moment, Wharton's cheerful indiffer- 
 ence left him, and the underlying tragedy 
 of life lay bare before him, confounding 
 and appalling his spirit. But, as a rule 
 he watched the strife serenely enough from
 
 CH. xii. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 283 
 
 his own safe and comfortable station, re- 
 garding even the painful incidents as so 
 much excellent dramatic material. He 
 was too busy noting every detail and each 
 delicate effect of light and shadow, to be 
 acutely distressed by the scene, however 
 pathetic. A very lively interest often pre- 
 sents the same appearance to bystanders 
 as positive hardness of heart. Wharton's 
 heart was by no means hard, but he was 
 too much engaged in receiving vivid mental 
 impressions to have time for any great 
 display of personal feeling. 
 
 Living so much with the Frank Lori- 
 mers as he did, Wharton could not fail to 
 hear a good deal, from time to time, about 
 a person as nearly connected with them as 
 Elizabeth. Mrs. Frank was not in the habit 
 of cultivating the virtue of reticence, unless 
 she had some special private reason for so 
 doing ; consequently Wharton was pretty 
 well acquainted with Elizabeth's history. 
 It struck him as picturesque. And he
 
 284 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 was by no means inclined to refuse Frank's 
 invitation to meet her at dinner two days 
 after the latter's return to London. 
 
 Indeed he accepted the invitation with 
 a distinct sense of satisfaction. There were 
 not very many people in town yet, and 
 Wharton had not very much either to do 
 or to think about. It would be a pleasant 
 occupation to try little experiments upon 
 Mrs. Lorimer, and arrive at conclusions 
 regarding her. Wharton had done this 
 sort of thing frequently before, and it did 
 not strike him as a hazardous proceed- 
 ing. He took a purely artistic interest in 
 women, regarding them as an important 
 and rather agreeable element in the general 
 constitution of things ; in fact, as a sort of 
 dramatic necessity. But it must be owned 
 that the domestic side of life was rather 
 at a discount with him. Falling in love 
 would be horribly agitating, he thought ; 
 and marrying — the notion of spending the 
 whole of your natural life in the constant
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 285 
 
 companionship of one person — seemed in- 
 describably tedious. He looked forward, 
 therefore, to meeting Elizabeth much in 
 the same spirit as he would have looked 
 forward to the reading of a pleasant new 
 novel. The prospect was an interesting 
 one, but there was no touch of personal 
 feeling in the interest it excited. 
 
 After thinking the matter over, Eliza- 
 beth had decided to lay all the blame of 
 Mr. Wharton's presence to Fanny Lori- 
 mer's account. Fanny would be bored at 
 making one of three ; Frank would prob- 
 ably have preferred seeing her quietly 
 alone, but Fanny no doubt had objected. 
 Elizabeth was very fond of Frank, and 
 managed generally to find excellent excuses 
 for his little shortcomings. When she 
 had recovered from her first feeling of 
 irritation, too, she really was not sure 
 whether it was not rather a relief to feel 
 that some stranger would be at her brother- 
 in-law's, whose presence would make all
 
 286 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 intimate conversation impossible. Poor 
 Elizabeth had decided to harden her heart 
 against the past on the day that she laid 
 away her husband's picture. Sometimes, 
 fortunately for us, our nature is stronger 
 than our will. Elizabeth had determined 
 to do violence to her own best instincts : 
 but the instincts were by no means dead, 
 they stirred within her, and gave her a good 
 deal of trouble at times. 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer's little dinners were 
 always charming. They were pretty, and 
 they were excellent too. Mrs. Frank herself 
 was always delightfully dressed, and she 
 had the faculty — which belongs to some 
 women — of keeping you continually aware, 
 not merely of what she said, but of herself 
 You never forgot that you were in the 
 company of a pretty young woman, whose 
 self was more important than either the 
 clothes she wore, or the words she said. 
 
 Elizabeth, who for so long had enjoyed 
 no more lively or inspiring society than a
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 287 
 
 sick-room or the somewhat bucolic neigh- 
 bourhood of Claybrooke afforded, found 
 herself expanding pleasantly in the intelli- 
 gent and genial atmosphere of the Frank 
 Lorimers' house. It was enjoyable to be 
 with people of her own age, to feel that 
 she might say what she liked without any 
 fear of treading on forbidden ground. It 
 was refreshing to listen to her companions' 
 light gossip and easy criticism, to move in 
 their sunshiny atmosphere. She had an 
 uncomfortable sense now and then that 
 Wharton watched her rather keenly, and 
 tried to draw her out on one or two sub- 
 jects. He did both very gracefully. But 
 Elizabeth was inclined to resent any ap- 
 pearance of interest on his part. She 
 connected him with certain feelings of 
 annoyance, and was disposed to find fault 
 with him on the slightest provocation. 
 
 After dinner, when the little party had 
 returned to the drawing-room, Wharton 
 and Fanny Lorimer — who were standing
 
 288 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 together in front of the fire — had a pretty- 
 sharp skirmish over one of their mutual 
 acquaintances. 
 
 " I simply can't understand why you all 
 admire Clement Bartlett so much, Mr. 
 Wharton," she said. " And I can't imagine 
 anybody less fitted for the stage. Just 
 think of his figure : he has such a remark- 
 ably bad way of moving." 
 
 " Why, my dear Mrs. Lorimer, his figure 
 is just his strong point. Everybody admits 
 that it will make him quite a reputation." 
 
 " Indeed ! the public must be easily 
 pleased," she answered. " Now, can you 
 pretend to tell me that he won't be per- 
 fectly appalling in tights ? or fleshings ? 
 Just think of the severe simplicity of flesh- 
 ings ! He is pretty, I admit, but that's a 
 mere matter of colouring — he'll lose it 
 very soon. Then he looks so foolish !" 
 
 " Poor Clement," said Wharton reflect- 
 ively. " Frank must be very fond of him." 
 
 " Oh, I'm not the least prejudiced
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 289 
 
 against him," said Mrs. Frank quickly ; " I 
 am calm and unbiassed. I let my imagin- 
 ation play quite freely round the subject, 
 which we know is the sure sign of high 
 culture. It is you who are all prejudiced. 
 You are all," she added, waving her firm, 
 little, white hands comprehensively, " all 
 utterly infatuated ! That's my opinion." 
 
 " It's no good," said Frank, who had 
 been standing near them, turning away 
 and sauntering across the room towards 
 Elizabeth, who was sitting on a broad 
 lounge at right angles to the fireplace. 
 "Fanny never will have the slightest mercy 
 on poor dear Clement, and he really is the 
 nicest, most innocent creature in the world." 
 
 Frank gathered up the tails of his even- 
 ing coat in either hand, and subsided com- 
 fortably on to the seat by her side. 
 
 Elizabeth had been listening with some 
 amusement to the conversation. She was 
 leaning back lazily, with her shapely head 
 thrown up and resting against the dusky 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 red covering of the back of the lounge. 
 As Frank sat down she turned her face 
 towards him without otherwise shifting 
 her easy graceful position, and gave him 
 a quiet smile of welcome. 
 
