L- ' 
 
 r~ 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR Of 
 
 Christina North 
 
 *Q?ifrntP$fcw 
 
 m^t 
 
 
 — * 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
NEW AND POPULAR NOVELS 
 
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 BORN IN THE PURPLE. By Maxwell Fox. 
 
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 HURST & BLACKETT, 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "CHRISTINA NORTH," "A GOLDEN BAR,' 
 
 " BETWIXT MY LOVE AND ME," 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 Where lies the land to which the ship would go V 
 Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. 
 And where the land she travels from ? Away. 
 Far, far behind is all that they can say.' 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, LIMITED, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1888. 
 A II rights reserved. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/virginiatennantn01tenn 
 
8£3 
 
 To»52>v 
 v.l 
 
 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 It was a wild night. Outside the harbour 
 the sea was throwing up angry crests of 
 foam, and the wind blew in the sudden 
 and opposing gusts which precede a tem- 
 pest ; whilst round about the pier the 
 water, as it beat with a sullen crash, looked 
 black in the gathering twilight. But no 
 sound or presage of the coming storm had 
 penetrated the well-curtained rooms of the 
 large hotel which stood in the shelter of 
 the cliff, though at the distance of but a 
 few hundred yards from the shore. 
 
 Within one of its best apartments the 
 VOL. i. B 
 
2 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 lamps were already lighted, and, though it 
 was early in October, a fire was blazing 
 on the hearth, giving an air of comfort to 
 the otherwise comfortless room, with its 
 heavy, handsome, scanty furniture. A 
 half-opened travelling-bag was upon the 
 floor, a fur cloak was thrown across a 
 chair; the cloth and glasses with an un- 
 touched dessert were still upon the table. 
 
 There were two persons in the room : 
 a handsome man barely above middle-age, 
 who, with his chair pushed back, leaned one 
 arm still upon the table, while the other 
 was passed round the shoulders of a girl 
 who sat on a low stool at his feet. Her 
 head, with its low masses of brown hair, 
 rested against his knees, but her eyes 
 were fixedly bent upon the dancing flames. 
 
 ' You are crying, Virginia,' he said, in 
 a tone of gentle reproof. ' You told me 
 this morning that there should be no tears, 
 and you are crying already.' 
 
 ' I am not ;' yet she saw the fire, at 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 6 
 
 which she was staring, through a mist. 
 
 * I am not crying ; but I hate Avar and 
 Egypt and the Soudan.' 
 
 ' And soldiers, even though your father 
 is one?' asked Colonel Tennant, smiling. 
 c If I were you, I would not hate the in- 
 evitable. It is not worth while.' 
 
 c If it is not worth while to hate, it is 
 still worse to love.' 
 
 She lifted her head as she spoke, and 
 sat upright with her hands clasped round 
 her knees. Some sudden resentment 
 against life, which at this moment dealt so 
 hardly with her, had dried the unshed 
 tears in her blue eyes. 
 
 ' Yes, it is still worse to love,' he repeated, 
 
 * only one cannot avoid it, and unfortu- 
 nately when one loves it is always the 
 inevitable.' 
 
 His hand still rested upon her soft hair, 
 but as he spoke he was looking absently 
 back into the past. 
 
 She sat still as if pondering the ques- 
 
 b 2 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 tion, and there was a short silence. Out- 
 side in the darkness there was the crash of 
 breaking surf upon the shingle, and a 
 church clock struck the hour in slow, pon- 
 derous strokes. Each one fell with a dull 
 presentiment of coming anguish upon the 
 girl's heart. So remorselessly would be 
 taken from her the few short hours before 
 the moment of parting which was so surely 
 drawing near. She glanced at the clock 
 upon the mantelpiece, and looked away 
 again quickly. 
 
 ' How old are you V asked Colonel 
 Tennant, suddenly, with an apparently 
 unconnected change of ideas. 
 
 £ I was twenty on my last birthday, 
 papa/ She looked a little surprised. 
 
 ' Twenty ! The years have passed 
 quickly.' 
 
 8 Do you think so? I should say, on the 
 contrary, that the time has been like a 
 summer's day, beautiful but long. It seems 
 to me to be a life-time since I was a child, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 5 
 
 a year since we came to England. Papa, 
 now that you must leave me, why cannot I 
 £0 back to La Valliere with Mademoiselle 
 Joseph? If I could be happy without you, 
 I could be happy there.' 
 
 Her father put that question aside, and 
 only replied to it by another. 
 
 1 You have often been happy without 
 me before. Do you think that you know 
 how to be unhappy?' 
 
 ' I am learning. You are teaching me.' 
 
 'The last lesson that I wish you to learn! 
 Do not say that, my child ; you must try 
 to be happy without me. It is impossible 
 to let you go back to the solitude of La 
 Valliere. It is time that you should make 
 acquaintance with your relatives, and see 
 something of the world. Your aunt has 
 promised me to watch over you, and you 
 will have a country life in England which 
 at vour aire was my idea of an earthly 
 paradise. To be sure,' regretfully, * you 
 cannot shoot and fish, but you will have 
 
6 VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 pursuits and interests of your own. Above 
 all, you will have companions of your own 
 age.' 
 
 He stopped suddenly. After all, it was 
 not easy to play the part of a comforter 
 when he felt himself in as great need of 
 consolation as his daughter. He had an 
 unreasonable fear of the unknown dangers 
 which might be awaiting her. She had 
 been brought up in what might now prove 
 to have been an unhealthy seclusion, and 
 she was about to be left, who could say for 
 how long, in the care of those who, though 
 relations, were yet strangers. He knew so 
 little of them that he could form but a 
 faint idea of what their conduct would be 
 towards his motherless girl. And yet he 
 passed his hand fondly over the fair head 
 resting against his knees, and said to him- 
 self that Virginia would surely win her 
 way amongst them. 
 
 ' You will try to make friends of your 
 cousins ?' he asked, a little wistfully. 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 7 
 
 ' I shall be sure to like them,' she 
 answered, with a confidence born of ignor- 
 ance. ' I have seen very few people that I 
 dislike. And, even if I did not like them, 
 it would not matter very much, as it will 
 be for a short time only that I shall be 
 with them.' 
 
 c Why a short time?' The question 
 escaped him unawares. 
 
 ' Why ! because you are so soon coming 
 back again ;' but an uninvited dread had 
 crept into her voice. ' You said that you 
 should soon come back.' 
 
 1 Yes — of course — of course,' he answered, 
 hastily ; but, reaching backward to look in 
 his face, she saw the cloud which had come 
 over it. 
 
 ' Promise me that it shall be soon,' she 
 cried, and flung her arms about his knees. 
 And he knew that he could not promise 
 to come back either soon or late. For the 
 first time he was starting upon active 
 service with a heavy heart. He said to 
 
8 VIRGINIA TENXANT. 
 
 himself that it was a superstition, an 
 absurdity, but when he parted with Vir- 
 ginia it would be to him as if they were 
 not to meet again on this side of the 
 grave ; he would stand as it were at his 
 own death-bed, and she must never know 
 it. 
 
 1 I am not commander-in-chief,' he 
 answered, lightly, ' but certainly I have 
 every prospect of being back shortly. 
 Consider, Virginia ; be reasonable. I have 
 often left you for a longer time, and for a 
 greater distance, and you have not found 
 it so hard to part from me.' 
 
 ' It is because I am afraid this time, 
 papa,' she said, in a low voice. ' I cannot 
 tell why it is that I am afraid.' 
 
 'Then do not spoil our last evening 
 together with unreasonable terrors.' He 
 turned to the table and poured himself out 
 a glass of wine. 'To our happy meeting 
 again,' he said, smiling as he lifted it to his 
 lips. The girl too forced a smile ; and then, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. \) 
 
 as if anxious to turn to another subject, she 
 asked : 
 
 ' Now tell me something about my 
 cousins, papa.' 
 
 ' That is not easy. I am afraid my 
 knowledge is somewhat limited. Emmeline 
 has always been more or less of an invalid. 
 I believe she is six or seven years your 
 senior. Hartley is younger, and then there 
 is a schoolboy not more than fourteen or 
 fifteen, I imagine.' 
 
 'I believe! I imagine! is that all you 
 can say of your nearest relations ?' 
 
 1 I wish now for your sake I could say 
 more,' said Colonel Tennant, gravely. ' Then 
 I should not be leaving you amongst 
 strangers.' 
 
 1 Do not you think that they will be 
 certain to like me ?' and the girl laughed 
 a little. ' I am not afraid. Besides, I shall 
 always have Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
 1 Then you know,' continued Colonel 
 Tennant, ' Mr. Stansfield's son by his first 
 
10 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 wife still lives in the house. He looks 
 after the property; it is fortunate that 
 your aunt has him at hand.' 
 
 'I wonder if she thinks so,' observed 
 Virginia, ' yet a stepson is not like a step- 
 daughter, bound to hate his father's 
 widow.' 
 
 1 Indeed, I should hope not. Yet if you 
 should find that any ill-feeling exists . . .' 
 
 ' I will be sure to take the part of the 
 oppressed, papa.' 
 
 'Take no one's part,' he said, sighing 
 involuntarily ; c a volunteer is sure to do 
 more harm than good, and will please 
 neither of the belligerents. Your little 
 hands,' kissing those he held, ' were meant 
 to make peace, not war.' 
 
 A silence fell upon them. They were 
 both conscious of having carried on a con- 
 versation in the endeavour if possible to 
 hide by commonplace words the deepening 
 oppression of anticipated pain. 
 
 Suddenly the girl half raised herself, and, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 11 
 
 putting her arms about his neck, she hid 
 her face upon his shoulder. It seemed as 
 if for the moment his self-control too had 
 given way. He pressed her closer in his 
 arms and kissed her hair, her fair brow, her 
 half-averted cheek. 
 
 1 You are worn out with your journey, 
 my sweet one,' he whispered ; ' you must 
 sleep to-night, or you will not be fit to say 
 good-bye to me to-morrow. You know you 
 have promised to " smile me adieu," and 
 you must try to rest to-night. I have 
 letters to write, and I ought to be at work 
 now. Let Mademoiselle Joseph stay with 
 you until you are asleep. Good-night, 
 Good-ni^ht.' 
 
 He kissed her once more, and put her 
 gently away from him. She made no 
 resistance ; perhaps she felt that her powers 
 of endurance were at an end. She walked 
 along the passage with her head bent 
 down, and would certainly have failed to 
 find her own room if Mademoiselle Joseph 
 
12 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 had not been watching for her at the door. 
 
 c That is right ; come, come in, my poor 
 child,' cried that good-hearted woman, 
 pushing forward a big arm-chair. ' You 
 have left the colonel to his letters ! That 
 is best. You will sleep and regain 
 courage.' 
 
 ' I cannot let him go : I cannot !' 
 
 Virginia had sunk trembling into a 
 chair; the tears were running down her 
 pale cheeks. 
 
 1 As long as one is in this world one must 
 part,' observed Mademoiselle Joseph, sen- 
 tentiously. ' And it is generally with that 
 which one loves the best.' 
 
 But Virginia hardly heard her. Worn 
 out in body, her mind could grasp only 
 the one idea, and she was absolutely in- 
 different to everything else. She let 
 Mademoiselle Joseph assist her to undress, 
 but she gave her no response. For ^i 
 while she lay exhausted by her tears, 
 watching the shadows on the wall and the 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. . 13 
 
 old Frenchwoman's tall, angular figure in 
 the chair at the foot of the bed ; then the 
 objects became obscured and confused, the 
 vine-leaves on the paper twisted themselves 
 about Mademoiselle Joseph's head, she was 
 on the sea and her bed was tossing upon 
 the waves, she heard their murmur in her 
 ears, and at last she slept. 
 
 4 It is well,' cried Mademoiselle Joseph, 
 rising cautiously upon tiptoe to look at her. 
 1 1 was right ; sorrow always sleeps. It is a 
 merciful provision of nature.' 
 
 She quitted the room, softly shutting the 
 door behind her, and was slipping along 
 the passage to regain her own apartment 
 when Colonel Tennant's voice arrested her. 
 
 ' I am waiting to speak to you, made- 
 moiselle, if you will kindly spare me a few 
 minutes.' 
 
 He stood on the threshold of the sitting- 
 room holding the door open for her to 
 enter. His handsome face was pale and 
 worn, and a deep dejection was manifest 
 
14 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 beneath his soldierly bearing. He drew 
 forward a chair for the governess, but 
 remained standing, and for a minute or 
 two kept silence as if he found a diffi- 
 culty in opening the subject upon which 
 he desired to speak. 
 
 c I wished to make one or two matters 
 plain to you before we part, mademoiselle,' 
 he said at last. c I have placed a sufficient 
 sum of money at my bankers which will be 
 transmitted to Virginia as she needs it, 
 and I do not anticipate any business diffi- 
 culties arising to trouble you. In the 
 event, however, of my death . . .' 
 
 ' Ah ! monsieur !' interrupted Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, casting up her eyes and 
 clasping her hands nervously together. 
 
 ' In the event of my death,' continued 
 Colonel Tennant, calmly, ignoring her ex- 
 clamation, ' I should wish you to com- 
 municate with my lawyers. You will find 
 their name and address within this en- 
 velope. Will you kindly place it in 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 15 
 
 security, and communicate it to no one. I 
 have a special reason for this request.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph drew out an anti- 
 quated pocket-book with silver clasps, and 
 put the paper which he handed to her 
 within it. 
 
 i It shall be safe with me,' she said, 
 impressively. 
 
 ' I have no doubt of it, my good Made- 
 moiselle Joseph,' answered Colonel Tennant, 
 smiling a little. i I am trusting a far more 
 precious possession to your keeping. 1 He 
 paused a moment, and then he said, grave- 
 ly, • I know very little of what may be the 
 circumstances which will surround her, 
 and I shall be powerless to control them. 
 I want an assurance from you, Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, that you will not leave 
 her. Let me feel satisfied that you will 
 upon no pretext be prevailed upon to quit 
 your post ; whatever circumstance may 
 arise, whatever others may think, let it be 
 your duty to remain with Virginia. It is 
 
16 VIRGINIA TENXANT. 
 
 possible that she may find, when I am gone, 
 that she has no friend but vou.' 
 
 'She may have many better friends,' 
 cried the poor woman, wiping her eyes. 
 ' But she will have none more faithful.' 
 
 ' I believe it. You must tell her so 
 from me when I am gone.' 
 
 He walked away to the table and came 
 back again holding an open gold locket 
 which enclosed a miniature of himself. 
 
 1 You will give her this,' he said ; and 
 his voice shook a little. l Give her this 
 with my love when I am gone.' 
 
 1 But you will see her again — in the morn- 
 ing,' cried Mademoiselle Joseph, aghast. 
 
 c See her again — perhaps,' he repeated, 
 with a melancholy smile. 'But in the 
 morning — no. I sail to-night. It is best. 
 She will sleep now, and she will be spared 
 the parting.' 
 
 ' Ah, the poor child. My heart bleeds 
 for her. What a waking !' and she burst 
 into tears. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 17 
 
 Colonel Tennant drew his brows together 
 and a slight sternness gathered about his 
 mouth. Mademoiselle Joseph's weaker sor- 
 row jarred upon his own. He walked to 
 the window and stood looking out into the 
 night, but he only saw a girl's wet blue 
 eyes and a sweet trembling mouth which 
 he might never kiss again. The governess 
 dared not break in upon his reflections. 
 She remained silent, and furtively pressed 
 her handkerchief to her eyes. She was 
 too timid to take the initiative, and she 
 made no movement to withdraw until the 
 colonel, rousing himself from his abstrac- 
 tion, dismissed her. 
 
 1 Good-night, Mademoiselle Joseph,' he 
 said, ' good-bye. I know that you will 
 do all in your power to guard Virginia. 
 I trust you ; you will not leave her till,' 
 — he hesitated for an instant — c till I re- 
 turn. Adieu, my kind mademoiselle. 
 Adieu.' 
 
 1 Au vevoir, monsieur,' she faltered, as 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
18 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 with hurried, uncertain footsteps she left 
 the room. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly over the 
 dazzling whiteness of the cliffs and the 
 blue waters of the Channel when Virginia 
 awoke. She opened her eyes and saw that 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, already fully dressed, 
 was seated at the foot of her bed. There 
 was something in the enforced calm of 
 her countenance, and in the compassionate 
 look she cast upon her, which struck terror 
 to the girl's heart. She raised herself upon 
 her pillows with wide questioning eyes, 
 and a gasping cry : 
 
 ' Papa !' 
 
 'He sailed some hours ago, my poor 
 child,' cried Mademoiselle Joseph, trem- 
 bling. l He wished to spare you.' 
 
 But Virginia answered nothing. She 
 lav down as;ain and turned her face to 
 the wall. No word or sigh escaped her. 
 For some minutes there was absolute 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 19 
 
 silence in the room. Then Mademoiselle 
 Joseph approached, and, bending down, 
 held out the locket. 
 
 * Your father left this beautiful like- 
 ness of himself for your consolation, my 
 darling. See, is it not life-like?' 
 
 But Virginia did not move or turn to 
 look at it, only her hand closed over 
 the locket when it was laid beside her. 
 She gave no other sign of consciousness. 
 
 ' Ah, this is terrible,' sighed poor Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, in her perplexity. i I 
 would rather that she had wept out her 
 grief. This is worse than tears.' 
 
 But Virginia had not shed a tear ; she 
 lay still with her face turned from the 
 light, and Mademoiselle Joseph did not 
 venture to disturb her. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 For three days and nights after his de- 
 parture Colonel Tennant's daughter kept 
 silence. She went through the neces- 
 sary routine of life as one who had lost all 
 interest in it. She was not ungracious nor 
 ill-tempered, but she answered Mademoi- 
 selle Joseph's anxious questions with gentle 
 brevity, and for long hours she sat still 
 and unoccupied or walked alone upon the 
 sea-wall looking across the Channel. 
 
 On the fourth morning, however, she 
 walked into the room with a step at once 
 light and resolute and an air of having cast 
 her troubles behind her. 
 
 ' Dear mademoiselle !' she said, looking 
 down at the thin nervous figure which 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 2L 
 
 was seated disconsolately at the table add- 
 ing up accounts which invariably came 
 wrong. c You have been very patient. I 
 will try you no longer. We will go to 
 Stansfield to-day.' 
 
 ' That is right. It is not that I wished 
 to hurry you, my poor child, but if }~ou 
 can for your own sake put your sorrow 
 aside . . .' 
 
 1 I have foresworn its company,' Virginia 
 interrupted her, a little quickly. c And 
 now let us pay our bills and get our 
 affairs in order. There is a train in two 
 hours' time by which we can reach Stans- 
 field to-night.' 
 
 ' But are they expecting us?' 
 
 1 Certainly. My aunt wrote to say that 
 she would be prepared to receive us any 
 day after the 3rd, and this is the 6th.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph raised no further 
 objection, but in her own mind she was not 
 altogether satisfied. It seemed to her that 
 Virginia's entrance into the house of her 
 
22 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 unknown relations was a serious step in 
 life, which should be undertaken with all 
 due solemnity. It is true they were ex- 
 pecting her, and yet, as no day or hour had 
 been decided upon, she would take them 
 more or less unawares. Poor Mademoiselle 
 Joseph felt very nervous. She busied herself 
 about the preparations for their departure, 
 but her mind was not at ease. She pasted 
 wrong labels on the boxes, packed up the 
 hotel blotting-book, and left her own purse 
 in the drawer of the writing-table. It was 
 Virginia who with deft quick fingers re- 
 medied her mistakes ; it was Virginia who 
 at last brought her bonnet and cloak and 
 told her that the carriage was at the door. 
 There was nothing more to be done. For 
 an instant the girl paused upon the step, 
 whilst her look passed over the line of 
 the sea-wall to the expanse of waters now 
 ideamin^ like a silver shield in the sun- 
 light. As a frame encircles a picture so 
 does the scene of our parting enshrine the 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 23 
 
 memory of those we have lost. Several 
 people had gathered in the hall to see 
 the last of the girl about whom some of 
 the visitors in the hotel had been pleased 
 to weave an imaginary romance, but she 
 did not notice them. Her eyes were full 
 of tears as she stepped into the carriage. 
 
 ' And so we start once more upon our 
 travels,' cried Mademoiselle Joseph, with 
 forced cheerfulness. 
 
 ' Like Columbus in search of an un- 
 known country,' replied Virginia, smiling. 
 
 It was late when they reached their last 
 station. The country through which they 
 passed, wood and valley, pasture and hill, 
 had long been hidden from them by the 
 misty darkness of an October afternoon ; 
 the scattered lights of the small country 
 town alone warned them that they were 
 approaching their destination, and they 
 had still a drive of some miles before them. 
 
 Poor Mademoiselle Joseph sat in a for- 
 lorn and dejected attitude upon a bench 
 
24 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 whilst their luggage was being placed upon 
 the sole fly which was in waiting. Virginia 
 stood near her composed and patient. She 
 had no doubt of her welcome, yet she was 
 in no haste to receive it. 
 
 6 Do you think that they will be pre- 
 pared . . . that at this late hour your 
 aunt will be glad of your arrival?' asked 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, hesitatingly, as they 
 were jolted in their unwieldy conveyance 
 over the inequalities of the country lanes. 
 She could but dimly see the girl's face by 
 the uncertain lamplight as she turned 
 towards her, but there was no shrinking or 
 doubting in her answer. 
 
 c Certainly they will be glad to see us. 
 You know it was my aunt's own wish that 
 I should come to her. I am not afraid that 
 they will not be glad.' 
 
 ' No, of course, naturally not,' murmured 
 the Frenchwoman ; but nevertheless her 
 heart beat with unaccustomed rapidity 
 when, after passing through some lodge 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 25 
 
 gates and up a wooded approach, the 
 carriage stopped beneath a high portico, 
 and the driver, descending, pulled with un- 
 necessary violence at the bell. The clang- 
 in"; echoes were still sounding when the 
 doors were thrown open, disclosing a large 
 paved and well-lighted hall within. Made- 
 moiselle Joseph was thankful to be able to 
 remain behind under pretence of attending 
 to the luggage, whilst Virginia followed 
 
 CO O J o 
 
 the servant through a small vestibule into 
 a long drawing-room beyond. 
 
 It had only one occupant, a girl, who in 
 a loose white wrapper was half sitting, half 
 reclining on a low couch near the fire. 
 Her small feet were stretched out towards 
 the blaze, from which the large fan that 
 she held shaded her eyes. When Virginia 
 was announced, and stood for an instant 
 hesitating, though not shyly, upon the 
 threshold, she half rose from her seat, and 
 held out her hand, saying, in a tone of 
 slightly aggrieved surprise : 
 
26 VIRGINIA TENXANT. 
 
 ' When she did not hear from you, 
 mamma did not suppose that you would 
 come to-day.' 
 
 Virginia came forward and stood upon 
 the rug. She looked at Miss Stansfield 
 with a grave astonishment. Brought up 
 with but little practical experience of social 
 observances, but under all the traditions 
 of old-fashioned courtesy, it would have 
 been instinctively impossible for her to be 
 otherwise than polite to a guest, more 
 especially to one who was, like herself, a 
 stranger. She was not in the least em- 
 barrassed, not even discomfited, but she 
 found it difficult to believe that this girl 
 was her cousin, the only relation with whom 
 she had as yet been brought into contact. 
 
 c I thought from what my aunt said in 
 her letter that she was expecting me,' she 
 said, calmly. She did not feel that any 
 apology could be required from her. It 
 was rather for Miss Stansfield to make 
 what amends she could for the lack of 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 27 
 
 welcome in her greeting. Virginia looked 
 
 very slight and fair as she stood there in 
 her dark travelling-dress, looking round with 
 unabashed eyes, interested but not curious. 
 
 ' Mamma is dressing. She will be down 
 directly,' observed Miss Stansfield, in- 
 differently ; yet Virginia's composure had 
 made a little impression upon her. She 
 liked her the better for it. And then the 
 door opened again ; there was a scampering 
 sound, and a dog's short bark in the pas- 
 sage, and, with a fat, long-haired terrier 
 rolling like a ball of white worsted at her 
 feet, a tall lady in evening-dress swept 
 into the room. 
 
 ' My dear child ! So you have arrived !' 
 she said, as she kissed her niece. 'Wel- 
 come to Stansfield.' 
 
 Her voice, though naturally metallic, 
 was carefully modulated ; it gave her a good 
 deal of trouble, and so did the artistic 
 arrangement of the elaborate plaits and 
 waves of hair which were surmounted by a 
 
28 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 slight apology for a widow's cap. Mrs. 
 Stansfield was a person who, upon principle, 
 made the best of everything which was in 
 any way connected with herself. 1 1 could 
 look ten years older to-morrow,' she said 
 to herself sometimes, ' but people need not 
 obtrude their age upon others. It is an 
 unpleasant fact and apt to become unsight- 
 ly. I shall not be an old woman for twenty 
 years more. I shall keep age at a distance.' 
 And she derived a good deal of satis- 
 faction from the sense of power. So far 
 she had succeeded, and she knew it. The 
 eyes with which she looked at Virginia were 
 as bright as her own ; the hand which she 
 laid upon her shoulder was white and 
 slender. 
 
 ' You must be tired and ready for 
 dinner,' she said ; and all the while she was 
 scrutinizing her guest, noticing with im- 
 partial approval the pose of her head, the 
 grace of her light upright figure. ' Do not 
 wait to change your dress. Dinner will be 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 29 
 
 ready in ten minutes. My maid will un- 
 pack for you and show you your room. I 
 hope that your father left you well and in 
 good spirits ?' 
 
 ' Yes — thank you,' she answered, a little 
 quickly; then, looking round her: 'Have 
 you seen Mademoiselle Joseph ?' 
 
 i I believe she has gone upstairs,' replied 
 Mrs. Stansfield, coldly. ' Emmeline, you 
 might go with Virginia.' 
 
 But Emmeline made no attempt to rise 
 from her chair; she began to cough, 
 and murmured something about being 
 afraid of the draughts. Virginia did not 
 wait for her mother to urge her. She 
 walked to the door and went out, closing 
 it behind her. In the hall she asked for 
 her room and Mademoiselle Joseph, and 
 ascended the stairs feeling a little puzzled 
 and a little indignant. In the corridor 
 above she paused in some uncertainty. It 
 was a large rambling country-house, in 
 which Stansfields had lived from time im- 
 
30 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 memorial, adding to it from time to time 
 as need arose. A passage ran all round 
 the house above the square entrance hall, 
 upon which doors opened leading into 
 other parts of the building. Virginia had 
 been told that her room was on the left in 
 the west wing, but she fancied that she 
 must have taken the wrong turning, and 
 was about to retrace her steps when she 
 was relieved to see a young man in evening- 
 dress, evidently a guest of the house, 
 advancing towards her. 
 
 ' I have lost my way,' she said, standing 
 still and looking at him with a frank 
 inquiring smile. 
 
 ' I shall be very happy if I may help 
 you to find it/ he answered. Then, after 
 an instant's pause, c I think I must be 
 right in supposing you to be my cousin — 
 Virginia.' 
 
 He spoke her name gently, as if half 
 afraid of bein£ too familiar. But Virginia, 
 so far from being offended, was very ready 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 31 
 
 to respond to the first sincere word of wel- 
 come which she had received. Besides, this 
 unknown cousin was hardly more than a 
 boy. He was rather below middle height, 
 with a pleasing deferential smile, brown 
 hair parted in the middle, and a slight 
 moustache. 
 
 ' Yes, I am Virginia,' she answered, 
 readily. c And I see you must be Hartley. 
 Xow please tell me where I shall find my 
 boxes and Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
 But at that instant Mademoiselle Joseph' 
 herself was seen emerging from a room 
 some doors off, and Virginia hastened to 
 her, only turning her head for a moment 
 to say : c I am afraid I must be late. 
 Pray ask your mother not to wait for 
 me.' 
 
 4 Very well. I will keep a place for 
 you by me,' he answered, quickly. But 
 if it had been in his nature to be angry 
 he would have been angered now by the 
 scanty welcome she had received. One 
 
32 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 of them might at least have shown her 
 to her room, he said to himself, as he went 
 downstairs. 
 
 In the meantime, in the drawing-room 
 below, Mrs. Stansfield was considering the 
 position from her own point of view as she 
 sat before the fire waiting for the re-appear- 
 ance of her guest, with her silk skirts 
 carefully arranged in their ample folds 
 around her. 
 
 c The girl herself is presentable, indeed 
 she is distinctly pretty, which is an un- 
 doubted advantage ; and, as to the ways and 
 manners of society, if she is clever she may 
 slip into them easily enough ; but the 
 companion ! Was there ever such an an- 
 achronism !' cried the mistress of the 
 house, with a gesture of surprised disgust. 
 ' An antiquated demoiselle ; provincialism 
 incarnate which has unfortunately escaped 
 all revolutionary aggressions. One look 
 at Mademoiselle Joseph is quite sufficient 
 to dissipate any delusions as to elegance 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 33 
 
 being inseparably connected with her 
 nationality.' 
 
 L Has Virginia left the school-room 7 
 asked Emmeline, languidly. 
 
 c My dear ! Of course, she is nearly 
 twenty.' 
 
 1 Then we must find some means to keep 
 the governess there,' answered Miss Stans- 
 field. c A governess without a school-room 
 is most emphatically out of place.' 
 
 c You must be careful not to offend 
 them,' said her mother. ' I never can un- 
 derstand why you should allow present 
 comfort to take the place of every other 
 consideration. You know that it is an 
 object to me to have the girl here, and yet 
 you will not raise a finger to help me. 
 You are lazier than Hartley.' 
 
 ' I am not fitted for active service, mam- 
 ma. But at least I will promise you that 
 mine shall be an armed neutrality.' 
 
 And Mademoiselle Joseph above was 
 saying : 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 'Your excellent aunt was evidently a 
 little unprepared for our arrival, but she 
 is most amiable in her desire to disguise 
 it. I trust, my darling, that you will be 
 very happy here.' 
 
 c Yes, I shall like Stansfield,' answered 
 Virginia. ' I am sure of it/ 
 
 She stood before the toilet-table fasten- 
 ing the coils of her hair round her charm- 
 ing head. She smiled at herself in the 
 glass with a little air of resolution. 
 
 c I mean to be happy,' she was saying to 
 herself. ' Why should I not be happy ? It 
 is good to have an aunt, it is delightful 
 to have cousins. Since I cannot be with 
 papa, or at La Valliere, I am glad to be 
 here.' 
 
 1 I am ready, mademoiselle !' she cried, 
 gaily. ' Let us go down.' 
 
35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ' This is a beautiful country,' said Virginia. 
 She had come in from a round of inspec- 
 tion. As soon as breakfast was over, she 
 had gone out alone into the gardens. She 
 had wandered under the reddening beeches 
 in the park ; she had viewed with pleasure 
 the peaches in the high-walled kitchen gar- 
 den. She had gathered a handful of autumnal 
 flowers, and greeted the old gardener with a 
 smile. It was a still fine day, and the light 
 mist of early autumn touched with sun- 
 light lay like an aureole over the world. 
 As Virginia came into the drawing-room, 
 with her hat in one hand and her flowers 
 in the other, she had the kind of freshness 
 
 d 2 
 
36 VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 
 
 in her aspect which belongs to the morning 
 and to youth alone. 
 
 c What a pity that you should not be 
 able to be out of doors,' she said, looking 
 down at Emmeline, who with a book upon 
 her knees sat as usual close to the fire. 
 1 The garden is delighful ; you must be very 
 fond of Stansfield.' 
 
 Emmeline looked up, keeping her place 
 in the volume which she laid down re- 
 luctantly. 
 
 1 Why should one be fond of a place?' 
 
 L Why !' echoed Virginia, opening her 
 eyes. ' How can one help it ? As long as 
 this world is so beautiful, and one can spend 
 so many happy hours in it, I cannot under- 
 stand how one can help it. When I think 
 of the rose garden at La Valliere, and the 
 old lime-tree at the gate . . . .' 
 
 She stopped suddenly and her eyes filled 
 with tears. Emmeline gazed at her, with 
 a growing curiosity which almost over- 
 powered her indifference. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 37 
 
 ' How very extraordinary and inconve- 
 nient,' she ejaculated. ' To be attached in 
 this way to certain places is like a cat.' 
 
 'Is it ?' asked Virginia, with unruffled 
 good humour, swinging her hat lightly in 
 her hand. ' But cats do not care for people, 
 I believe.' 
 
 c Are vou so unfortunate then as to care 
 for people too ?' 
 
 ' 1 have not known many people,' 
 answered Virginia. ' You know we lived 
 almost alone at La Valliere. It was a 
 solitary place, even the village was a mile 
 away from us, and I had lived there ever 
 since I can remember. I had only Made- 
 moiselle Joseph and,' with an effort, 'papa 
 to care for.' She paused a moment, as in- 
 voluntarily with a sudden contraction at her 
 heart her thoughts fled back to their part- 
 ing, her last clinging embrace, and his un- 
 spoken farewell. And then she smiled and 
 said, ' But there is no reason why I 
 should not like other people as well.' 
 
38 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 1 could find a great many reasons,' 
 murmured Miss Stansfield. 
 
 c What are they ?' asked Virginia, in- 
 terested. 
 
 1 They are hardly worth the trouble of 
 recounting,' she answered, coldly. l I 
 have no doubt you will soon find them out 
 for yourself.' 
 
 Virginia had seated herself on a low 
 stool by the fire. She leaned her head 
 upon her hand and looked thoughtful. 
 Emmeline had taken up her book again, 
 but after a few minutes, as she turned a 
 page, she glanced at her companion. 
 
 'She is very pretty!' she said to herself, 
 • but I am dreadfully afraid she will bore 
 me. I hate people who will ask incon- 
 venient questions.' 
 
 ' I must get some water for my flowers,' 
 said Virginia, rising, ' and Mademoiselle 
 Joseph wants me to help her in her arrange- 
 ments ; so au revoir; and she left the room. 
 
