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 L I E, R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N I VERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 C69ba 
 
 V.I 
 
 cop Z 
 
 C^ ■ I A«^ cJU-iJ ^ -AojP
 
 THE 
 
 BLACK ROBE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 NEW NOVELS AT EVERY LIBRARY. 
 FROM EXILE. By James Payn. Three Vols. 
 A VILLAGE COMMUNE. By Ouida. Two Vols. 
 THE CHAPLAIN OF THE FLEET. By Walter 
 
 Besant and James Rece. Three Vols. 
 
 'MV LOVE!' By E. Lynn Linton, Author of 
 
 ' Patricia Kemball.' Three Vols. INearly ready. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE NINETEENTH CEN- 
 TURY. By W. H. Mallock. T-ifO Vols. 
 
 [.Vearfy ready. 
 
 CHATTO AiVD iriNDUS, PICCADILLY, IV.
 
 THE 
 
 BLACK ROBE 
 
 BY 
 
 WILKIE COLLINS 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES — VOL. L 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1881 
 
 The right »f ti anslation is reserved
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STRERT SQUARF. 
 
 AND PARLIAMENT STREET
 
 fZ3 
 
 /. / 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE F I E S T VOLUME. 
 
 BEFOKE THE STOEY. 
 FIRST SCENE. 
 
 I'AGK 
 
 boulog>;e-sue-ihee, — the duel. . i 
 
 SECOND SCENE. 
 VAT^GE ABEEY.— THE 1'0EEWAE:^I^'GS. 
 
 THE STOEY. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 1. The Cojipidences 103 
 
 II. The Jesuits ....... 124 
 
 ,jV> in. The I:ntrodtjction to Romayne . . 140 
 
 ^ \\. FATffiER Benwell Hits 159
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEH PAGH 
 
 V. Father Benwell Misses . , .171 
 
 VI. The Order of the Dishes . . 190 
 
 VII. The Influence op Stella , . 208 
 
 VIII. The Priest or the Womaist? . , . 222 
 
 IX. The Public and the Pictures . . 245 
 
 X. Father Benwell's Oorrespondexci: . . 252 
 
 XI. Stella asserts Herself .... 271 
 
 XII. The Generals Family . . . . . 286 
 
 XIII. Father Benwell's Correspondence . . .317
 
 BEFOEE THE STOEY. 
 
 FIRST SCEXE, 
 BOULCGNE-SUE-MER.—TUE DUEL. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 The doctors could do no more for the 
 Dowager Lady Berrick. 
 
 When the medical advisers of a lady 
 who has reached seventy years of age re- 
 commend the mild climate of tlie South of 
 France, they mean in plain language that 
 they have arrived at the end of tlicir re- 
 sources. Her ladyship gave the mild climate 
 a fair trial, and then decided (as she herself 
 expressed it) to ' die at home.' Travelhng 
 slowly, she had reached Paris at the date 
 when I last heard of her. It was tlicn the 
 bec^inning of November. A week later, I
 
 4 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 met with her nephew, Lewis Eomayne, at 
 the ckib. 
 
 'What brings you to London at this 
 time of year ? ' I asked. 
 
 ' The fatahty that pursues me,' he 
 answered grimly. ' I am one of the un- 
 luckiest men hving.' 
 
 He was thirty years okl ; he was not 
 married ; he was Bie enviable possessor of 
 the fine old country seat, called Vange 
 Abbey ; he had no poor relations ; and he 
 was one of the handsomest men in England. 
 When I add that I am, myself, a retired 
 army officer, with a wretched income, a dis- 
 agreeable wife, four ugly children, and a 
 burden of fifty years on my back, no one 
 will be surprised to hear that I answered 
 Eomayne, with bitter sincerity, in these 
 words :
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 5 
 
 ' I wish to Heaven I could change places 
 with you ! ' 
 