 The evening had gone so brightly and 
 pleasantly thus far, that Frank Lorimer 
 had pretty well forgotten the feeling which 
 had prompted him to beg his wife to let 
 some outsider be present on this occasion. 
 As Elizabeth smiled at him, her youthful 
 beauty and the fact of her widowhood 
 struck Frank as strangely at variance. 
 He remembered her sweet face haggard 
 with long night-watches, and strange with 
 the dread of death and separation, during 
 the days of weary waiting that he had 
 spent with her only nine months ago. 
 Instinctively he lowered his voice, and fell 
 into a somewhat sentimental key, thereby 
 producing exactly the results that he had 
 taken such pains to provide against the 
 day before.
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 291 
 
 " I am so glad you have come to Lon- 
 don, Elizabeth," he said gently. " I can't 
 help feeling that we have more right to 
 you than anybody else, in virtue of — for 
 Robert's sake, you know." He paused a 
 moment, and then added, " It would have 
 pained me very much if circumstances had 
 loosened the tie between us." 
 
 Elizabeth smiled rather faintly. She 
 too remembered those sad days and nights 
 nine months ago, and she struggled against 
 the remembrance. She did not answer ; 
 there was a pause. 
 
 " I don't care about artistic dressing, 
 and I never shall," Fanny Lorimer was 
 saying, meanwhile, to Wharton. " Of 
 course it wouldn't do for me in the least, 
 and that no doubt does influence me a 
 little. But, candidly, I think people who 
 go in for it generally look fearfully dowdy, 
 except on great occasions when they are 
 tremendously got up. And then there is 
 a certain dressing-gown-and-slippers effect
 
 292 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 about it all, you know, which doesn't in 
 the least please me. I really believe 
 people take to it just as much from laziness 
 as from a love of art — fewer buttons and 
 strings, you know. Then it makes them 
 intolerably conceited. They are always 
 possessed by a charming sense that they 
 are the elect, and feel wonderfully superior 
 to us, who still believe in Paris and high- 
 heeled shoes. The elect have always been 
 rather a nuisance, I fancy." 
 
 As Elizabeth did not respond to his 
 first little speech, Frank Lorimer felt 
 obliged to say something more. 
 
 " This isn't the time for talking about it 
 all," he said, leaning towards her. " Some 
 things are very sacred to one, and one 
 fears to sully them by speaking of them at 
 the wrong moment." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Elizabeth quickly. 
 
 Frank spoke low and earnestly ; not 
 only his words, but the tones of his voice 
 and his whole appearance reminded Eliza-
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK Sc WHITE. 293 
 
 beth vividly of her husband. The two 
 brothers had not really been very much 
 alike, — Frank being considerably the fairer 
 and more robust looking of the two. 
 But, seeing him now after a long interval, 
 Elizabeth was conscious of a resemblance 
 between him and Robert Lorimer so strong 
 and undeniable that for a few minutes she 
 was almost overcome by it. She had tried 
 very hard, during the last few weeks, to for- 
 get the sad past and start afresh. Now, 
 as her brother-in-law leaned towards her 
 and looked earnestly at her, the past laid 
 cold strong hands on her again. For a 
 moment she seemed once more to see the 
 man who, as " a very true and perfect 
 knight," had loved and honoured her, who 
 had wholly and faithfully given her his 
 heart, to whom in life and death she knew 
 she had stood before all other women. 
 For a moment she had a sense of irre- 
 mediable loss and sorrow. 
 
 Fanny Lorimer and Wharton had found
 
 294 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 some other subject on which to express 
 diametrically opposite opinions. Nothing 
 could be more inharmonious than the bright 
 room, their light war of words, and Eliza- 
 beth's bitter feelings. She dared not give 
 way to her sudden anguish. She straight- 
 ened herself up and pressed her hands 
 hard together, not daring to look round 
 at Frank, who was waiting for some an- 
 swer. He, perceiving that she was agitated, 
 but quite unconscious of the extent to 
 which he was himself the cause of that 
 agitation, spoke again after a few minutes' 
 silence, wishing to soothe her. 
 
 " I was a little afraid," he said, his 
 native honesty coming to the surface, 
 " that you might have thought me forgetful 
 or unfeeling to-night. I can't talk much 
 about the things I feel most deeply — and 
 it's no use, after all, talking about them. 
 One must go on, not go back, you know. 
 Only I should be truly sorry to have 
 you think me indifferent. I'm not that.
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 295 
 
 Elizabeth. We understand each other, 
 don't we ? " 
 
 Elizabeth bent her head in assent. 
 Yet she feared they, did not understand 
 each other. Poor child, with her will and 
 desires dragging her one way, and her 
 nature and instincts dragging her another, 
 she had much ado to understand herself 
 sometimes. 
 
 Frank got up and gave himself a little 
 stretch. He had said his say, now he 
 wanted a tone of general cheerfulness to 
 to be restored as soon as possible. He 
 crossed to where Wharton was standing, 
 and laying his hand on his shoulder said — 
 
 " Do go and play or sing to us, Fred. 
 You and Fanny have quarrelled quite 
 enough for one evening." 
 
 " What shall I play ? " asked Wharton. 
 
 "Oh! anything you like, my dear fellow," 
 replied the other, and went back to his 
 seat by Elizabeth. 
 
 It was observable that all Fred Whar-
 
 296 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 ton's lightness of manner left him as soon 
 as he sat down at the piano. His face 
 hardened and sharpened, and his whole 
 figure seemed braced and invigorated, as 
 soon as his hands touched the keys. He 
 looked several years older, more positive, 
 and more serious. The change in him 
 was subtle, but it was quite distinct ; and 
 suggested possibilities of a depth of purpose 
 and of feeling for which one did not give 
 him credit at first sight. This change in 
 Wharton was always a pleasure and in- 
 terest to Frank Lorimer. He watched for 
 it quite eagerly, and half his enjoyment 
 in his friend's playing consisted in the 
 singular effect it produced on the per- 
 former himself There was a fine sugges- 
 tion of power in the way in which Wharton 
 took possession of the instrument, and 
 forced it to yield up to him all the secrets 
 of its inmost being — all the joy and sorrow, 
 the beauty passing human speech, and the 
 wild passion we dare not utter even if we
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 297 
 
 could, which lie hid within it, and will only 
 answer forth to the compelling hand of the 
 master. 
 
 Wharton played a good deal of modern 
 music, full of questionings and pathetic 
 lamentations and harmonious despairs. 
 
 As Elizabeth listened to the music, it 
 seemed to speak out for her the sorrow 
 and confusion, the doubt, and hope, and 
 fear that struggled in her mind. There 
 was a certain relief in this, yet she felt it 
 was dangerously moving. 
 
 At length Wharton stopped, as if to 
 recover himself Frank Lorimer, who had 
 been leaning back lazily on the lounge, — 
 his legs crossed, his hands in his pockets, 
 and his eyes fixed meditatively on the toe 
 of his right shoe, — looked up quickly as 
 though to demand more. Mrs. Frank gave 
 a little rustle of relief She found much 
 of this sort of thing slightly exhausting. 
 Elizabeth was silent. 
 