 Emmeline drew her shoulders together 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 39 
 
 and raised her eyebrows. ' She actually 
 seems to think that I shall miss her,' she 
 murmured to herself. c It is very absurd.' 
 
 That afternoon there was a sudden 
 change in the weather. The sky became 
 overcast, there were distant mutterings of 
 thunder, and a low sighing wind swept the 
 dead leaves along the ground. Mademoi- 
 selle Joseph, who had a constitutional dread 
 of a storm, begged Virginia not to venture 
 abroad, and the girl stood balancing her- 
 self on the step of the hall door, half 
 amused at her fears and half inclined to 
 rebel. 
 
 'But I like a storm,' she asserted. 
 c There is such spirit, such life in it. 
 It carries everything before it, and sweeps 
 away everything unsightly. I should like 
 at this moment to be under those great 
 beeches, as they bow their heads before 
 it.' 
 
 1 The most dangerous place you could 
 select. When will you learn wisdom, my 
 
40 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 poor Virginia ? There are dangers enough 
 in life without 2*oin2 to meet them.' 
 
 ' I have not found this world at all a 
 dangerous place/ answered the girl, smiling ; 
 ' still, it is true, I have not as yet seen very 
 much of it. Well ! if I may not go into 
 the gardens, I suppose I may safely explore 
 the house. There is a picture-gallery, and 
 the library in the old wing, which I have 
 not seen as yet.' 
 
 ' I presume there could be no objection 
 to your going over the house,' answered 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, doubtfully. 
 
 c Why !' asked Virginia, surprised. ' It 
 is not haunted, is it ? And, if it were, it 
 would be a bold ghost indeed that would 
 venture to walk in broad daylight. Besides, 
 if it is going to rain I shall want a book. 
 I will go and explore this unknown country, 
 and return to you with my spoils.' 
 
 She went back and crossed the tiled hall, 
 stopping for a minute or two to examine 
 the graceful carving and design of the 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 41 
 
 high mantel-piece. She passed the door 
 which led into the conservatory, and, push- 
 ing a heavy curtain aside, found herself in 
 the long passage which led down to the 
 rooms in the old wing of the house. Xo 
 modern improvements had changed its old- 
 fashioned aspect. To the back a mullioned 
 window looked out into the courtyard, a 
 well-worn stone staircase led to the floor 
 above, and a heavy oak door in the wain- 
 scoted passage, with deer's antlers above it, 
 was undoubtedly the library. As Vir- 
 ginia paused, Mrs. Stansfield's maid, Mar- 
 tin, a pleasant-mannered person, who had 
 already taken a fancy to her mistress's 
 young guest, came down the staircase on 
 her way to the housekeeper's room, with 
 some laces and ribbons in her hand. 
 
 'Is that the library?' asked Virginia, 
 pointing to the door before her. 
 
 c Yes, that is the library, miss,' answered 
 Martin, but without alacrity. ' Mr. Nor- 
 ton generally sits there.' 
 
42 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 c Mr. Norton Stansfield,' repeated Vir- 
 ginia. Until now she had forgotten his 
 existence. She had not seen him since her 
 arrival, and, as it happened, no one had 
 mentioned his name. She took a step for- 
 ward and laid her hand upon the door. 
 ' Since he is not here, I may certainly go in,' 
 she said to herself. She turned the handle 
 and entered. 
 
 She found herself in a long low room of 
 irregular shape, lined with bookcases. In 
 one of the many recesses there stood a 
 draped easel, and in another a marble 
 statue of Silence : a woman with her finger 
 upon her lips. Some smouldering logs burn- 
 ed upon the wide hearth, and the light came 
 shaded by overhanging creepers through 
 the heavy stone frame-work of the window 
 panes. The legitimate occupant of the 
 room was seated at the table with a pile of 
 papers and books before him. He was 
 writing, with his brows slightly drawn to- 
 gether, and an air of absorbed application. 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 43 
 
 He did not raise his eyes at the soft open- 
 ing of the door ; but as Virginia closed it 
 behind her, and remained standing upon 
 the threshold, he looked up, and she met 
 his surprised gaze and coloured a little 
 under it, though she at once came forward 
 and said, with a frank smile : 
 
 ' I did not know that anyone was here. 
 I hope that I have not disturbed you. I 
 came for a book. I thought that you were 
 away.' 
 
 1 Why did you think that I was away?' 
 
 His manner, though not uncourteous, 
 was decidedly cold. 
 
 ' Naturally I thought it when I never 
 saw you,' answered Virginia, somewhat 
 piqued. c I came last night, I dined here, 
 I breakfasted here this morning. I have 
 just had luncheon with your mother and 
 your sister, yet you never appeared.' 
 
 4 And you consider the dinner-bell to be 
 the roll-call of the family? Perhaps you 
 are right, but I do not always heed it.' 
 
44 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' Do you dine alone ?' 
 
 ' Sometimes,' lie answered, briefly. 
 
 ' How very dull P observed Virginia. 
 She had walked to the bookcase and was 
 running her eyes along the titles of the 
 books, which for the most part looked un- 
 promising enough. c Do you like to be 
 alone?' 
 
 ' Certainly, at times,' he answered, not 
 without meaning. 
 
 ' You mean that you wish me to go away?' 
 There was not the least shade of offence in 
 her voice as she took down a book and 
 fluttered its pages. ' I see, you are busy. 
 I will not stay long ; but I must find a 
 book.' 
 
 ' 1 am afraid that you will not find any- 
 thing there to interest you,' he answered, 
 a good deal annoyed by the quickness 
 with which she had divined a thought that 
 he would on no account have put into 
 words. ' There are some novels on the 
 other side of the fireplace.' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 45 
 
 * And I have hardly ever read any.' She 
 promptly crossed the rug to the shelves 
 which he had indicated. ' You know there 
 are not many in French which young girls 
 may read, and Mademoiselle Joseph is a 
 severe critic. There are a great many 
 books upon her index. Xow this,' select- 
 ing a volume with a melodramatic frontis- 
 piece, and noting with pleasure the pages 
 of dialogue. ' Now this looks excessively 
 interesting.' 
 
 Mr. Stansfield glanced at the volume 
 she held out, and, in spite of himself, he 
 started. 
 
 c 1 think you had better not take that,' 
 he said, quickly. He was angry at the 
 position in which she had placed him. 
 What was it to him? Why should he be 
 forced, as it were, to give an opinion upon 
 a subject with which he had not the slight- 
 est concern. 
 
 1 I should like a love-story,' answered 
 Virginia, laying down, however, the volume 
 
46 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 he had condemned and taking up another. 
 ' Have you read this ? shall I like it ?' 
 
 He glanced at the author's name and 
 assented shortly. He was anxious to free 
 himself from the absurd pretension of act- 
 ing as a guide to her inxperience. i I can- 
 not pretend to be a good judge of fiction,' 
 he added ; c my food would probably be 
 your poison.' 
 
 1 Is that the reason that you will not 
 dine with me ?' asked Virginia, smiling 
 again. 
 
 Mr. Stansfield felt as if a butterfly had 
 flown in his face. This light onslaught 
 upon the out- works of his natural reserve 
 struck him as audacious, and yet it was so 
 unconscious that it was not worth re- 
 senting. 
 
 c I hope to have the honour of dining 
 with you some evening, Miss Tennant, 
 though unfortunately to-night I have 
 another engagement.' 
 
 'Miss Tennant!' echoed Virginia. 'Should 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 47 
 
 not cousins call each other by their Chris- 
 tian names?' 
 
 ' It is the custom ; but it is my mis- 
 fortune not my fault that I cannot claim 
 any relationship with you.' 
 
 1 Of course, I had forgotten for the 
 moment that vou are not Aunt Charlotte's 
 son.' 
 
 1 It was too heavy a price to pay even for 
 the privilege of becoming your cousin,' 
 muttered Norton, a slight smile just visible 
 beneath his beard. 
 
 Virginia looked rather grave. 
 
 c I am sorry that you think so,' she re- 
 marked. ' She has been kind to me. 
 But,' after a moment's reflection, ; I can 
 hardly believe that she is papa's sister ; she 
 is not in the least like him.' 
 
 It was a question upon which he could 
 not be expected to give an opinion, and 
 she did not wait for an answer; but pausing 
 for an instant before him with her book 
 in her hand, she inclined her head slightly, 
 
48 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 wished him good-bye, and left the room. 
 
 4 What did you find ?' asked Mademoiselle 
 Joseph. She looked up from her canvas 
 work upon which various gorgeous floral 
 specimens to be found in no botanical 
 catalogue were strikingly pourtrayed. Vir- 
 ginia had returned to find her in the sittins:- 
 room to the west, which Mrs. Stansfield 
 had carefully explained was to be for the 
 special use of the governess and her charge. 
 It was a pleasant little abode with pretty 
 light chintz-covered furniture, and a win- 
 dow framed and festooned with crimson 
 sprays of the virginian creeper which had 
 twined itself round the stone balcony out- 
 side. 'What did you discover?' repeated 
 Mademoiselle Joseph. 
 
 ' I made no great discoveries,' the girl 
 answered. c I brought back this ;' showing 
 the volume she held ; ' and I made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Norton Stansfield.' 
 
 ; What is he like ?' enquired Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, with some veiled curiosity. 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 49 
 
 She bent her eyes once more upon her 
 work, but she waited with her needle sus- 
 pended for the answer. 
 
 ' He has handsome dark eyes/ answered 
 Virginia, slowly, i and thick hair of a 
 lighter colour with a wave in it, and a 
 short beard . . . .' 
 
 ' My dear child,' interrupted Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, scandalized, 1 1 was not 
 asking what you thought of Mr. Xorton 
 Stansfield's personal appearance.' 
 
 1 Of what else could I have formed an 
 opinion in a quarter-of-an-hour?' asked 
 Virginia, in no wise disconcerted by the 
 implied reproof. 'I do not know what 
 more I can tell you. I feel sorry for him. 
 He does not look very happy.' 
 
 1 People are seldom very happy when 
 their first youth is past,' observed Made- 
 moiselle Joseph ; she was apt to take 
 refuge in generalities, when she was at a 
 loss as to what to say about the special 
 matter in question. ' The cares of life 
 
 VOL. i. is 
 
50 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 gather round them and cannot be dismissed 
 at will. It is true, youth has its sorrows, 
 but they are short-lived.' 
 
 4 You are right,' cried Virginia. ' One 
 cannot always be unhappy. The sun shines, 
 and people are kind, and the world is 
 beautiful, but still when one remembers . . .' 
 She stopped short. i I do not wish to 
 remember,' she cried, passionately. c I 
 wish to be happy till he comes back ; but 
 he is always here,' pressing her hand upon 
 her heart. 
 
 4 My poor child, how you love him ! You 
 love him too much.' 
 
 ' Can one help it ?' asked Virginia, seat- 
 ing herself at the table, and resting her 
 head upon her hands. ' I suppose that 
 if people could kill what gives them so 
 much pain they would do it; yet love is as 
 strong as ever, is he not ?' 
 
 ' I really cannot say, my dear child. It 
 is not a subject ... in short, these specu- 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 51 
 
 lations have, in my opinion, a morbid 
 tendency.' 
 
 Virginia hardly heard her. She re- 
 mained lost in thought. After a while 
 she stepped out on the balcony. In the 
 west, with stormy torchlights which seemed 
 to flare in the wind to light him to his rest, 
 the sun was sinking below the horizon. 
 The grey heavens, flecked with light hurry- 
 ing clouds, lay like a broken sea above, and 
 Virginia, as she gazed, saw a white ship 
 tossed upon it. She shivered and with- 
 drew her eyes. 
 
 ' I will be happy here,' she said to her- 
 self. ' They do not care for me as yet, but 
 they will be kind to me. Perhaps after 
 all kindness is better than love. It does 
 not cost very much, and yet one can be 
 grateful for it.' She went back into the 
 room, and sat down by Mademoiselle 
 Joseph. 
 
 1 1 do not think that Mr. Norton Stans- 
 
 e 2 
 
 UN/VERS/n 
 ILLINOIS 
 
52 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 field is very fond of his step-mother,' she 
 observed. 
 
 ' That is very probable. It is a difficult 
 position.' 
 
 1 And why V 
 
 c The old Mr. Stansfield made a very 
 peculiar will,' answered Mademoiselle 
 Joseph, laying down her work and looking 
 mysterious. c Mr. Norton is his heir and 
 yet he is not. This house is Mrs. Stans- 
 field's for her life. If the eldest son is 
 willing to remain here and manage the 
 property, he has a right to do so ; otherwise, 
 Mrs. Stansfield is at liberty to arrange 
 matters as she pleases.' 
 
 c And if she were left to herself, she might 
 injure the property? I understand ; but 
 he would still inherit it.' 
 
 c Whatever was left of it,' replied Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, shaking her grey curls. 
 1 But only upon one condition.' 
 
 ' What is that ?' asked Virginia, a little 
 eagerly. She was growing interested. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 53 
 
 1 It is a very remarkable one. He is to 
 remain at Stansfielcl as its master only if 
 he is married at the time of his step- 
 mothers death.' 
 
 ' But why should old Mr. Stansfield have 
 wished him to marry ?' cried Virginia. 
 
 ' Upon that point there are many dif- 
 ferent opinions. Some say the old man 
 had a great wish for grandchildren. There 
 had been, as it were, a curse upon the 
 place, and for the last three generations 
 the property had not gone in the direct 
 line. Others say that, though he was a 
 good deal under the dominion of his second 
 wife, he always disliked and distrusted 
 Hartley . . .' 
 
 ' Stop ; I will not hear any more,' cried 
 Virginia, suddenly pressing her hands 
 upon her ears. 6 It is very shocking to 
 think that you should have picked up all 
 this gossip in so short a time, Mademoiselle 
 Joseph. Who can have told you all these 
 secrets.' 
 
54 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 They are no secrets to anyone.' The 
 old Frenchwoman drew herself up with 
 some dignity, and coloured with offence. 
 { I thought it my duty to learn all that was 
 possible about those in whose family you 
 were to be placed, and most of the facts 
 were well known to me even before our 
 arrival.' 
 
 ' Then let us forget them, my good 
 mademoiselle,' cried Virginia, gaily. ' I 
 wish to be friends with everyone, so I must 
 not hear anything against them, though, if 
 I were to take a part, I know very well 
 whose it would be.' 
 
 ' Why, whose part should you take ?' 
 
 c Mr. Norton Stansfield's,' answered Vir- 
 ginia, decidedly. 
 
 1 And why his more than another's?' 
 
 ' Because he is one and they are many. 
 Besides, as I said before, he is not happy ; 
 I am sorry for him.' 
 
 c You need not be so,' cried Mademoiselle 
 Joseph, sharply. c It is not needful for you 
 
VIRGINIA TBHNANT. 55 
 
 to be sorry for a man who has his happiness 
 in his own hands, and besides is double 
 your age.' 
 
 1 But I am very sorry,' cried Virginia, 
 laughing provokinglv. ' It is unkind of 
 you to espouse the opposite side. And 
 Mr. Stansfield is not double my age. I 
 should be still more sorry for him if he 
 were.' 
 
5$ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Nearly thirty years before, a dark- eyed 
 boy had hidden himself behind a curtain 
 to watch with a dull weight of childish 
 forebodings at his heart for the arrival of 
 his fathers new wife. Perhaps it was the 
 fault of the old servants, who, ever since 
 his mother's death, had combined to spoil 
 the little Norton, and who now dreaded 
 and disliked the advent of another mis- 
 tress ; but, when the boy thought of Mrs. 
 Stansfield, his mind reverted to the big 
 prints of Cinderella's step-mother frowning 
 under a high feathered head-dress ; and to 
 the other cruel step-mothers of Grimm's 
 fairy-tales. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield, well-dressed and smil- 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 57 
 
 ing, was very unlike anything his fancy 
 had pictured, and yet, somehow, he did 
 not like her any the better for it. He did 
 not openly rebel against her authority — he 
 was too proud to fight a losing game — and 
 he very soon became aware that his father 
 (his own natural protector) had gone over 
 to the enemy's side ; but he was of a suffi- 
 ciently strong nature to hold aloof, and he 
 did not care for her indulgence nor for the 
 advantages which she had to offer. He 
 received her amenities with unresponsive 
 gravity, and, though at first Mrs. Stans- 
 fi eld had had some high notions of doin£ 
 her duty towards the motherless boy, she 
 very soon grew to feel him an unwelcome 
 incumbrance ; his silent disapproval em- 
 barrassed her, and she was jealous of her 
 husband's affection for his first-born, which 
 it was her constant endeavour to keep in 
 check. 
 
 He was happy enough after his own 
 fashion, as he grew older, with his gun and 
 
58 VIRGINIA TENNA2JT. 
 
 his fishing-rod. He knew every turn and 
 pool in the river; every tree about the place. 
 But it was an unnatural life for a child so 
 young as he was at his mother's death. No 
 one but the old housekeeper ever kissed 
 him in his bed, no one asked about his 
 lessons or showed interest in his play, and 
 life had become already to him a serious 
 thing when he was barely six years old. 
 
 Then there came a day when they told 
 him that he had a little sister. Some one 
 took him to see the infant laid among the 
 white laces of its cradle, and asked him if 
 she was not pretty. He shook his head 
 gravely, yet some impulse made him stretch 
 out a small, sun-burned hand, somewhat in 
 need of soap and water, to touch the baby's 
 softness ; he lon£ afterwards remembered 
 his step-mother's querulous and hasty ex- 
 postulation : 
 
 1 Take care, nurse, pray do not let him 
 touch the child.' Norton never attempted 
 to do it again. 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 59 
 
 Then succeeded school-days, perhaps the 
 happiest of his boyhood; and, naturally 
 unsociable and reserved, he became studi- 
 ous. His masters said lie was persevering 
 rather than brilliant, and yet he bad good 
 abilities ; perhaps he lacked spirit. He 
 was a melancholy boy. 
 
 When Hartley came into the drawing- 
 room before dinner and went prettily 
 round to be kissed by all the ladies in 
 turn, everyone said how very different he 
 was from what his elder brother had been 
 at the same age. He was never the least 
 like Xorton. When he grew older he 
 could converse and take his place at the 
 dinner-table with none of the shyness or 
 constraint natural to a schoolbov, whereas 
 Norton always took care to keep out of the 
 way of strangers. Mrs. Stansheld said he 
 was shy, but it was not so much shyness 
 as a kind of instinctive pride which made 
 him unwilling to go where he was uncer- 
 tain of a welcome. Xeglected and un- 
 
60 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 noticed, lie grew indifferent to other people. 
 He lived his life apart. Only a deep re- 
 sentment smouldered within him when he 
 felt that, even to his father, he was of but 
 little account. He considered that he had 
 a right to his father's love, and felt himself 
 to be defrauded. He turned aside with a 
 demon of jealousy dragging at his heart 
 when Mr. Stansfield proudly showed off 
 his younger boy to strangers, or fondly 
 caressed his peevish little girl. 
 
 And when Xorton left Oxford it was 
 not long before he discovered that his 
 position in his father's house was becom- 
 ing untenable. A profession was spoken 
 of, but nothing was decided. Mr. Stans- 
 field, as Xorton bitterly thought, had no 
 care for his future ; he was only anxious 
 to send him away. He should travel for 
 a year or two, so his father said, and see 
 something of the world. It would do him 
 no harm, even if he were to settle doAvn 
 eventually to the life of an English squire. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT, 61 
 
 And the year or two stretched itself out 
 indefinitely. He travelled a good deal in 
 the most unfrequented parts of Europe, 
 then he started for America, and ' went 
 West.' He was not unhappy, though he 
 still made few acquaintances and no friends. 
 He was at times as home-sick as a girl for 
 the fields and woods of Stansfield. In his 
 dreams he saw the sunlight on the quiet 
 corn-fields, and heard the ripple of the 
 river over the stones ; but he never sought 
 to return, he believed that no one wanted 
 him. 
 
 It was a surprise to receive a sudden 
 summons to his home. His father was ill, 
 but he did not understand what that ill- 
 ness meant until he stood within the dark- 
 ened room, and heard his voice. 
 
 ' Is that you, Norton ? Have you come 
 back ?' 
 
 1 Yes, I have come back.' 
 
 He bent, and took the restless fingers 
 upon the coverlet into his strong, firm 
 
62 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 clasp. All recollection of individual wrongs 
 had long since passed away, yet, neverthe- 
 less, a sense of estrangement weighed upon 
 him, and made it difficult for him to speak. 
 
 'My eldest son !' the sick man repeated, 
 feebly. 'Never forget, Norton, that you 
 are my eldest son.' 
 
 He made no answer. What was there 
 to say? He thought, with some bitter- 
 ness, that it was his father who had hither- 
 to been oblivious of the fact. 
 
 c You must undertake to carry out my 
 wishes, Norton,' Mr. Stansfield insisted, 
 half raising himself upon his pillows. 
 'Mrs. Stansfield does not understand; but 
 I — I am sorry if I have seemed to neglect 
 you.' 
 
 ' Do not think of that,' said the young 
 man, quickly ; the self-reproach hurt him, 
 it was not fitting from a father to a son. 
 ' I have done very well. It was not your 
 fault.' 
 
 'But you promise. Dixon has all the 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 63 
 
 papers, and lie understands my wishes. 
 You will not fail me, Norton ?' 
 
 c I will do all you wish, if it is in my 
 power.' 
 
 Norton spoke distinctly yet softly, with 
 instinctive comprehension of the needs of 
 the poor flickering existence to which he 
 had been called to minister in these last 
 hours. 
 
 ' The voice is Jacob's voice,' murmured 
 the sick man. 
 
 ' His mind wanders continually,' said 
 some one who stood in the background. 
 1 You had better leave him for the present.' 
 
 And he left him, never to hear another 
 conscious word from his lips, never to 
 receive any explanation of his last wishes 
 except from the lawyer. But the lawyer 
 was explicit enough, after his own cautious 
 fashion. He trusted Norton Sfcansfield ; 
 he had known him from a boy. He had 
 been often sullen, gloomy, and self-occupied, 
 but he had never known him do a cruel 
 
64 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 action nor tell a lie. His father had be- 
 lieved in him too. It gave Norton a 
 curious sense of satisfaction and regret to 
 learn it now at the last ; and his fathers 
 dying wish was that he might live upon 
 the place, and that it might one day be 
 his and his children's. 
 
 c It preyed upon his mind that Hartley 
 would ruin himself and the estate, if it 
 came into his hands,' so the lawyer said. 
 ' If you care for his wishes, you will remain 
 and do your best with it.' And so it was 
 that he did remain the master of Stans- 
 field ; the unwilling guardian of his step- 
 mother and her children. 
 
 They had nothing in common. Norton's 
 education, though desultory, had not been 
 superficial, he had read a good deal and 
 had the keen insight of a spectator into 
 life ; yet there were many phases of it 
 which he had never studied, simply because 
 they had no interest for him ; he had turned 
 from them in indifference or disgust. Out 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 65 
 
 in the wilds of Colorado many strange 
 scenes had passed before him which had 
 left no more impression upon his mind 
 than the images of a dream ; yet upon his 
 inward vision other little trivial pictures 
 were indelibly engraved : a tuft of ferns 
 by a mountain stream, the sunset reflected 
 in a solitary pool, the laughter in the eyes 
 of a little child. From these pure and 
 peaceful visions he stood equally apart, and 
 yet he felt that they held for him some 
 bond of union which he recognised in 
 silence. Between himself and the trifling 
 jealousies and petty ambitions of a dis- 
 appointed woman there was no such tie of 
 fellowship. He was determined to carry 
 out his father's dying wish, but he sometimes 
 felt that he had a heavy price to pay for 
 his loyalty to the dead. It is an allegiance 
 which cannot be broken, a service from 
 which there is no enfranchisement. 
 
 It was three years since his father died, 
 and he saw no prospect of release from a 
 
 vol. i. F 
 
€>$ VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 
 
 duty which became every week more 
 irksome ; and yet there was a fund of 
 obstinacy in his nature which made him 
 unwilling to own himself worsted. He 
 avoided as much as possible any personal en- 
 counters with his stepmother ; he ignored 
 her wishes when he felt it impossible to 
 carry them into effect, but when there were 
 no important issues at stake he was quite 
 ready to let her take her own way. She 
 often imagined that she had circumvented 
 him by stratagem, when in reality he had 
 looked on at her tactics with contempt or 
 indifference. 
 
 On one occasion Hartley, with his habit- 
 ual ease of manner shaken into something 
 like fear, had of his own accord sought his 
 brother's help. He had something to say, 
 and Norton would give him no assistance. 
 c He had been unfortunate, he saw now he 
 had been a fool, but what was to be done, 
 the money must be paid.' Norton made 
 no observation, he did not seem surprised ; 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 67 
 
 perhaps he knew more than had been told 
 in that halting confession in which a little 
 genuine shame was hidden beneath boyish 
 effrontery. He heard him in gloomy 
 silence, and then he wrote a cheque and 
 handed it to him. ' It will be for the last 
 time,' that was all that he said ; and he 
 never in any way by look or word referred 
 to it as;ain. He had no wish to receive con- 
 iidences from his step-mother, or to give 
 them. She believed in Hartley, he had no 
 desire to undeceive her. There was onlv one 
 thing which he absolutely required at Mrs. 
 Stansfield's hands, and that was the undis- 
 turbed possession of his own rooms. He 
 dined when he pleased alone and at his 
 own hours, and it was very rarely that any 
 member of the family even knocked at the 
 library door. 
 
 It was an unwelcome surprise when a 
 few weeks after Virginia's arrival Mrs. 
 Stansfield sought him there. She entered 
 into many apologies, but he perceived to 
 
 f2 
 
68 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 his discomfiture that she had seated herself 
 in his most comfortable arm-chair and 
 seemed to be prepared for a protracted 
 interview. 
 
 4 Norton,' she began, after a somewhat 
 ominous pause, l I have come to have 
 a little private talk with you. I have come 
 to consult with you.' 
 
 Norton knew perfectly well the meaning 
 of that preface in general. It meant that 
 his step-mother intended to take her own 
 way. He waited to let her open the cam- 
 paign ; distant but courteous. 
 
 c A great responsibility rests upon me,' 
 continued Mrs. Stansfield. ' I almost fear 
 that it is one which I should not have 
 undertaken. Yet how could I refuse my 
 brother's most natural request that I would 
 take care of Virginia in his absence?' 
 
 ' I am sorry if you feel it to be a burden. 
 I am afraid,' said her step-son, with a 
 slight smile, ' that it is one from which I 
 cannot relieve you. Yet why should you 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 69 
 
 feel it a burden? Miss Tennant already 
 has made up her mind to find Stansfield 
 charming. She is not therefore very diffi- 
 cult to please 3 and she appears to me to 
 be well able to take care of herself.' 
 
 c It is not a question of her amusement.' 
 Mrs. Stansfield spoke with some asperity. 
 4 1 should be hardly likely to consult you 
 about that.' 
 
 'You are right. I should not know 
 how to amuse Miss Tennant ; yet how am 
 I qualified to give any other advice about 
 her?' 
 
 ' She is at such a difficult age/ sighed 
 Mrs. Stansfield, ; neither woman nor child.' 
 
 ' It is a delightful age,' answered Mr. 
 Stansfield, 4 when the present is but the 
 antechamber to the future. But, indeed, 
 I think she told me, with much unneces- 
 sary pride, that she is twenty.' 
 
 'That proves what I have just said — 
 she is a perfect child. What girl with any 
 knowledge of the world would wish, even 
 
70 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 in her first youth, to make her age known 
 to ever} r one ?' 
 
 'That is true. She might easily have 
 passed herself off for eighteen.' 
 
 He smiled rather grimly. 
 
 ' She might,' answered Mrs. Stansfield r 
 unobservant of the sarcasm. 'And, as I 
 said before, I wish that she were either 
 younger or older. She is too young to 
 have any prior attachment, and yet old 
 enough to be in love.' 
 
 ' If that is a danger to be averted, I 
 should say that she has done well to come 
 to Stansfield/ observed Mr. Stansfield, 
 seriously. 
 
 1 1 wish I could think so, but I cannot 
 be so oblivious as you are of your brother's 
 existence.' 
 
 ' Hartley !' he exclaimed, with a slight 
 gesture of contempt. ' I confess I had 
 forgotten Hartley.' 
 
 ' Hartley is, however, two years older 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 71 
 
 than Virginia. He already admires her, 
 and I confess that I have my misgivings. 
 If her father were at home and at hand to 
 take the responsibility and ready to give 
 his consent, it would be another matter ; 
 but, as it is, I am placed in a very awk- 
 ward position. Virginia is under my care ; 
 she is an onlv daughter and an heiress. 
 What would be said if I permitted her to 
 entangle herself with my son? Would it 
 be right,' continued Mrs. Stansfield, slowly 
 fixing her eyes upon Xorton, ' would it be 
 honourable to allow her to form an attach- 
 ment with anyone until she has had an 
 opportunity to see something of the world? 
 Might she not easily, at her age, fall a 
 victim to her inexperience ?' 
 
 c I have no great faith in the wisdom of 
 maturity,' answered Mr. Stansfield. ' But 
 really, upon a personal question like this, 
 I have no opinion to offer.' 
 
 ' Yet you may help me. Youug men 
 
72 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 understand each other. You mi^ht observe 
 and tell me if you see any danger of 
 Hartley's . . .' 
 
 ' Stay,' cried Norton, interrupting her, 
 ( I could do nothing of the sort. I have 
 no desire to interfere with Hartley's free- 
 dom of action, no right to constitute myself 
 guardian to Miss Tennant.' 
 ' Then you refuse to help me?' 
 He got up, looking provoked, and walked 
 to the window. 
 
 I In this matter certainly.' 
 
 I I wish you were not so unsympathetic,' 
 murmured his step-mother. ' I get very 
 little encouragement to confide in you.' 
 
 But when she soon afterwards left the 
 room she knew well enough that she had 
 accomplished all that she desired. Her words 
 might readily at some future time recur to 
 his mind : l Would it be right or honour- 
 able to let her entangle herself with anyone 
 in her father's absence before she had seen 
 something of the world ?' Norton was, as 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 73 
 
 she had said, unsympathetic; he had a bad 
 moody temper ; she could never under- 
 stand him ; but he had absurdly high-flown 
 ideas of honour. After what she had said, 
 he, at least, would not take advantage of 
 Virginia's inexperience. 
 
74 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 'But I only promised to maintain an armed 
 neutrality,' said Miss Stansfield. 'I al- 
 ready find my arms rather heavy. I am 
 quite incapable of using them. 
 
 She was reclining upon the sofa with a 
 shawl round her shoulders, and her head 
 laid back upon the cushions. Her mother 
 sat bolt upright on a chair at a little dis- 
 tance, and wore her most business-like 
 aspect. 
 
 c This is a childish evasion, Emmeline. 
 I am not talking of fighting. You know 
 that I should be the last person to desire 
 strife; I only ask you not to drive the girl 
 away.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 75- 
 
 I I have no wish to drive her away. I 
 thought at first that she would be weari- 
 some, but, on the contrary, she rather 
 amuses me. There is something original 
 in her determination to be happy, and to 
 make friends with everyone. It is quite 
 funny to see the way in which she receives 
 your amenities, for instance.' 
 
 c Then why cannot you exert yourself to 
 be civil to her?' 
 
 ' Because, my dear mother, that would be 
 to reverse altogether our proper positions. 
 It is her business to amuse me.' 
 
 I I am afraid that, if she is left so much 
 alone, she will begin to dislike Stansfield,' 
 said Mrs. Stansfield, fussily. ' And it is so 
 important that she should remain.' 
 
 c And yet you say you are afraid of dis- 
 sensions ? You wish Hartley to fall in 
 love with her. Have you never thought 
 that Norton may do so also ?' 
 
 ' It would do him no harm, and it would 
 do Hartley a great deal of good. There is 
 
76 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 nothing like marriage to steady a young 
 man.' 
 
 1 Especially when the young lady is an 
 heiress !' observed Emmeline, with a touch 
 of sarcasm. ' Still, mamma, you have not 
 answered my question, what is to be done 
 if she attracts them both. It strikes me 
 that the situation would be awkward.' 
 
 c A girl of that age would never think of 
 Norton,' answered Mrs. Stansfield. c And, 
 as I said before, he is well able to take 
 care of himself. *Now it is imperatively 
 necessary that Hartley, on the contrary, 
 should fall in love with her.' 
 
 ' Oh dear, oh dear ! a love-affair in the 
 house is so fatiguing !' sighed Miss Stans- 
 field, raising her head for a moment to 
 arrange herself more comfortably upon the 
 pillows. i Surely you do not expect me to 
 have anything to do with it.' 
 
 ' I expect you to show a little sisterly 
 sympathy.' 
 
 ' If it is to be shown in making love for 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 77 
 
 my younger brother, I am sure I shall 
 never succeed. It would be almost as bad 
 as making love for oneself. Besides, I 
 could never plead Hartley's cause. He 
 would not make a good husband.' 
 
 ' Why not ?' asked her mother, with a not 
 unnatural flush of anger. 
 
 ' He is so selfish !' and Emmeline half 
 closed her eyes as if the light hurt them. 
 c I hate Norton, but, after all, he is worth 
 ten of him.' 
 
 To this Mrs. Stansfield, affronted, made 
 no answer. She got up, and walked away 
 to the fire-place, and began to push the 
 poker noisily about among the coals. 
 
 1 And I have a head-ache already,' mur- 
 mured Miss Stansfield from among her 
 cushions ; but her complaint passed un- 
 heard or unheeded. 
 
 She lay still, as if asleep, but all the 
 while she watched her mother from under 
 her drooped eyelids. 
 
 1 Emmeline, be reasonable for once,' said 
 
78 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield at last, coming back and 
 seating herself upon the end of the sofa. 
 4 You at least a^ree with me in one tiring : 
 you wish Norton to leave the house ?' 
 