 ' I wish to Heaven you could ! ' he burst 
 out, with equal sincerity, on his side. ' Eead 
 that.' 
 
 lie handed me a letter addressed to him 
 by the travelling medical attendant of Lady 
 Berrick. After resting in Paris, the patient 
 had continued her homeward journey as far 
 as Boulogne. In Iier suffering condition, she 
 Avas liable to sudden fits of caprice. An 
 insurmountable horror of the Channel pas- 
 sage had got possession of her : she positively 
 refused to be taken on board the steamboat. 
 In this difficulty, the lady who held the post 
 of her 'companion ' had ventured on a sug- 
 gestion. Would Lady Berrick consent to 
 make the Channel passage if her nephew 
 came to Boulogne expressly to accompany
 
 6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 lier on the voyage ? The reply had been so 
 immediately favourable, that the doctor lost 
 no time in communicating with Mr. Lewis 
 Eomayne. This was the substance of the 
 letter. 
 
 It was needless to ask any more questions 
 — Eomayne was plainly on his way to Bou- 
 loOTC. I oave him some useful information. 
 ' Try the oysters,' I said, ' at the restaurant 
 on the pier.' 
 
 He never even thanked me. He was 
 thinking entirely of himself. 
 
 ' Just look at my position,' lie said. ' I 
 detest Boulogne ; I cordially share my aunt's 
 horror of the Channel passage ; I had looked 
 forward to some montlis of happy retirement 
 in the country among my books — and what 
 happens to me ? I am brought to London 
 in this season of fogs, to travel by the tidal
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 7 
 
 train at seven to-morrow morning — and all 
 for a woman wdtli wliom I have no sym- 
 pathies in common. If I am not an unlucky 
 man — who is ? ' 
 
 He spoke in a tone of vehement irritation 
 which seemed to me, under the circum- 
 stances, to be simply absurd. But my 
 nervous system is not the irritable system — 
 sorely tried by night study and strong tea — 
 of my friend Eomayne. ' It's only a matter 
 of two days,' I remarked, by way of recon- 
 ciling him to his situation. 
 
 ' How do I know that .? ' he retorted, 
 ' In two days the weather may be stormy. 
 In two days she may be too ill to be moved. 
 Unfortunately, I am her heir ; and I am told 
 I must submit to any whim that seizes her. 
 I'm rich enough already ; I don't want her 
 money. Besides, I dislike all travelling —
 
 8 , THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 and especially travelling alone. You are an 
 idle man. If you were a good friend, you 
 would offer to go with me.' He added, with 
 the delicacy which was one of the redeem- 
 ing points in his wayward character, ' Of 
 course as my guest.' 
 
 I liad known him long enough not to 
 take offence at his reminding me, in this 
 considerate way, that I was a poor man. 
 The proposed change of scene tempted mc. 
 What did I care for the Channel passage? 
 Besides, there was the irresistible attraction 
 of getthig away from home. The end of it 
 was that I accepted Eomayne's invitation.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 II. 
 
 Shortly after noon, on the next clay, we 
 were established at Boulogne — near Lady 
 Berrick, but not at her hotel. ' If we live 
 in the same house,' Eomayne reminded me, 
 ' we shall be bored by the companion and 
 the doctor. Meetings on the stairs, you 
 know, and exchanging bows and small talk.' 
 He hated those trivial conventionalities of 
 society, in which other people delight. 
 When somebody ODce asked him in what 
 company he felt most at ease ? he made a 
 shocking answer — he said, ' In the company 
 of dogs.' 
 
 I waited for him on the pier while he
 
 lo THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 went to see her ladyship. He joined me 
 again, with his bitterest smile. ' What did I 
 tell you ? She is not avxU enough to see me 
 to-day. The doctor looks grave, and the 
 companion puts her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 We may be kept in this place for weeks to 
 come.' 
 