 After a minute's pause, Wharton began
 
 298 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 singing. His voice was not remarkable : 
 but his singing was excellent, the phras- 
 ing good, and the sentiment perfectly re- 
 fined. He evidently knew so exactly what 
 he was about that one always had a pleasant 
 sense of security and repose in listening to 
 him. The song was slight enough, — of 
 the order of sentiment that happy young 
 people are given to enjoying, because they 
 have very little notion what it really implies ; 
 and that older and more experienced people 
 are somewhat disposed to fight shy of. 
 The words ran thus : — 
 
 " My love lies low beneath the grass ; 
 
 The sad sea moans to earth and sky, — 
 The sweetest joys the soonest pass ; 
 
 Good-bye, dear heart, good-bye. 
 
 *' Her gentle eyes are closed in death ; 
 
 The wind blows low, the wind blows high, — 
 Our mortal life is but a breath ; 
 
 Good-bye, dear heart, good-bye. 
 
 " Her lovely lips are pale and cold ; 
 
 When brown leaves fall, bare branches sigh, — 
 A merry tale too soon is told ; 
 
 Good-bye, dear heart, good-bye.
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 299 
 
 " Vain is all glory, all delight, 
 
 Since man is only born to die. 
 Glad day lies slain by envious night ; 
 
 Good-bye, dear heart, good-bye." 
 
 Wharton sang with an air of strong 
 conviction, lending himself to the dreariness 
 of the words, till an atmosphere of hope- 
 less melancholy seemed to pervade the 
 tasteful cheerful room. 
 
 Frank Lorimer, — conscious that his wife, 
 looking extremely well and material, was 
 sitting opposite to him ; that his two 
 babies were sleeping peacefully in their 
 little white cribs upstairs ; and that he, 
 personally, was about as far away from 
 everlasting partings, falling leaves, moaning 
 seas and all the rest of it, as any man could 
 reasonably expect to be, — sat, smooth- 
 ing his fair beard with one hand, and 
 quietly enjoying this little excursion into 
 the kingdom of misery. But poor Eliza- 
 beth, being already in a rather overwrought 
 state of mind, found the song altogether
 
 300 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 too sad and too applicable. When the 
 last wailing " good-bye " had died into 
 silence, she was very nearly crying. 
 
 Wharton got up from the piano. 
 
 " That is deliciously dismal, isn't it?" he 
 said, smiling, and relapsing into his ordinary 
 easy manner. " I can't bear encouraging 
 songs — they are horribly inartistic ; and 
 nice, heroic, drum-and-trumpet songs don't 
 suit my voice. So," he added, still smiling 
 and turning towards Elizabeth, " I take 
 remarkable delight in these lamentable 
 ditties." 
 
 Wharton was sorry he had spoken so 
 lightly when he looked at her. From the 
 purely artistic point of view it was delight- 
 ful to contemplate Elizabeth. Her long, 
 clinging black dress, her pale pathetic 
 face, the soft masses of her brown hair, 
 her gray eyes — wide-open — looking out 
 into space, her lips tremulous with 
 emotion, with the dusky red background 
 of the lounge — altogether she made a
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 301 
 
 charming- picture, a sort of nineteenth 
 century edition of " our Lady of Sorrow." 
 Wharton was a little provoked with himself, 
 for he saw that his words jarred upon her, 
 and destroyed the effect of his song. 
 
 Elizabeth did not answer him ; she 
 turned away quickly to Frank Lorimer, 
 and said, in a rather unsteady voice — 
 
 " I think rU go home, Frank. Would 
 you mind just walking back with me, as 
 it's so close by ?" 
 
 " But, my dearest Elizabeth," cried Mrs. 
 Frank, breaking in with her usual emphasis 
 and vivacity, " it's so early ! Do remember 
 that you are no longer among the Clay- 
 brooke magnates, who no doubt regard 
 ten o'clock as a sacred hour, devoted, alike 
 by men and gods, to saying good-night 
 and going to bed. Remember that you 
 have returned to civilised life, and that 
 we are enlightened creatures, entirely in- 
 different to times and seasons, and new 
 moons and fasts. Stay a little longer,
 
 302 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 Elizabeth ; we shan't retire to our rest for 
 hours yet." 
 
 But Elizabeth felt that things had gone 
 too far. She was sensible that Wharton 
 was watching her, and she knew that she 
 could not recover complete serenity and 
 composure. She wanted to be alone and 
 quiet. 
 
 " I think I'll go, Frank, please," she said 
 again, " if you don't mind." 
 
 There was a look of almost piteous 
 entreaty on her face which reminded him 
 strangely of the night they had parted in 
 the hall at Claybrooke. 
 
 " All right," he said, " you're tired, and 
 we'll go. It isn't worth while to call a 
 cab, Fanny." 
 
 " Well, if you must go, Elizabeth, good- 
 night," said Mrs. Frank. " Shall I see 
 you to-morrow? Will you be at home 
 in the afternoon ? Oh, well, never mind 
 now ; you do look fearfully tired, all of a 
 sudden. I can send nurse and the children
 
 CH. XII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 303 
 
 round in the morning to find out your 
 plans." 
 
 To Wharton, Elizabeth said no word 
 good or bad. They shook hands in silence. 
 She had an uncomfortable sense that his 
 views regarding her were developing, and 
 she felt somewhat defiantly towards him. 
 Vivisection can never be very pleasant to 
 the victim, however great be the scientific 
 truths that it may eventually elucidate.
 
 304 MRS. LORIiMER. part i. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' ' Motives imply weakness, and the existence of evil and 
 temptation. The angelic nature would act from 
 impulse alone." 
 
 After Elizabeth and Frank Lorimer had 
 gone Mr. Wharton was guilty of a distinct 
 impertinence. He stood for fully five 
 minutes looking meditatively into the fire, 
 without speaking a word to his charming 
 hostess. 
 
 He had enjoyed himself: that is to 
 say, for some hours he had felt decidedly 
 interested. He admired Elizabeth Lori- 
 mer's strong clear type of beauty and her 
 stately bearing. There was no tiresome 
 pink-and-white prettiness about her. He 
 saw that she was one of those women 
 in whom the mind and body are so inti- 
 mately connected and so dependent on
 
 CH. XIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 305 
 
 one another, that expression and man- 
 ner will instantly reveal the real feeling 
 within, even while the words spoken are 
 quiet and restrained. But Wharton had 
 to own that he had made a slight mistake, 
 and that the end of the evening had not 
 been wholly successful. He had a foolish 
 feeling of satisfaction, though, in the fact 
 that Elizabeth was walking home. " Our 
 Lady of Sorrow " going off in a four- 
 wheeled cab, or even in a hansom, would 
 really have been a little too trying and 
 inharmonious. He could picture her tall 
 black -clad figure and pale face, as she 
 moved through the dusky streets, coming 
 for a moment into the glare of a gas- 
 lamp, and then passing on into the semi- 
 darkness again. Frank was the dearest 
 fellow in the world, of course, but he did 
 seem rather to mar the picture somehow. 
 Frank was too comfortable in any way to 
 suggest romantic possibilities. Wharton 
 feared that he was probably grumbling a 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 MRS. LORIMER. I'art i. 
 
 little inwardly, at having to turn out into 
 the damp at that time of night, instead of 
 dwelling on the poetic suggestiveness of 
 the situation. 
 