 1 Yes, I do wish it;' speaking with more 
 animation than she had hitherto displayed. 
 ' There is always something to make one 
 uncomfortable when he is in the back- 
 ground. It is like thunder in the air. 
 And he will have his own way. He would 
 not have the beech-tree cut down which 
 keeps the sun from my bed-room window. 
 He has no consideration. I am sure I should 
 be more comfortable if he were gone.' 
 
 1 And you think he is likely to fall in 
 love with Virginia V 
 
 ' How can I tell ? She is very pretty, 
 and men are such fools,' answered Emme- 
 line, in her gentle invalid's voice. 
 
 ' Then do you not see that we have the 
 game in our own hands?' cried Mrs. 
 Stansfield, excitedly. c If he cares for 
 Virginia, and she marries Hartley, will 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 79 
 
 he be likely to remain in the house with 
 her ? He has fought a hard battle to 
 maintain his position here, but he will 
 be driven from it at last.' 
 
 c If battles were always won by strategy, 
 there would be no doubt of your success, 
 mamma. I wonder that you can carry it 
 all in your head ; it is so bewildering/ 
 
 c Xot at all. It is as simple and plain 
 as possible ; and justice would be done 
 at last.' 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield walked across the room 
 and came back a^ain. Her face was a 
 little flushed ; some angry passions had 
 left their traces upon it. She looked ten 
 years older than when she was dressed for 
 the evening, and went with smiling cliir- 
 nity to take her place at the head of the 
 table. 
 
 1 It is like an arithmetical problem,' 
 observed Miss Stansfield, with a smile as 
 cold as wintry sunlight. ' If Norton and 
 Hartley love Virginia, and Virginia loves 
 
80 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Hartley . . . but what if she should love 
 Norton?' 
 
 4 1 tell you it is impossible,' said Mrs. 
 Stansfield, angrily. 
 
 ' Well, I only hope they will not trouble 
 me about it.' She drew her shawl more 
 closely round her, and in a few minutes 
 was wrapped in a genuine slumber. ' I 
 hope my head will not ache when I wake 
 up,' was her last conscious thought. 
 
 When, an hour later, she awoke, to find 
 that her mother had left the room, and 
 that Mr. Stansfield had just entered it, 
 she looked up at him, and said, 
 
 1 It is better now.' 
 
 ' What is better?' he asked, perplexed. 
 
 'My head-ache. It was very bad this 
 morning. I was afraid it would not go 
 away all day ; but I have been asleep, and 
 it is decidedly better. What o'clock is 
 it?' 
 
 ' Nearly four.' 
 
 He did not take the trouble to congratu- 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 81 
 
 late her. Possiblv Emmeline's head-aches 
 were well-worn subjects of conversation. 
 
 ' Still six hours before bed-time,' sighed 
 Miss Stansfield. 'And how cold and miser- 
 able it looks out of doors ;' raising herself 
 on the sofa, and turning her eyes listlessly 
 towards the window. ' Yet, I declare, 
 there is some one crossing the lawn. Do 
 see who it can be. I am not equal to 
 visitors ; or is it only Virginia T 
 
 Mr. Stansfield looked in the direction 
 indicated as desired, but without manifest- 
 ing anv interest. 
 
 1 Yes, it is Miss Tennant,' he answered. 
 
 ' I wonder what some people are made 
 of!' ejaculated Miss Stansfield; she was so 
 far moved as to walk to the window. 
 Virginia was coming across the grass to- 
 wards the house in her dark, close-fitting 
 morning-dress, with her head uncovered, 
 trailing something aloncr the ground, and 
 playing with an ungainly Newfoundland 
 puppy which gambolled at her heels. She 
 
 VOL. i. G 
 
82 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 had a basket in her left hand, and as she 
 came nearer she smiled and nodded her 
 head at the window, and held it up in 
 triumph. 
 
 ' Can you guess what is in it ?' she cried, 
 in her high, young voice. c Wait a moment 
 and you shall see.' 
 
 She ran round to the hall door, and a 
 few minutes later entered the drawing- 
 room. Some raindrops shone on her bright 
 hair ; the wind had brought the colour to 
 her cheeks ; her skirts were heavy with 
 moisture. 
 
 ' Where have you been ? You will 
 most certainly catch cold, Virginia, and I 
 cannot bear anyone else to be ill in the 
 house/ was Miss Stansfield's querulous 
 greeting. 
 
 c Why should I be ill ? I am never ill,' 
 answered the girl, laughing softly. c I 
 have been into the copse by the river, and' 
 the brambles were rather wet, but I have 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 83 
 
 robbed them to some purpose. Look here !' 
 and she showed her basket full of ripe 
 blackberries. 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, I hope you are not going to 
 eat all those, or you will be ill, if you have 
 never been ill before.' 
 
 ' They are delicious,' answered Virginia, 
 .^electing one of the biggest and putting it 
 into her mouth, ' and I never heard of 
 anyone but the babes in the wood who 
 were the worse for them. Will you have 
 some ?' holding out her basket to Mr. 
 Stansfield with a smile. 
 
 '- I am afraid I am hardly worthy.' But 
 his gravity relaxed a little as he put his 
 fingers into the basket. 
 
 1 You must leave some for Mademoiselle 
 Joseph,' said Virginia, seriously. 'And 
 where is Aunt Charlotte ?' 
 
 'Yes, where?' he echoed, addressing 
 himself to Emmeline. ' I came here to 
 find her.' 
 
 g2 
 
84 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' I believe that she is in the book-room/ 
 
 'With Marshall?' asked Mr. Stansfield, 
 with an emphasis on the word. 
 
 c How should I know ?' asked Emmeline, 
 fretfully. But he was silent and looked 
 pre-occupied. 
 
 c Who is Marshall ?' asked Virginia. 
 
 'What questions you ask/ said her 
 cousin. ' You surely must have seen 
 Marshall. He is mamma's prime adviser. 
 I should call him our steward ; but I do 
 not know by what title he describes 
 himself.' 
 
 1 By an honourable one, no doubt,' 
 observed Mr. Stansfield, sarcastically. ' I 
 am afraid I cannot wait until his delibera- 
 tions with your mother are over. But 
 please tell her that I dine at home 
 to-night.' 
 
 ' I must go to Mademoiselle Joseph/ 
 said Virginia, taking up her basket. 
 
 1 Why should people have enemies ?' she 
 said to herself as she mounted the stairs. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 85 
 
 1 Yet I am sure that his step-mother is Mr. 
 StansfielcTs enemy. Why should she dis- 
 like him? He has handsome eyes and a 
 pleasant voice. I like him. I am sorry 
 that he is unhappy. Perhaps he has been 
 in love and has been deceived. Yet I 
 should not think it. Perhaps Aunt Char- 
 lotte wants to drive him away, so that 
 Hartley may have the property. But I 
 do not believe that she will be able to do 
 it, and I am very glad of it,' thought 
 Virginia. 
 
 She paused for a minute in the em- 
 brasure of a passage window to watch the 
 last red glimmer of the sinking sun. 
 Down in the corridor below a door stood 
 ajar, and she heard her aunt's voice 
 saying, 
 
 ' It must be done at once, and you must 
 promise him whatever compensation he 
 asks.' 
 
 ' I will do my best, Mrs. Stansneld,' 
 answered a man's voice, 'but you must 
 
86 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 remember that Mr. Norton may choose to 
 inquire . . .' 
 
 Virginia passed on and heard no more. 
 
 ' 1 would rather trust Mr. Stansfield than 
 Aunt Charlotte,' she thought to herself. 
 ' I suppose that is Marshall talking with 
 her, and he must be on her side.' 
 
 In the little sitting-room the fire burned 
 brightly and the lamp was already lighted. 
 Mademoiselle Joseph sat in the arm-chair 
 with a volume of Racine in her hands. It 
 was nothing to her that her presence in 
 the house was, as far as it was possible, 
 ignored by all except Virginia. Her placid 
 existence made no demands upon the 
 interest or consideration of others. If she 
 regretted her own country, and the trivial 
 but to her important concerns of her 
 native village ; if she felt herself a stranger 
 uninvited and disregarded, she made no 
 complaint. Her aim was simple enough ; it 
 was to be a faithful friend and guardian to 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 87 
 
 Virginia Tennant until her father's return. 
 As a dog watches at his master's command 
 with absolute and unreasoning fidelity, so 
 she would watch over the } T oung girl who 
 had been committed to her care. For her- 
 self she asked and expected nothing. It 
 was natural that she should love Virginia. 
 She had nothing else to love. Any 
 evidence of the girl's fondness for her gave 
 her constantly recurring and pleasurable 
 surprise. She often trembled for the child, 
 and felt powerless to protect her. For 
 youth, to her, was a season of peril ; like 
 the springtime of the year, it is subject to 
 sudden alternations, devastating storms, 
 and cruel frosts. The sunshine betrays, and 
 there is a false promise in its chill bright- 
 ness. Through this season Virginia, alas ! 
 must pass with a spirit which knew no 
 fear, with a high hope which should most 
 surely be dashed to the ground. Well ! 
 some day Virginia would acknowledge that 
 
88 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 she was right, and poor Mademoiselle 
 Joseph sighed and took refuge in her cross- 
 stitch and her Racine. 
 
 Virginia had seated herself on a low 
 stool by the hearth. Her hands were 
 clasped round her knees, her eyes were bent 
 upon the glowing fire which had brought a 
 slight flush to her cheeks. 
 
 c Had you ever an enemy, Mademoiselle 
 Joseph ?' she asked suddenly, after some 
 minutes of thoughtful silence. 
 
 ' Indeed, I should hope not,' answered 
 the old Frenchwoman, closing her book 
 and putting it back carefully upon the 
 table. ' I trust that I have given no 
 one any occasion to desire to injure 
 me.' 
 
 ' And I have never had an enemy, either, 
 Mademoiselle Joseph. It strikes me that 
 we are two very fortunate people.' 
 
 But Mademoiselle Joseph would not be 
 betrayed into congratulation. 
 
 ' One never knows what may happen. 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNAXT. 89 
 
 It is not likely that anyone would take the 
 trouble to hate me ; but as for you, Vir- 
 ginia . . .' and she shook her head mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 1 And wiry then should they hate me T 
 cried Virginia. 
 
 ' Because of your many good gifts, my 
 poor child. Young and prosperous, pretty 
 and rich.' 
 
 ' Rich !' echoed the girl, ' I never knew 
 that I was rich.' 
 
 ' I thought ... I supposed. It is not a 
 fact upon which it is advisable to dwell,' 
 cried Mademoiselle Joseph, confused by her 
 own indiscretion. 
 
 ' I cannot see why not. I am very glad 
 of it. Yes, I am glad that I am rich. To 
 be rich is to be at ease, and to have the 
 power of making other people happy ; to 
 be rich is to be free from sordid anxieties ; 
 to be rich . . .' 
 
 * To be rich,' interrupted Mademoiselle 
 Joseph, 'is to be the subject of envy and 
 
90 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 perhaps dislike to those who are less 
 fortunate than yourself.' 
 
 1 My riches are not so apparent as to raise 
 any bad feelings in others. They were not 
 even manifest to myself.' 
 
 1 Yet you knew surely that your father 
 never denied you anything?' 
 
 ' Love is always prodigal of gifts/ 
 answered the girl, quickly. ' They were 
 evidences of affection not of wealth.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph shook her head 
 and smiled a little indulgently as if amused 
 at the girl's simplicity. 
 
 ' Well ! you cannot make me think 
 otherwise/ cried Virginia. c To be poor is 
 to have little to give and little to enjoy 
 — I am very glad that I am not poor. I 
 am very glad that I am rich.' 
 
 She stood up and shook back the hair 
 from her forehead. 
 
 ' And now, mademoiselle !' she said, a 
 little imperatively, ' I will take my work if 
 you will read to me.' 
 
91 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 For the first time since Virginia's arrival 
 there was to be a dinner-party at Stans- 
 field. It was the manner in which Mrs. 
 Stansfield generally chose to entertain her 
 friends. She had the eye of a general for 
 the disposal of her guests, and at a less in- 
 formal gathering it annoyed her to feel that 
 they were apt to escape from her control. 
 In spite of her most strenuous efforts 
 young men sought out the wrong young 
 ladies ; those whom she wished to keep 
 apart found subjects in common ; those 
 whom she desired to distinguish remained 
 unnoticed ; and others whom she would 
 have suppressed were encouraged and 
 
92 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 admired. At a dinner, on the other hand, 
 she was for the greater part of the evening 
 mistress of the situation ; whatever people 
 might feel they were bound to disguise 
 their sentiments, and in the consciousness of 
 good wine and a well-cooked dinner Mrs. 
 Stansfield felt that she was well able to 
 compensate them for any personal dis- 
 appointments. Xo one with a well-chosen 
 menu before them had a right to com- 
 plain. 
 
 On the afternoon of this particular day, 
 however, she had received a slight shock 
 to the assured complacency with which 
 she generally looked forward to a well- 
 arranged party. Norton, upon whom she 
 had reckoned to take his proper place as 
 master of the house, had declined to be 
 present. He had no real or sufficient 
 reason for absenting himself, but he had 
 business which would detain him in the 
 neighbouring town, and he had arranged to 
 
 DO' o 
 
 dine there rather than at home. Even in 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 93 
 
 such a trivial matter as this she knew that 
 it would be in vain for her to attempt to 
 alter his determination ; but she felt her- 
 self to be justly annoyed. His absence 
 might occasion unfriendly comments and 
 make known to others the absence of 
 harmony among the members of her house- 
 hold. Mrs. Stansfield was above all things 
 desirous of showing a good front to the 
 world and by no means wished to make 
 public any family dissensions. Xorton, to 
 do him justice, was as reticent as she could 
 desire, but on this occasion she felt that 
 he was treating her unfairly. Mrs. Stans- 
 field was, it is true, of a self-sufficient 
 nature ; but still it was dispiriting to make 
 festive preparations unaided and alone. 
 Hartley was returning home that evening 
 only in time for dinner, and Emmeline was 
 dividing her attention between a headache 
 and a new book. As Mrs. Stansfield sat 
 at her writing-table somewhat gloomily 
 writing her guests' names on slips of paper, 
 
94 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Virginia, fresh and smiling, broke in upon 
 her solitude. 
 
 ' The table looks very well indeed, 
 Aunt Charlotte. That scarlet begonia in 
 the centre has an excellent effect. When 
 it is lighted, it will be beautiful,' cried Vir- 
 ginia, looking delighted. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield looked up at the girl and 
 could not help smiling kindly in answer. 
 4 What a ridiculous child she is,' she said 
 to herself; nevertheless, this spontaneous 
 touch of sympathy called for some response. 
 It was as if a warm hand had suddenly 
 closed round her chilled fingers. 
 
 ' I am glad that it looks so well,' she 
 said, relapsing into her ordinary manner. 
 4 Martin has great taste in arranging flowers. 
 This will be your first English dinner-party, 
 I suppose.' 
 
 ' It will be my first anywhere,' answered 
 Virginia. 4 I have never (would you be- 
 lieve it !) I have never been to any parties 
 or receptions. Papa did not care for them. 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 95 
 
 I am very glad that you have some friends 
 invited for this evening. I have been 
 thinking of it all day.' cried the girl, 
 laughing a little softly. 
 
 ' I hope you may not be disappointed.' 
 Mrs. Stansfield's tone was sufficient to have 
 chilled any anticipations of pleasure as she 
 bent again over her papers. But Virginia 
 did not heed it. She went away singing 
 through the passages after having cast 
 another glance of approval upon the dining- 
 room table. 
 
 ' I shall wear my white silk and my 
 pearls,' she said, as she stood before her pier- 
 glass that evening. Her morning dress 
 lay upon the ground at her feet, her white 
 rounded arms and shoulders were uncov- 
 ered, her brown hair partly unloosened 
 fell in soft waves about her throat. Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, glancing up at her, 
 thought that no adornment could make 
 her prettier than she was at that moment ; 
 but aloud she only said, 
 
96 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' If it is not a large party, may not the 
 dress or at least the pearls be out of place? 
 I have heard that it is the fashion here for 
 young girls to dress with great simplicity.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, I shall wear my silk dress 
 and my pearls, mademoiselle. What is the 
 use of having pretty things if they are to 
 be hidden away ; and I love my pearls. 
 Papa gave them to me.' She drew them 
 out of the case and slipped the string 
 lightly through her fingers. c I wish to 
 look my best to-night.' 
 
 ' Why to-night ?' 
 
 c Why, because there will be so many 
 guests, of course.' 
 
 1 It is perhaps a less dangerous reason 
 than that which may prompt the same 
 wish on other occasions,' answered Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, solemnly. 
 
 c You are always thinking of dangers,' 
 cried Virginia, a little impatiently. * What 
 dangerous reason could I have for wishing 
 to look my best ?' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 97 
 
 4 The wish to please one rather than 
 many.' And Mademoiselle Joseph sighed. 
 4 It is then that remonstrances cease to be 
 of any avail, and pride itself is no safeguard.' 
 
 Virginia looked puzzled. 
 
 ' I think that if I wished to please one 
 person only I should choose Mr. Norton 
 Stansfield,' she said, calmly. 
 
 Poor Mademoiselle Joseph let her knit- 
 ting fall upon her knees, the stitches slipped 
 unheeded from the needles, whilst with up- 
 lifted hands she ejaculated, 
 
 c De grace, Virginia, do not say such 
 terrible things.' 
 
 ' I see nothing terrible in it, dear made- 
 moiselle.' Virginia had returned to the 
 dressing-table and was fastening the pearls 
 in her small ears. ' But it would be a 
 difficult task. I feel sure that Mr. Stansfield 
 would not be easily pleased.' 
 
 ' Then pray do not attempt it,' pleaded 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, earnestly. k He who 
 approaches the fire will be burnt/ 
 
 VOL. i. h 
 
98 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' Say rather he who touches an iceberg 
 will be frozen,' cried the girl, lightly. ' I 
 do not think that you need be afraid of 
 Mr. Stansfield. You would not even allow 
 me to be sorry for him. I was sorry. I 
 do not think that he cared about it/ 
 
 1 He is evidently of a morose disposition. 
 He is unsociable and the reverse of domes- 
 tic. No one in the house has anything in 
 common with him. We need not trouble 
 ourselves about Mr. Norton Stansfield, 
 Virginia.' 
 
 c Still for all that I like him, Mademoiselle 
 Joseph.' 
 
 c How self-willed is youth,' murmured 
 the poor governess, discomfited ; but she 
 judged it prudent to change the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 The drawing-room was already full of 
 guests when Virginia came in. She made 
 her entrance under the shelter of some 
 other arrivals, and for a moment or two 
 remained unnoticed. Hartley alone, who 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 99 
 
 was never deficient in small attentions, 
 
 came up to present a bunch of autumn 
 violets. 
 
 ' Is it permitted to compliment you upon 
 your dress ?' he asked. 
 
 1 Certainly ; I am glad that you like it. 
 Papa bought it for me when we were in 
 Paris/ Then, in a lower tone, c Has every- 
 one arrived ?' 
 
 But he was not allowed time to answer 
 the question. Mrs. Stansfield caught sight 
 of her niece, and rustled forward to make 
 some formal introductions. Her manner 
 was at once patronizing and apologetic, 
 proud and deferential. She was well 
 aware that Virginia had many social de- 
 ficiencies, for which she wished to beg 
 forbearance, yet she was in a measure 
 proud of her natural advantages, and 
 desired that they should be acknowledged. 
 But not even this ordeal had any power 
 to disturb Virginia's self-possession. She 
 saw a good many well-dressed people in a 
 
 h 2 
 
100 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 well-lighted room and she was interested, 
 but she was by no means dazzled. Of too> 
 frank a nature to be critical, she was ready 
 to accept their expressions of kindness for 
 perhaps more than they were worth ; she 
 did not claim anything from them as a 
 right, still less would she be likely to take 
 anything from them as a favour. She did 
 not feel that she was dependent upon their 
 opinion, and she was not concerned about 
 it ; but she was ready to be amused. 
 
 Emmeline, who looked paler than usual, 
 in a light-pink gown and with white flowers 
 in her hair, glanced up at her with a sort 
 of fretful astonishment, and Virginia bent 
 her head to ask, 
 
 ' What is the matter ? You look tired 
 already. Does your head ache ?' 
 
 1 Not more than usual. It is not won- 
 derful that I should look tired. It is 
 much more wonderful that you should 
 look happy.' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 101 
 
 1 It is not so difficult.' answered the girl, 
 smiling. 
 
 4 Is it not ? It is an art which I have 
 never acquired.' 
 
 'An art!' echoed Virginia, perplexed. 
 
 c "What an absurdity it is not to be able 
 to understand what one means,' cried 
 Emmeline. 
 
 ' What is it that she does not under- 
 stand?' asked Hartley, coming up. ' Will 
 you allow me to enlighten your ignorance, 
 Virginia ? That little Captain Darner is to 
 take you in to dinner ; but I shall be on 
 your other side.' 
 
 'Where is your brother?' she asked, 
 looking round. 
 
 4 Are you ambitious of sitting next the 
 master of the house ? Well,' with a rather 
 unpleasant laugh, ' you will not have that 
 honour this evening. He is not at home.' 
 
 Virginia made no answer. She drew up 
 her small head with an air of displeasure, 
 
102 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 and for the first time he felt that he had 
 presumed upon his relationship. It was 
 true he had annoyed her, and she did not 
 hesitate to show it. Yet when he mur- 
 mured an apology she met it with her 
 usual frankness. 
 
 ' I was only sorry that he should miss 
 the party,' she said, simply ; and then Mrs. 
 Stansfield brought up Captain Darner to 
 be introduced, and they all went in to 
 dinner. 
 
 c Is not the table pretty ?' asked Vir- 
 ginia, in a low voice, smiling at her cousin. 
 Then her eyes travelled past the scarlet 
 begonia and over the heads of the guests. 
 Yes, she had seen them all, not one had 
 escaped her notice, and her fair cheeks 
 flushed, and an indignant light came into 
 her eyes. 
 
 ' Hartley,' she said, once more turning 
 her head towards him. i Where is Made- 
 moiselle Joseph ?' And, as he did not 
 answer for a moment : ' Why,' in a clear, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 103 
 
 indignant voice, c why is not Mademoiselle 
 Joseph here?' 
 
 ' I am not sure. I believe she did not 
 wish to come clown. Do not distress 
 yourself about it.' But he in his turn 
 had changed colour. 
 
 ' I understand,' she answered. ' She was 
 not considered to be tit to meet your 
 friends. Then I am not fit either.' 
 
 ' My dear cousin,' he said, deprecatingly, 
 c Captain Darner is speaking to you.' 
 
 But his remonstrance and Captain 
 Darner's half- formed sentence alike passed 
 unheeded. 
 
 ' I am sorry to seem uncourteous,' she 
 said, calmly, as she rose from the table, 
 1 but I must go to her.' 
 
 In another moment she had pushed back 
 her chair and slipped out of the room. 
 There was a hush in the conversation, 
 whilst Mrs. Stansfield's inquiry, ' What is 
 it? Is Virginia ill?' was followed by a 
 buzz of interrogations. 
 
 o 
 
104 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 ' She was overcome for the moment,' 
 answered Hartley, smoothly. c The heat 
 of the room, — the flowers are somewhat 
 strong. She begged that no one would 
 
 O CO 
 
 disturb themselves for her.' 
 
 But Mrs. Stansfield had already formed a 
 correct surmise as to the cause of Virginia's 
 disappearance. She knew that an untruth 
 came easily to Hartley. It was to him a 
 well-proved weapon. Mrs. Stansfield felt 
 that he was right. Virginia had treated 
 her badly, but it was most prudent to 
 disguise it. Nothing was in such bad 
 taste as a family quarrel. So she went on 
 calmly with her dinner, merely giving 
 orders that her maid should be sent to 
 attend upon Miss Tennant. 
 
 But the maid sought her in vain. Vir- 
 ginia had left the dining-room upon the 
 impulse of the moment, but she was in no 
 mood to regret what she had done. At 
 the same time as she paused in the empty 
 hall she felt herself to be in a difficulty. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 105 
 
 She had said she would go to Mademoiselle 
 Joseph, but she now remembered that to 
 do so would only be a fresh source of 
 trouble to one whom she desired to defend. 
 It would be easy for Mademoiselle Joseph's 
 placid spirit to accept neglect and isola- 
 tion as her natural lot ; it would be a tor- 
 inent to her to believe that Virginia, upon 
 her account, was about to embroil herself 
 with her relations. 
 
 Virginia thought of it all as she stood 
 doubting, hesitating, under the light of 
 the hall-lamp. The housemaids were 
 already busied in putting the drawing- 
 rooms in order, and she could not take 
 refuge there. Her bed-room was as yet 
 fireless. Suddenly a thought struck her — 
 she might have the library and its fire to 
 herself; and, if she were obliged to miss 
 her dinner-party, she would at least con- 
 sole herself with a novel. She crossed the 
 hall, turned down the dimly -lighted pas- 
 sage, and opened the library door. She 
 
106 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 was not disappointed : a bright fire burned 
 upon the hearth, a lamp stood lighted upon 
 the table. She sat down in a low chair 
 and spread out her hands to the flame. 
 
 She was not long left in solitude. After 
 ten minutes or so, there were steps in 
 the corridor, the door was unhesitatingly 
 opened, and her retreat was invaded. But 
 Virginia would not look up. No doubt 
 her aunt had sent some one in search of 
 her ; but indignation still held the mastery, 
 and she would not be appeased. She 
 leaned her bare rounded arms upon her 
 knees, rested her head upon her hands, and 
 still remained staring resolutely at the 
 fire. 
 
 L Are you aware that they have gone in 
 to dinner, Miss Tennant?' asked a man's 
 voice. 
 
 Mr. Stansfield had closed the door be- 
 hind him, and advanced a few steps into 
 the room. He was in morning dress, and 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 107 
 
 held some papers in his hand. He was 
 looking down at Virginia with an air of 
 grave inquiry, not unmixed with dissatis- 
 faction. It was evident that her presence 
 did not strike him in the light of an agree- 
 able surprise. His voice recalled Virginia 
 to herself. 
 
 She looked up, and said, with a some- 
 what rueful smile, 
 
 ' I know that they are at dinner ; but I 
 came away.' 
 
 c Were you not well ?' 
 
 ' Oh, yes, I was perfectly well, and — 
 verv hungry.' 
 
 ' Then what drove you away ? Was it 
 too tiresome ? Were you bored ?' 
 
 1 On the contrary, I was expecting to 
 enjoy myself. I had been looking forward 
 to it all day.' 
 
 'To have had a whole day's pleasure 
 out of a party is surely as much as you 
 could expect.' observed Mr. Stansfield, 
 
108 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 setting down his candle. c It would have 
 been unreasonable to have demanded an 
 evenings enjoyment as well.' 
 
 c But I did expect it,' she answered. 
 She leaned her brown head back against 
 the cushions of her chair, and looked 
 rather crave. 
 
 c Then what drove you into solitary 
 "Confinement ?' 
 
 1 1 thought it was unkind not to have 
 asked Mademoiselle Joseph ;' and tears of 
 hurt feeling gathered in her blue eyes. 
 ' It was a kindness which would not have 
 cost them very much. I could not sit at 
 a table where she, my best friend, was not 
 welcome.' 
 
 A serious smile, which had no mockery 
 in it, touched Mr. Stansfield's lips. 
 
 i Have you forgotten that the days of 
 chivalry are past? You will surely not 
 be so unwise as to fight in anyone's 
 quarrels but your own ?' 
 
 ' Well, I could not help it this evening.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 109 
 
 Then, with a smile and a sigh : ' It has 
 cost me my dinner.' 
 
 ' That misfortune can at least be 
 remedied.' 
 
 ' No,' cried Virginia, ' I cannot, I can- 
 not go back to the dining-room.' 
 
 * And yet you are very hungry ?' 
 
 ' Very,' answered Virginia, with emphatic 
 sincerity. 
 
 1 And, no doubt, there were a great 
 many excellent dishes. Mrs. Stansfield is 
 famous for her dinners.' 
 
 1 There was ice cream and meringues,' 
 answered Virginia, sighing a little. 
 
 c Ice cream and meringues,' repeated Mr. 
 Stansfield, thoughtfully. c Do you know, 
 I am not quite sure that the occasion 
 demands so great a sacrifice.' 
 
 ' It does. I shall not go back to the 
 dining-room, Mr. Stansfield.' 
 
 ' Then, if Mahomet will not go to the 
 mountain, the mountain must come to 
 Mahomet.' 
 
110 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 He rang the bell, and ordered the 
 servant who answered it to bring in some 
 supper. 
 
 ' I believe,' he said to the sedate but 
 surprised footman, ' I believe there is an 
 ice cream and some meringues.' 
 
 ' How kind you are !' cried Virginia, 
 delighted. c I hope that Mrs. Stansfield 
 will not be angry.' 
 
 But Mr. Stansfield's smile said plainly 
 that Mrs. Stansfield's anger was a matter 
 of supreme indifference to him. 
 
 The little round table was drawn up 
 close to the fire and supper was spread for 
 two, a little impromptu meal of oysters 
 and cake and fruit, but Mr. Stansfield 
 protested that he had dined, and only 
 poured himself out a glass of wine and 
 stood upon the hearth drinking it slowly, 
 whilst with calm interest he watched 
 Virginia. From the platform of his older 
 years, to which he had attained by many 
 struggles and through many disappoint- 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. Ill 
 
 ments, lie looked down with a sort of 
 melancholy wonder at the fearless confi- 
 dence of youth. 
 
 1 And yet it is good to be young,' 
 thought Mr. Stansfield. 
 
 ' Do have a peach,' said Virginia, break- 
 ing in upon his meditations. She turned 
 her fair face towards him and stretched 
 out her arm. The fruit lay in her soft 
 palm and his fingers touched hers as he 
 took it from her. ' I am longing to make 
 you some return for your hospitality, and 
 you will not share it with me. But for 
 you I should have gone supperless to bed.' 
 
 1 Do you think that you will not be able 
 to repay me ?' 
 
 ' Some day, perhaps,' she answered, 
 becoming suddenly serious. 
 
 1 And how ?' he inquired, looking amused. 
 
 'That I do not know, but if I can I will 
 help you.' 
 
 1 Is that a promise ? Are you not afraid 
 that I may hold you to it ?' 
 
112 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 1 always keep my promises !' and she 
 looked a little hurt. 
 
 ' I am sure of it,' he said, quickly, ' and 
 I will not forget it. You are quite right ; 
 some day I may need and may ask your 
 help.' 
 
 There is something touching and even 
 humbling in a defence which springs in- 
 stinctively from inexperience. Its power- 
 lessness inspires reverence. When a child's 
 soft hand is raised to ward off your enemy's 
 blow, your impulse is to snatch it aside 
 and cover it with kisses. Mr. Stansfield 
 knew that he had a difficult part to play ; 
 he would allow Virginia to run no risks 
 upon his account, and yet he was surprised 
 and pleased by her spontaneous allegiance. 
 
 ' And are you not coining back to the 
 drawing-room?' she asked. 
 
 ' I cannot to-night. These,' laying his 
 hand upon some papers, c will keep me up 
 long after you are asleep.' 
 
 ' You work too hard,' observed Virginia, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 113 
 
 shaking her head. ' In this family things 
 do not seem to be rightly divided. Hartley 
 has all the play.' 
 
 1 Such as it is,' he said, a little contemp- 
 tuously. c I am not sure that I should 
 find it amusing.' 
 
 ' Well, good-night ' she said, smiling as 
 she held out her hand. ' Good-night, and 
 thank you for my supper.' 
 
 He opened the door for her and closed 
 it again. Then he sat down at his writing- 
 table and busied himself with his accounts, 
 but the room seemed rather darker than 
 usual and more solitary. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield was too wise to take any 
 notice of Virginia's re-appearance. There 
 was music going on at one end of the 
 room, and, under its cover, people were 
 conversing together somewhat loudly. Vir- 
 ginia slipped into a corner by the window 
 and sat down, too unconscious to be shy 
 and well content to be a spectator. Behind 
 her head were drawn the thick, soft folds 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 of a crimson curtain ; in her hand she held 
 a spray of stephanotis which she had 
 gathered as she passed through the con- 
 servatory. 
 
 c I hope you feel better ?' whispered 
 Hartley, as he seated himself beside her 
 with an air calculated, as he imagined, to 
 inspire confidence. He felt himself well 
 qualified to play the part of a confidant. 
 
 c I feel a good deal better,' she answered 
 aloud, in no wise sharing his desire for a 
 tete-a-tete. 
 
 'In spite of having missed your dinner?' 
 
 ' I had a very good substitute for dinner,' 
 answered Virginia, laughing. 
 
 1 And now you are happy again ?' 
 
 ' I am.' 
 
 : Does that assertion need no qualifica- 
 tions ?' 
 
 1 What a cold-blooded question !' said 
 the girl, smiling. ' What happiness will 
 stand being so closely interrogated ? Mine 
 at least abjures your criticisms. If you 
 
VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 115 
 
 must ask such questions, ask them of 
 yourself.' 
 
 1 They are easily answered. If I had a 
 good deal more money, if my young 
 brother Jack were not coming home from 
 school next week, and if I could sit by you 
 for the rest of the evening, I should be 
 happy.' cried Hartley, whose compliments 
 were apt to be of the most unveiled 
 character. 
 
 c Then one element of your happiness 
 will be at once removed,' answered Vir- 
 ginia, a little coldly. ' I see Emmeline is 
 wanting me ;' and she rose, and crossed the 
 room to her cousin's side. 
 
 ' Oh, dear. I am so dreadfully tired,' 
 sighed Miss Stansfield. ' It is too bad of 
 you and Hartley to sit in a corner to- 
 gether. He is always selfish, but I think 
 you might exert yourself to talk to some 
 of these people.' 
 
 'Would they like it?' 
 
 ' It is not a question of what one likes. 
 
 i2 
 
116 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 If it were, I should be in bed at this 
 moment.' 
 
 1 You are in request, Miss Tennant.' 
 Captain Darner came up, pleased at the 
 opportunity of seeking her again. ' Will 
 } r ou not sing or play ? We were deprived 
 of the pleasure of your company at dinner. 
 "Will you not now make us some amends ?' 
 
 ' If it were in my power, but, unluckily, 
 I am no musician ;' and, as he took back 
 her refusal to the group round the piano, 
 she added, in a lower tone, to her cousin, 
 4 1 see an old lady by the fire, who seems 
 rather left out. I will go and try to amuse 
 her.' 
 
 c What will she do next ?' sighed Miss 
 Stansfield to herself. c She has actually 
 gone to be kind to the old Dowager Lady 
 Mainwaring, who thinks it a great con- 
 descension to dine here at all, and would 
 like to examine everyone's pedigree before 
 they are introduced to her !' 
 
 Virginia had seated herself by the old 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 117 
 
 lady, and apparently had found no difficulty 
 in making her acquaintance, for she was 
 saying, graciously : 
 
 ' And so you are Colonel Tennant's only 
 child. I remember him perfectly. He 
 was a very handsome boy, only too languid, 
 and indifferent to society. And he never 
 recovered his spirits after your mother's 
 death, you know, but went and buried 
 himself in France. And where is he now, 
 my dear.' 
 
 1 In Egypt-' 
 
 c Ah ! poor child, that is a pity ; and,' 
 turning a pair of sharp, but not unkindly 
 eyes upon her, { who is taking care of you 
 in his absence.' 
 
 c 1 am staying here with my aunt,' 
 answered Virginia, ' till . . . till he comes 
 back. My old governess is with me.' 
 
 ' And no one else ! Depend upon it, 
 that woman will have some designs upon 
 her,' muttered the old lady to herself, but 
 so that Virginia could not catch the words. 
 
118 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Then aloud : c Emmeline Stansfield is such 
 an invalid, or rather so accustomed to 
 imagine herself one, that you cannot have 
 much companionship.' She paused, and 
 looked round to see that no one was near, 
 and then she drew a little closer to the 
 girl, and laid one of her thin old hands, 
 with the diamonds flittering on them, 
 upon her knees. 4 My dear,' she said, ' I 
 knew your father well. He was a nice 
 boy. You have something of his smile. 
 Take an old woman's warning. Do not 
 have anything to do with your cousin 
 Hartley. As to the other, he lives almost 
 entirely apart from the rest. He will not 
 trouble you. Don't answer me. I do not 
 wish you to commit yourself; only some 
 day, when the time comes, you may 
 remember my warning.' 
 
 Virginia opened her blue eyes a little 
 wider, but they still had the smile in them 
 which reminded Lady Mainwaring of her 
 father's. She thought that she was a kind 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 119 
 
 old lady, but she had strange ideas. What 
 harm could Hartley do her ? She was not 
 at all afraid of him. 
 
 c Mademoiselle Joseph is always warning 
 me,' she said, smiling, ' of many unknown 
 dangers, but I am afraid she cannot get me 
 to believe in them.' 
 
 ' Then this Mademoiselle Joseph is a 
 faithful guardian. I am sure of it. But if 
 ever you need another friend come to me. 
 I live only a few miles off. Remember, 
 my dear, that I shall always be glad to see 
 you.' 
 
 And, as Virginia thanked her, she went 
 sweeping across the room, in her rich lace 
 and diamonds, to wish Mrs. Stansfielcl a 
 cold good-night. 
 
120 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 * How many wishes have been whispered 
 above this well ! Where have they gone 
 to, I wonder,' said Virginia to herself. In 
 the courtyard at Stansfield, amongst other 
 relics of the past, there was a long disused 
 spring, sacred in other days to the service 
 of youth and love. For who but youth 
 has courage to interrogate the future? who 
 but love asks anything at its hands ? 
 
 On the rough steps which led down to 
 it, Virginia was standing this morning; 
 eager to fulfil all the conditions which 
 ancient custom had attached to the sure 
 propitiation of the fates. Old Janson, 
 the gardener, had told her all about it. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 121 
 
 He had never known anyone to be dis- 
 appointed who, in good faith, had used the 
 charmed water. When the midday sun at 
 its height sent a faint glimmer of light 
 upon its dark surface, whoever should first 
 raise some water in their right hand and 
 thrice touch their lips to it, should most 
 surely attain their heart's desire. 
 
 The sun was already high in the heavens. 
 The young girl, resting one hand upon the 
 low wall, leaned lightly forward with her 
 eyes fixed upon the pool below. The sun- 
 light already quivered in the ferns which 
 sprang from the crevices of the stone-work 
 and on the red hooded threads of the 
 delicate mosses which had done their best 
 to disguise its natural inequalities. Another 
 moment and a shaft like an arrow pierced 
 and, as it were, divided the blackness of 
 the water. Virginia stepped down to its 
 very edge, and, kneeling on the wet and 
 slippery stair, bent over the well, too dull 
 a mirror to reflect even her fairness. 
 
1*22 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ■ Once, twice, thrice,' she whispered. 
 The cold water trickled through her fingers, 
 but not before she had for the third time 
 touched her lips to it. She stood up, lifted 
 her broad straw hat which she had laid 
 aside, and lightly shook the drops from her 
 lingers. 
 
 4 May I ask what incantations you have 
 been practising?' asked Mr. Stansfield's 
 voice. 
 
 He had been passing through the court- 
 yard towards a door which opened upon it 
 from his part of the house, and now stood 
 a few paces behind her, arrested on his way 
 by curiosity as to her movements. 
 
 c I have only been making a proper use 
 of this wishing- well which you are so 
 fortunate to possess,' answered Virginia, 
 looking, however, for the first time slightly 
 disconcerted. 
 
 c And, pray, who told you that it was a 
 wishing- well ?' 
 
 ■ Janson and Martin and several others.' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 123 
 
 She looked down at the ribbons of her hat 
 which she was passing through her lingers. 
 1 I suppose you do not believe in it.' 
 
 1 On the contrary, far be it from me 
 rashly to impugn so good an authority. 
 A wishing-wellis an heir-loom of which, we 
 may well be proud. It is a sort of guaran- 
 tee that one's ancestors lived in the as;es of 
 faith. If I have never put its virtues to a 
 practical test, it may be because the fates 
 are so chary of their favours that they 
 only allow one a single wish. Under those 
 circumstances, the difficulties of choice 
 would be amply sufficient to keep one 
 silent.' 
 
 c But why ? I do not understand.' 
 c Then let us take an illustration,' he said, 
 seating himself on the stone wall and 
 casting a pebble carelessly into the water. 
 ' Think of wishing for perpetual youth to 
 find oneself alone in the world with decay, 
 age, and disease all roundabout one; think 
 of riches without health; think' (smiling) 'of 
 
124 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 the old woman and the black pudding in 
 the fairy tale ; think of King Midas, and 
 beware how you tempt the fates.' 
 
 c I am not afraid,' cried Virginia. ' I 
 have wished for one thins* that can brino; 
 me nothing but good.' 
 
 ' Is it something which you want very 
 much ?' 
 
 ' It is.' 
 
 She clasped her hands tightly together, 
 and the colour rose in her cheeks whilst 
 her wet eyes met his. 
 
 1 You are very happy,' he said, gravely. 
 * Very happy to be so sure that something 
 which you may obtain will make you so.' 
 
 ' Oh, it must come,' she said, looking at 
 him earnestly, c it must come ; but I wish 
 that it could be quickly.' 
 
 c Then I could be unwise enough to echo 
 your wish/ he answered. 
 
 When he left her, she put on her hat 
 and went out into the sunshine of the 
 south garden. It had been a mild autumn ; 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 125 
 
 the borders were still bright with holly- 
 hocks and dahlias, some late roses blos- 
 somed in a sheltered corner ; against 
 the blue line of the low horizon the woods 
 spread their gay and varied foliage. Vir- 
 ginia paced the straight walks with her 
 head bent and her eyes on the gravel. 
 c He could not know what my wish was, 
 and he never asked,' she was thinking to 
 herself; well aware that it would have 
 needed a strong motive to have restrained 
 her from questions under similar circum- 
 stances. c I suppose Mr. Stansfield has 
 other things to think of,' thought Virginia. 
 
 ' What a lovely morning !' observed 
 Hartley, coming to meet her. Then, after a 
 moment's pause : c Do you know why I have 
 come home so early V 
 
 It was his habit to leave the house after 
 breakfast, returning only in time for din- 
 ner. He was reading with a tutor about 
 three miles off, with whom the interme- 
 diate hours were ostensibly spent \ and,. 
 
126 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 though Mr. Stansfield was not alone in his 
 opinion that he contrived to enliven his 
 studies by companions and pursuits which 
 by no means tended to edification, his 
 mother was powerless and no one else was 
 qualified to control him. Like many other 
 amiable people, he pursued his own way 
 in peace undisturbed by any regard for 
 others. 
 
 1 Do you know why I have come home 
 so early ?' he repeated. 
 
 ' Xo ; how should I know ?' she answered, 
 carelessly. Hartley's comings and goings 
 were of no consequence to her, and she was 
 at no pains to disguise it. 
 
 1 It is because I see so little of vou 
 
 ml 
 
 generally,' answered the young man. 
 ' When I come in you are always shut up 
 with your Mademoiselle Joseph, and after 
 dinner . . .' 
 
 ' You go to play billiards,' interrupted 
 Virginia, smiling. 
 
 Hartley felt that she was taking an 
 
 
VIRGINIA TEKXAXT. 127 
 
 unfair advantage. His mother had told 
 him that he was to make love to this girl, 
 and he was quite prepared to carry out her 
 wishes if they could be accomplished with- 
 out any great inconvenience to himself. 
 He liked Virginia, but he liked his billiards 
 and his cigars, and the companions f 
 whom his mother disapproved, even better. 
 He liked an easy life and did not take 
 the trouble to hate anyone, unless it 
 were perhaps his half-brother ; he was 
 therefore surely entitled to the kindness 
 and consideration of other people. And 
 Virginia was very bright and pretty, but 
 he did not think that she was very kind 
 to him. She gave him no encouragement ; 
 if he did slip away from the drawing- 
 room after dinner it was not her place to 
 notice it. At any rate, he had done as his 
 mother wished, he had come home on 
 purpose to invite her to go for a drive 
 with him to-day. 
 
 "You are always reading or talking to 
 
128 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 my mother or Emmeline in the evening/ 
 he said, apologetically. 
 
 c And why not ?' answered Virginia, 
 opening her blue eyes, apparently al- 
 together unconscious of any apology being 
 required. 
 
 i Well ! I don't exactly know why not ; 
 only it must be very dull for you some- 
 times. If you would let me teach you to 
 play billiards or bezique it might amuse 
 vou.' 
 
 ml 
 
 c Do you think so ?' said Virginia, doubt- 
 fully. She had picked one of the late 
 blossoming roses as they passed, and was 
 fastening it into her dress. ' But I have 
 not felt dull as yet.' 
 
 ' That is because it is all new to you, 
 but, now that the dark winter days are 
 coming on, vou will find that Emmeline's 
 headaches will grow worse ; and — my 
 mother is not naturally fond of girls — you 
 will have no resource . . .' he paused for a 
 word. 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 129 
 
 ' Xo resource but billiards and bezique !' 
 said Virginia, laughing. 
 
 ' I did not mean to say that,' he cried, 
 almost piqued into anger. ' You know 
 quite well that I wished to find some way 
 of telling you that I should like to make 
 you happy here.' 
 
 4 That is a very kind wish, and I 
 thank you for it.' She stood for a mo- 
 ment in the path and shook her head 
 back with a smile which said, as plainly 
 as if she had spoken, l But my hap- 
 piness does not depend upon you, Mr. 
 Hartley Stansfield.' Hartley felt that she 
 was decidedly hard upon him, and yet he 
 persevered. 
 
 c Will you come for a drive with me 
 after luncheon,' he said, persuasively. 
 ' The country is very pretty, and it will be 
 a lovely afternoon. 7 
 
 She hesitated for a moment and then 
 she said, 
 
 1 1 will, if you will order the high dog- 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 cart. I like to feel myself so high up 
 above the hedges.' 
 
 ' It shall be ready at three o'clock.' 
 
 But though she had acceded to his 
 request he could not feel that he had 
 gained any advantage. The high dog-cart 
 was evidently more of an object to her 
 than his society. Frank and unembar- 
 rassed though she was, he began to per- 
 ceive that her intimacy was not to be 
 easily acquired. Her freedom was the 
 freedom of a branch tossed lightly in the 
 air above your head which ever eludes your 
 grasp. 
 
 1 Virginia is .the most difficult airl in the 
 world,' he said to his mother. 
 
 c If you find her so, it must be your own 
 fault,' she answered, with severity. l She 
 is not shy, she is not proud, she is not 
 preoccupied.' 
 
 ( And I admit, my dear mother, that she 
 is very charming. But that does not 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 131 
 
 interfere with the truth of my assertion, 
 that she is not the least like other girls.' 
 
 ' Would you have her fashioned after 
 the ordinary type, with no originality, no- 
 thing to distinguish her from others ?' 
 
 ' I hardly know.' He hesitated and 
 stroked his slight moustache. i You see, I 
 am not at all original myself. I do not 
 understand it. Of course,' returning to 
 his first idea. ' Of course I know she is a 
 very charming girl.' 
 
 ' And vou are £oin£ to marry her.' 
 
 It was a command rather than an inter- 
 rogation. Mrs. Stansfield shut up her 
 blotting-book with decision, and turned 
 her eyes upon her son. She felt like a 
 skilled workman compelled to use a weak 
 and untrustworthy instrument. 
 
 'You can always attain an object if you 
 will keep it steadily in view,' she asserted. 
 ' You are going to marry her.' 
 
 Hartley sauntered to the fireplace and 
 
 k2 
 
132 VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 
 
 looked at his fair boyish face in the old 
 mirror above it. 
 
 ' You must ask Virginia, 1 he said smiling. 
 Mrs. Stansfield was too much annoyed to 
 speak, and Emmeline glancing up from her 
 book broke in upon the conversation. 
 
 ' I am sure I do not see why Virginia 
 should marry you. I do not believe she 
 will. I cannot for my part see what you 
 have to recommend you.' 
 
 ' I have my mother,' replied her brother, 
 with perfect good humour, now leaving 
 the contemplation of himself in the glass 
 and dawdling across the room to look out of 
 the window. i And we must take care of 
 Virginia. We must not allow her to see 
 any other young men. 1 
 
 ' I do not believe that Virginia cares 
 about being married,' persisted Emmeline. 
 1 She is a perfect child in such things.' 
 
 ' So am 1/ observed Hartley. ' I think 
 we should suit each other very well. She 
 might do worse.' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 133 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield turned away with an im- 
 patient sigh. Her affections and her hopes 
 alike were centred in her son. Emmeline 
 had always been more or less of a perplexity 
 and anxiety to her, and Jack her schoolboy 
 trod on the trains of her dresses and spoilt 
 her carpets with his muddy boots ; even as a 
 baby, he had been uproarious and exacting. 
 a very dangerous inmate of any well-regula- 
 ted household; she felt that Jack's existence 
 was a mistake, but from the very first she 
 had been proud of Hartley. He bore her 
 own maiden name ; even as a child, he had 
 gentle little ways of obtaining his own ends ; 
 
 © JO 
 
 his collars were never rumpled, for the 
 £ood reason that he never fought with 
 anyone bigger than himself; his somewhat 
 delicate health was an excuse for his never 
 bringing home any prizes or making pro- 
 gress in his studies; and it was only by 
 slow and painful degrees that Mrs. Stans- 
 field had become aware of his deficiencies. 
 Her influence was not sufficiently power- 
 
134 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 ful to remedy them, but marriage and 
 prosperity might yet do much. Virginia 
 seemed to Mrs. Stansfield to have been 
 sent to her exactly at the right moment ; 
 it only remained for Hartley himself to 
 make a good use of his opportunities. 
 
 ' Do not look so melancholy, my dear 
 mother,' cried Hartley. c Am I not doing 
 my best to carry out your wishes. I have 
 persuaded her to let me take her for a tite- 
 a-tSte drive this afternoon, and,' persuas- 
 ively, 'if you will give me some money, I 
 will buy her a present.' 
 
 But his mother was too wise to advance 
 him anything upon this hypothesis, and 
 Emmeline hastened to assure him that 
 Virginia would certainly not accept any- 
 thing from him. 
 
 c Then that proves my point. She is not 
 the least like other girls. That is why it is 
 so hard to please her.' 
 
 ' But Emmeline is right, she is so easily 
 pleased,' cried Mrs. Stansfield. ' She is 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 135 
 
 a child to be delighted with a word of 
 praise, a toy, a holiday.' 
 
 ' Only unfortunately, my dear mother, 
 children do not care about lovers.' 
 
 He was confirmed in his opinion during 
 their drive that afternoon. Virginia was 
 sufficiently gracious, but she was not com- 
 municative nor did she give him any 
 opportunity for making the most of their 
 tete-a-tete* She was even a little preoc- 
 cupied and graver that usual. When 
 they reached home she did not come into 
 the drawing-room for tea, but went straight- 
 upstairs to her own room. 
 
 ' It must come. I feel that it will come 
 to-ni^ht,' she said ; and she went and knelt 
 down by Mademoiselle Joseph, and laid 
 her head upon her shoulder. She was 
 trembling with excitement. The old 
 Frenchwoman put aside her book and her 
 spectacles, and took the girl's cold hands in 
 hers. ' Xo one cares for him but you, I 
 could not tell anyone else — but I — I can- 
 
136 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 not bear this silence any longer;' and there 
 was a sob in her voice. Only that morn- 
 ing she had passed singing down the pas- 
 sages, and full of hope had bent her head 
 in the sunlight over the wishing-well ! 
 But she was right, when one is young it is 
 impossible to be always unhappy. Made- 
 moiselle Joseph's thin lingers pressed hers 
 gently. She said nothing. She knew that 
 Virginia spoke of the letter from her father 
 which as yet had never come, and now 
 that it had been so long delayed her old 
 friend dreaded the news which it might 
 brins;. There are times when one would not 
 
 CD 
 
 exchange a fear for a certainty. Mademois- 
 elle Joseph, who under all circumstances 
 looked for the worst, had no comfort to 
 give. 
 
 The hall at Stansfield was a square one 
 with a great fire-place at one end of it, and 
 two doors opening into the drawing-room 
 and dining-room facing the staircase. On 
 a marble-table between these doors the 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 137 
 
 evening letters were laid, and as Mr. Stans- 
 field came down the stairs be saw Virginia 
 standing before this table. Shu was still in 
 her morning-dress, and she held an un- 
 opened letter in her hands. 
 
 'I dare not open it.' she cried, in a low 
 voice, as she turned at the sound of his 
 step upon the stones. The colour had fled 
 from her cheeks, under the excitement of 
 the moment, and her eyes looked dark. 
 c I have been waiting; for it so lone:'. I 
 cannot tell what it may say. I said the 
 fulfilment of my wish could only bring me 
 happiness, but you were right to warn me. 
 Oh ! I dare not look at it." 
 
 Mr. Stansfield set down his candle on 
 the table beside her, and glanced at the 
 letter which she held. 
 
 ; I feel sure that it is good news,' he 
 said, kindly. 'See how strong and firm 
 the hand-writing is. Believe me vou 
 need not be afraid to break the seal. 
 Your father is safe and well. Will vou 
 
138 VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 come into the library, you can read it 
 there in peace ? ' 
 
 He led the way across the hall, and lifted 
 the curtain which hung over the archway 
 to let her pass. But the room was in 
 partial darkness. The servants had for- 
 gotten to light the lamp, only the wood 
 fire crackled and blazed upon the hearth. 
 Whilst Mr. Stansfield lighted the candles 
 above the chimney-piece, Virginia knelt 
 upon the rug, and with cold and trembling 
 fingers opened her letter. 
 
 ' You are right,' she cried, after an 
 instant's pause. c How right you are ! He 
 is safe and well. He would not deceive 
 me even to make me happy. This is worth 
 all the fear and the waiting.' The tears 
 were running down her cheeks as she 
 kissed the signature at the bottom of the 
 page. 
 
 Mr. Stansfield stood silent looking down 
 at her, but she had for the moment for- 
 gotten his presence. He was interested, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 139 
 
 but, more than that, he was surprised. An 
 affection at once so deep and so unreserved 
 had never before come within the ran^e of 
 his experience. He did not know that the 
 girl's nature, though under some aspects 
 proud and reticent, would open beneath 
 the influence of kindness as naturally as a 
 flower opens to the sun. 
 
 c What a good prophet you were !' 
 Virginia looked up at him with a smile 
 upon her parted lips. ' He thinks that 
 he may very likely be at home by next 
 year.' 
 
 c And you will go back to him?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I shall go back to him of 
 course,' she echoed, with unfeigned satis- 
 faction. 
 
 ' Your thoughts ever turn southward. 
 You would leave us, if you might, with the 
 swallows.' 
 
 'I would not be ungrateful.' she an- 
 swered, quietly. ' It is very kind of Mrs. 
 Stansfield to have me here.' 
 
140 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 He was silent ; but glancing at him she 
 perceived that it was not the silence of 
 acquiescence. 
 
 'But it is kind of her,' she persisted. 
 ' She does not like girls ; Hartley told me 
 she did not.' 
 
 c I would advise you to take his asser- 
 tions with some reserve.' 
 
 c I generally believe what I am told,' 
 answered Virginia, seriously, ' until I find 
 out for myself that people are not to be 
 trusted. You see, I believed in you this 
 evening, I believed in the wishing-well, and 
 I was not mistaken,' clasping her letter more 
 tightly. ' I was not mistaken.' 
 
 ' But then we both prophesied good and 
 not evil. If I ever foretell any but 
 blessings for you, may I be no true 
 prophet.' 
 
 He spoke lightly, yet his look was grave 
 and even a little melancholy. 
 
 ' When once I have papa back again you 
 may prophesy what you please,' cried Yir- 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 141 
 
 ginia, rising to lier feet. 'I shall not be 
 afraid of anything then. Nothing else can 
 matter to me — nothing.' 
 
 Mr. Stansfield remained alone standing 
 over the fire ; he looked thoughtful and 
 preoccupied. ' And so a woman ever risks 
 her all upon one plank,' he was thinking ; 
 c she would not be so far wrong if it were 
 indeed true that love is enough, but a 
 good many other things go to make up the 
 sum of life. May this poor child never 
 stake her all and lose.' Then he thought 
 of her absolute unconsciousness as she 
 knelt at his feet and kissed the letters of 
 the beloved name. ' Why should she 
 love him so much ? I remember Colonel 
 Tennant perfectly, he is a gentleman, and 
 he has many amiable qualities ; but it is an 
 infinite pity that she should love him like 
 that. She is making a terrible mistake. 
 Of course he will be killed or die of 
 fever, and then what will become of the 
 girl?' 
 
142 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 He could not answer the question. He 
 extinguished the lights and joined the rest 
 of the party in the drawing-room. 
 
143 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield was in her private sit- 
 ting-room with account-books and ledgers 
 upon the table before her. She had been 
 writing: and making notes with a business- 
 like air of decision. Mr. Marshall the 
 steward had been assisting at her deliber- 
 ations, and he was just about to take his 
 leave. 
 
 c But if Mr. Norton . . .' he suggested 
 in his insinuating, deferential voice. 
 
 ' It will not be necessary to speak to Mr. 
 Norton,' answered his step-mother. Yet as 
 Marshall left the room she remained buried 
 in thought with a harassed look upon her 
 face. No instinct of high breeding stepped 
 
144 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 in to make the confederacy of her steward 
 distasteful to her. It was not the first 
 time that she had stooped to underhand 
 measures to do her step-son an injury, but 
 she began to fear that these petty per- 
 secutions w r ould never drive him from 
 Stansfield. Xow the fates had put a new 
 weapon in her hands. It would be hard if 
 she could not succeed in marrying a young 
 girl placed in her sole charge, unguarded 
 and unwarned, to a young man who in 
 her maternal eyes had much to recommend 
 him. Hartley married to Colonel Tennant's 
 rich daughter would be in a very different 
 position from that which he now occupied 
 with regard to his elder brother. She her- 
 self would be in a measure freed from a 
 state of enforced dependence. She felt as 
 if fortune's wheel were about to turn, and 
 it only needed a light and secret pressure 
 from her hand to move it in the ri^ht 
 direction. 
 
 Virginia was too inexperienced ; Norton, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT; 145 
 
 even if he happened to take an interest in 
 the girl, would be too proud to oppose her ; 
 her chief trouble was that she was not sure 
 of Hartley. She might work herself to 
 death in his service, and he would not hold 
 out a helping hand if it cost him a single 
 luxury or a day's enjoyment. She sighed 
 impatiently as she thought of him, and then 
 her meditations reverted to Virginia. She 
 at least need give her but little anxiety. 
 She had lived such a solitary life that it 
 was not possible her affections should be 
 already engaged, and she would be certain 
 to be flattered by Hartley's admiration, and 
 prepared to accept his proposals. For- 
 tunately that curious dilapidated old 
 governess could not be supposed to have 
 any influence, still it might be prudent to 
 engage her as an ally ; and, having arrived 
 at this conclusion, Mrs. Stanstield, for the 
 first time, voluntarily sought her in her 
 own apartments. 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph was somewhat 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 
 
 bewildered by the honour done to her. 
 She rose to the full height of her angular 
 figure, and, letting her wools and canvas 
 
 CD I I O 
 
 fall to the ground, offered the arm-chair in 
 which she had been seated to Mrs, Stans- 
 field. Mrs. Stansfield accepted it gracious- 
 ly, signing to the governess to place herself 
 in an opposite chair, and then after sundry 
 preambles opened the campaign. She was 
 sure that Virginia came first in Made- 
 moiselle Joseph's thoughts ; she was per- 
 suaded that she had her true interests at 
 heart. Mademoiselle Joseph inclined her 
 head in grave assent, but did not commit 
 her thoughts to speech. 
 
 1 1 too,' continued Mrs. Stansfield, with 
 a sigh, c feel much anxiety about the poor 
 child's future.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph cast an inquiring 
 glance in her direction, but still remained 
 silent. 
 
 1 1 should be thankful, my dear Made- 
 moiselle Joseph, to see her in good hands. 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 147 
 
 Colonel Tennant's life is naturally a 
 precarious one, and I should desire nothing 
 better than to keep her altogether with 
 me ; but under existing circumstances you 
 may well understand that motives of 
 delicacy might forbid this.' 
 
 1 1 am not sure, maclame, that I under- 
 stand your meaning.', Mademoiselle 
 Joseph's manner was deprecating, but it 
 was also watchful. She felt, for some 
 unknown reason, suspicious of Mrs. Stans- 
 fi eld's advances. 
 
 ' Shall I make it plain ? I would not 
 admit as much to others, but I can have 
 no secrets from you, Virginia's oldest friend. 
 I have two young men in the house, made- 
 moiselle, my stepson and my son.' 
 
 Even Mademoiselle Joseph's simplicity 
 perceived that this fact, in the nature of 
 things, could not well be a secret from 
 anyone. She made no comment upon 
 it. 
 
 ' Virginia, as you know, has good ex- 
 
 l2 
 
148 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 pectations,' continued Mrs. Stansfield, ' and 
 Mr. Norton Stansfield is, unfortunately, 
 aware of them. He is a man of the world, 
 and he makes no secret of a wish to im- 
 prove his position by a wealthy marriage. 
 I confess to you, Mademoiselle Joseph, that, 
 if I had known what I know now, I should 
 have hesitated to offer Virginia a home at 
 Stansfield. Most unhappily, he is not a 
 man to whom one would entrust a young 
 girl's happiness.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph moved restlessly 
 upon her chair and twisted her long fingers 
 nervously together. She was distrustful 
 of Mrs. Stansfield, but upon this one point 
 she agreed with her. 
 
 c Xow Hartley has his faults,' said Mrs. 
 Stansfield, candidly. l I should be the last 
 to deny it. I am always inclined to be 
 hard upon him, poor boy. But he is so 
 affectionate and reliable that though of 
 course I should dread any entanglement 
 at his age, at some future time I should 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 149 
 
 consider the girl of his affections to be en- 
 vied. He is a safe companion for our dear 
 Virginia, and too much of a boy to have at 
 present any thought of love or marriage. 
 
 ut you see my position, my dear Made- 
 moiselle Joseph. I am bound in honour 
 to defend her from any advances on the 
 part of my own son ; I am still more bound 
 by my affection for her to save her from 
 any designs of Mr. Norton Stansfield.' 
 
 1 Virginia is still very young,' faltered the 
 poor Frenchwoman, still cautious in spite of 
 her perturbation of spirit. ' She has had 
 no experience in these matters. Her heart 
 is untouched and her fancy free. Why 
 should it not remain so?' 
 
 1 Because in the nature of things it is 
 impossible,' answered Mrs. Stansfield, some- 
 what impatiently. l She is young, but she 
 is very pretty and eminently attractive. 
 She has none of the shyness or awkwardness 
 of a school-girl. She is well able to take 
 her place in society, and sooner or later for 
 
150 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 better or for worse she will love and be 
 loved.' 
 
 1 You are right ; it is the common fate/ 
 sighed Mademoiselle Joseph, who felt her 
 arguments to be unanswerable. 
 
 ' And Virginia will certainly not escape 
 from it. I trust to you in her father's 
 absence, mademoiselle, to join with me in 
 protecting her from the designs of . . of . . 
 improper persons, and I imagine that 
 Hartley, who merely looks upon her as a 
 favourite cousin, will be our best ally.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph drew herself up a 
 little stiffly. 
 
 ' I shall do my best to prove deserving 
 of the confidence which Colonel Tennant 
 has shown in me,' she said, proudly. 
 She would say no more. She did not 
 trust Mrs. Stansfield any the better for her 
 smooth speeches. She agreed with her; 
 she had no liking for Mr. Norton Stans- 
 field, at the same time she was not prepared 
 to encourage Hartley's attentions. ' If 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 151 
 
 Virginia is not too young to be loved, 
 lie is not too young to love,' she said, 
 shrewdly to herself. Mademoiselle Joseph 
 was, after all. capable of drawing her own 
 conclusions. 
 
 Stansfield was somewhat dull that 
 autumn. There were not many country 
 neighbours, and those whom there were 
 visited the house but seldom. Mrs. Stans- 
 field averred that it was difficult for her to 
 receive people when Norton persisted in 
 holding aloof, and yet occupied the position 
 of the master of the house. Hartley pro- 
 vided himself with pleasures and compan- 
 ions whom he did not care to introduce to 
 his family, and Emmeline during these 
 dark wintry days lay wrapped up with furs 
 upon her knees. Mrs. Stansfield, who had 
 many letters to write and much business to 
 transact with Marshall, contributed little 
 to the enlivenment of the party ; and Mr. 
 Stansfield was frequently absent from home. 
 Virginia kept more and more to her own 
 
152 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 little sitting-room upstairs, which with its 
 stand of flowers, its bright hangings and the 
 wood fire blazing on the tiled hearth, was 
 always a cheerful abode. It was there that 
 she read the books she had abstracted on 
 various occasions from the library ; it was 
 there that she wrote long letters to her 
 father, or sat over her embroidery whilst 
 the old Frenchwoman read aloud to her. 
 That little room was like a spot of sun- 
 shine in a darkened place; but for that, the 
 old house would have been gloomy enough. 
 Yet Virginia was not dispirited. She had 
 been used to a tranquil existence and she 
 did not weary of it ; only at times she 
 missed the affection which she had imagined 
 would have been naturally accorded to her. 
 She would have received it as a gift not as 
 a right ; nevertheless, she felt herself to be 
 defrauded. 
 
 1 They do not care for me,' she said to 
 Mademoiselle Joseph. ' But what does 
 that matter so long as I have papa's love, 
 
VIRGINIA TEKNANT. 153 
 
 and yours ;' and she pressed her young soft 
 cheek caressingly against that of the old 
 Frenchwoman. c I do not think that I 
 need more to keep my heart warm. If no 
 one else loves me, it will not make me 
 unhappy.' 
 
 ' Ah ! if you could but think so always,' 
 cried Mademoiselle Joseph. ' These calm 
 affections of relationship and long usage 
 are indeed as you say a fire, which warms 
 but which will never devastate.' 
 
 Virginia looked thoughtful for a mo- 
 ment, and then a half-mockincc smile 
 flashed across her face. 
 
 : This little cheerful wood lire in the 
 grate is very pleasant,' she said, 'but a 
 wild rushing prairie fire must be a tine 
 sight, Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
 ' At a distance perhaps you may be 
 right,' she answered, hardly understanding 
 Virginia's ready adoption of her metaphor. 
 4 But it is very unwise to approach such 
 too nearly.' 
 
154 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 And you and I are in no danger, are 
 we ?' cried the girl, laughing. 
 
 It was growing a little dusk. This was 
 the hour when tea was brought into the 
 drawing-room, and the members of the 
 family met for a little intercourse, often so 
 brief and interrupted as to be bereft of its 
 sociable character. Mrs. Stansfield from 
 her writing-table would decline tea alto- 
 gether. Emmeline would draw a little 
 table to her side, and after making various 
 arrangements for her comfort, subside a^ain 
 into silence and her book. As for Mr. 
 Stansfield, it was rarely that he appeared 
 at all at this hour ; and when he came he 
 would stand for a few minutes on the rug, 
 take his cup of tea from his sister's hands, 
 and return again to the library. Virginia 
 on her part had no liking for the drawing- 
 room ; the indifference and silence with 
 which she was greeted oppressed her spirits 
 and irritated her temper ; she too sought it 
 unwillingly, and left it gladly. 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 155 
 
 This evening, on her way, she lingered 
 by the hall fire. Her feet sank into the 
 thick fur of the rug before it, as she spread 
 out her hands to the glowing warmth. 
 She smiled a little to herself. ' This is not 
 worth very much, but it is worth some- 
 thing,' she thought. c Mrs. Stansfield's roof 
 shelters me, her fire warms me ! I am fed 
 at her table. Is it not ungrateful to ask 
 for anything more ?' 
 