 Fanny Lorimer was also meditating 
 upon Elizabeth, as she sat in a low chair 
 with a piece of softly-tinted crewel-work 
 in her hands. Her imagination was not 
 widely sympathetic, but her guesses were 
 generally pretty shrewd. She had to con- 
 fess that she did not really understand her 
 sister-in-law. She had often speculated 
 as to the exact amount, and as to the 
 quality of the affection with which Eliza- 
 beth regarded Robert Lorimer. She was 
 disposed to think, though she had never 
 hinted such a thing to Frank, that for 
 some reason Elizabeth's love had never 
 been entirely whole-hearted. Had there 
 b6en another lover in the background ? 
 Or were the capacities of Elizabeth's 
 nature only partially developed ? She 
 could not tell. It occurred to her that
 
 CH. xiii. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 307 
 
 some day there might be a Httle denoue- 
 ment It also occurred to her that it would 
 be very exciting to assist in bringing that 
 denotiement about. 
 
 Just at this point of her meditations 
 Fanny Lorimer looked up at Fred 
 Wharton. He certainly irritated her 
 sometimes, he seemed so provokingly re- 
 moved from the ordinary cares and worries 
 of his fellow -creatures. His calm, con- 
 templative attitude of mind seemed to give 
 him a pull over her which she resented. 
 She would have enjoyed seeing him rather 
 distracted about something or other. It 
 is always refreshing to see composed peo- 
 ple in a fuss or at a slight disadvantage. 
 Fred Wharton had a restraining influence 
 upon her, too, which she felt to be annoy- 
 ing. He often intimated gracefully that 
 she was talking in an exaggerated way. 
 She had a disagreeable conviction that he 
 took mental notes of everything she said ; 
 and her doubts as to the tenor of those
 
 3o8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 notes lent a certain sharpness to her tone 
 when she was with him which was not 
 natural to her at other times. As she 
 expressed it, " he made her feel draughty;" 
 and she was constantly disposed to bustle 
 up and defend herself from imaginary 
 attacks on his part. 
 
 " Your sister-in-law is remarkably charm- 
 ing," said Wharton at last. " She gives 
 one the impression that there is a great 
 deal to know in her." 
 
 " Elizabeth is not very easy to know," 
 observed Mrs. Frank, putting up her eye- 
 brows and indulging in a rather provoking 
 little smile. 
 
 " So I imagine," said Wharton com- 
 posedly ; " and half her charm consists in 
 that. Most people present a flat surface 
 to you. You can look right across them 
 to the horizon at once. You know just 
 all about them after meeting them once 
 or twice. You know what views they are 
 bound to take on every given subject, just
 
 CH. XIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 309 
 
 as well as you know the colour of their 
 hair or eyes. But Mrs. Lorimer makes 
 me think of an unexplored country, full of 
 suggestions and great surprises. I only 
 saw the coast-line from the sea this even- 
 ing ; but I am sure there are the most 
 delightful lakes and rivers and hills and 
 valleys inland." 
 
 Wharton smiled to himself. 
 
 " I find it very enjoyable," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer felt annoyed. This 
 was, she thought, rather too calm and cool 
 a manner of observing any woman. 
 
 Fred Wharton, standing there and smil- 
 ing complacently into the fire, seemed to 
 her a little wanting in solid comfortable 
 humanity. She resented his disposition 
 to regard his acquaintances merely as so 
 many interesting studies. At this moment 
 he was so occupied with his own thoughts, 
 so indifferent — a fact she noted as hardly 
 civil — to her presence, that Mrs. Frank 
 indulged herself with a good long stare at
 
 3IO MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 him. She did not wish to think any- 
 thing complimentary about him. She 
 felt slightly angry with him, yet she could 
 not deny that any way he was very 
 good-looking. 
 
 He belonged to a type, common enough 
 in Northern Italy, but not often met with 
 among Englishmen ; and, when met with, 
 always implying some strain of foreign 
 blood in the ancestry. He was dark, with 
 eyes of the peculiarly clear warm brown 
 that an American writer has aptly described 
 as " wine-coloured." His forehead was low, 
 and his face perhaps was a little too broad 
 across the cheek-bones. The chin was 
 handsome, large, and well rounded ; but 
 the mouth was unfortunately English, and 
 not Italian — wanting in fulness and in 
 beauty of outline. Wharton's figure, though 
 by no means that of an athlete, was firm 
 and well-proportioned. Some people who 
 did not like him said that his forehead re- 
 treated, and that he obviously could not be
 
 CH. XIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 311 
 
 endowed with much in the way of brains. 
 One irascible old gentleman indeed, — who 
 fancied that youth had lost all its graces 
 and virtues since he had himself ceased to 
 be young, and was disposed to indulge in 
 rather bitter philippics on the subject of 
 " modern young men," — had one day de- 
 clared that " Mr. Wharton had a head like 
 a tom-cat." But, if there was anything 
 feline about him, it must be granted that 
 he contrived to keep his claws most care- 
 fully sheathed, while he showed a dis- 
 position to purr amiably on almost every 
 occasion. At worst, he had some of the 
 acuteness and observing power of a cat, 
 while a charming suggestion of light- 
 hearted kittenhood still lingered about him. 
 It was just this boy-like freshness of feeling, 
 combined with a certain indifference, and 
 a pretty shrewd knowledge of the world, 
 that made Wharton so attractive to Frank 
 Lorimer and other men older than himself 
 Most women were a little piqued by his
 
 312 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 want of personal feeling, for women rarely 
 care much for a man who suggests no 
 latent possibilities of developing into a 
 lover. 
 
 " You seem to have made up your 
 mind," said Fanny Lorimer, after a time, 
 picking up her work and beginning to 
 draw her needle in and out of the stuff 
 with a great show of industry, — " you seem 
 to have made up your mind that you will 
 be permitted to explore this new country 
 as much as you like. Now really, between 
 ourselves, Mr. Wharton, I am a little doubt- 
 ful about that, you know. My sister-in-law 
 is not at all the sort of woman who would 
 enjoy being observed as an interesting study. 
 She is not at all given to confidences. To 
 my mind, she is rather inscrutable." 
 
 " Ah ! there lies the charm," said Whar- 
 ton again. " There is nothing in the world 
 more interesting than the process of getting 
 to know some people. The difficulties 
 only help to keep up the excitement. One
 
 CH. XIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 313 
 
 begins by wishing a little, one ends by 
 wishing quite immensely really to know 
 them well." 
 
 "And when you do succeed at last in 
 knowing these remarkable people well, 
 what then ?" asked Mrs. Frank, looking up 
 with a charmingly innocent air of inquiry. 
 
 " Oh, well," said Wharton, smiling, " then 
 I suppose you swear eternal friendship." 
 
 " Or just drop them," added she, looking 
 down at her work again ; " and go off and 
 find somebody else to try experiments upon." 
 