 The drawing-room door was ajar, and 
 the voices within fell upon her ear ; but 
 she paid no heed to them, she was lost in 
 her own reflections. Her own name re- 
 called her to the present. 
 
 ' I tell you that Virginia is not difficult 
 to approach,' Mrs. Stansfield was saying, 
 in a somewhat raised and indignant voice. 
 ' But you will take no trouble whatever 
 about the matter. You expect the fruit to 
 drop into your mouth. If you would in- 
 terest her, talk to her, devote yourself . . .' 
 
 Virgina's first thought was to beat a 
 
156 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 hasty retreat ; but indignation got the 
 better of prudence. She talked into the 
 drawing-room, with a quick light step, and 
 closed the door behind her. Her aunt was 
 seated with her face turned towards Hartley, 
 who stood by the fire looking a little bored, 
 and a little sheepish, like a boy who has 
 been receiving a lecture. Virginia came 
 in and stood between them ; she glanced 
 at him for an instant, and then she ad- 
 dressed herself to his mother. 
 
 c I am very sorry that you should have 
 been finding fault with Hartley upon my 
 account, Aunt Charlotte,' she said, calmly, 
 but with heightened colour. ' It was very 
 kind of you to ask me to Stansfield, but it 
 would be impossible for me to stay here if 
 anyone were to be made unhappy or in- 
 convenienced.' 
 
 ' My dear child, you misunderstood ; you 
 did not allow me to finish my sentence. 
 You made a mistake,' cried Mrs. Stansfield, 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 157 
 
 stumbling in her endeavour to recover the 
 false step she had taken. 
 
 1 1 could not make a mistake,' answered 
 Virginia, with unruffled self-possession. c I 
 could not help hearing what you said. 
 Only do not reprove Hartley again upon 
 my account, it would not please him, and 
 it would vex me . . .' 
 
 1 He has a defender then in you.' 
 
 ' He has,' answered Virginia, smiling, 
 1 when reproofs addressed to him happen to 
 recoil upon me.' 
 
 ' Then your motives are purely selfish.' 
 
 ' Yes, purely selfish !' echoed Virginia, 
 smiling [again, and going to the table to 
 pour herself out a cup of tea. 
 
 1 Do you know, I am not sure that I 
 should care to be defended upon those 
 terms,' observed her cousin, following her 
 and speaking in rather a lower tone. 
 
 'That is unfortunate,' she answered, in- 
 differently, ' as they are the only terms 
 
158 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 upon which you will be likely to secure me 
 as an ally.' 
 
 1 But in this case . . .'he persisted. 
 
 ' In this case, ' she interrupted, impa- 
 tiently, c I was especially called upon to 
 defend you ; if you had happened to 
 take your mother's reproofs to heart, it 
 would have been decidedly inconvenient 
 for me.' 
 
 c I cannot see why you should be so 
 determined to keep me at a distance/ he 
 continued, in a melancholy voice. c You 
 are not unsociable.' 
 
 ' Not at all,' cried Virginia, cheerfully. 
 
 1 You are not shy ?' 
 
 ' Xo ; I am not shy of you, certainly,' 
 with a decided but not ill-natured emphasis. 
 
 1 You are my cousin.' 
 
 ' 1 am. I do not deny it.' 
 
 c You are not proud, surely ?' 
 
 ' Ah, you have hit upon the true explan- 
 ation at last,' cried Virginia, looking at 
 him over the edge of her tea-cup with a 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 159 
 
 gleam of laughter in her eyes. ' I am 
 proud. Too proud to be indebted to you 
 for courtesies and attentions which you 
 offer to me at your mother's command, Mr. 
 Hartley Stansfield.' 
 
 c But if I could persuade you to the 
 contrary. If you knew that they were 
 offered in all sincerity, but so sparingly, so 
 rarely only because I feared to offend you ; 
 if . . .' 
 
 ' Stay !' cried Virginia, a little shortly ; 
 * do not let us suppose anything so im- 
 probable. I am entirely in accord with 
 you upon one point. I am your cousin, 
 be satisfied with that ; it is a relationship 
 which has many advantages, do not forfeit 
 them.' 
 
 She put down her cup and turned from 
 him with a little air of not unkind decision, 
 and went and sat down at the end of Em- 
 meline's couch. Miss Stansfield's worn face 
 looked sadder and less fretful than usual. 
 She was always pale, and the fair hair cut 
 
160 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 in a straight line across her forehead could 
 not shadow or soften her sharp refined 
 features. She held a book listlessly half- 
 opened in the thin hand which hung over 
 the edge of the sofa. 
 
 ' What is it ?' asked Virginia, gently. 
 Her fresh and deeper colouring threw her 
 cousin's pallor into strong contrast. 
 
 ' It is so hopeless ;' and for the moment 
 the cynical tone had gone out of Miss 
 Stansfield's voice. 'It is a physical weak- 
 ness against which it is useless to strive, 
 and all the while I know that I might have 
 been able to understand.' She paused, 
 and her faint eyes which were so often 
 clouded by pain sought Virginia's face. ' I 
 never cared for anything else. I never 
 wanted health or strength except as 
 means to an end, but I did wish to be 
 clever, and now I begin to see that it is 
 hopeless. I cannot understand any better, 
 perhaps not so well as 1 did two years 
 ago.' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 161 
 
 She lifted the book she held and laid it 
 down with a sigh. 
 
 Virginia opened it again and glanced at 
 the page. 
 
 1 But this is horribly difficult,' she cried, 
 very sincerely. ' Such long words and in- 
 volved sentences. I think you are very 
 clever indeed to be able to read a single 
 page.' 
 
 'You could not understand it ?' 
 
 k Most certainly not.' 
 
 c Yet it does not distress you ?' 
 
 ' Why should it?' cried Virginia, laugh- 
 ing. i I am not . . .' she stopped, blushing. 
 
 ' "Were you going to say that you are not 
 clever ?' asked Ernmeline, looking at her 
 curiously. ' Pray finish your sentence. I 
 daresay you are quite right. You need 
 not mind. People who can manage to 
 be happy do not need anything more.' 
 
 Virginia looked at her for a moment in 
 
 silence, and then she laughed with perfect 
 
 good humour. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' Perhaps I shall find my level at Stans- 
 field. I think I have learnt something 
 already.' 
 
 c What do you mean?' 
 
 ' There was no tree of knowledge in the 
 Eden of La Valliere,' answered the girl, 
 gravely. 
 
163 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was a dull November day. The sky 
 had the peculiar leaden look which pre- 
 cedes a fall of snow ; the dead leaves, heavy 
 and limp from laterains,lay thickly upon the 
 ground ; down in the hollows the pools were 
 edged with ice ; and the river ran in a swift 
 dark current through the wet grass. Even 
 Virginia's spirits were oppressed by the 
 dull and threatening atmosphere. She 
 shivered a little as she walked alone in the 
 garden. As naturally as an exile's thoughts 
 turn in hours of despondency to the land 
 of his birth, so hers fled at this moment to 
 a foreign shore. ' If I could only see him 
 but for one moment and hear him say that 
 
 m2 
 
164 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 he was well;' she sighed, and the tears 
 gathered in her eyes, but the piercing wind 
 dried them before they had time to fall. 
 She shook back her head a little impatiently, 
 as if to rid herself of such gloomy imagina- 
 tions, and re-entered the house. She could 
 no longer bear the chill depression of the 
 outer air, and yet she wished to be alone. 
 She dreaded Mademoiselle Joseph's ques- 
 tions even more than the unsympathetic 
 conversation of her aunt or cousins. She 
 had of late seen Mr. Stansfield so rarely 
 that she had become shy of encountering 
 him by chance, and as he was to return 
 home from one of his brief absences that 
 day she would not take refuge in the 
 library. The dining-room, however, was 
 certain to be untenanted. She opened 
 the door, and as she closed it again behind 
 her thought she heard a sound as of a soft 
 scuffle on the Turkey carpet ; but the room 
 she saw by the uncertain light was empty 
 and in decorous order, the chairs ranged 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 1G5 
 
 against the walls and round the din- 
 ner table upon which the cloth and glasses 
 were placed ready for dinner. The heavy 
 window curtains obscured the last strug- 
 gling rays of daylight. 
 
 The fire itself was dull and smoulder- 
 ing. As she knelt down upon the rug 
 and stirred it into a blaze, she seemed 
 to hear again a noise as of some one or 
 something moving close beside her. She 
 grasped the poker more firmly and looked 
 round. 
 
 ' Who is there ? Is anyone there.' 
 
 A sort of sound between a stifled 
 groan and suppressed laughter answered 
 her. She started to her feet and felt for 
 the bell, but in the dim light she failed to 
 find it. 
 
 c Don't ring,' cried a boy's voice, whilst 
 from under the falling tablecloth a boy's 
 head and shoulders became visible. 'If 
 you don't ring, I won't frighten you any 
 more.' 
 
166 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 c You have not frightened me in the 
 least,' answered Virginia, angrily. 
 
 c Oh, haven't I ?' cried the boy, with an 
 incredulous chuckle, c I know very well 
 you took me for a ghost or a burglar. 
 Why, you are shaking all over. You 
 are quite right, I have got a jemmy 
 in my pocket, and I have come for the 
 spoons ; but if you keep quiet I won't 
 shoot you.' 
 
 4 Then come out from under the table,' 
 said Virginia, who began to have a sus- 
 picion of who he might be. He had 
 Emmeline's features, sharpened not so 
 much by ill-health as by shrewdness ; 
 small, inquisitive eyes, a rough, fair head 
 of hair, and a schoolboy's jacket and 
 collar. He emerged upon all fours and 
 sat down upon his heels to stare at her. 
 
 c Do you know who I am now ?' he 
 inquired. 
 
 1 You are a very bad boy,' answered 
 Virginia, indignantly, ' and I suppose that 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 1G7 
 
 you are Jack. But everyone, yes, everyone, 
 hoped that you were not coming home till 
 Christmas.' 
 
 'Then for once they were mistaken. 
 Perhaps you may remember that I was ex- 
 pected a month ago. There was an alarm of 
 fever and we were going to break up, but 
 it was a false alarm, or so they said ; at any 
 rate there is no mistake about it this time.' 
 
 ' What ! Have they fever at your school 
 now t 
 
 1 1 should rather think they had. I left 
 half the boys out of their senses with it. 
 I'm reeking with it myself. I have given 
 it to the cat already. Her pulse is up to 
 one hundred and fifty. Mamma and Emme- 
 line won't come within a mile of me. I'm 
 in quarantine, you know. They sent me 
 up to my bed-room. That's why I came 
 in here. I wasn't going to be stuffed up 
 in an attic. 1 meant to stay until they 
 came in to dinner, and then jump out 
 upon them.' 
 
168 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' Then I am very glad that I came in. I 
 shall go and tell your mother of you.' 
 
 'You'd better not ;' and he at once laid 
 hold of her dress. c Stop a minute. It is 
 no good your running away now. I'm 
 horribly infectious, and of course I have 
 given it to you already. I'm awfully glad. 
 When I am shut up I shall have some one 
 to keep me company. Can you play 
 bezique ?' 
 
 Virginia was very young, and she had 
 of late been living in an unnaturally 
 depressed atmosphere; this sudden and 
 unexpected contact with the unreason- 
 able and uncalled-for hilarity of youth 
 brought about a reaction. She sat down 
 on the rug beside her boy-cousin and began 
 to lau^h. 
 
 ' I am sure you must be glad that I 
 have come home, I have cheered you up 
 already,' he observed, looking at her with 
 obvious approbation. c Only mind, you 
 are not to call me names any more. It 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 169 
 
 is quite a mistake ; I am not at all a bad 
 boy. Hartley is the black sheep of the 
 family, and you know there is never more 
 than one in a house.' 
 
 Virginia nodded her head. She consid- 
 ered that his judgment of his brother was 
 in the main correct. 
 
 ' Still, you are a bad boy. It was very 
 unkind of vou to have wished to rive me 
 scarlet fever ; and if I am ill I shall cer- 
 tainly not play with you ; besides, I am 
 too old.' 
 
 ' \ r ou are not at all old, and if vou are 
 not kind to me you will repent it.' 
 
 c I shall be kind to you if you behave 
 yourself. Xot if you hide under tables 
 and tell untruths.' 
 
 ' "Well, if I promise not to give you 
 scarlet-fever, you ought to promise me 
 something in return.' 
 
 1 1 shall not promise anything. I shall 
 wait to see how you behave.' 
 
 Some one opened the door, and, in an 
 
170 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 instant, he had noiselessly retreated again 
 beneath the table. The intruder was 
 Hartley, who was advancing to the side- 
 board when he perceived Virginia. 
 
 ' How fortunate I am ! I had no idea 
 that I should find you here.' 
 
 ' So I supposed,' she answered, with a 
 slight smile. 
 
 c Do not be unkind to-day,' he continued, 
 looking a little injured. ' The weather is 
 enough in itself to make one gloomy, and 
 you can make the sun shine at your will.' 
 
 1 1 wish that I could ; but, unfortunately, 
 I am no such magician.' 
 
 1 How can you say so when you know 
 that one smile from you . . .' 
 
 ' Come, do not be absurd,' interrupted 
 Virginia, hastily, mindful of the unseen 
 auditor whose presence she was yet un- 
 willing to reveal. 'You know I do not 
 like compliments. I am not sufficiently 
 credulous to accept them.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 171 
 
 ' And yet you like praise/ 
 
 c That is another matter. Sincere praise 
 from those whose opinion one values is, I 
 admit, exhilarating. Compliments, like 
 sweetmeats, are apt to pall upon one. 
 They are like those coloured comfits which 
 have a thin coating of su^ar and nothing 
 inside.' 
 
 1 But I did not intend to pay you a 
 compliment. I do not know why you 
 should distrust me. It is not quite fair. 
 You know perfectly well that, when you 
 came here, the house became a different 
 place. Even Xorton can now be pleasant 
 sometimes.' 
 
 ' Can he ?' she questioned, with a flush 
 of pleased surprise. 
 
 He looked up, and his boyish face 
 clouded visibly. He was not so inexperi- 
 enced as his mother would have fain 
 believed, and he perceived that he had 
 made a false step. 
 
172 VIRGINIA TENXANT. 
 
 ' You see, Norton hates us all, and he 
 has not found a good excuse for hating 
 you yet/ 
 
 c Does he want one?' asked Virginia, 
 speaking rather to herself than to her 
 cousin ; and he thought it best to ignore 
 the question. 
 
 1 You should not be so pretty and 
 charming:, if one is not to be allowed to 
 acknowledge it,' he continued, in a tone of 
 amiable complaint. 
 
 She looked a little displeased, and said, 
 with quick impatience, 
 
 'Let us seek some more profitable sub- 
 ject for conversation.' Then, relenting, 
 with a smile ; ' I can assure you I am well 
 aware of my advantages. Mademoiselle 
 Joseph often tells me that 1 have too much 
 self-confidence. Her ideal is a jeune fille 
 bien elevee — timid, retiring, humble.' 
 
 ' And you transcend her ideal !' 
 
 ' On the contrary, these are just the 
 virtues which I do not happen to possess.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 173 
 
 ' Then they are unnecessary, or rather, 
 they are well replaced by other and rarer 
 ones. I have known a great many girls, 
 but I have never yet known one who made 
 me feel so unworthy, who could . . .'he 
 broke off suddenly, looking mortified. 
 i You are not listening.' 
 
 ' But I am,' cried a sepulchral voice, 
 which seemed to come from the floor. 
 
 ' Good heavens, what is that ?' asked 
 Hartlev, startled. 
 
 Dead silence answered him. Virginia's 
 eyes were bright with suppressed laughter 
 as she put her finger upon her lips. 
 
 ' Some one is hidden in the room, and 
 vou knew it, Virginia. You mi^ht at 
 least have warned if you did not wish to 
 hear me.' 
 
 c I beg your pardon,' she answered, get- 
 ting the better of her laughter, and frankly 
 holding out her hand. ' You know we 
 were not discussing state secrets, and it 
 is only your brother Jack who chose 
 
174 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 for reasons of his own to secrete himself 
 here. I did not like to betray him.' 
 
 ' Why, he was to have been shut up in 
 his room for at least a month. I shall go 
 and tell my mother ;' and with somewhat 
 suspicious haste he left the room. 
 
 c So Hartley wants to make love to you, 
 does he?' cried Master Jack, emersino; 
 from under the table almost before his 
 brother was out of the room. ' My eyes, 
 didn't he come a cropper ! Unless I could 
 do it a little better, I'd go and take lessons 
 from some one if I were Hartley.' 
 
 The girl lifted her head a little haughtily. 
 
 ' I do not understand you.' 
 
 In fact, his phraseology was occasionally 
 unintelligible to her, English slang being 
 an unknown language. 
 
 c It was plain enough to see what he 
 was driving at,' he answered, in no wise 
 abashed. c But you take my advice. Don't 
 have anything to do with Hartley. You 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 175 
 
 are much too good for him. I know all 
 about him, and you deserve better things. 
 You wait till I'm grown up, and I'll do 
 better for you than that. He is a wolf in 
 sheep's clothing.' 
 
 4 And pray what are you ?' 
 
 'I?' said Jack, winking his eyes and 
 chuckling. ' I am a sheep in wolf's cloth- 
 ing. You see I did not shoot you or give 
 you scarlet fever. I am a terror to evil- 
 doers ; but, if you are good to me, you will 
 find that I am a very lamb. It is too bad 
 of them to let you be out of spirits. We 
 will alter all that now I have come home ; 
 only I can't spare you any more time just 
 now ; I must go and give this fever to 
 some one else. After all, you might find 
 it slow if you were shut up all alone with 
 me ; besides, I want to see how Hartley 
 carries on his little crame.' 
 
 4 1 think you are very impertinent,' said 
 Virginia ; but she was, as he had said, out 
 
176 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 of spirits, and in no mood to carry on the 
 discussion. As she mounted the stairs she 
 met Mrs. Stansfield coming down. 
 
 1 So you brought Hartley home again 
 this afternoon before his time. We must 
 not allow this. He will be failing in his 
 examination.' 
 
 She smiled, and laid her hand affection- 
 ately upon the girl's shoulder. Virginia 
 drew back a little. 
 
 • I did not know that he had come home 
 earlier than usual, Aunt Charlotte. I had 
 no thins; to do with it.' 
 
 L Do you think so ? Was he not with 
 you just now?' 
 
 ' Certainly. He came into the dining- 
 room and unexpectedly found me there,' 
 answered the girl, coldly. 
 
 ' My dear Virginia, how quickly you 
 take up arms ! I was not blaming you. I 
 do not grudge my poor boy his tete-a-tete, 
 more especially as Xorton is coming home 
 this evening.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 177 
 
 ' Why, what difference can that make?' 
 asked Virginia, looking puzzled. 
 
 1 Surely you have observed what a con- 
 straint he casts over our little family party. 
 He cannot help it, perhaps. It is the 
 result of constitutional reserve which some 
 people might stigmatize as sullenness ; but 
 I really do not think he can control it.' 
 
 ' I should have thought that Mr. Stans- 
 field had more than his share of self- 
 control,' answered Virginia, coolly. 
 
 1 It is very necessary that he should 
 exercise it. But I confess that I would 
 almost rather see an occasional ebullition 
 of temper than such moody self-restraint. 
 Some one said the other day that his pres- 
 ence was like a thunder-cloud : one is 
 tempted to wish that it might break.' 
 
 'Not on my head!' cried Virginia, smil- 
 ing, and shaking back the hair from her 
 forehead. 
 
 1 Poor child, he has already succeeded in 
 making you afraid of him. You are not 
 
 vol. I. n 
 
178 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 timid, yet you would be afraid to displease 
 him?' 
 
 Virginia paused a moment. 
 
 * I should be sorry to do so,' she said, 
 softly, and passed slowly up the stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield, like her son, felt dis- 
 satisfied. She wished that Virginia had 
 used another word. 
 
 For a wonder Mademoiselle Joseph was 
 not alone. She had abdicated in favour 
 of a visitor, and in the high-backed arm- 
 chair in which she generally sat upright 
 and stiff, Miss Stansfield was seated, with 
 a cushion at her back, resting her small 
 feet upon a high footstool. She was read- 
 ing French aloud in a monotonous tone, 
 and with her usual air of languor. 
 
 1 You see, I have invaded your sanctum,' 
 she said, interrupting herself to look up 
 at her cousin. ' Mademoiselle is acting as 
 my dictionary. It was so wearisome to 
 look out words. It is a great shame that 
 they did not manage to teach me all this 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 179 
 
 long ago. I had more governesses than 
 most people. I could have learnt as well 
 as anyone. I was never stupid/ 
 
 'Did they all act as your dictionaries?' 
 asked Virginia, smiling. 
 
 1 Indeed, they were far too lazy,' an- 
 swered Miss Stansfield. ' They were actu- 
 ally so unreasonable as to expect me to 
 take all the trouble ; and of course I could 
 not do that. If you hire a carriage, you 
 do not expect to be asked to get out and 
 draw it. I would not draw and they 
 could not drive, and so we ended by sit- 
 ting inside the carriage together, and my 
 education was at a standstill.' 
 
 1 But your accent is so good, my dear 
 Miss Stansfield,' said the polite French- 
 woman. l You must have had very su- 
 perior instructors.' 
 
 1 Xo, there is not one of us really well 
 educated, unless it is Norton, and he takes 
 good care to keep his knowledge to 
 himself.' 
 
 n2 
 
180 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 Mr. Stansfield is somewhat of a recluse?' 
 observed Mademoiselle Joseph. 
 
 1 He likes solitude, and no one grudges 
 it to him,' answered Emmeline. ; But I 
 wish he would remember that other people 
 besides himself can take pleasure in books. 
 I cannot see,' discontentedly, * why the 
 library should be forbidden ground. Espe- 
 cially now that he is so much away, it is 
 absurd to keep it for his exclusive use. 
 Some of the most comfortable arm-chairs 
 in the house are there. There is one 
 which exactly fits the curve of my shoul- 
 ders.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that low chair covered 
 in green velvet ?' asked Virginia. ' You 
 are quite right, it is very luxurious.' 
 
 1 And pray when did you find that out ?' 
 
 c One day when I happened to sit in it,' 
 answered Virginia, composedly; but she 
 could not help colouring beneath her 
 cousin's curious gaze, for she remembered 
 perfectly that it was on the evening of 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNANT. 181 
 
 the dinner-party that Mr. Stansfield had 
 offered it to her with the assurance that 
 she would find it the most comfortable 
 chair in the house. 
 
 'Virginia often goes to the library for 
 books,' said Mademoiselle Joseph, inno- 
 cently. 
 
 c Indeed ; and you are not afraid of 
 meeting Norton ?' 
 
 c He has never given me any reason 
 to be afraid of him,' answered Virginia. 
 She stood with her back against the 
 low mantel-piece, facing her cousin. The 
 candles were reflected in the old-fashioned 
 square mirror behind her; the light fell 
 upon her fair, frank face. ' Why should I 
 be afraid of anyone ? I have never in- 
 jured anyone. Xo one would be so unjust 
 as to wish to harm me.' 
 
 c And who is so old-fashioned as still to 
 believe injustice ?' asked Emmeline. ' That 
 is one of the virtues which has long since 
 taken flight from the world. Ask Norton 
 
182 VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 what he thinks of justice when you see him 
 next. Virginia/ 
 
 But, like her mother and Hartley, she 
 said to herself that it did not please her 
 that Virginia should see much of her 
 step-brother. He was horribly gloomy and 
 severe ; but still one could never be sure 
 of what might happen, and decidedly Vir- 
 ginia could not be judged by ordinary 
 rules. She was not like other girls. If 
 by any chance she were to fall in love 
 with Norton, or he were to fall in love 
 with her, it would be certain to make a 
 disturbance in the household. c Between 
 them all, they would be sure to make 
 me very uncomfortable,' sighed Miss Stans- 
 field to herself. c People are so incon- 
 siderate.' 
 
183 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It is a very difficult thing to make love 
 to a girl who is frankly indifferent to you, 
 unless your own affections are very much 
 engaged ; and so Hartley Stansfield found 
 it. He liked and admired Virginia ; her 
 beauty charmed and her versatility at- 
 tracted him, but he was not in love with 
 her ; and she upon her part was friendly, 
 but beyond that point she absolutely re- 
 fused to go. She met his most lover-like 
 speeches with laughing incredulity or open 
 disdain. 
 
 Christmas was already upon them, and 
 he had made no sort of advance ; he had 
 not gained one solitary advantage. He 
 
1S4 VIKGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 was too gentle to take even an outpost 
 by storm ; he was not courageous enough 
 to attack the stronghold. This would not 
 have disturbed him much, if it had not- 
 been for his mother ; but Mrs. Stansfield 
 felt herself to be justly angered, and she 
 did not spare him. She had given him 
 the most agreeable task possible : to win 
 a pretty and wealthy girl for his wife, 
 and he listened, hesitated, and refused to 
 accomplish it. She was persuaded that 
 it was his own fault. Virginia had no 
 other attachment, and therefore there 
 could be no serious obstacle in his way. 
 
 c You will never gain anything by your 
 faint-heartedness,' she said, angrily. 
 
 It was a wet afternoon, and Hartley was 
 alone with her in the bi£ drawing-room. 
 He had been driven in by the rain, and 
 sat by the fire listlessly turning over 
 the leaves of a periodical. Emmeline 
 was right in saying that none of the 
 Stansfields were well educated. Hartley 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 185 
 
 never took up a book except as a last re- 
 source. 
 
 1 1 wish I were sure that I should gain 
 by anything else, my dear mother.' 
 
 1 Have you ever shown her that you 
 really care for her ?' 
 
 c I suppose so,' he murmured, with his 
 eyes fixed on the fire. 
 
 4 But how ? Have you told her that 
 you wish to win her ?' 
 
 1 I have not proposed to her, if that is 
 w r hat you mean. I thought it would be 
 rather . . . premature.' 
 
 ' Your proposals are more likely to come 
 too late than too soon. When some one 
 else . . .' 
 
 ' But, luckily, there is no one else.' 
 
 1 We cannot keep her here for ever,' 
 answered Mrs. Stansfield, gloomily. ' At 
 any moment her father may be ordered or 
 invalided home. There is no time like the 
 present.' 
 
 1 Time, three o'clock on a wet November 
 
186 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 afternoon. Place, the little sitting-room 
 upstairs. Dramatis Personal, myself, 
 Virginia, and Mademoiselle Joseph. No, 
 my dear mother, I cannot agree with you. 
 The fates are not propitious.' 
 
 ' Virginia is not upstairs.' Mrs. Stans- 
 field hardly repressed her irritation, which 
 was only apparent in the sharpened tone 
 of her voice. ' She is alone in the con- 
 servatory, where you may find her if you 
 will.' 
 
 Hartley closed his magazine, and let it 
 slip from his hand ; then he stood up, and 
 walked in a dubious manner to the fire- 
 place. He smoothed the hair upon his 
 forehead, as he looked at himself in the 
 glass, and then he turned to his mother. 
 
 ' She will be certain to refuse me,' he 
 observed, colouring a little. 
 
 ' That depends in a great measure upon 
 yourself,' answered Mrs. Stansfield, with 
 decision. 'If you are determined to win, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 187 
 
 you will do so in the end. You wish to 
 marry her V 
 
 1 1 do. At least, I wish her to marry 
 me. I suppose it comes to much the same 
 thinsr.' 
 
 1 1 daresay ; though it is not a very 
 manly way of looking at the matter. At 
 any rate, it is quite certain that she will 
 not marry you unless you ask her.' 
 
 He paused for a moment as if weighing 
 the question, or perhaps one more difficult 
 of solution, for he looked flushed and 
 uneasy. 
 
 ' Very well, then, you take the responsi- 
 bility ?' 
 
 'What! of her refusal?' 
 
 ' Xo, of her acceptance !' he cried, 'and 
 that is a far more serious matter.' 
 
 He did not wait for an answer, but left 
 the room and at once crossed the hall to 
 the conservatory. 
 
 'I have roused him at last!' thought 
 
188 VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield, complacently ; but she was 
 restless, and could not fix her mind as 
 easily as usual upon her business. 
 
 An hour later, Mr. Stansfield, as he sat 
 alone in the library, was disturbed by a 
 knock at the door. 
 
 c Come in,' he answered, without lifting 
 his head, as he ran his eye down a column 
 of figures. 
 
 ' Mr. Stansfield,' said a girl's voice, ' you 
 are the master of this house. You ought 
 to know why I cannot live here any 
 longer.' 
 
 She spoke low, but her words fell clear 
 and distinct as notes struck upon an 
 instrument by a practised hand. She had 
 crossed the room, and stood close beside 
 him ; her hands were clasped together, her 
 small head was held erect. Her eyes were 
 darkened by anger. He looked up sur- 
 prised, and slightly disturbed. He felt 
 some annoyance at an interruption so un- 
 accustomed. The seclusion of his library 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 189 
 
 was broken in upon in a manner which was 
 a bad omen for its future security. 
 
 ' Pray tell me what has annoyed you?' 
 he said, rather coldly. 
 
 i I cannot stay here,' repeated Virginia, 
 quickly, but still with the distinctness 
 which indicates a certain amount of self- 
 control. ' 1 came here willingly. I thought 
 it was kind of Mrs. Stansfield to offer me a 
 home, and I was grateful.' 
 
 ' And how has that undeserved claim 
 upon your gratitude been forfeited?' 
 
 But she did not heed his question. 
 
 L I know,' she continued, c I had no 
 right to complain. Xo one was unkind to 
 me. I could not say that my presence 
 was either welcome or unwelcome. Till 
 this afternoon, I was content to remain 
 here.' 
 
 c And this afternoon ?' he questioned, 
 with a slight access of curiosity. 
 
 1 This afternoon a proposal was made to 
 me which was an insult,' cried Virginia - r 
 
190 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 and suddenly like a fire that will not be 
 suppressed the colour rose and burnt in her 
 cheeks. ' Hartley has before now thrust 
 unwelcome attentions upon me. I excused 
 him because he knew no better, and it was 
 not altogether his fault ; his mother pressed 
 him on. But now,' drawing her breath 
 quickly — ' JSTow that he takes advantage 
 of my position here not only to entreat 
 but to ur^e and almost command me to 
 give him a promise of marriage ; when he 
 plainly asserts that he will take no refusal, 
 and that upon every opportunity either 
 with or against my will he will repeat his 
 offer ; it becomes nothing less than a per- 
 secution to which I will not submit.' 
 
 Mr. S tans field remained silent for a 
 moment. Perhaps his chief feeling was 
 one of astonishment that it should be in 
 that room that her indignation should 
 have found a voice ; but his astonishment 
 was not unmixed with other more complex 
 feelings. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 191 
 
 c You arc certainly not bound to submit 
 to it,' he said, after that momentary pause ; 
 1 but is it not,' and he glanced at her for 
 an instant — ' Is it not rather hard to 
 stigmatize pertinacity so natural as an 
 insult.' 
 
 c No, it is not,' answered Virginia, decid- 
 edly. ' The wording, the manner of his 
 proposal left no doubt upon that point :' 
 and at the recollection tears of shame and 
 mortification rushed to her eyes. ' I was 
 alone in the conservatory or he would not 
 have dared to say what he did. You 
 think that I need not be so angry, but — I 
 wish that you had been there.' 
 
 ' I cannot echo that wish,' cried Norton, 
 only restrained by the sight of her tears 
 from unseemly laughter. ' It would have 
 been a dangerous position to have taken up 
 to very little purpose, since I feel assured 
 you were well able to defend yourself.' 
 
 1 It ou^ht not to have been necessarv,' 
 cried Virginia, with a flash of spirit. 
 
192 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 c I should have needed no defence ; my 
 position, alone and friendless, should have 
 been sufficient. I used to trust everyone ; 
 now Hartley has not only taught me to 
 distrust himself but others also ; he has 
 spoilt it all.' 
 
 She sat down and leaned her head upon 
 her hands, and under their shelter the tears 
 fell upon the scattered papers on his writ- 
 ing-table. Xorton was very much discom- 
 fited. He already felt himself to be in an 
 anomalous position. He had not been dis- 
 posed to regard Hartley's boyish misde- 
 meanours in any very serious light ; it was 
 perfectly natural that he should make love 
 to his pretty cousin, he would have been 
 surprised if he had not done so, especially 
 when encouraged by his mother ; and at 
 first it had appeared to him that Virginia's 
 indignation was uncalled for. He felt no 
 apprehensions upon her account ; as he had 
 said, she was able to defend herself ; but if 
 her defence were to cost her such bitter tears, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 193 
 
 and to be undertaken at the price of such 
 a cruel disillusionment, it became a very 
 different matter, and he could not maintain 
 his indifference. 
 
 ' Hartley has been very wrong/ he began, 
 c but why should you take it so much to 
 heart ? It was to have been expected ; he 
 has behaved badly, but . . .' 
 
 ' But you are not really angry with him,' 
 cried Virginia, raising her wet eyes to him 
 in quick reproach. ' I thought you at 
 least would take my part. You do not 
 seem to understand that I have a right to 
 be angry.' 
 
 c You have every right, only that he is 
 not worth your anger,' he answered. 'Let 
 us talk of this reasonably. You seem to 
 think that in these matters a woman has 
 unlimited power. If it were so, remember 
 that there would be no unrequited attach- 
 ments, no rejected love. This world,' 
 smiling, - would be a duller but undoubt- 
 edly a happier place.' 
 
 vol. i. o 
 
194 VIRGINIA TEXXANT. 
 
 c But I do not know what you mean to 
 imply.' 
 
 * Merely that you cannot forbid Hartley 
 to love you with any reasonable chance of 
 being obeyed,' answered Norton, calmly. 
 
 c It is not the least necessary. He,' with 
 a little scorn, c is in no danger. Mrs. 
 Stansfield, for some reasons of her own, 
 wishes him to marry me. He is simply 
 carrying out her instructions.' 
 
 The shrewdness of her observation took 
 Mr. Stansfield by surprise. He had not 
 imagined that a young girl would have 
 been so clear-sighted, and he was inclined 
 to believe that she was ri^ht. 
 
 1 Yet this supposition is hardly corro- 
 borated by his conduct to-day,' he observed 
 aloud. 
 
 ' I do not think that it contradicts it. 
 He has tried other methods and they have 
 none of them succeeded. He at last 
 adopted another tone upon principle.' 
 
 ' And met with like ill success ?' 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 195 
 
 She nodded her head, but did not speak. 
 Now that the first flush of indignation was 
 over she looked somewhat depressed, and 
 sat still, passing a ribbon which held some 
 papers together slowly through her fingers. 
 
 1 1 am afraid of being presumptuous,' he 
 said, after a minute or two, ' and you are 
 evidently severe upon presumption. At 
 the same time I feel that I could better 
 repay your confidence if you would extend 
 it so far as to let me know the exact position 
 in which you stand towards Hartley. He 
 has offended you, but yet until now you 
 were good friends.' 
 
 4 "We were never friends ; and she laid an 
 emphasis on the word. ' But he was the 
 first to give me a welcome when I came 
 here, and it is true T liked him ; but he 
 knew that I had no one here to take my 
 part, and he took advantage of it. It was 
 not fair,' with returning anger. ' I shall 
 never like him again.' 
 
 c It is not for me to appeal against that 
 
 o2 
 
196 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 .sentence/ he answered, ' but you said just 
 now that he knew you had no one to take 
 your part. I trust that you will not say 
 that any longer, and, if we can persuade 
 him to the contrary, may I not hope that 
 you will recall your determination to leave 
 Stansfield?' 
 
 ' But it would never do for me to be a 
 cause of dissension in the family,' said Vir- 
 ginia, shaking her head. l If you take my 
 part, Mrs. Stansfield will be very angry.' 
 
 1 That prospect does not alarm me.' 
 
 c And Hartley will quarrel with you.' 
 
 c I never quarrel.' 
 
 ' But if you threaten him . . .' 
 
 ' I never threaten — I strike.' 
 
 ' Do not strike anyone upon my account,' 
 cried Virginia, glancing at him with some 
 trepidation. ' Only Hartley must never 
 speak to me again as he did this afternoon. 
 If I remain, it must be upon that under- 
 standing.' 
 
 ' You appealed to me just now as 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 197 
 
 master of the house. The designation 
 may not be absolutely correct, but at least 
 my authority extends far enough to pro- 
 tect you from further annoyance. Will 
 you give me leave to exercise it ? If it 
 were not so,' and now he spoke gravely 
 enough, ' you should leave us, if you desired 
 it, to-night.' 
 
 Virginia remained silent. In the be- 
 wilderment of her novel experiences her 
 self-confidence had for the moment deserted 
 her. The curtains were still withdrawn, 
 though the dusk had gathered thickly out- 
 side and the candles were already lighted. 
 Mr. Stansfield sat with his back to them, 
 and his sombre eyes looked out from among 
 the shadows. As Virginia turned from 
 them uneasily, it seemed to her that a form 
 passed across the darkened square of the 
 window, and there was a sound as of 
 stealthy footsteps upon the gravel. 
 
 1 There is some one outside,' she cried, 
 starting. 
 
198 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 1 Do not alarm yourself,' he said, coolly. 
 ' In all probability it is no one more for- 
 midable than Mr. Marshall, who not in- 
 frequently pays me these uncalled-for 
 attentions. He gives himself a great deal 
 of trouble to very little purpose.' 
 
 Nevertheless, he stepped to the window 
 and drew down the blind before replacing 
 some papers in his despatch-box. 
 
 c And I have been hindering you all this 
 time.' And Virginia looked a little re- 
 morseful. 
 
 1 Terribly,' he answered, with a smile ; 
 but he could not help giving a somewhat 
 dismayed glance at his disordered papers. 
 She had been resting her arm upon the 
 table, and at once seized the meaning of 
 his involuntary look. 
 
 ' It is my fault, Mr. Stansfield. I am 
 sorry.' 
 
 But as she spoke the ribbon with which 
 she had been playing slipped in her fin- 
 
VIRGINIA TBHNANT. 199 
 
 gers, and the documents which it fastened 
 were scattered upon the floor. 
 
 ' How unlucky I am !' cried Virginia, 
 going down upon her knees to pick them 
 up. 
 
 ' Pray do not give yourself that trouble/ 
 he said, somewhat stiffly ; ' I shall get them 
 into order again presently.' 
 
 1 I really think I ought to stay and help 
 you,' she answered, rising, with her hands 
 full of papers. ' I have done you a great 
 deal of mischief.' 
 
 c But quite involuntarily.' 
 
 c Certainly it would be bad policy in a 
 land of strangers,' sighing, ' to quarrel with 
 one's only friend.' 
 
 1 But are you quite sure that you will 
 not quarrel with me?' 
 
 1 Yes, I am sure of it. I would, on the 
 contrary, do you a kindness if I could.' 
 
 1 Yet I have done nothing to deserve it.' 
 
 ' Do not say that ; you have befriended 
 
200 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 me more than once. Have you forgotten,' 
 smiling, f my supper in the library?' 
 
 ' Whereby you escaped a most salutary 
 lesson. You took the weaker side, and 
 yet you did not suffer for it. It was a 
 pity ; you may be tempted to do it 
 again.' 
 
 ' I do not see why you should laugh at 
 me.' She looked a little hurt as she 
 walked towards the door. c It was only 
 right that I should take Mademoiselle 
 Joseph's part. She could not defend 
 herself.' 
 
 ' Right,' he echoed, with rather a melan- 
 choly smile. ' I am not laughing at you, 
 I assure you. No doubt many of us begin 
 life as if it were a pilgrim's progress, and 
 I am afraid you will consider me an un- 
 trustworthy guide upon the way; still just 
 now I should like you to follow my 
 guidance.' 
 
 'Where will it lead me?' asked Virginia, 
 hesitating. He had wounded her pride, 
 
VIRGINIA TENS ANT. 201 
 
 and yet she was unwilling to leave him ; 
 she had no one else to whom to go. 
 
 c It will lead you to remain — for the 
 present, at least — at Stansfield,' he an- 
 swered, with decision. c 1 am truly sorry 
 that anything: disagreeable should be con- 
 nected with your visit ; but there shall 
 be no repetition of it. I will speak to 
 Hartley, and he shall not annoy you 
 again.' 
 
 His manner was a little distant, but not 
 wanting in kindness, yet for the first time 
 Virginia looked a little abashed. Possibly 
 she felt that upon the impulse of the 
 moment she had shown him a confidence 
 which was at once uncalled-for and un- 
 desired. 
 
 'But I do not know what I ought to 
 do,' she said, trembling, once more upon 
 the verge of tears. 
 
 'Then will you let me judge for you? 
 You said just now that you were friendless 
 and alone here.' 
 
202 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' It is true. I have only Mademoiselle 
 Joseph.' 
 
 ' Is that all ?' he asked. She looked 
 at him inquiringly, but made no answer. 
 1 Is that all V he repeated. ' When you 
 number up your friends, will you not 
 count me amongst them ?' 
 
 ' Surely,' she answered, with a friendly 
 smile. Mortification and anger had melted 
 under the kindness of the look which he 
 bent upon her, like snow in the sunshine. 
 ' Then, if you wish it, I will remain.' She 
 paused, with her hand upon the door, and 
 added, with the mixture of childlike sim- 
 plicity and fearlessness which distinguished 
 her manner, c You have been very kind. 
 I had no one else to whom to appeal.' 
 
 ' You were perfectly right,' he answered, 
 a little stiffly, perhaps feeling the incon- 
 gruity of his position as a young girl's 
 adviser, as he opened the door to let her 
 pass. 
 
203 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It was nearly dark, and a drizzling rain 
 was falling thick as mist, persistent and 
 penetrating. At the corner of a footpath 
 which led from the front gate to the back- 
 door of the house Virginia was standing, 
 though the evergreens above her head were 
 dripping with moisture, and the gravel 
 beneath her feet was soaked and yielding. 
 She was evidently waiting for something 
 or somebody ; for every now and then she 
 moved restlessly, and put out her head 
 from under the poor shelter which she 
 had chosen, straining her eyes through 
 the darkness to see if anyone approached. 
 Already many times before in the chill 
 
204 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 -winds she had stolen out to keep her 
 watch, so that she might, if possible, snatch 
 the comfort for which she yearned so 
 eagerly but a few minutes sooner; only 
 to have her hopes more quickly dashed, 
 and to learn that her watch had been kept 
 in vain. And yet, not altogether in vain ; 
 since at least Mademoiselle Joseph need not 
 see the dumb disappointment in her face ; 
 since at least she need not fear her Aunt 
 Charlotte's cheerful comment as she sorted 
 the letters : ' No letter for you to-night, 
 Virginia.' 
 
 And it was many weeks since Virginia 
 had had a letter. Sometimes a great dread 
 settled like a black cloud upon her spirits ; 
 more often a restless fever of anxiety burnt 
 within her — and yet she never spoke of 
 it, not even now to Mademoiselle Joseph. 
 With all her frankness, there was a fund 
 of reserve in her nature, an element of 
 courage which forbade her to cry aloud 
 in her trouble. Dexter, the postman, 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 205 
 
 knew her well. He was prepared for 
 the hand half outstretched to him through 
 the darkness, and the whispered question : 
 c Is there one for me, Dexter ?' And he 
 would have given a good deal to have 
 been able to return an answer in the 
 affirmative. 
 
 He was surely later than usual this 
 evening. Virginia drew out her watch in 
 the vain endeavour to discover the position 
 of the hands on its small disk. At the 
 same instant she heard steps approaching, 
 but it was not the stead} 7 , plodding tread 
 of the messenger whom she was awaiting ; 
 these were light, half-running footsteps, 
 accompanied by a boy's high whistle, and 
 the next moment, before she had time to 
 step out of his way, Jack stumbled against 
 her. 
 
 1 Don't be frightened, my dear,' he ejacu- 
 lated ; ' I won't tell of you. But it is too 
 wet a night for you to expect your sweet- 
 heart.' Then, suddenly becoming aware 
 
206 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 of the tall, slight figure whom he was 
 addressing : ' Good gracious, Virginia, is 
 it you ? I thought it was Polly, the 
 kitchen-maid.' 
 
 ' You certainly have a remarkable talent 
 for appearing when you are least wanted,' 
 answered Virginia, a little crossly. ' I 
 thought that you were upstairs in the 
 school-room.' 
 
 ' And I imagined you safe in the draw- 
 ing-room, which is a much more proper 
 place for a young woman than a wet shrub- 
 bery on a December evening. I cannot 
 say that I approve of this ; it is like a 
 flower in your bonnet — one never knows 
 what it may lead to. I don't think it is 
 right, I really don't. Pray, let me hear 
 what you have to say for yourself.' 
 
 1 Don't be ridiculous,' cried Virginia, 
 giving him a little shake. ' I came,' falter- 
 ing a little, ' to meet the postman.' 
 
 ' Oh, a very plausible story. When I 
 return to school and'write you love-letters, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNAXT. 207 
 
 let me beg that you will receive them 
 openly before the family. Anything under- 
 hand absolutely repels me.' 
 
 ' Listen, there is some one coming,' 
 whispered Virginia, paying no attention to 
 his last remark. ' Be quiet ; I do not wish 
 to be seen.' 
 
 c You are quite right, for it is a compro- 
 mising situation, and it is not the post- 
 man.' He had edged himself close up to 
 her and was peering out under the shadow 
 of the laurel-bushes. ' By all that is 
 wonderful,' as the steps and. subdued, 
 voices drew near, 'by all that is won- 
 derful it is Hartley, and Hartley hates 
 water like a new-fledged chicken.' 
 
 Virginia laid a small wet hand upon his 
 mouth. She had no wish to meet Hartley. 
 
 ' He is up to mischief,' continued the 
 boy, gently pushing her hand aside and 
 speaking in low, hoarse tones. Jack's 
 voice was cracking and he was pleased to 
 affect the bass notes of a maturer a^e as 
 
208 VIRGINIA TEXNAXT. 
 
 being most within his compass, though 
 they were diversified against his will by a 
 high and unmusical treble. ' He would not 
 be out on this wet evening for any good. 
 Oh, I know his ways ! Just put your 
 head down a little, Virginia, and you will 
 see him coming up the approach. I am 
 sure he has been up to some mischief, for 
 Marshall is with him. Oh, if I had but my 
 air-gun, or even my best pea-shooter.' 
 
 By this time, however, the two upon 
 whom he had these amiable designs were 
 close upon them, and even Jack saw the 
 necessity of silence if he would not be 
 discovered. Virginia would willingly have 
 beaten a retreat, but for the moment she 
 was hemmed in. She had gathered up 
 her skirts in one hand prepared for instant 
 flight if they should advance upon her, 
 but as it happened, walking close together, 
 and conversing in low tones, they turned 
 into a side-path leading in another di- 
 rection. 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 209 
 
 ' Do they not look like conspirators V 
 asked Jack, raising himself from a crouch- 
 ing position to brush the wet mould from 
 his trousers. c And if they have a plot, 
 depend upon it, it is against Norton. I 
 wish I could find it out. Though why 
 should I care about a cold-blooded un- 
 grateful half-brother who thinks it a pity 
 that I was born ?' 
 
 ' Yet you would like to do him a kind- 
 ness ! You really must be a good boy, 
 after all/ 
 
 ' I am — awfully good. I am an avenging 
 angel ; the wicked shall not go unpunished 
 if I can help it. I know Marshall's nasty 
 spiteful ways of old. It would be a sacred 
 duty to " confound their politics, frustrate 
 their knavish tricks." Have you never 
 learnt to sing " God Save the Queen," 
 Virginia ?' 
 
 ' I^do not see that they can do Mr. 
 
 Stansfield any harm,' she answered, as she 
 
 emerged from the shrubbery on to the 
 VOL. i. p 
 
210 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 gravel walk. c I feel rather like a con- 
 spirator myself. It is very cold. There 
 can be no post to-night,' sighing, ' I shall 
 go in.' 
 
 The drawing-room looked warm and 
 pleasant after the chill dampness outside, 
 when Virginia returned to it. The curtains 
 were drawn across the windows. Emmeline 
 sat at her embroidery frame, and Mr. Stans- 
 field stood upon the rug with a newspaper 
 in his hands. His step-mother was busied 
 at the tea-table. She liked these small 
 domestic duties. She wrote her own notes, 
 made her own tea, and felt it rather a 
 grievance that she was no longer able to 
 carve at her own dinner-table. 
 
 Virginia drew a chair up to the fire and 
 opened a book ; but, though it lay upon 
 her knees and her eyes were fixed upon it, 
 her thoughts were far away. She saw a 
 long string of camels crossing a desert, and 
 in the distance a glare as of fire in the sky, 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANTi 211 
 
 and a sick man lying alone within his tent. 
 She started when her aunt's voice struck 
 upon her ears, and the question had to 
 be repeated before she was roused from 
 her abstraction. 
 
 1 What have you been doing with your- 
 self on this miserable afternoon, Virginia ?' 
 
 1 I ?' cried the rirL starting. ' I have 
 been upstairs with Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
 1 You were quite right to stay indoors. 
 It was not a fi.t day for anyone to be out,' 
 answered Mrs. Stansfield, pouring exactly 
 the right quantity of tea into her thin, 
 china cups. 
 
 Virginia looked up for an instant and 
 met Mr. Stansfield's eyes bent upon her 
 with a kind of amused inquiry ; following 
 the direction of his glance, she perceived 
 its cause. She had laid aside her cloak 
 and hat in the hall, but the edges of her 
 dress were heavy with rain, and one or 
 two dead leaves lay in its folds which had 
 
 p 2 
 
212 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 not escaped his keen observation. She 
 coloured, and hastily pushed them out of 
 sight. 
 
 1 1 thought that you had no secrets,' he 
 said, in a low voice, as he brought her a 
 cup of tea. 
 
 1 The post is later and later every day/ 
 observed Mrs. Stansfield, as, her duties at 
 the tea-table being ended, she drew forward 
 an easy-chair and took up her knitting. 
 
 ' It came in, however, half-an-hour ago, 
 mamma/ said Emmeline. ' For they 
 brought in the evening paper.' 
 
 c Ah, I wanted to see that. There should 
 be some news by this time, I think . . .' 
 
 She broke off in the middle of her 
 sentence as Norton, pushing against a 
 little table near him, put down a cup 
 and saucer. In the midst of her lamenta- 
 tions over the carpet and the ringing of 
 the bell for the housemaid, Mr. Stansfield, 
 muttering a hasty apology, escaped from 
 the room ; but he had not got further than 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 213 
 
 the hall when Virginia's voice arrested 
 him. 
 
 ' You have the evening paper, Mr. S tans- 
 field, and I know that there is some news 
 from — Egypt.' 
 
 'It is all conjecture,' he answered, with 
 a calmness which helped to quiet her flut- 
 tering pulses. ' If it were not so, I should 
 not have desired to keep it from you.' 
 And, without any further hesitation, he 
 lighted one of the candles upon the hall 
 chimney-piece by which they stood, and, 
 handing her the paper which he held, he 
 pointed out the paragraph. 
 
 c They are not even certain of the regi- 
 ment, you see,' he continued, after a pause, 
 in which she had had time to scan the few 
 lines which spoke of an engagement in 
 which the English losses had been heavy. 
 ; I think myself that the probabilities are 
 in favour of Colonel Tennant's safety. 
 AVill you not try to believe it?' 
 
 ' It is so Ion"; since I have had a letter,' 
 
214 VIRGINIA TEXNAXT. 
 
 she sighed, too much oppressed by fear to 
 give way to tears. 
 
 1 1 know it,' he answered, kindly. ' Do 
 you imagine I have not watched you come 
 in late with pale cheeks to breakfast ; have 
 I not seen your light burning long after 
 you should have been peacefully asleep. 
 Are not the post-hours the moments for 
 which you live throughout the day.' 
 
 'You knew it !' she exclaimed, astounded 
 at the closeness of his observation. What 
 other person in the house had taken the 
 trouble to wonder if she were glad or 
 sorrowful, anxious or at rest ! 
 
 1 Did you think yourself so experienced 
 a dissembler ?' he answered, with a smile. 
 4 1 knew it, and I was sorry for it. It is 
 not wise to anticipate troubles. Have our 
 woods and gardens lost their charm for 
 you ? You said at first they were attrac- 
 tive even in their wintry dress ; but now 
 you hardly go outside the house, or only 
 at the most untimely moments, as, for 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 21.5 
 
 example/ "with a keen glance at her, ' this 
 evening. Consider weeks may elapse be- 
 fore you receive any certain tidings, and 
 you must take courage.' 
 
 1 I used not to be afraid,' she answered, 
 drawing a little closer to him, as if glad 
 of the encouragement of his words. ' But 
 now I cannot help it. I fear — the worst ; 
 and at ni";ht in the darkness,' shivering 
 even in the warmth of the great hall-fire, 
 1 I see dead faces, and the smoke and flash 
 of battles, and I cannot sleep, and when I 
 sleep I dream.' 
 
 1 That is because you are weak and 
 nervous,' he said, with decision, though 
 there was some anxiety in his dark eyes. 
 1 You should walk out more, and when it 
 is wet read a novel, instead of sitting un- 
 occupied. You had a book upon your 
 knees the other night, and not once during 
 the whole evening did you turn a page. 
 If you dream when you are awake, it is 
 no wonder that you should dream at night. 
 
216 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 And I am afraid/ after a pause, ( that here 
 you have no companion.' 
 
 1 Emmeline is so much older and wiser,' 
 answered the girl, evasively. ' And Hart- 
 ley has rather avoided me since — since I 
 spoke to you. But it is not that, and 
 after all — ' with a smile as bright and fleet- 
 ins: as sunshine after rain — 'after all, I 
 have alwavs Jack.' 
 
 ' Jack !' he echoed, with unaffected 
 surprise. 
 
 c Yes, he is a bad boy, but I like him. 
 He is a very bad boy to other people, but 
 he is generally good to me, and I like him,' 
 cried Virginia, as she turned and ran up 
 the stairs to dress for dinner. 
 
 ' Well, there is certainly no accounting 
 for tastes,' muttered Norton to himself. 
 
217 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Virginia thought of the counsel Mr. Stans- 
 field had given her when she went to her 
 room that evening, and remembered his 
 words only to discover how impossible it 
 was to put them into practice. More per- 
 sistently than before her mind had reverted 
 to Egypt, and upon another battlefield 
 hopes and fears strove together in an un- 
 availing strua'tde. She could make no 
 
 O CO 
 
 attempt to compose herself to slumber. A 
 feverish anxiety burnt like a consuming 
 fire in her heart. 
 
 4 Oh, if I could but know,' she said, 
 restlessly, to herself, as she sat on a low 
 chair by her bed-room fire. 
 
218 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 It was a tranquil night ; no wind stirred 
 in the trees, and within the house there 
 reigned that intense stillness which so 
 often becomes oppressive to the solitary 
 watcher. It was not yet twelve o'clock, 
 but Mrs. Stansneld and Emmeline had 
 retired to rest an hour ago. Mr. Stans- 
 field was the only member of that house- 
 hold who kept any solitary vigils, and he 
 was dining out at a distant neighbour's. 
 She had heard him tell his step-mother 
 that he should necessarily be late, and 
 should let himself in with his latchkey. 
 No sound broke the silence but the flicker 
 of the fire and the steady ticking of the 
 clock in the passage below. 
 
 She rose to her feet, and, walking to the 
 window, drew aside the curtain and looked 
 out. The lawns lay white in the star- 
 light, the quiet woods fringed the horizon. 
 The world was wrapped in soft, unbroken 
 sleep, and within the house too all was 
 still as ever; yet even as she gazed a 
 
VIRGINIA TEKNANT. 219 
 
 glimmer of light, first faint and then 
 brighter, shone out from a downstairs 
 window upon the path below. Virginia 
 observed it at first indifferently, and then 
 a sudden thought struck her. Her win- 
 dow was immediately above the hall-door ; 
 it would have been hardly possible for 
 Mr. Stansfield to have entered by that 
 way without her being aware of it. She 
 must surely in the stillness of the night 
 have heard him open that heavy door and 
 put up the chain, and yet this light most 
 certainly came from the library. Who but 
 himself could be there in Mr. Stansfield's 
 own private apartments at this hour. She 
 blew out her candle and set herself to 
 watch, kneeling upon the floor with her 
 arms on the window-sill. Her heart beat 
 a little quickly with excitement. It was 
 not the least likely that an ordinary bur- 
 glar would have selected that quarter of 
 the house for his operations. There was 
 nothing of value except the heavy old 
 
220 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 furniture and a few pictures, but it was in 
 that room that Mr. Stansfield kept all his 
 private papers, and it was just possible that 
 some one might be ransacking them in his 
 absence. 
 
 Virginia shivered a little but was plea- 
 surably excited. She had already half- 
 forgotten her more pressing anxieties in 
 the thought of some danger to the absent 
 master of the house ; not for the world 
 would she have left her post. He should 
 have at least one defender. 
 
 As a clock struck the hour, listening 
 intently, she detected stealthy movements 
 in the lower part of the house, as if some 
 one were pushing about the furniture ; 
 then the light inside was suddenly extin- 
 guished, and the next instant the figure 
 of a man emerged from a side door and 
 took a few cautious steps in the direction 
 of the shrubberies. It was not possible to 
 discern his features, but it was light 
 enough for Virginia to recognise the thin 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 221 
 
 figure and peculiar gait of her aunt's fac- 
 totum, Mr. Marshall. 
 
 Slack was right,' she said to herself. 
 c He is a conspirator, and Mr. Stansfield's 
 enemy. But he shall not escape unob- 
 served.' 
 
 Too indignant to be timid, she took up 
 her candle and passed with quick, light 
 footsteps along the matted corridor and 
 down the broad staircase. She crossed the 
 darkened hall, on whose hearth a few logs 
 yet redly smouldered, and pushing aside 
 the heavy curtain entered the library. It 
 was unoccupied. For the first time Vir- 
 ginia, as she stood looking around her, felt 
 a movement of fear. Her candle made 
 but a feeble spot of light in the darkness ; 
 the corners of the room remained in 
 shadow, the statue glimmered white in a 
 recess, and the outlines of the furniture 
 looked ghostly and unfamiliar. She started 
 at the sound of a distant door and turned 
 to escape to the security of her own room ; 
 
222 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 but as she drew aside the portiere she 
 paused irresolute. Another light was 
 advancing towards her across the hall, and 
 Mr. Stansiield, who carried it, was looking 
 about him in evident perplexity. But 
 Virginia, whose courage had returned to 
 her, had no longer any desire to escape. 
 
 c Mr. Stanslield,' she cried, in a low 
 voice. c Come here.' 
 
 He turned at her call, and his eyes 
 lighted upon her with unconcealed aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 ' I thought I saw a li^ht down this 
 passage, and was nerving myself for the 
 worst, he said, smiling, but somewhat un- 
 easily. 'And instead of a burglar I find 
 you.' 
 
 'But some one was here before me. 
 I am sure of it,' cried Virginia, quickly. 
 ' I saw the light from my window. That 
 is the reason that I came down. It was 
 Marshall ; I am certain of it. I saw him 
 as he walked away.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 223 
 
 ' Marshall !' he echoed, with displeased 
 surprise. 
 
 He passed his eye quickly over the 
 undisturbed bookshelves, the papers on the 
 table, the dispatch-box in its usual place 
 and then he regarded Virginia herself 
 again with a little anxiety. 
 
 'You sit up too late and get nervous,' 
 he said, kindly. ' I am very sorry that 
 you should have had an alarm, but the 
 light which you saw was probably carried 
 by one of the gardeners going to attend 
 to the hothouses, or the policeman making 
 his rounds.' 
 
 4 Then I hope he may come across Mr. 
 Marshall, for it was Marshall I saw,' an- 
 swered Virginia, positively. 
 
 He made no reply, but still looked 
 sceptical. 
 
 ' I wish I could find some traces of his 
 presence to convince you,' cried Virginia, 
 looking round ; then as if she had detected 
 something she moved forward hastily and 
 
224 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 laid her hand upon the shutter ; it was not 
 bolted. As she pushed it aside the window 
 itself flew open ; it was not fastened. 
 
 ' Was not this window shut up for the 
 ni^ht T asked Virginia. Then, in a lower 
 voice : ' He stepped out from it. Listen, 
 I almost think I can hear some one outside 
 at this moment.' 
 
 c Then let us shut them out,' he said, 
 hastily ; and drawing her back into the 
 room he bolted the window and put up 
 the bar of the shutter. Virginia looked 
 surprised. 
 
 c Are you afraid ?' she asked. 
 
 1 I am. And you ?' 
 
 c I am afraid sometimes,' she answered, 
 1 but not of robbers, certainly not of Mr. 
 Marshall. I should like him to be found 
 out. He must be a bad man.' 
 
 c Though I can lay no claim to your 
 courage, I think you had better leave 
 him to me/ answered Norton, looking a 
 good deal discomposed. ' It is very late, 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 225 
 
 and you must be tired. Pray do not let 
 this little adventure disturb your rest.' 
 
 ' I shall not be likely to dream of Mr. 
 Marshall,' answered Virginia, a little dis- 
 dainfullv. 
 
 4 And stay, one moment/ said Norton, 
 She turned and looked back at him. ' Do 
 not mention this to Mrs. Stansfield or 
 Emmeline. It would alarm them to no 
 purpose. I will take measures to ensure 
 the security of the house in future.' 
 
 But it was not for the security of the 
 house that he was fearing as he stood b} r 
 the empty hearth after she had left him. 
 * Could he have seen her?' he asked himself, 
 anxiously. : He is powerless against me, 
 but, if he has seen her, how easily may his 
 vile tongue do her an injury.' He took out 
 his keys and opened his desk ; the key 
 moved a little stiffly in the ward; he fancied 
 that the lock might have been tampered 
 with, but could not be certain. Yet even 
 as he turned over his papers his mind re- 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 verted to Virginia. She had acted upon a 
 kind and generous impulse and was heed- 
 less of the consequences, yet she had 
 undoubtedly run a risk for his sake. He 
 hardly knew whether the reflection pleased 
 or annoyed him, but he was roused out of 
 his ordinary composure. He did not 
 deceive himself as to Virginia's motives. 
 She had acted out of pure kindliness of 
 spirit, she would have done the same for 
 anyone who happened to have befriended 
 her ; he thought of her running down with- 
 out a moment's hesitation to face an un- 
 known enemy on her friend's behalf. 
 1 Poor child, she has a kind heart,' he said 
 to himself, with a smile and a sigh. 
 
 Mr. Marshall's curiosity did not disturb 
 him much. The papers which he sought 
 were in safe keeping at the lawyer's. Per- 
 haps past experience had made Mr. Stans- 
 field cautious, and he was not afraid of 
 being outwitted. Nevertheless, it was dis- 
 heartening to feel that he was, as it were, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 227 
 
 an alien within his own gates. No one but 
 this girl, herself a stranger, would care if 
 he went out from them never to return. 
 He thought of his unloved boyhood, of the 
 dull sense of injury under repeated injustice 
 which had embittered his most natural 
 affections. There had been nothing left 
 for him to love but the familiar surround- 
 ings : the old house, the walled garden, the 
 woods and pastures to which his mind 
 clung with the unreasoning tenacity of 
 a son of the soil. He never spoke of Stans- 
 field, yet he had borne his step-mother's 
 ceaseless persecutions, and all the uncon- 
 genial adjuncts of his life there, rather 
 than leave it, and borne them too with 
 severe, though somewhat sullen self-con- 
 trol. It had not been so difficult of late, 
 not so hard since one face at least bright- 
 ened at his approach, and one hand was 
 stretched out to him in warm and friendly 
 greeting. He felt that she liked him ; and 
 he was grateful to her for it. She had 
 
 Q2 
 
228 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 trusted him; he wished that it might be in 
 his power to make her some return. 
 
 In the meantime Virginia, passing quick- 
 ly along the upstairs corridor, had been 
 startled by a hoarse whisper through a 
 half-opened door. 
 
 c Is the house on fire ? Never mind if 
 it is. It will be all right. I always keep 
 the garden syringe under my bed. I'll 
 have it out ready in a minute.' 
 
 1 Do not be so silly,' answered Virginia, 
 laughing a little under her breath. ' It is 
 nothing of the sort. It was only that I 
 saw a light and thought . . .' 
 
 ' Robbers !' ejaculated Master Jack, in 
 jubilant crescendo. c My word, how lucky ! 
 Why didn't you call me before. I know 
 where Xorton keeps his pistols. Get out 
 of my way, Virginia, and when you hear 
 the first shot pull the alarm bell in the ser- 
 vants' passage ; if only that stalking image 
 of a policeman is anywhere about won't he 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 229 
 
 run to report himself at head-quarters when 
 he hears it.' 
 
 ' Jack, if you do not be quiet and go 
 back to bed directly, I will never forgive 
 you,' cried Virginia. ' There are no 
 robbers, no chance of fire, nor anything 
 at all interesting. I shall be dreadfully 
 angry if you wake the house, but I will 
 make an honourable compact with you if 
 you will be quiet now : I will tell you all 
 that has happened in the morning. I shall 
 not tell anyone else.' 
 
 Jack hesitated and wavered, but the 
 bribe appealed both to his curiosity and 
 his pride. In five minutes he was asleep 
 again, whilst Virginia too lay down to rest, 
 and, diverted from the thought of her own 
 troubles, slept more soundly than she had 
 done for weeks. 
 
 She awoke refreshed, and for the moment 
 free from that dull half-conscious sense of 
 sorrow which had so often of late weighed 
 
230 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 down her spirits. It was a cheerless 
 morning, and through the uncurtained 
 windows she could see the low mist which 
 hung over the park ; but she opened her 
 eyes upon it with a smile, clasped her 
 hands behind her head upon the pillow, 
 thought of Mr. Stansfield's surprise and of 
 Jack's prompt and warlike preparations, 
 and laughed outright. 
 
 ' Don't forget your promise,' cried Jack, 
 drawing her aside as soon as breakfast was 
 over. ' You know, Virginia, I am natural- 
 ly unsuspicious, and I did not think of it 
 at the moment, but what were you doing 
 out of your bed at that time of night ? If 
 the house was not on fire, and if there were 
 no robbers about, why where you not 
 asleep and dreaming? I am really afraid 
 that, if it were not for me, you would be 
 getting yourself into some scrape.' 
 
 1 Do try to be serious for once.' Virginia 
 pulled him down into one of the dining- 
 room window-seats beside her. The rest of 
 
VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 231 
 
 the party had already left the room and 
 thev were alone. ' Be serious for a 
 moment, for really this is no laughing 
 matter. You remember seeing your 
 brother and Marshall talking together, you 
 said that they looked like conspirators; well, 
 I believe that you were right. Marshall, 
 at any rate, would get the better of Mr. 
 Stansfield, if he could. I am sure of it. 
 I saw him as plainly as possible come 
 creeping out of the library window last 
 night. I ran downstairs, and met Mr. 
 Stansfield in the hall. He would not be- 
 lieve me at first : but he was obliged to 
 acknowledge that the shutter was un- 
 fastened and the window open.' 
 
 1 And you never called me. You let me 
 miss it all. Well ! I did not think that 
 you would have done it.' 
 
 He turned from her in real vexation, 
 and began drumming a tune upon the 
 window-pane with his fingers. 
 
 ' I had no time to think of you, nor of 
 
232 VIRGINIA TENXANT. 
 
 anything else,' answered Virginia, sooth- 
 ingly. ' If I had stopped to think, I should 
 have been too much frightened to go down 
 at all.' 
 