 " You are a little severe, Mrs. Lorimer," 
 said Wharton. 
 
 Fanny Lorimer did not answer. For 
 once she felt she had scored off her adver- 
 sary, and she was willing to rest on her 
 success. 
 
 " But now, just as a matter of theory, 
 you know," Wharton asked, after a minute 
 or two, " do you think it possible for a 
 man and woman really to make friends ? " 
 
 " They generally end by making a good
 
 314 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 deal more than friends or less than friends," 
 she answered. " I never indulge in theories, 
 you know ; I judge by practice." 
 
 " You think it can't be done, then/' said 
 Wharton. " I'm sorry. It ought to be pos- 
 sible, but I confess, for my own part, I 
 have never quite succeeded. People always 
 misunderstand one so. Now I have tried 
 several times to make friends with young 
 girls : but their admirable mothers always 
 appeared, like the head of Medusa, and 
 turned me to stone with a delicate but 
 appalling hint regarding my * intentions.' 
 I never had any intentions, you know. I 
 merely wanted to realise the sort of world 
 a young girl lives in. — Married women 
 are rather dangerous," he added slowly. 
 
 " That's why you have never really made 
 friends with me, I suppose," said Fanny 
 Lorimer quickly. 
 
 " No," answered Wharton, looking at 
 her gently and calmly ; " I have never 
 thought you dangerous, Mrs. Lorimer. You
 
 CH. XIII. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 315 
 
 are quite satisfied with Frank and your 
 children, you know." 
 
 Being a little afraid that this time her 
 adversary had scored off her, Fanny Lori- 
 mer was silent. 
 
 " I have had to fall back upon old 
 ladies," Wharton continued, returning to 
 the former subject of his discourse. " They 
 are very nice and kind, and pet me de- 
 lightfully : but there is a want of dramatic 
 interest about them. They live so much in 
 the past, and refer so constantly to excel- 
 lent and clever and witty people who died 
 long before I was born. It all seems over, 
 you know, and that is slightly depressing." 
 
 His companion shivered a little ; there 
 was something to her painfully tragic in 
 the idea of growing old, and of its all 
 being over. 
 
 Wharton moved across to Mrs. Frank, 
 and picked up some skeins of crewels 
 which had fallen off her lap on to the 
 floor. As he gave them to her he said —
 
 3i6 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 " It would be a very great pleasure to 
 me to know your sister-in-law better. Will 
 you help me to do so, Mrs. Lorimer? 
 Pray don't be so barbarous as to forbid 
 me to explore the new country." 
 
 " Oh ! my wools — thanks," she said. 
 Then getting up and settling down the 
 waist of her dress, she added, " There's 
 Frank, I believe, coming in. — I don't 
 think it will matter very much, Mr. Whar- 
 ton, whether I forbid you or not. I ob- 
 serve that you have a remarkable knack 
 of getting your own way." 
 
 " Have I ?" he said ; " yes, well, perhaps 
 I have. That's because I am never really 
 very anxious about getting it, after all." 
 
 " Exactly," said Mrs. Frank, looking him 
 full in the face. " I am not the least afraid 
 that you will ever die of a broken heart." 
 
 " I sincerely trust not," he answered, 
 laughing. " Though really, Mrs. Lorimer, 
 when one comes to think of it, it might be 
 a very interesting experience."
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "Friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the aiifections 
 from storm and tempests, ... it maketh daylight 
 in the understanding out of darkness and confusion 
 of thoughts." 
 
 Elizabeth had been nearly five months 
 in London. Not only the Frank Lorimers, 
 but a number of other people whom she 
 knew had come back for the winter. An 
 unusually handsome woman, with a pretty 
 house and a pleasantly melancholy history, 
 is sure to have a good many friends and 
 admirers. Elizabeth refused to go out 
 much, but still she saw a good deal of 
 society. Five o'clock tea is such an 
 innocent meal, no one can reasonably 
 take exception to it. People would just 
 drop in ; and having dropped in once, 
 would drop in again. Mrs. Lorimer's
 
 3i8 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 house, and face, and circumstances, began 
 to make her quite a reputation in a certain 
 set. 
 
 Yet it must be owned that poor Elizabeth 
 was not very happy. She felt the want of 
 a positive interest in life. Sometimes she 
 wondered whether she had not better throw 
 herself into good works of some sort ; visit 
 workhouses and hospitals, take up sanitary 
 reform, or become a devoted disciple of the 
 Charity Organisation Society. She sub- 
 scribed to various libraries, and read hosts 
 of new books. She tried to fancy that 
 strong sympathies for art, — music, painting, 
 and delightfully harmonious house-furnish- 
 ings, were enough to occupy her mind and 
 heart. Sometimes she thought with envy 
 of Mr. Leeper's enthusiasm for the Cause. 
 Sometimes with equal envy of Mrs. Main- 
 waring's contented enjoyment of her posi- 
 tion and family traditions. Sometimes 
 she envied Fanny Lorimer her children, 
 or Frank his newspaper work. Unfortu-
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 319 
 
 nately, Elizabeth had no one distinct talent 
 to which she could devote all her powers. 
 She was troubled with the unrest which 
 comes from appreciative sympathy with 
 and understanding of Art, without the 
 power of original production. At last 
 she began to regard herself as a sort of 
 superfluity. There seemed to be no spe- 
 cial place for her, no real necessity for her 
 existence. She grew depressed, and mor- 
 bid, and sad. 
 
 All this Mrs. Frank Lorimer could not 
 help noting. It made her really rather 
 uncomfortable, and she did not quite 
 know what to do. Resignation was not 
 Mrs. Frank's strong point. If things 
 seemed wrong, she instantly wanted to 
 set them right, according to her own 
 fashion. The consequence was that she 
 sometimes "rushed in," where angels, being 
 more patient and, I suppose, more sensible, 
 would have " feared to tread." 
 
 So far Fred Wharton's opportunities of
 
 320 MRS. LO RIMER. part i. 
 
 exploring the new country had not been 
 very fruitful. Fanny Lorimer said that 
 there would be difficulties, and her words 
 were proving themselves tiresomely true. 
 Wharton had to own himself that he hardly 
 knew more of Elizabeth Lorimer now, after 
 a good many meetings, than he had known 
 the first evening he saw her. He fancied 
 that she had been on her guard with him. 
 He had sung and played to her often, but 
 she had always remained perfectly com- 
 posed. " Our Lady of Sorrow," with the 
 misty gray eyes that gazed despairingly 
 out into space, had never appeared on the 
 scene again. Wharton knew that he had 
 seen farther into the depths of Elizabeth's 
 nature on that first evening than he had 
 ever seen since. Sometimes, he thought, 
 he would not try to make nearer acquaint- 
 ance with her. He was a little afraid that 
 she took up too much space in his mental 
 horizon. He was doubtful as to whether 
 he was not too much interested in this
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 321 
 
 study of character. Yet Wharton was so 
 bitten with the idea of proving that it is 
 possible for a man to make friends with a 
 woman, and so sure that Elizabeth Lori- 
 mer was just the woman to try this rather 
 hazardous experiment with, that he could 
 not resist making one or two more at- 
 tempts before he finally decided to give 
 the matter up in despair. 
 