 1 What ! frightened of Marshall?' 
 
 ' Xo, not of Marshall, but ... of the 
 dark passages and empty rooms. It was 
 all so still, and I was all alone.' 
 
 ' That was your own fault. Still, I be- 
 lieve you are sorry now ; so we will say no 
 more about it. Only I would wish you to 
 remember, Virginia, that repentance can- 
 not undo the past. But let us consider. 
 Cannot we lay some trap to induce Mar- 
 shall to come back again ? If I could only 
 catch him . . . .' 
 
 1 What mischief are you two concocting ?' 
 asked Mr. Stansfield, pausing on the gravel 
 path outside the window. 
 
 A gleam of sunshine, breaking through 
 the mist, rested upon the girl's smooth 
 dark head and the boy's fair one bent close 
 together. Jack looked up at him a little 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 233 
 
 sulkily, but Virginia smiled, and pushed the 
 window open. 
 
 1 We are concocting an alliance offensive 
 and defensive on your behalf, Mr. Stans- 
 field.' 
 
 c That is very kind of you,' he answered ; 
 ' but where is the enemy ?' 
 
 'Ah.! that is just the question,' cried 
 Jack. ' Now, if Virginia had only called 
 me up — as she ought to have done — last 
 night, I can promise you that he should 
 not have got off.' 
 
 'You mean Marshall,' observed Mr. Stans- 
 field, very composedly, knocking the ashes 
 off the end of his cigar. l He is hardly a 
 worthy subject for your valour. If it 
 were worth while, he should be dismissed 
 to-morrow ; but I can give him a hint 
 which will keep him upon his good behaviour 
 for the future.' 
 
 ' But why should you allow him to 
 remain ?' asked Virginia. 
 
 ' It pleases Mrs. Stansfield that he should 
 
234 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 do so,' he answered, a little coldly. c He 
 is harmless enough, but he is a mono- 
 maniac. He has some vision of trust 
 deeds, or documents concerning the estate, 
 -which, if they came into his hands, would 
 make his fortune. He imagines that I 
 secrete them in the library. A denial 
 would only confirm him in his opinion ; 
 besides, I am not inclined to take Mr. 
 Marshall into my confidence.' 
 
 4 Nor anyone else,' muttered Jack, turn- 
 ing his back upon his half-brother. 
 
 'Xor anyone else,' repeated Norton, 
 smiling. 
 
 The boy shook himself, and walked off, 
 whistling rather defiantly, and slammed 
 the door behind him. 
 
 ' Now, there I think you are wrong/ 
 cried Virginia. 'What would this world 
 be without some one whom you can trust, 
 without a friend — some one whom you 
 believe in, and who believes in you? Would 
 it not be too dismal a place to live in?' 
 
VIRGINIA TBKNANT. 235 
 
 ' But, unfortunately, we are not allowed 
 any choice in the matter.' 
 
 He looked down, a little amused at her 
 eagerness. 
 
 '"Well, I do not agree with you,' she 
 said, a little impatiently. ' I am glad to 
 be alive, very glad.' 
 
 ' And, believe me,' and he bent his 
 earnest gaze upon her flushed, upturned 
 face — ' Believe me, I share in your glad- 
 ness. The world is a better place since 
 you are in it.' 
 
 ' I am very glad that you think so. It 
 is kind of you to say it.' 
 
 She looked frankly delighted. She had 
 had so very few words of praise since she 
 came to Stansfield, and she had no idea 
 of concealing her natural satisfaction. She 
 remembered how Hartley had once said, 
 ' Even Norton is changed since you came 
 here.' Was it possible that he was right ? 
 Had she, could she have, any sort of power 
 over Mr. Stansfield? 
 
236 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 Why are you not happy ?' she asked, 
 abruptly. 
 
 4 Why !' he echoed, with a curious smile. 
 * Is anyone ?' 
 
 ' I was, I was perfectly happy ; I shall 
 be so again when papa comes home. Do 
 }'ou not believe it?' 
 
 'Believe in what — in happiness?' He 
 spoke reluctantly — no, he did not believe 
 in it, yet he hesitated to cast a shadow 
 upon her confidence or shake the faith 
 vouchsafed to so few. 
 
 ; You need not be afraid to speak,' said 
 Virginia, with her usual quickness divin- 
 ing his unspoken thought. ' I shall not 
 mind ; what you say will make no differ- 
 ence to me.' 
 
 1 Yet I thought that you professed some 
 respect for my judgment.' 
 
 k But this is a subject upon which I am 
 afraid you cannot speak from experience, 
 and I wonder why ?' asked Virginia, look- 
 ing thoughtful. ' You are an eldest son, 
 
VIRGINIA TESNA>'T. 237 
 
 and people in E 1 think a _ ■■ - 
 
 of that, do they not ? You have plenty of 
 money and a beautiful place to live in. 
 You are fond of reading, and you have 
 leisure for study. You are never ill. 
 and . . .' 
 
 • Oh. if you only knew how low-spirited 
 
 i make me bv this catalog:..- of rnv 
 - - —j 
 
 advantages.' interrupted Norton, looking 
 slightly irritated. * <_' y.;M you not : r 
 once look at the other side of the 
 picture.' 
 
 • I never look at more than one side of 
 anything:' and she laughed. 'You n v 
 have another side to your character, but 
 it does not matter to me.' 
 
 • That bespeaks indifference. I am afrai 1.' 
 
 • No. only when I hear . . . when Mrs. 
 StansfieLd and E '::.• for i ista:v:e. 
 when . . .' Sine broke off. hesitating, ... I 
 bent down her head, blushing in s 
 confusion. 
 
 • Pray go on. You need not be afraid. 
 
238 VIRGINIA TEKNANT. 
 
 I think I can bear to hear even what 
 Mrs. Stansfield and Emmeline say of 
 me.' 
 
 ' It is only that it seems unkind even to 
 repeat it,' she said, softly. ' But when 
 they say that you are gloomy and harsh- 
 tempered and selfish I am very angry, 
 though I suppose that you . . .' 
 
 ' Yes, that I ?' 
 
 1 That you are not the same to them as 
 to me.' 
 
 1 And you are perfectly right in that 
 conjecture, though you advance it so 
 timidly,' he said, with the light of laughter 
 in his eyes. ' Thank Heaven, you are 
 neither my step-mother nor my half-sister. 
 Come, you have given me all the darker 
 shades of the picture — gloomy, harsh-tem- 
 pered, and selfish; it is not exactly a pleas- 
 ant sketch; can you not see some lights 
 amongst the shadows ?' 
 
 He had thrown away his cigar, and 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 239 
 
 leaned against the wall with his hand upon 
 the window-sill. 
 
 c Look and see/ he demanded, half in 
 jest and half in earnest, 'are there not 
 some lights amidst the shadows ?' 
 
 Virginia looked up slowly and hesitat- 
 ingly. She seemed a little shy, and her 
 eyes rested upon the slight yet muscular 
 hand upon the window frame, and upon 
 the sleeve of his shooting-jacket, before she 
 lifted them to his face. 
 
 1 You have been very kind to me,' she 
 said, gravely. ' I think you are melancholy 
 sometimes but you have a good heart, I 
 have seen it, you always help the weak. 
 I should not like to stay at Stansfield un- 
 less you were here. I know that you . . .' 
 
 c Virginia, what can you be thinking of?' 
 asked a voice in the dining-room behind. 
 ' What a terrible draught on this raw 
 morning. You will be certain to catch 
 cold/ 
 
240 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 'There was no draught until you opened 
 the door,' answered Virginia, coolly, mov- 
 ing, however, to shut the sash. ' I did not 
 feel cold.' 
 
 I But it was very imprudent, and, if 
 Hartley has not yet gone, he will be late.' 
 
 I I was not talking to Hartley,' answered 
 Virginia, a little haughtily. ' It w r as Mr. 
 Stansfield.' 
 
 She slipped from the window-seat, stop- 
 ped for an instant to pick up a book which 
 had fallen on to the floor, and left the 
 room . 
 
 As Norton was walking across the 
 fields on his way to a distant farm, he 
 smiled a little to himself. A ray of sun- 
 light had penetrated into his darkened and 
 solitary life. Some one at least had an 
 absolute, unfounded, unreasonable trust in 
 him ; all the more prized on account of its 
 unreasonableness. The frank liking this 
 young girl had shown him was something 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 241 
 
 altogether new and unexpected. Stans- 
 field was a different place to him since she 
 had said, ' I should not like to stay at 
 Stansfield if you were not there.' 
 
 vol. r. K 
 
242 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 c I feel rather forlorn,' said Virginia. She 
 was standing under the portico, and on 
 the steps behind her Mr. Stansfield was, 
 with some difficulty, lighting his cigar. 
 It was a stormy day early in February; 
 the north wind swept the leaves along the 
 ground, and rustled the creepers above his 
 head. 
 
 ' Forlorn ! how is that ?' he enquired, as 
 he descended the steps. 
 
 During the last month, he and Virginia 
 had made some advances in intimacy. 
 She had not infrequently sought his advice. 
 She had read books of his selection, and by 
 dint of unremitting occupation had striven 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 243 
 
 to keep anxiety at bay. If her interest in 
 what went on around her was less keen, 
 if her step was less light, and her smile less 
 ready, none of her relations were likely to 
 disturb themselves about it. She had 
 indeed had the comfort of a few hurried 
 lines from Colonel Tennant, but it seemed 
 to her that the silence was all the more 
 oppressive after that one letter. 
 
 c Yes, I feel very forlorn to-day,' she 
 repeated, twisting a spray of ivy in her 
 fingers. 
 
 ' Yet you will not tell me why.' 
 
 ' Because I hardly know the reason. I 
 think I have an accumulation of reasons. 
 This is such a depressing sunless morning, 
 and I could not sleep last night, my head 
 aches, and you are going away to-day.' 
 
 c That is the last, and I fear the least of 
 your troubles.' 
 
 ' By no means. I shall miss you very 
 
 often. I am sorry that you are going, 
 
 very sorry.' 
 
 R 2 
 
244 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Her evident sincerity was at once 
 flattering and disappointing, and so, per- 
 haps, Mr. Stansfield thought, for a rather 
 dubious expression crossed his face, and he 
 remained silent. 
 
 1 And you are going in a few minutes, 
 are you not?' she continued; l when will you 
 return V 
 
 'It is easier to answer your first question 
 than your second. I cannot exactly tell 
 when I may return ; but I have still half- 
 an-hour to spare, shall we see if we can 
 find any shelter in the garden ?' 
 
 'For your cigar?' and she laughed with 
 a touch of her old light-heartedness ; but 
 her gaiety was transitory, and she was 
 grave enough as they walked together 
 through the leafless shrubberies. The 
 wide wintry landscape lay before them ; 
 swept by the strong wind, it was as grey 
 and desolate as the heavens above. 
 
 1 Is it not the very day for a parting?* 
 asked Virginia, and then stopped suddenly, 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 245 
 
 her speech arrested by the poignant 
 memory of 'another parting hour ; she saw 
 again the storm-tossed waters of the 
 Channel, and a confused sound of wind and 
 waves was in her ears. c I wish that the 
 world were not so wide,' she cried, sighing. 
 
 c An unwise wish, since we might not 
 then find it so easy to get away from un- 
 desired companions. From Mrs. Stans- 
 field, for example.' Then, after an instant's 
 pause : ' I should not have left Stansfield 
 if Hartley had been at home.' 
 
 ' But I thought that you were going on 
 urgent business?' 
 
 c Yet there might have been a cause 
 strong enough to demand its postpone- 
 ment.' 
 
 1 "Would you have remained upon my 
 account ?' cried Virginia, looking pleased 
 and surprised. 
 
 ' Why should you doubt it ?' 
 
 c I did not think that anyone cared . . .' 
 she stopped and looked down at the ground, 
 
246 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 not in the least embarrassed, but a little 
 perplexed. 
 
 ' Do not have such thoughts any longer/ 
 he said, kindly. ' It is quite true that I 
 would upon no account have left you here 
 with Hartley. I may be wrong, but I 
 do not trust him. It would have been far 
 better if he had. had any pride or vanity 
 upon which your rejection would have 
 inflicted an irreparable wound. He has 
 neither the one nor the other, and he will 
 find it only too easy to forgive you.' 
 
 c But I shall not find it easy to forgive 
 him,' cried Virginia, indignantly. ' It is 
 not only that he does not care for me for 
 my own sake, but he knows that I know it, 
 and yet he still thought himself at liberty, 
 just to save appearances, to profess an 
 affection which he did not feel and 
 imagined that I should be ready to believe, 
 or rather to pretend to believe in it.' 
 
 ' Stay, are you not rather hard upon 
 Hartley?' asked Norton, looking slightly 
 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 247 
 
 amused at her vehemence. ' I know, I can 
 see that he sincerely admires you. It is 
 not perhaps altogether his fault.' 
 
 Virginia looked up at him ; the wind had 
 brought the colour to her cheeks, there was 
 a suspicion of pleased laughter in her eyes. 
 
 ' I know what you mean,' she cried, 
 nodding her head, ' though you are too 
 severe to indulge me with even one little 
 piece of harmless flattery.' 
 
 c Wait,' he cried, ' if you are so anxious 
 to hear it, do not forestall me. I would 
 have said that I should have thought even 
 worse of Hartley than I do now, if I had 
 not known that such as he had to give 
 must needs be yours.' 
 
 ' He wants to marry me,' answered Vir- 
 ginia, very coolly. ' His mother wishes it, 
 and he agrees with her ; but, as to the rest, 
 I believe that you are mistaken, and I,' 
 smiling, ' ought to know best.' 
 
 ' Certainly you ought,' he answered, 
 looking relieved, 6 and, as you may per- 
 
248 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 haps remember when you came to me first, 
 I was inclined to agree with you. Since 
 then, I confess it has seemed to me that we 
 must both have been mistaken.' 
 
 ' I was not mistaken. It is true that I 
 am inexperienced, but yet I knew it quite 
 well.' 
 
 1 Knew what ?' and he looked rather 
 startled. 
 
 1 I knew quite well that Hartley was not 
 in love with me,' answered Virginia, with 
 great sang-froid. 
 
 c You seem very confident,' said Norton, 
 with a hardly concealed smile. 'Yet you 
 must know that that is the one subject 
 upon which mistakes are. we are told, 
 inevitable.' 
 
 She just glanced at him with an irre- 
 pressible question in her eyes, but said 
 nothing. 
 
 1 What is it that you wish to know ?' He 
 had observed and answered the look, but 
 she still remained silent in evident and un- 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 249 
 
 usual embarrassment, which raised some 
 curiosity in his mind as to its cause. ' Let 
 me answer the question for you if I am 
 able.' 
 
 They had reached the end of the 
 shrubbery walk, and found themselves in 
 front of a decaying orangery. It had long 
 ceased to be kept in repair, as being too 
 old-fashioned in its arrangements for the 
 notice of modern gardeners, vet some 
 flowering shrubs in tubs were still ranged 
 round the walls, and through the festoon- 
 ing creepers overhead a few rays of sun- 
 light fell on the paved floor. 
 
 ' Shall we not take shelter for a few 
 moments from the wind?' asked Xorton, 
 pushing open the door for her to enter. 
 
 * Why, it is quite warm, and actually 
 there is a patch of sunshine,' cried Virginia. 
 She drew off her glove and laid her hand 
 on the stone bench, where amidst the rough 
 marks of past years the ray of sunlight 
 lay like a piece of silver dropped among 
 
250 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 the smaller gold coins of the lichens. 
 
 ' I fear that it is not strong enough to 
 warm you,' said Xorton ; he stretched out 
 his hand and took her small chilled fingers 
 into his. c Why, how cold you are !' he 
 cried, remorsefully. ' I' should not have 
 kept you out. I am afraid you miss your 
 southern skies, and find ours dull and un- 
 friendly.' 
 
 ' Sometimes,' answered Virginia, evasive- 
 ly, letting her hand lie very contentedly in 
 his. ' You see, until now I have never made 
 a home in England.' 
 
 ' And Stansfield is not like home. Do 
 you think,' looking at her rather earnestly, 
 c that it ever could be ?' 
 
 ' Perhaps, at least if . . .' 
 
 'If what?' 
 
 ' If I could have papa here with me/ 
 she answered, in a low voice. 
 
 Mr. Stansfield walked a few steps away 
 from her and made no reply. Perhaps it 
 was because some paragraphs in the 
 
VIRGINIA TEXNAXT. 251 
 
 papers of late had warned him that that 
 topic had better be avoided. 
 
 ( But when we came in here you had 
 a question to ask me,' he said presently, 
 ' and you have not asked it.' 
 
 ' A question?' 
 
 ' Yes, whv not ask it ? You are not 
 generally afraid to put your thoughts into 
 words.' 
 
 Virginia coloured a little, but looked up 
 at him frankly. 
 
 'It was only that when you said just 
 now ''people tell us in these matters 
 mistakes are inevitable," I wondered if 
 you had found it out for yourself.' 
 
 'Mistakes in what matters ?' he asked, 
 rather shortly. 
 
 ' In love and marriage,' answered Vir- 
 ginia, who had recovered her composure. 
 
 An irrepressible astonishment held him 
 silent for a moment, but a gleam of amuse- 
 ment in his eyes belied the settled gravity 
 of his speech. 
 
252 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 c No, in these matters I have been con- 
 tent to form my judgment upon hearsay. 
 I would strongly advise you to do the 
 same.' 
 
 ' Then you do not claim to be an ex- 
 perienced adviser,' said Virginia. She had 
 stepped on a ricketty wooden bench, and 
 was balancing herself lightly upon it, as 
 she leaned forward to catch at a spray of 
 straggling clematis above her head. 
 
 c Take care ; you will fall,' cried Norton, 
 rather irritably. 
 
 ' No, there you are mistaken,' she an- 
 swered, springing down with the flower in 
 her hand ; ' but, after all, it was hardly 
 worth the trouble. See,' and she held out 
 one or two pallid drooping blossoms. 
 
 c Shall I take them as a remembrance of 
 — Stansfield?' asked Norton, laughing, but 
 with an undertone of earnestness. 
 
 ' I should not like my first gift to be such 
 a poor one,' she answered, fastening the 
 flowers into her own jacket. ' If I were at 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 253 
 
 home at La Valliere, I could offer you 
 something worth having.' 
 
 'You would like to give me something?' 
 
 c Yes, I both like to give and to receive 
 
 presents. I see it is not the custom in 
 
 England, but it seemed so strange to let 
 
 the New Year pass without one.' 
 
 I \Yhich it would have given me the 
 greatest pleasure to receive,' answered 
 Xorton. looking serious and regretful. 
 1 Perhaps it is not too late.' 
 
 ' You mean that you have a birthday 
 coming, perhaps ?' suggested Virginia. 
 
 ' A birthday,' he echoed in surprise, then 
 laughed as her meaning dawned upon 
 him. ' It is a long time since I took any 
 count of my birthdays.' 
 
 I I think a great deal of mine. I can 
 remember how I have kept each one of 
 them since I was five years old. Papa,' 
 sighing, ' has been with me the last three 
 years.' 
 
 ' And he will most probably return 
 
254 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 for the next,' said Norton, cheerfully. 
 
 ' Why, how do you know when that will 
 be?' 
 
 c I do not exactly know, yet I feel quite 
 sure that it will not be until the summer. 
 I should imagine that you were born with 
 the roses — some time in June.' 
 
 ' You are not far wrong ; perhaps that is 
 the reason that I love the sun so much. I 
 wish that he would let us see more of him. 
 Look, he is leaving us already.' 
 
 For, as they stepped out from their 
 temporary shelter, the last watery gleam 
 of li^ht sank below the bank of clouds 
 upon the horizon, and the land lay before 
 them once more grey, monotonous, and 
 unshadoAved. 
 
 ' I am late already,' said Mr. Stansfield, 
 looking at his watch. c I ought to have 
 started before now.' But yet he lingered. 
 
 1 If by any chance you should need a 
 friend/ he said, after a pause. ' If, for 
 instance, Hartlev should return . . .' 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 2.55 
 
 4 But he is not to return till Easter.' 
 
 1 So Mrs. Stansfiekl assures me,' he 
 answered, drily. c Still, in case of that, or 
 any other emergency, to whom should you 
 apply?' 
 
 c I really have not considered ;' and she 
 laughed softly. ' I do not think that I 
 shall need a champion, though I wish that 
 Jack were at home again to keep me com- 
 pany. But do not look so serious, Made- 
 moiselle Joseph will always be with me, 
 and Lady Mainwaring is a kind old lady ; 
 the first time I met her, she told me that 
 she remembered papa, and that I was al- 
 ways to come to her if I needed any 
 advice. I have seen her since that several 
 times, and she has been very good to me. 
 I am not, after all, so friendless.' 
 
 ' Then good-bye,' he said, and stood still 
 for a moment looking down at her with 
 serious but not melancholy eyes. 
 
 c Good-bye ! how I hate the word,' cried 
 Virginia, shivering slightly. Then, per- 
 
256 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 sistentlv : ' When will you come back ?' 
 
 ' I cannot say, but Mademoiselle Joseph 
 has my address, and if . . .' 
 
 1 Norton !' cried a voice behind them in 
 tones of surprised expostulation, c you 
 will miss the train. You really must learn 
 to be punctual. Roberts had the carriage 
 at the door a quarter-of-an-hour ago.' 
 
 Mr. Stansfield turned and surveyed his 
 stepmother with evident displeasure. 
 
 She, who rarely ventured out into the 
 garden even on sunny mornings, had now 
 left her chair by the fire, and with a fur 
 cloak only about her shoulders stood shiv- 
 ering in the wind. 
 
 ' If 1 miss the four o'clock train, there is 
 always the mail at five- thirty,' said Xorton, 
 coldly. ' I think you are unwise to have 
 come out without your bonnet.' He 
 stepped up to the glass door which led 
 on to the terrace, and held it open for her 
 to re-enter the house. 
 
 1 Yes, it is piercingly cold. You have 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 257 
 
 been out too long already, Virginia ; come 
 in with me !' and she held out her hand to 
 the girl, but Virginia ignored it. 
 
 c I am going round to the hall-door to 
 sue Mr. Stansfield off,' she remarked. ' I 
 will come in that way.' 
 
 Norton looked at once pleased and 
 slightly discomfited as they turned away 
 together. 
 
 ' Do not go out of your way to vex Mrs. 
 Stansfield,' he said. 'It is neyer wise to 
 make an enemy.' 
 
 ' But I never thought of such a thing. 
 What have I done?' 
 
 1 Xothing — nothing of any consequence,' 
 he answered, hastily; 'and now I must 
 really go, but we will not say good-bye.' 
 
 He took her hand for an instant in his, 
 dropped it, and stepped into the carriage. 
 Virginia went slowly up the steps and 
 across the hall to the drawing-room. 
 
 c It is very strange that I cannot have a 
 little peace and quiet when it is the only 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 thing I want,' murmured Emmeline, as she 
 came in. ' It is too bad. Here is my 
 train of thought interrupted and my com- 
 fort spoilt for the whole afternoon.' 
 
 'Why, what is the matter?' asked Vir- 
 ginia, rather absently, as she took off her 
 hat and smoothed her roughened hair. 
 
 c "Well, you really should try not to put 
 mamma out. It makes me dreadfully un- 
 comfortable, and of course it is not my 
 fault. It is absurd to blame me.' 
 
 ' But what have I done ?' asked Virginia, 
 again, a little impatiently. ' Your mother 
 came out into the garden to speak to your 
 brother about keeping the carriage waiting. 
 If she was angry with anyone, it was with 
 him not with me.' 
 
 ' Well, it is all the same. I know it will 
 end by making me ill. I was sure when 
 you first arrived that it would make some 
 
 disturbance.' 
 
 ' If my presence here makes anyone un- 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 259 
 
 comfortable tliat is a matter which can be 
 easily remedied,' said Virginia, proudly, and 
 flushing deeply as she spoke. c I will 
 speak to Mrs. Stansfield. I should be very 
 sorry to remain here.' 
 
 1 There ! now just see how tiresome you 
 are. You take it up in that way on pur- 
 pose to vex me. I wish you had not such 
 a hot temper, Virginia. You know per- 
 fectly well that nothing would vex mamma 
 more than your leaving us, and of course 
 all the blame would be laid upon me.' 
 
 ' Then what did you mean bv what vou 
 said just now?' asked Virginia, who was 
 still angry. 
 
 c Never mind what I meant. I hate ex- 
 plaining my words, there is nothing so 
 wearisome. We shall do very well now 
 that Xorton and Hartley are away. I 
 would much rather have you than be left 
 alone with mamma. I believe you were 
 really sorry the other day when my head 
 
 s 2 
 
260 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 was so bad ; and you arc not so gloomy as 
 Norton nor so noisy as Jack. If you would 
 not ask so many questions, and try a little 
 more to please mamma, I should like you 
 very well.' 
 
 Virginia gave her head a little proud 
 graceful turn, and looked over her shoulder 
 at her cousin. 
 
 1 Yes, I understand what you mean,' cried 
 Emmeline, looking irritated. c You would 
 imply that you do not care whether I like 
 you or not.' 
 
 4 Not at all,' answered Virginia, who had 
 quite regained her good temper. c I wished 
 you to like me. When I came here first, I 
 hoped that you would all like me.' 
 
 c Good heavens ! What a dangerous 
 wish !' ejaculated Miss Stansfield. ' You 
 might as well have thrown a bombshell 
 into our midst.' 
 
 1 And why ?' 
 
 ' Why ! For several very good reasons,' 
 answered Emmeline, oracularly. c Never 
 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 2G1 
 
 mind, Virginia, it may not be too late, and 
 things may turn out better than I expect. 
 Xow pray, don't ask me what I mean, and, 
 above all, don't say anything to mamma 
 about going away. If you are going up- 
 stairs, just ask Martin to bring me down a 
 shawl. The wind is positively whistling 
 round my back. I do not believe the 
 double windows make the least difference 
 or else some horrid sanitary workman has 
 put in a ventilator somewhere. There 
 ought to be a law against ventilation. I 
 am sure it kills off half the invalids in this 
 country. Xow that Norton has gone, I am 
 not sure that I shall not take to sitting in 
 the library, only one has to cross that 
 draughty passage to get to it. Still, I 
 think it is the pleasantest room in the house, 
 do not you ?' 
 
 ' Yes, I have always thought so,' answered 
 Virginia, sighing a little. ' Mrs. Stansfield 
 and Emmeline, Emmeline and Mrs. Stans- 
 field, at breakfast, luncheon, and dinner. 
 
262 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 It is not a very cheerful prospect/ she said 
 to herself, as she went upstairs. 4 1 shall 
 stay as much as possible in my little sitting- 
 room with Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
263 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 * I don't like it,' said old Lady Mainwaring. 
 1 I don't like it at all. I think it is bad — 
 altogether bad.' 
 
 1 My dearest granny, control yourself,' 
 suggested her grandson, young Harry 
 Mainwaring, who sat opposite to her at the 
 breakfast-table. He had a game pie and. 
 some potted salmon before him, and looked 
 very happy. ' Why, Stansfield has been a 
 thorn in your side ever since I can remem- 
 ber. First, you used to worry yourself 
 because you thought that the old gentle- 
 man was badgered by his wife, and then 
 you imagined that she had managed to get 
 the better of Xorton ; then you were fearful 
 
264 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 lest I should be contaminated by Hartley ; 
 now, if you are going to take up cudgels for 
 a strange young lady from France, you will 
 have no peace of mind left.' 
 
 1 But she is Francis Tennant's daughter, 
 Harry,' objected the old lady. ' She is not 
 exactly a stranger. I knew him when he 
 was one of the handsomest men in London.' 
 
 1 When, no doubt, he was very attentive 
 to you,' cried her irreverent grandson. 
 
 ' I was a widow at the time,' answered 
 Lady Main waring, drawing herself up, ' and 
 he must be fifteen years or so my junior.' 
 
 1 That has nothing to do with it. Why, 
 granny. I am over head and ears in love 
 with you myself.' 
 
 1 At any rate it has nothing to do with 
 the present question. I have not met 
 Colonel Tennant for years, but I like this 
 girl Virginia. She has pleasant frank 
 ways and her father's smile. I like her 
 and I cannot endure Hartley Stansfield.' 
 
 1 And he intends to marry the heiress ? 
 
VIRGINIA TENNAXT. 265 
 
 Very wise of him. Only I thought she had 
 declined the offer.' 
 
 1 Precisely,but Mrs. Stansfield nevermeant 
 the matter to end there. Norton exacts 
 some sort of promise from his brother that 
 he will not interfere with the girl again 
 and on this understanding she agrees to 
 remain at Stansfield. In the meantime 
 Hartley goes off to Dresden for six months 
 to study languages ; a very proper arrange- 
 ment, but unfortunately it lasts only so 
 Ions: as Norton is at home. A fortnight 
 after he had taken his departure, Hartley 
 reappears at Stansfield.' 
 
 ' And what is he about now ?' 
 ' Oh, he is very amiable and cousinly. 
 He has quite forgotten that he ever pro- 
 posed to her. He has only come home to 
 transact a little business for his mother, and 
 of course the girl has been persuaded that 
 it would be very unreasonable to drive him 
 away from his own home merely because 
 he once forgot himself so far as to fall in 
 
26 () VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 
 
 love with her. So it will go on until they 
 have managed to get her entangled with 
 him. ^ T hy, it is the common talk of the 
 neighbourhood that they are engaged. She 
 is placed in a false position already. Mrs. 
 Stansfield will take good care that she is 
 not easily extricated from it. As I said 
 at the beginning, it is bad, altogether bad.' 
 
 'Granny!' interposed her grandson, push- 
 ing back his plate with an air of satisfac- 
 tion and replacing it with another. c Does 
 Mrs. Miller by any happy chance make the 
 same excellent marmalade of which you 
 had a supply last spring? I think it 
 would help me to pass a correct judgment 
 on Hartley Stansfield if I might finish my 
 breakfast.' 
 
 1 A far more important subject to you 
 than this poor girl's happiness.' 
 
 1 At least one which concerns me more 
 nearly,' answered Harry, returning from 
 the side-table with the marmalade jar. 
 1 But, to say the truth, I wonder why you 
 
VIRGINIA TEKNANT. 267 
 
 should so cordially dislike my old school- 
 fellow.' 
 
 ' 1 despise that type of young man,' said 
 Lady Mainwaring, emphatically. ' He is 
 not worse than many others, I daresay. 
 He has not the courage to do anything 
 exceptional. But a young fellow with no 
 backbone of principle, with low tastes and 
 expensive habits, encumbered with debts 
 and with no energy to enter upon a pro- 
 fession is not, in my opinion, fit to be 
 married.' 
 
 ' I will take good care not to introduce 
 you to the girl of my heart,' cried young 
 Harry, coming round to the fireside after 
 having satisfactorily disposed of muffins 
 and marmalade. 
 
 c Ah ! you,' said the old lady, looking up 
 with unconcealed pride at his tall boyish 
 figure and his healthy open countenance, 
 c You are a little different. Everyone has 
 a weakness for their grandsons.' 
 
 c And for their grandmothers. I over- 
 
268 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 look a great many serious faults in you, 
 granny, which I should feel bound to 
 notice if I saw them in anyone else.' 
 
 The old lady laughed as he left the 
 room, but when he was gone her thoughts 
 reverted again to Virginia Tennant. c I 
 will do something to save her if the oppor- 
 tunity offers,' she said to herself. c I am 
 certain that perhaps by no fault of her own 
 her conduct is likely to be misconstrued. 
 She is in a false position.' 
 
 And Lady Main waring was right. Her 
 observation was keen, her judgments were 
 just, and in this instance she had not been 
 mistaken. Mrs. Stansfield had played her 
 game with caution, and so far with a good 
 prospect of success. Virginia was in 
 better spirits ; if when one is young, it is 
 difficult to be always unhappy, it is yet more 
 difficult to be unceasingly anxious ; and 
 indeed just now there seemed to be less 
 cause for anxiety. Colonel Tennant had 
 written cheerfully and spoke of the proba- 
 
VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 269 
 
 bility of an early return to England; and 
 to Virginia in her inexperience the hope 
 burned with a bright if somewhat fitful 
 flame. There were times when her laugh 
 was as free from care and her heart as light 
 as ever ; and though Hartley's unexpected 
 return startled her a little, and she could 
 not but recall Mr. Stansfi eld's forebodings, 
 when she found that he was ready to go 
 back to an easy cousinly footing, she was 
 prepared to meet him half-way. She had 
 not forgiven him, but she could forget if she 
 could not forgive, and she perceived that 
 only two lines of action were open to her : 
 either she must resent his presence in the 
 house, or she must put the past altogether 
 out of si^ht. The last was the easiest and 
 under the circumstances the pleasantest 
 course to pursue, and she resigned herself 
 to it if not without misgivings at least 
 with a determination to silence them when 
 possible. 
 
 ' Yet I do not believe that she will 
 
270 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 marry him after all,' said Emmeline, 
 who always took a desponding view of 
 matters in general. c I have always told 
 you, mamma, that she is far too good for 
 Hartley.' 
 
 ' She will be behaving very badly if she 
 throws him over,' answered Mrs. Stansfield. 
 
 c Throws him over ! Why, you speak as 
 if they w r ere engaged already.' 
 
 'And is not the encoura^emeut she is 
 si vino; hi m as °;ood as an en^a^ement ? 
 There are many things more binding than 
 absolute promises,' answered her mother, 
 loftily. 
 
 4 So that is your plan of action, is it ? 
 Well, mamma, you maybe very clever, but I 
 do not believe that you will make it answer. 
 Virginia is inexperienced and incautious 
 but she is very clear-sighted, and you will 
 not succeed in cajoling her . . .' 
 