 One morning about this period when 
 Elizabeth was sitting in her pretty drawing- 
 room trying to read, and had wandered 
 away from the subject of her book into 
 rather sad meditations concerning her own 
 unnecessariness, she was interrupted by 
 the advent of Fanny Lorimer and Nini, 
 both looking fresh, and neat, and self- 
 complacent. 
 
 " I've come, my dear Elizabeth," — began 
 Mrs. Frank. 
 
 But she stopped. Elizabeth was not 
 attending to her. 
 
 " Come to me, darling," said Elizabeth, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 holding out her arms to the slim, dainty, 
 little girl ; and then picking her up, she 
 kissed Nini's round rosy cheeks, all cool 
 and sweet from the cold morning air. 
 
 Elizabeth made a charming picture, as 
 she stood balancing the child on one arm, 
 with her strong supple figure thrown 
 slightly back. There was a tender look 
 in her gray eyes, and a sadness in the 
 curves of her beautiful lips, which were in 
 strong contrast to the merry, laughing, 
 baby face close to her own. 
 
 Fanny Lorimer stood watching her for 
 a moment. 
 
 " You would make a lovely Madonna, 
 Elizabeth," she said. " Nini, poor dear, 
 has a most unsuitable suggestion of the 
 nineteenth century about her in that cos- 
 tume ; but you are exquisitely mediaeval." 
 
 Elizabeth set the child down on the 
 floor again, with a sigh. 
 
 " There, Nini," she said ; " run along 
 and look on the little table in the corner.
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 323 
 
 between the bookcase and the window, 
 you'll find a new dollie waiting for you 
 with a pink hat." 
 
 Then she turned rather wearily to Mrs. 
 Frank. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Fanny," she said, 
 " what were you going to say ?" 
 
 "Oh!" she answered,"! merely came 
 to you with a little message from Mr. 
 Wharton. I'm going to tea with him 
 the day after to-morrow, to see a sketch 
 he has been doing for Frank. He is so 
 anxious that you should come too. — Will 
 you?" 
 
 " I don't care," said Elizabeth slowly, 
 while she watched Nini. 
 
 The child was very busy, critically ex- 
 amining the doll ; and apparently, judging 
 by the expression of her face, was arriving 
 at satisfactory conclusions respecting her 
 new possession. 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer opened her blue 
 eyes rather wide at Elizabeth's reply. She
 
 324 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 stooped down and slowly rubbed a spot of 
 mud off one of the frills of her dress. 
 
 " That is rather an extraordinary form 
 of answer to an invitation, isn't it?" she 
 observed mildly. 
 
 " Oh, very well, then ! " said Elizabeth, 
 " say I shall be quite delighted to go, — 
 it's not such a true answer as the other, 
 though." 
 
 " But, on the whole, it's rather more 
 civil," said Mrs. Frank. 
 
 " Is this dollie for my very own ? " 
 interrupted Nini in her shrill clear little 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes," replied Elizabeth : " but you 
 must come and pay me for it with a 
 sweet kiss." 
 
 She knelt down on the floor as she 
 spoke. Nini — who regarded kisses as a 
 necessary, but as by no means the plea- 
 santest part of the ritual of receiving gifts 
 — ran up, administered a hasty salute. 
 Then, disengaging herself rapidly from
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 325 
 
 Elizabeth's encircling arms, turned to her 
 mother. 
 
 " Look, look, mother," she said, " at my 
 dollie's pink hat ! " 
 
 "You're a hard-hearted little being, 
 after all, Nini," said Elizabeth, getting up 
 from her knees. " I believe you care in- 
 finitely more for that foolish dollie, made 
 of china and sawdust, than you do for me." 
 
 " I suppose we were all more or less 
 selfish as children," observed Mrs. Frank 
 apologetically. 
 
 " A good many of us remain so when 
 we have ceased to be children," answered 
 Elizabeth rather harshly. 
 
 There was a hard line between her 
 dark eyebrows, and she stuck out her 
 under lip, just the least bit, as she stood 
 looking at the child and the doll. If 
 Fanny Lorimer had known Mr. Mainwar- 
 ing, she would certainly have remarked a 
 very strong family likeness between him 
 and his niece, at this moment.
 
 326 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 " Selfishness is not a form of iniquity 
 we invariably leave behind us, in the 
 nursery with our old play-things, when we 
 grow up," added Elizabeth. 
 
 " Is anything particular the matter with 
 you this morning ? " asked Mrs. Frank. 
 
 '' Nothing at all. I have said I am 
 delighted to accept Mr. Wharton's invita- 
 tion for the day after to-morrow. Pray 
 tell him so." 
 
 Mrs. Frank gave her shoulders a little 
 shrug. 
 
 " You're very inscrutable," she said ; 
 " however, you will come. Then if it's 
 fine, we can walk down to Chelsea b\' 
 the Embankment. I'll call for you about 
 three. Come along, Nini, and say good- 
 bye to kind Aunt Lizzie, who gives you 
 dollies and all manner of lovely things." 
 
 " Good-bye ! " said Elizabeth gently, 
 but she did not kiss the child again. 
 Nini, it must be allowed, seemed su- 
 premely indifferent to the omission, and
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 327 
 
 walked off with considerable dignity by 
 her mother's side, prattling cheerfully to 
 her new doll. 
 
 The afternoon of Fred Wharton's little 
 tea-party was clear and bright ; and the 
 two ladies set out with a certain sense 
 of enjoyment on their walk to Chelsea. 
 Elizabeth, with her country breeding, had 
 been accustomed to take plenty of physical 
 exercise ; lately she had been leading 
 rather a sedentary and lazy life, which 
 had by no means improved either her 
 health or spirits. As she paced along 
 by the riverside this afternoon, the keen 
 wind and the thin frosty sunshine seemed 
 to put new vigour into her. 
 . She thought of the short winter days 
 down in Midlandshire years ago — not so 
 very many years though, after all — when, 
 the ground being too hard for hunting, 
 she and Mr. Mainwaring and young Ed- 
 ward Dadley had driven over to Lowcote, 
 and skated till dusk. — Of the wild cries of
 
 328 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 the frozen -out water-fowl, and the clear 
 ringing of the skates on the ice, and the 
 graceful motion of the skaters, and the 
 sound of a sudden laugh or call in the 
 still air — while the sun, a crimson ball, 
 sank down in the west, and the gray 
 country faded into the twilight, and the 
 near trees grew black and rigid against 
 the flaming evening sky. Ah ! those 
 sweet sad days that are no more. Poor 
 Elizabeth would gladly, for the moment 
 at least, have missed out all of her life 
 that lay between the present and that 
 pleasant time ; would gladly have found 
 herself skating over the gleaming ice, hand 
 in hand with her boy-lover once again. 
 
 " For pity's sake, Elizabeth, don't walk 
 so fast," cried Fanny Lorimer breath- 
 lessly ; for instinctively Elizabeth had 
 quickened her pace as she thought of 
 Lowcote and the skaters. 
 
 Fanny Lorimer, like all city - bred 
 women, walked, not so much with the
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 329 
 
 intention of getting to a certain place 
 within a certain time, as with the inten- 
 tion of seeing and being seen. 
 
 " There is no such desperate necessity 
 for saving five minutes," she said ; " and of 
 all things in the world, that which I abhor 
 most, is arriving at anybody's house in a 
 breathless condition, with a face like a 
 peony." 
 
 " You'll be frozen if you dawdle," said 
 Elizabeth shortly. 
 
 " Yes ; but surely there is some reason- 
 able medium between doing that and 
 walking for a wager," answered the 
 other. 
 
 Elizabeth moderated her pace. She 
 was quite roused from her reverie. There 
 was nothing dreamy or sentimental about 
 Fanny Lorimer ; and she had a curious 
 power of compelling her companions to 
 move in her own clear everyday atmo- 
 sphere. 
 
 Fred Wharton's rooms were on the first
 
 330 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 floor of an old-fashioned house, looking 
 out on to the river. He had discovered 
 them when he first settled in London, 
 and had now thoroughly taken root in 
 them. He liked to wander about : but he 
 also liked to collect all manner of odds 
 and ends of all kinds ; and already his 
 material possessions were so numerous 
 that it was absolutely necessary for him 
 to have some place to leave them in. As 
 far as he had a home, this house in Chel- 
 sea was his home. He went away for 
 months at a time : but always as a peace- 
 ful and comfortable background to his 
 wanderings lay the long low old-fashioned 
 first-floor rooms, with their view across 
 the wide river. 
 
 Before ringing the bell when they 
 arrived, Mrs. Frank Lorimer paused, and 
 then turning to Elizabeth, said — 
 
 " Will you go in ? I'll join you in ten 
 minutes. I've just remembered some tire- 
 some people that I ought to call upon,
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 331 
 
 close by here. I've owed them a visit for 
 months, and this is such an excellent 
 opportunity of paying it. I shan't be 
 long." 
 
 " I'il come too/' said Elizabeth, who did 
 not care to present herself to their host 
 alone. 
 
 " Oh no ! pray don't," answered Fanny 
 Lorimer quickly, and with rather un- 
 necessary emphasis. " They're fearfully 
 dull people ; you wouldn't like them a 
 bit, and there is no reason why you should 
 know them. Pray don't come ; I shall be 
 back directly." 
 
 To clinch the matter she rang the bell. 
 Nodding to Elizabeth and saying " au 
 revoir," she turned quickly into the street 
 again. So Elizabeth had nothing for it 
 but to go upstairs alone, feeling a good 
 deal annoyed. It would seem so odd, she 
 thought. She did not the least care to 
 be forced in this way into a tete-a-tete 
 with Mr. Wharton.
 
 332 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 The room she was ushered into was a 
 large one, with three windows looking to- 
 wards the river. It was low, and was 
 furnished quaintly enough, yet with a 
 certain disregard for modern canons of 
 taste. But for a soft dusky richness in 
 the general effect of it, it might have been 
 called rather confused and untidy. Whar- 
 ton seemed to have taken pleasure in 
 collecting the most strangely miscellaneous 
 objects, and compelling them to form an 
 harmonious whole. Some of his friends 
 hinted, indeed, that his rooms looked very 
 much as if they belonged to the " property 
 man :" but he sternly refused to modify 
 any peculiarities. " I live in my rooms, 
 not you," he would say ; " I enjoy incon- 
 gruities and confusions — it is like life." 
 
 Elizabeth, on this occasion, was too 
 anxious to account for the fact of her 
 appearing all alone to bestow much 
 observation on her surroundings : but 
 before she had time to offer any explana-
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 333 
 
 tion, Wharton came forward to meet her 
 with a look of genuine pleasure. 
 
 " How very good of you to come," he 
 said cordially. There was something so 
 sincere in the sound of his greeting that 
 Elizabeth's sense of embarrassment quickly 
 melted before it. 
 
 " My sister-in-law will be here in a 
 minute or two," she said. " She deserted 
 me on your door-step, remembering sud- 
 denly that she had a visit to pay close by. 
 She begged me to tell you that she would 
 follow me directly." 
 
 Wharton smiled. He felt a little in- 
 different as to the length of Mrs. Frank 
 Lorimer's absence. Elizabeth looked very 
 young and attractive after her quick walk 
 in the frosty air. There was an unusual 
 colour in her cheeks, and her gray eyes shone 
 bright and dark under their long lashes. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Wharton, " it is a long way 
 for Mrs. Frank Lorimer to come. I am 
 only too glad that she should make the
 
 334 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 expedition useful to herself as well as 
 pleasant to me." 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Elizabeth 
 did not quite know what to say next, as 
 her companion's last observation called for 
 no rejoinder. 
 
 " You have been doing a sketch for 
 Frank," she observed at last a little awk- 
 wardly. "May I see it?" 
 
 " Oh ! it's rather horrible now that it's 
 finished, Mrs. Lorimer," he answered. " I 
 thought it was going to be nice at first — 
 however, there it is on the easel in the 
 window, if you really care to see it." 
 
 Elizabeth moved across the room and 
 stood looking at the picture. It was a 
 graceful misty drawing of little Nini, worked 
 in charcoal. Wharton had begun it one 
 evening at the Frank Lorimers', when the 
 child, tired with a game of play, had lain 
 half asleep on her mother's knee. The 
 subject caught his fancy and he had spent 
 some time in working it out.
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 335 
 
 "But it's lovely!" said Elizabeth. 
 
 " I'm so glad you like it," the young 
 man answered. He was standing near 
 her, and w^atching her intently as she bent 
 forward to look closely at the drawing. 
 
 " You draw as well as you play," she 
 said suddenly, turning round to him. 
 " You are very fortunate." 
 
 She spoke seriously — not as praising 
 his talents, but rather, he thought, as 
 bidding him give thanks for the posses- 
 sion of them. 
 
 " Am I very fortunate ?" he said, smiling 
 again. " I am not quite sure." 
 
 "I think so," answered Elizabeth. "You 
 artists have troubles like the rest of us — 
 some, I suppose, that we more common- 
 place people cannot fully comprehend : 
 but you have the intense joy and relief of 
 utterance. Ah!" she said, "I for one 
 keep all my pity for the poor dumb souls 
 who can only feel and cannot speak." 
 
 Elizabeth remembered the thoughts
 
 336 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 which had so moved her as she walked 
 along by the river. She would have given 
 a good deal to possess the power of speak- 
 ing out the emotions they had caused her 
 in some artistic form. 
 
 " The disappointment is generally more 
 present to my mind than the relief, I'm 
 afraid," said Wharton. " All one's work 
 falls so lamentably short of what one 
 wants to do." 
 
 " Still you have something to do, some- 
 thing to work for," she answered. " You 
 have the satisfaction of knowing what 
 you want, even if you can't always reach 
 it. So many of us waste our lives utterly, 
 because we never know exactly what to 
 aim at." 
 