 ' Really, Emmeline, I am accustomed 
 to disrespect, but if you mean to insult 
 me . . .' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 271 
 
 c Not at all, 1 answered Miss Stansfielcl 
 coolly. l But I did not know what other 
 word to use. I think that you are quite 
 right from your point of view. It would 
 be a very good thing for Hartley to be safe- 
 ly married, and it would be absurd for him 
 to marry without money. By all means help 
 him to marry Virginia if you can, only as I 
 said before I do not believe she is a girl 
 to be easily managed ; you cannot force, 
 and I do not imagine that vou will per- 
 suade her. You are giving yourself a 
 great deal of trouble,' cried Emmeline, 
 stifling a yawn, c and to very little pur- 
 pose.' 
 
 ' I consider her manner to him most en- 
 couraging,' answered her mother ; there is 
 nothing like reiterated assertion, it is apt to 
 impose even upon oneself. ' Yes, most en- 
 couraging. He was too precipitate before, 
 but he will know better another time. I 
 am frequently asked if there is not some- 
 thing between them.' 
 
272 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 1 And of course,' sarcastically, ' you at 
 once reply in the negative ?' 
 
 ' I am not in their confidence,' answer- 
 ed Mrs. Stansfield, as with a slow and digni- 
 fied movement she crossed the floor and 
 left the room. 
 
 ' It is really too bad !' muttered Miss 
 Stansfield to herself, unconsciously repeat- 
 ing: old Ladv Mainwaring's words. c If it 
 would not be sure to make a disturbance 
 and destroy our comfort in the house, I 
 should be almost inclined to tell Virginia 
 that they will get her into a scrape. But 
 if I interfere thev will be sure to make 
 me uncomfortable, and so I shall let things 
 take their course.' She lighted a candle 
 upon the stand near her, arranged her feet 
 carefully upon a footstool, and took up her 
 book. 
 
 It was growing dark outside, and the 
 windows were clouded by the frost. 
 The sun had sunk behind the horizon, 
 leaving a trail of fire along its edge, whilst 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 273 
 
 a few stars already were brightly set in 
 heaven's circlet ; but Virginia had not vet 
 returned to the house. She was accus- 
 tomed to have no companion in her rambles , 
 and it was often a relief to escape from the 
 four walls to the open air, to be free from 
 Mrs. StansfielcVs questions and Emmeline's 
 headaches, and to be at liberty to be 
 melancholy and light-hearted at will. She 
 had grown fond of the country ; of the 
 woods between whose bare boughs the 
 wintry sunlight glanced pleasantly upon 
 green mosses and yellow bracken ; of the 
 brown upturned fields where the plough 
 had been driven over the rich soil and of 
 the close-cropped pastures where the sheep 
 were grazing. She had the pleasure in 
 nature which belongs as of right to one of 
 her children whose heart has not as yet 
 been closed against her influences. To 
 Virginia, as she beheld it, the world was, as 
 at creation, c very good.' 
 
 She came along a narrow field-path this 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 VIRGINIA TENNAOT. 
 
 afternoon on her way towards Stansfield 
 with light untired footsteps. It had been 
 a pleasant afternoon, and she was humming 
 a little French song as she walked. The 
 fading light reminded her that Mademoi- 
 selle Joseph would be watching and per- 
 haps anxious and she was hurrying her 
 pace when she became aware that, by so 
 doing, she was coming up with two men 
 taking the same direction as herself, but on 
 the other side of the thick-set hedge at her 
 right. Though, as a rule, perfectly fear- 
 less, she was not desirous at this moment of 
 meeting strangers, and she slackened her 
 pace, involuntarily, as she did so, catching 
 some sentences of their conversation. 
 
 ' Well ! I say it is a shame. One ought 
 to have had fair warning, though I guessed 
 what Hartley was after all along. Still, 
 she ought not to have been brought into 
 the neighbourhood unless one was to have 
 had a chance.' 
 
 ' How do you know it is all up ?' said 
 
VIRGINIA TENHANT. 275 
 
 another voice, which Virginia recognized as 
 that of a certain young Mr. Denver, whom 
 Hartley had once brought to Stansfield. 
 
 c Why, because he as good as says they 
 are engaged. Being his cousin has given 
 him no end of advantages. Mrs. Stansfield 
 told my mother of it the other day. They 
 had no business to shut her up as they 
 have done. It is a regular swindle.' 
 
 Virginia stood still, arrested by an over- 
 powering rush of indignation. Was this 
 the way in which her name had been 
 draped in the dust? AVas this the mean- 
 ing of Hartley's easy cheerfulness and of 
 his mother's increased complacency ? Ah ! 
 Mr. Stansfield had been right. He had 
 done well to warn her. She waited for a 
 minute or two until the young men had 
 passed on, and then, gathering up her 
 breath, she ran across the strip of common 
 which lay between her and the park gates. 
 Once inside them she went more slowly 
 towards the house. Her first rush of passion 
 
276 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 had not subsided, but it was changing into 
 concentrated anger against Mrs. Stansfield 
 and her son ; wilfully and of set purpose 
 they had taken advantage of her inexper- 
 ience, and had abused her confidence, and 
 she . . . she had no friend to take her 
 part ; yet even now she was not afraid. 
 
 She entered the house and went straight 
 into the drawing-room. Only Emmeline 
 was there still bending over her book. 
 
 i Where is your mother ?' asked Virginia. 
 Her cousin looked up at her with a fret- 
 ful astonishment. Her dark cloak was 
 thrown back and one hand tightly clenched 
 its folds ; there was a bright colour in her 
 cheeks and a light in her eyes. ; Where is 
 your mother?' she repeated, imperatively. 
 
 ' Oh ! dear, how you do startle one,' cried 
 Miss Stansfield. ' I believe mamma is busy 
 upstairs. What is the matter with you ? 
 Why do you want her?' 
 
 'Because some one has been telling 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 277 
 
 falsehoods about me ; and I must find out 
 who it is.' 
 
 t Oh, pray do not make a quarrel here,' 
 said Emmeline, dismally. ' What does it 
 signify ? people tell untruths every day. 
 Why should you be so ridiculous as to 
 take any notice of them. If you go to 
 mamma now we shall be sure to be quite 
 uncomfortable all the evening.' 
 
 c If you like it better, I will put my 
 question to you instead,' answered Vir- 
 ginia. She had not taken a seat, but 
 remained standing slight and erect in front 
 of her cousin's arm-chair. c You can 
 answer me perhaps as well as anyone else. 
 With whom has the report originated that 
 I am to marry Hartley?' and a deep flush 
 of resentment and shame dyed her cheek 
 as she spoke. 
 
 ' Was there anyone ever like you for 
 asking questions?' But Emmeline avoided 
 the girl's direct glance. ' Does anyone 
 
278 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ever know how or where such reports 
 arise ? Of course, if } T ou do not intend it, I 
 will allow that it is annoying ; but I cannot 
 see why you should take it so much to 
 heart. If it is not true . . .' 
 
 'You know, you know perfectly well 
 that it is not true.' 
 
 ' Well, and did I not always say so ? I 
 am sure you need not quarrel with me 
 about it. I never believed that you would 
 marry him.' 
 
 ' Yet I hear that Aunt Charlotte, and 
 even your brother has dared to assert . . / 
 
 The door opened and Hartley, smooth 
 and smiling, with a hothouse flower in his 
 brown velveteen jacket, lounged into the 
 room. 
 
 c Have you had any news ?' he asked, 
 glancing at Virginia. ' 1 hear that the 
 mail is in.' 
 
 She paused a moment before she 
 answered : 
 
 ' No, I have no news — from Egypt.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 279 
 
 ' I wish that you would not come here 
 just now, Hartley,' interposed his sister, 
 hastily. c Virginia was speaking to me 
 about a private matter.' 
 
 1 Which it seems is already public 
 property,' said Virginia, coldly. ' Your 
 brother is at liberty to remain and hear 
 what I have to say if he desires it.' 
 
 ' He does not desire it. I wish you 
 would not be so impetuous, Virginia. I 
 am certain you have put my heart out of 
 its normal state already. I can feel it,' 
 pressing her hand to her side, 'and it is 
 beating quite irregularly. Now, do let 
 Hartley go away and we will talk it over 
 calmly.' 
 
 ' I have nothing to talk over. I have 
 only a question to ask to which I must 
 have an answer.' 
 
 There was a momentary silence. Hart- 
 ley stood half hesitating between the door 
 and the fire looking doubtfully at Virginia. 
 
 ' She is very pretty,' he said to himself, 
 
280 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 with involuntary admiration. L Xo one can 
 deny that she is extremely pretty. But 
 one never knows what she may say or do. 
 She puts one in a great difficulty.' 
 
 'May I know what your question is?' 
 he asked aloud. 
 
 1 Certainly, if you wish it.' 
 
 The flush had faded, leaving her a little 
 paler than usual ; but her look was direct 
 and unabashed, and her voice was steady 
 as she stood fronting him, leaning one 
 hand upon the back of a chair at her 
 side. 
 
 ' But I am altogether puzzled,' cried 
 Hartley, though in truth a misgiving had 
 crossed his mind which had some faint 
 resemblance to the reality. 'Yet I am 
 not afraid. Ask me anything you please.' 
 
 1 Oh, how rash you both are,' cried 
 Emmeline, pulling her shawl round her 
 shoulders and rising from her chair. ' And 
 yet I warn you that if you remain together 
 you will repent it.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 281 
 
 But they neither of them made her any 
 answer. 
 
 c T\"ell ! I shall not stay here to listen to 
 you,' she continued. 'A scene upsets my 
 nerves for a week. Do pray get over any- 
 thing that is disagreeable as quickly as 
 possible, and remember that dinner is at 
 seven, and mamma will be sure to notice if 
 anvthins; is the matter then. If vou were 
 not so selfish. Hartley, you would have 
 listened to me and left the room ten 
 minutes ago.' 
 
282 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 There were a few moments of silence. 
 Hartley still looked doubtful He had no 
 desire whatever to quarrel with Virginia, 
 and felt it hard that she should wish to 
 force a quarrel upon him. He had never 
 admired her more, he had never felt at a 
 greater distance from her. It was not her 
 anger, but it was her perfect self-possession, 
 before which he would gladly have beaten 
 a retreat had it been possible; but, as 
 Emmeline closed the drawing-room door 
 behind her, she had cut off his retreat. 
 
 ' Hartley,' she said at last, turning her 
 eyes upon him. ' I would rather have 
 asked the question of some one else, and 
 
VIRGINIA TBNNANT. 283 
 
 yet it is only fair that you should hear it, 
 it is only just that you should have an 
 opportunity to deny the imputation which 
 has been cast upon you.' 
 
 He took a step towards her, and seemed 
 about to speak, but she stretched out one 
 hand as if to arrest him. 
 
 ' Xo, stay until you have heard what I 
 have to say. Is it true that you have said, 
 — that you have spread a report that I am 
 engaged to you?' 
 
 He was prepared for some embarrass- 
 ment, but he was not prepared for so plain 
 and uncompromising a question, and it was 
 an instance in which a lie could at the 
 most avail but for a time, yet his instinct 
 was to prevaricate. 
 
 ' I could not have said that,' he an- 
 swered, forcing a smile, 'because unfor- 
 tunately — most unfortunately for me — it is 
 not true.' 
 
 She sighed a little impatiently. 
 
 c Xo, it is not true, and you knew it, 
 
284 VIEGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 and yet you allowed it to be believed.' 
 She paused to give him time for a denial, 
 but he had begun to feel that such a 
 defence must needs break down under her 
 direct gaze. She was impartial as a judge, 
 remorseless as fate, and yet there was no 
 boldness in the blue eyes which regarded 
 him so proudly ; at a word, at nothing, he 
 had seen them soften into tears. He had 
 held the little hand, which now lay clenched 
 on the marble chimney-piece, in a warm 
 and friendly clasp. If only he could now 
 escape uncondemned she might be as kind 
 to him a^ain. 
 
 c You had no right to allow it to be 
 believed,' continued Virginia. ' You knew 
 that I remained in the house with you 
 only upon one condition, Aunt Charlotte 
 knew it also, and yet now I hear you say 
 that I am to marry you, and she implies 
 that you are right.' 
 
 ' And, if I thought it, could you blame 
 me ?' he asked, quickly. ' Is it wonderful 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 2S5 
 
 that my wishes should outrun the reality. 
 
 When I returned, and you were once more 
 willing that we should be friends . . .' 
 
 1 We were never friends,' she interrupted, 
 with hasty emphasis. 
 
 c "Well, if you will not have it so now, at 
 least you allowed me to believe it, and was 
 it unnatural that I should hope for some- 
 thing more ? I was not the only one to be 
 deceived.' Yet even as he spoke a sense of 
 shame sent the blood to his face. The girl 
 stepped back from him with a movement 
 not of fear, but of something like 
 contempt. 
 
 1 How dare you say so ?' she cried, pas- 
 sionately. l Who could have thought it !' 
 She sat down, and leaned her head upon her 
 hands, whilst tears which pride forbade to 
 fall burned in her eyes. ' You have been 
 very cruel to me ; you pretended to think 
 that everything disagreeable was past, and 
 I was ready to forget it. You purposely 
 deceived me, and now I shall never forgive 
 
286 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 you. I shall never like you again, never 
 as long as I live.' 
 
 c Perhaps you may have said something 
 like that before,' suggested Hartley. His 
 discomfiture was so great that his only 
 resource was effrontery. He was in a 
 difficulty, and saw no way of extricating 
 himself from it. 
 
 i I did say it before, I said it to your 
 brother. It was he who persuaded me 
 then not to leave the house.' 
 
 ' What— Norton ?' 
 
 ' Yes, but I ought not to have remained ; 
 I should not have trusted you. How have 
 you repaid my trust ?' 
 
 'I made no promise to you,' answered 
 Hartley, sullenly. c I have as much right 
 to my place here as Xorton.' 
 
 1 I do not dispute your rights with regard 
 to others ; but with regard to me you have 
 none, none whatever.' 
 
 He walked away to the window. Her 
 words stun g him, and vet he had no answer 
 
VIRGINIA TENNAKT. 2S7 
 
 ready It was terribly unpleasant ; Vir- 
 ginia was very angry, and he could not 
 help seeing that she had a right to be angry, 
 only, she need not have carried it to such 
 an extreme. He was very anxious to 
 smooth over matters if possible. 
 
 c Perhaps I have been wrong,' he said, 
 coming back and seating himself at a little 
 distance from her. ' But after all, Virginia, 
 you might make a little allowance for me. 
 I am not cruel, I would not be cruel to 
 anyone for the world. I am not capable of 
 it. I hate to see anvthin:r suffer. I wished 
 to please you and if I thought first of my- 
 self it is only what everyone elsedoes,' cried 
 Hartley, a little plaintively. ' It is you 
 who are hard upon me. I know very 
 well that you do not care for me now ; but 
 if what I hoped for were ever to come 
 true . . .' 
 
 ; It never will come true.' She lifted 
 her head, and before the indignation of her 
 eves his own fell. 
 
288 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 'Then you will not hear me?' he muttered. 
 
 ' No, what can you have to say to me ? 
 And reproaches are useless. You would 
 not understand them.' 
 
 She rose from her chair and moved to 
 leave the room. 
 
 • Then what will you do ?' he asked, 
 blankly. 
 
 ' I do not know. I have not thought ;' 
 and she passed out without looking at him 
 again. 
 
 She went up into her own little sitting- 
 room and threw off her hat and cloak. 
 She was flushed, and drew her breath 
 quickly. The air of the house stifled her. 
 She had been brought up in a purer, freer 
 atmosphere. Mademoiselle Joseph busied 
 herself in folding up in decorous order 
 the things she had flung down ; but she 
 was sometimes afraid of questioning Vir- 
 ginia and the girl sat silent, taking no no- 
 tice ; but after a while she looked up and 
 said abruptly, 
 
VIRGINIA TENXANT. 289 
 
 c I cannot stay at Stansfielcl, Mademoiselle 
 Joseph.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph let her angular 
 figure sink into the depths of an arm-chair 
 and regarded Virginia with a sort of mild 
 and timorous bewilderment. 
 
 c And yet I do not know why 1 should be 
 surprised,' she murmured to herself. ' I 
 expected something of the kind from the 
 first.' 
 
 ' And what did you expect ?' asked Vir- 
 ginia, looking surprised in her turn. 
 
 c There were sure to be complications, 
 two young men in the house. It was very 
 unfortunate.' 
 
 ' It need not have been unfortunate at 
 all,' cried Virginia, opening her eyes. 'But 
 Hartley does not understand the meaning 
 of the word honour, and that is certainly 
 unfortunate. As to the rest, I only wish 
 that Mr. Stansfield were at home. 1 
 
 1 And what could he do? No,' cried the 
 old Frenchwoman with a faint blush. ' If, 
 
 vol. i. u 
 
290 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 as I understand, Mr. Hartley has ventured 
 to propose marriage to you, it would 
 be worse, far worse, if his brother were at 
 home.' 
 
 c You always misjudge Mr. Stansfield,' 
 answered Virginia, c I think it is his fate 
 to be misjudged. Perhaps it is his own 
 fault. When he is in general society, he is 
 silent and severe. But have you never 
 observed, mademoiselle, that servants, dogs, 
 and children are never afraid of him. 
 They are good judges.' 
 
 ' And upon what grounds do you, Vir- 
 ginia, suppose yourself equally qualified 
 to form a judgment?' 
 
 1 1 do not altogether understand him,' 
 answered Virginia looking thoughtful. ' I 
 have known him but a short time, and yet 
 I understand him better than others, 
 because I like him.' 
 
 c You like him V 
 
 ' Yes, have I not often said so before,' 
 cried Virginia, a little impatiently. ' In 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 291 
 
 this inhospitable land he has been a kind 
 companion, my only friend.' 
 
 c And do you not know that so far from 
 guiding us aright our likings are very will- 
 of-the-wisps and lead us astray ?' 
 
 ' I have often heard you say so.' Virginia 
 leaned forward smiling, and laid one hand 
 upon the old lady's sleeve. ' Do not blame 
 yourself, Mademoiselle Joseph, if you see 
 me sinking in a quagmire. It will have 
 been entirely, absolutely my own fault/ 
 
 ' Will that afford me any consolation V 
 
 ' It ought to do so. See, I am, for in- 
 stance, at this moment in a serious diffi- 
 culty. I am very angry with Aunt 
 Charlotte and with Hartley, but I am very 
 glad that I need not be angry with myself. 
 Still, I do not know what I ought to do. 
 Papa meant me to stay here,' faltering, 
 c till he came back. Yet how can I 
 stay?' 
 
 She paused, but Mademoiselle Joseph, 
 sunk in despairing perplexity, could give 
 
 u2 
 
292 VIRGINIA TEXXAXT. 
 
 no counsel. Virginia too remained silent, 
 with her eyes fixed upon the fire. Then, 
 suddenly lifting them as if a light had 
 broken in upon her : 
 
 c Stay, you have Mr. Stansfield's address, 
 you must write and ask him to come back, 
 Mademoiselle Joseph.' 
 
 But the governess trembled and hesitated. 
 
 ' My dear Virginia. Would it not be an 
 unprecedented proceeding. What can I 
 say?' 
 
 ' Say that some difficulties have arisen, 
 and that I should be very much obliged if 
 he could return to Stansfield,' answered 
 Virginia, with composure. ' As for the 
 rest, let us sleep upon our troubles ; 
 perhaps they may be dispersed by the 
 morning.' 
 
 But, though she spoke cheerfully to re- 
 assure her old companion, she was ill at 
 ease, and she would not go down again that 
 evening but remained upstairs with Made- 
 moiselle Joseph. 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 293 
 
 The sun was shining brightly between 
 the curtains on the following morning 
 when Virginia awoke, but it was still 
 early. No one but the servants, herself, 
 and Mademoiselle Joseph would be stirring 
 for another two hours, and breakfast was 
 laid for them alone. 
 
 1 And how did you sleep, my poor dear 
 child ?' asked the governess, who had her- 
 self passed an unquiet night. 
 
 ' I went to sleep in search of an in- 
 spiration,' answered Virginia, who looked 
 as fresh as the morning, c and I have 
 found one. I will go and ask old Lady 
 Mainwarino-'s advice. She has lived a lon£ 
 time in the world and ought to have learnt 
 its wisdom. She has always been kind tome. 
 I will go to her. I can walk over to Hinton.' 
 
 Mademoiselle Joseph was relieved. To 
 say the truth, she was sometimes afraid of 
 Virginia's inspirations, but this was a sen- 
 sible and practical step to which she could 
 take no exception. 
 
294 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 Hinton was not three miles off, and it 
 was not yet midday when Virginia was 
 shown into Lady Mainwaring's boudoir. 
 The old lady started visibly as she entered, 
 and thrust aside a newspaper she had been 
 reading, but one glance at the girl's face 
 reassured her. No bad news such as she 
 had dreaded was written there. Her eyes, 
 blue and clear as a pool in which you see a 
 reflection of the summer skies, had no 
 shadow of pain, held no presentiment of 
 sorrow. She received Lady Mainwaring's 
 greeting, which was given with more than 
 usual kindness, without embarrassment, 
 and at once told her story with simple 
 brevity. It was a disagreeable episode 
 in her life. She had no wish to enlarge 
 upon it. 
 
 ' Yes, I see. I feared it all along. They 
 were determined to draw you into an en- 
 tanglement with Hartley !' cried the old 
 lady hotly, when she had ended. c But 
 they shall not attain their purpose. It is 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 295 
 
 very fortunate, my dear, that you were 
 able to defend yourself.' 
 
 1 It was not quite a question of defence/ 
 said Virginia, laughing a little. c I acted 
 distinctly on the offensive. I had no need 
 of any deadly weapon, a discharge of blank 
 cartridges would have been sufficient. 
 Yet at the moment I was angry, very 
 angry. I am still very angry when I 
 think of it. I do not see how I can g<o on 
 living in the same house with Hartley and 
 Aunt Charlotte. I am glad that at least 
 it is not her house.' 
 
 ' She is the mistress of it.' 
 
 ' Yes,' answered Virginia, smiling. c But 
 Mr. Stansfield is the master.' 
 
 Old Lady Mainwaring turned with one of 
 her abrupt movements and fixed her keen 
 eyes upon the girl, but no faintest blush 
 rose to Virginia's cheek, no slightest sign 
 of consciousness manifested itself as she 
 sat with her cloak thrown back and her 
 hands clasped round her knees, ready to 
 
296 VIRGINIA TENNAKT. 
 
 listen to advice yet reserving to herself her 
 freedom of action. 
 
 4 Norton Stansneld is away from home,' 
 observed Lady Mainwaring, rather weakly. 
 
 ' He is, or his mother would never have 
 attempted to deceive me. Hartley would 
 not have dared to insult me,' cried Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 c Why do you say that ?' 
 
 c Because it is true. He warned me even 
 before he went away. He has been kind 
 to me ever since I came to Stansfield. He 
 understood about . . . about papa. I 
 daresay you think him proud and cold and 
 bad-tempered ; but he has been the one 
 person in the house who has cared whether 
 I a stranger were happy or miserable. What 
 is more, Lady Mainwaring, he has been the 
 one person who has been invariably kind 
 and polite to my poor dear Mademoiselle 
 Joseph. I shall always like him for it.' 
 
 'And such frank out-spoken liking as 
 this is safer than aversion,' thought the old 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 297 
 
 woman of the world. i A frank liking is 
 the best of strong-holds against the assaults 
 of love ;' and, reassured, she answered 
 cheerfully, 
 
 ' I have never disliked Norton, though I 
 should not have imagined he was a man to 
 put himself out of his way for other 
 people. His was an unhappy boyhood. 
 It is no wonder that his temper was em- 
 bittered. His father was completely in 
 Mrs. Stansfield's hands and she always 
 hated Norton. It was an unjust will ; you 
 know Norton is only to inherit the property 
 on condition that he makes a home here 
 for Mrs. Stansfield and her children. It 
 is an irritating condition and then there is 
 another yet more important one. 1 Again 
 she bent her keen gaze, as she spoke, upon 
 Virginia. 
 
 ' You mean that he is to marry ?' asked 
 Virginia. ' Yes, Mademoiselle Joseph told 
 me of that.' 
 
 ' And what do you think of it ?' 
 
298 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 ' I hope it will not be until I have 
 left Stansfield,' answered Virginia, calmly. 
 ' Mrs. Norton Stansfield might perhaps rob 
 me of my only friend.' 
 
299 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 6 Who is to tell Virginia?' asked Mrs. 
 Stansfield, blankly. Even her well-ordered 
 temperament was shaken ; even her mind, 
 as a rule so prudently closed alike against 
 the joys and griefs of others, had received 
 a shock. Upon the table beside her there 
 lay an open newspaper, upon her knees 
 there was outspread a telegram. In short- 
 est, baldest phrase they told the same story. 
 It could not be gainsaid ; there could be 
 no mistake : the fact was brought home to 
 them in all its cruel distinctness, and now 
 only one question remained to be answered: 
 ' Who was to tell Virginia?' 
 
 Mrs. Stansfield was the centre of a little 
 
300 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 group of persons, discordant elements 
 brought together for the moment by the 
 magnetism of one constraining interest. 
 
 Xorton, still in his rough travelling coat, 
 ■with a deeper gloom than usual in his dark 
 eyes, stood leaning one arm upon the 
 chimney-piece ; Emmeline, roused out of 
 her ordinary languor, sat upright, pale and 
 excited ; and, in the background, poor 
 Mademoiselle Joseph was furtively wiping 
 her eyes with a laced pocket-handkerchief, 
 whilst mournful ejaculations and invoca- 
 tions of saints escaped her from time to 
 time in her native tonsrue. 
 
 ' Ah, that poor child. She adored her 
 father. It was her one hope to see him 
 return. What a frightful fatalitv !' she 
 sobbed. 
 
 ' It must be broken to her.' Mrs. Stans- 
 field had recovered herself sufficiently to 
 speak with some decision. ' She must be 
 prepared. She must not be told the worst 
 all at once.' 
 
VIRGINIA TENXAXT. 301 
 
 c I always told lier it was a mistake. 
 She loved him too much. It is miserably 
 unfortunate. Poor Virginia, she will be 
 broken-hearted,' murmured Emmeline ; and 
 for once she had forgotten that it made 
 her hysterical to see anyone else cry. 
 
 ' Where is she ?' asked Xorton, abruptly. 
 
 For a moment it seemed as if no one 
 was inclined to answer that question. 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, absorbed in her 
 lamentations, had hardly heard it, and 
 Mrs. Stansfield, who felt some doubts as 
 to whether Virginia had not gone out from 
 her house upon an indignant impulse 
 never to return, was unwilling to draw at- 
 tention to her absence or its cause. 
 
 1 But surely some one must know where 
 she is to be found,' repeated Mr. Stansfield, 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I had a letter, a note, but this 
 terrible news has put it out of my head. 
 I do not know where I have placed it/ 
 cried Mademoiselle Joseph, helplessly 
 
302 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 searching lier pockets. * Lady Mainwar- 
 ing has asked her to stay for a few days. 
 She begs of me to join her and says that 
 she is writing to her aunt.' 
 
 4 I have had no letter ;' but even Mrs. 
 Stansfield felt that this was no moment 
 in which to be offended. ' But this will 
 help us over a difficulty. I will write and 
 beg Lady Mainwaring to give her a warn- 
 ing. She must tell her that there is bad 
 news from Egypt and we fear that my 
 brother has been wounded. That will 
 gain time. Then she must bring her back 
 to hear the rest.' 
 
 1 It will never do to leave her with Lady 
 Mainwaring at this crisis,' thought Mrs. 
 Stansfield, judicious even amidst her per- 
 turbation of spirit. l If she does not return 
 here now, she might never return again.' 
 
 It was evening when the sound of 
 wheels driving rapidly up the approach 
 warned those within the house of Vir- 
 
VIRGINIA TZNNAXT. 303 
 
 ginia'a return. Since Ladv Mainwarincr 
 had given her faltering ambiguous warning 
 
 the girl had onlyl __.■! that she misht 
 at once return to Stansfield She had 
 walked restlessly up and down in the 
 
 gathering darkness before the house until 
 the carriage was brought round, 
 when once seated in it. with the old lady 
 beside her. she had remained with her : 
 turned slightly away, absolutely mot: 
 less, rigidly silent. She had asked no 
 question, not even with her eyes. Once 
 when her companion's tremulous fingers 
 sought hers she found them cold as ice, 
 and pressed them gently in her own. but 
 Virginia did not feel her touch. An awful 
 foreboding, which every moment took a 
 more certain shape, held her in its iron 
 clasp, a fear terrible and unrelenting as 
 death itself froze the warm blood about 
 her heart. As thev rapidlv traversed the 
 three miles of undulating country which 
 lay between Hinton and Stansfield. her 
 
304 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 eyes rested with fixed unconsciousness 
 upon the low hedgerows, the clustering 
 trees, the cottage casements through which 
 the firelight glimmered. Some one had 
 said : What was it ? He had sent her a 
 letter . . . she had waited so long . . . 
 It had come at last . . . The lodge-o-ates were 
 thrown open and they passed up the 
 familiar approach, and stopped under the 
 portico. Virginia rose trembling to her 
 feet. 
 
 Those carriage wheels had struck upon 
 the nerves of several watchers within. 
 Mrs. Stansfield crossed the drawing-room 
 and opened the door into the hall. Em- 
 meline half rose from her chair, but sank 
 down a^ain shivering. For once her 
 mother's self-command had deserted her. 
 
 ' 1 cannot,' she muttered. ' Where is Mr. 
 Norton?' to the butler, ' call Mr. Norton.' 
 
 ' Ah! del! My poor child,' ejaculated 
 Mademoiselle Joseph, leaning against the 
 wall ready to take Virginia in her arms ; 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 305 
 
 arms so weak and tremulous, and yet the 
 arms of her oldest, perhaps her only 
 friend. 
 
 But as Virginia stepped into the hall 
 there was a silence, and she stood still, 
 looking round at them all with blank mi- 
 recognising eyes. There was a question to 
 be asked ; could no one speak, could no one 
 answer it? . . . It seemed as if they shrank 
 from her colourless face, her dilated gaze ; 
 she took a step forward steadily, but still 
 vaguely, like one walking in sleep. 
 
 When Mademoiselle Joseph started for- 
 ward with a half-uttered cry, she put up 
 one hand as if to ward off her nearer 
 approach. 
 
 ' Tell me,' she says at last, breaking the 
 silence. ' You have something to tell me. 
 Will no one speak?' 
 
 But the thrill of anguish in her voice, 
 the blind horror in her eyes, has struck 
 them dumb. 
 
 Norton has entered the hall, but he has 
 
 vol. i. x 
 
306 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 taken no step forward. Only a vague 
 distrust of the inadequate support which 
 those about her can give even to her 
 physical weakness, has drawn him there at 
 all. He is well aware of his own power- 
 lessness before the magnitude of her grief; 
 and fears to intrude upon it. 
 
 c Oh, God ! Will no one tell me?' she 
 repeats. 
 
 Once long ago, in school-boy days, he 
 had, in an access of blind fury, freed a 
 fluttering bird from Hartley's torturing 
 fingers. He remembers how it lay warm 
 with its pretty ruffled plumage and 
 beating pulses upon his palm, and how, 
 in a passion of anger and pity, he had 
 wrung its neck. Some such impulse 
 stirs within him now as he thrusts the 
 others aside and takes Virginia's hands in 
 his. 
 
 ' Come,' he says, rather huskily. ' Come 
 with me.' 
 
 The library is empty, and it is there that 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 307 
 
 he takes her. No one has thought of 
 following them. He has shut the door 
 and they are alone. He has pushed for- 
 ward a chair, but she takes no notice 
 of it, and remains standing, a slight erect 
 figure, though she is trembling in every 
 limb. 
 
 ' It was of fever,' he says, breaking the 
 silence a little unsteadily. ' It was a gun- 
 shot wound, but fever came on after- 
 wards.' 
 
 ' When, where ?' It would seem as if 
 she can only utter those two words. They 
 sound in her own ears like a voice from 
 afar off. 
 
 1 In hospital, on the 10th. Friday, the 
 10th of March ... It is generally . . . 
 almost always, a painless death.' 
 
 Strong as he is, for an instant he averts 
 his eyes from her. He remembers how 
 upon that same hearth she held out 
 the peach to him with smiling eyes; he 
 recalls her childish confidence, her frank 
 
 x 2 
 
308 VIRGINIA TENNANT. 
 
 generosity ; the mirth of summer, the fresh- 
 ness of the morning had ever belonged 
 to her. She had been born, as he had said, 
 with the roses, some time in June. Is it 
 wonderful that now, as she turns her 
 delicate death-like face towards him, the 
 shadow of pain darkens his own ? 
 
 ' Let me see . . . the message,' she says, 
 gasping a little. Her strength is beginning 
 to fail. She leans one hand upon the table 
 to steady herself; her eyes, fixed upon the 
 column of the paper, look in vain amidst 
 the blurred lines for the letters of the 
 beloved name, and Norton watching her 
 remembers how, kneeling in the firelight, 
 she had kissed the signature which on 
 no single page of her life's history will 
 ever be written for her a^ain. ' I cannot 
 find it.' 
 
 ' There are no details . . there is nothing 
 in the telegram,' he answers, laying it as 
 he speaks over the paper before her. It 
 seems to him that anything will be less 
 
VIRGINIA TENNANT. 30D 
 
 terrible to her than the bare printed 
 announcement. 'It is only from your 
 lawyer to Mrs. Stansfield : " Pray break 
 the news of Colonel Tennanfs death to his 
 daughter." ' 
 
 ' Yes ! but, I . . I do not understand/ 
 For an instant she lifts her eyes, and then 
 as they fall again upon the paper before 
 her, the letters stand out large and distinct, 
 and she knows now that she knew it 
 already. 
 
 ' Lieutenant- Colonel Tennant of the — th, in 
 hospital offerer, 10th March.'' 
 
 The words repeat themselves over and 
 over again ; they are burnt in upon her 
 brain, she cannot escape from them. Then 
 all at once a black cloud obscures her 
 sight ; she staggers and falls in a dead faint 
 at Norton's feet. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY DUNCAN MACDONALD, BLENHEIM HOL>L.