 " Oh !" said Wharton, shaking his head. 
 " People are all so much too fond of doing 
 nowadays. Why can't they leave the 
 doing alone, and just be — isn't that 
 enough ? They hurry, and worry, and 
 scramble, and quite forget what a much
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 337 
 
 more dignified and graceful spectacle they 
 would present to the universe if they were 
 a trifle less busy and anxious." 
 
 Elizabeth sat down thoughtfully on a 
 chair in front of the easel. She paused a 
 moment before speaking. 
 
 " But surely one must have a distinct 
 object in life," she said. 
 
 " Must one ?" asked Wharton. " I have 
 never been able quite to see the necessity 
 for it." 
 
 Elizabeth looked up at him inquiringly. 
 
 " Isn't it enough," he said, " to enjoy 
 oneself, to be pleasant and to please one's 
 friends ?" 
 
 "Perhaps — if you have friends," she 
 observed. 
 
 "Why, you must have plenty of 
 friends, any way, Mrs. Lorimer," said 
 he brightly. 
 
 " If you mean just the people whom I 
 know, yes, I have plenty," answered Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 She was too much absorbed in her own 
 train of thought to observe that the con- 
 versation had assumed a new complexion, 
 and had drifted away from the general 
 into the personal. 
 
 " But," she added, " I am afraid, like 
 most women, I know very little about 
 real friendship ; about the sort of friend- 
 ship which really makes part of one's life. 
 I should like to have friends as men have 
 them, but I don't know how to begin." 
 
 Elizabeth spoke quite simply, thinking 
 merely of her own feelings and not at all 
 of her companion. 
 
 A very bright light came into Fred 
 Wharton's brown eyes, and he bent for- 
 ward towards her as he answered — 
 
 " I fancy I know a good deal about 
 what men call friendship — the friendship 
 which, as you say, makes a real part of 
 one's life. If you want to know about it 
 I think I could teach you." 
 
 Suddenly the singularity of her position
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 339 
 
 struck Elizabeth. She had quarrelled with 
 the narrow old-world conventionalities 
 down at Claybrooke — surely she was 
 getting far enough away from conven- 
 tionality now ! She turned her head and 
 gazed out across the murky river, running 
 so swiftly and silently in the gathering 
 darkness down to the sea. The sky was 
 very pale and clear above. Along the 
 roadways flickered the long lines of gas- 
 lamps. It looked cold, and hard, and cruel, 
 somehow, out there in the dusk. Then she 
 turned again and glanced round the warm 
 luxurious room, with its fanciful furniture 
 and rich mellow colouring. Finally, she 
 looked up at the dark handsome face of 
 the young man who stood waiting before 
 her. 
 
 She gave a long, shuddering sigh, as 
 of one waking from a troubled dream ; 
 and then said gently — 
 
 " I think I should be very glad if you 
 would teach me."
 
 340 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 There was an expression almost of 
 triumph about Wharton. 
 
 " That is kind of you," he said simply. 
 Then he added, holding out his hand — 
 " It is a compact, Mrs. Lorimer — you 
 must give me your hand on it." 
 
 Elizabeth laid her hand in his for a 
 moment rather unwillingly. She wondered 
 what she might be binding herself to. Did 
 it really mean anything, or was it merely 
 a pretty bit of child's play ? 
 
 Mrs. Frank Lorimer, returning from her 
 visit and coming into the room just at the 
 conclusion of this little ceremony, was 
 conscious of receiving a certain very vivid 
 impression. She paused only for an in- 
 stant of time in the doorway, before 
 Wharton, turning round, came forward to 
 welcome her : but in that instant her 
 innocent blue eyes had pretty thoroughly 
 taken in the situation. — Elizabeth was 
 sitting in front of the easel, sideways on a 
 quaintly-shaped chair, with her hands rest-
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 341 
 
 ing, lightly clasped together, on the back 
 of it. She had unfastened her thick fur- 
 trimmed mantle at the neck, and it hung 
 in heavy folds from her shoulders, showing 
 part of the body of her black dress and 
 the white about her throat. The hair on 
 her forehead had been ruffled by the 
 wind during her walk, and curled up 
 about the edge of her bonnet, softening 
 the hard line of it. She was looking up, 
 with her lips parted as though about 
 to speak. The light from some candles 
 in brass sconces near the fireplace fell 
 full upon her face. 
 
 Wharton's back was towards Mrs. Frank. 
 She could not see how he was looking ; 
 but his attitude seemed expressive, she 
 thought, of more than mere polite tolera- 
 tion of his fair companion. 
 
 " Oh !" said Fanny Lorimer, as her host 
 came towards her, " my dear Mr. Whar- 
 ton, I owe you ten thousand apologies. I 
 had wanted to pay that visit for such ages
 
 342 MRS. LORIMER. parti. 
 
 — I was sure you would forgive my being 
 a little late — and then, to my utter dis- 
 traction, the wretched people were at home. 
 And can you tell why it is," she added, 
 " that the less power people have of 
 entertaining you, the longer they are 
 determined that you shall stay with them? 
 — Thanks ! yes, I will sit down. How 
 good of you to wait tea for me ! — I have 
 known thoroughly uninteresting people, 
 who insisted upon asking one to dinner at 
 half-past six and requiring one to stay till 
 heaven knows what time of night, simply, 
 apparently, because they had nothing on 
 earth to say to one. Whereas delightful 
 people, whom you feel you would be happy 
 to spend years with, ask you at a quarter 
 past eight, and turn you out again at 
 eleven. Now why is it?" 
 
 " I must think the question over before 
 I venture to give an answer," said Wharton, 
 smiling. " You, at all events, Mrs. Lorimer, 
 may claim to belong to the delightful sec-
 
 CH. XIV. A SKETCH IN BLACK & WHITE. 343 
 
 tion of society, since you are so late in 
 arriving here to-day." 
 
 Fanny Lorimer laughed. She felt in 
 the most charmingly amiable humour. 
 
 While Wharton made tea she wandered 
 about the room, chattering all the time. 
 She inspected the sketch of Nini, with which 
 she declared herself absolutely enchanted, 
 and praised everything liberally, the tea 
 included. 
 
 " How I wish you would do us a 
 picture of Elizabeth," she said at last. 
 " Somebody really ought to do a picture 
 of her. She looked like the most delight- 
 ful mediaeval Madonna when she was 
 nursing Nini the other day." 
 
 The advantage of having a reputation 
 for talking very much, is that it gives you 
 admirable opportunities of saying a host of 
 things you want to say, without giving them 
 an appearance of undue prominence. Mrs. 
 Frank always managed to serve her own 
 little purposes : but she merged her im-
 
 344 MRS. LORIMER. part i. 
 
 portant sentences so cleverly in the general 
 flow of her conversation, that they seemed 
 at the time in no way particularly remark- 
 able. 
 
 It was only when Elizabeth shook hands 
 with him, just as she was going away, that 
 Fred Wharton referred to Mrs. Frank's 
 suggestion. 
 
 "Will you let me make a drawing of 
 you ?" he said. 
 
 " Is that one of your lessons in friend- 
 ship ?" asked Elizabeth, smiling — " because 
 if so, I suppose I am bound to say yes." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed ^ R. & R. Clark, Editiburgh.