 The afternoon proved to be rainy. Gur 
 early dinner was a bad one. This last cir- 
 cumstance tried his temper sorely. He w^as 
 no gourmand ; the question of cookery was 
 (with him) purely a matter of digestion. 
 Those late hours of study, and that abuse of 
 tea to which I have already alluded, had 
 sadly injured his stomach. The doctors 
 warned him of serious consequences to his 
 nervous system, unless he altered his habits. 
 He had little faith in medical science, and 
 lie greatly overrated the restorative capacity
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, ii 
 
 of his constitution. So far as I know, he 
 liad always neglected the doctors' advice. 
 
 The weather cleared towards evening, 
 and we went out for a walk. We passed a 
 church — a Eoman Catholic church, of course 
 — the doors of which were still open. Some 
 poor women were kneeling at their prayers 
 in the dim hght. ' Wait a minute,' said 
 Eomayne. ' I am in a vile temper. Let me 
 try to put myself into a better frame of 
 mind.' 
 
 I followed him into the church. He 
 knelt down in a dark corner by himself. I 
 confess I was surprised. He had been bap- 
 tised in the Church of England ; but, so far 
 as outward practice was concerned, he be- 
 longed to no religious community. I had 
 often heard him speak with sincere reverence 
 and admiration of the spirit of Christianity —
 
 12 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 but lie never, to my knowledge, attended any 
 place of public worship. When we met 
 again outside the church, I asked if he 
 had been converted to the Eoman Catholic 
 faith. 
 
 ' 1^0,' he said. ' I hate the inveterate striv- 
 ing of that priesthood after social influence 
 and political power as cordially as the fiercest 
 Protestant living. But let us not forget that 
 the Church of Eome has great merits to set 
 against OTeat faults. Its svstem is adminis- 
 tered with an admirable knoAvledge of the 
 higher needs of human nature. Take as one 
 example what you have just seen. The 
 solemn tranquillity of that church, the poor 
 people praying near me, the few words of 
 prayer by which I silently united myself to 
 my fellow-creatures have calmed me, and 
 done me good. In our country I should have
 
 THE BLACK ROBE 13 
 
 found the cliurcli closed, out of service hours/ 
 He took my arm, and abruptly changed the 
 subject. 'How will you occupy yoiu:self,' 
 he asked, 'if my aunt receives me to- 
 morrow ? ' 
 
 I assured him that I should easily find 
 ways and means of getting through the time. 
 The next morning a message came from Lady 
 Berrick, to say that she would see her nephew 
 after breakfast. Left by myself, I walked 
 towards the pier, and met with a man who 
 asked me to hire his boat. He had lines and 
 bait, at my service. Most unfortunately, as 
 the event proved, I decided on occupying an 
 hour or two by sea fishing. 
 
 The wind shifted while we were out, and 
 before we could get back to the harbour, the 
 tide had turned against us. It was six 
 o'clock when I arrived at the hotel. A Httle
 
 14 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 open carriage was waiting at the door. I 
 found Komayne impatiently expecting me, 
 and no signs of dinner on tlie table. He 
 informed me that he had accepted an invita- 
 tion, in which I was included, and promised 
 to explain everything in the carriage. 
 
 Our driver took the road that led towards 
 the High Town. I subordinated my curios- 
 ity to my sense of politeness, and asked for 
 • news of his aunt's health. 
 
 ' She is seriously ill, poor soul,' he said. 
 I am sorry I spoke so petulantly and so 
 unfairly, when we met at the club. The 
 near prospect of death has developed qua- 
 lities in her nature wliich I ought to have 
 seen before this. Xo matter how it may be 
 delayed, I will patiently wait her time for tlie 
 crossing to England.' 
 
 So long as he believed himself to be in
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 15 
 
 the right, he was, as to his actions and 
 opinions, one of the most obstinate men I 
 ever met with. But once let him be con- 
 vinced that he was wrong, and he rushed 
 into the other extreme — became needlessly 
 distrustful of himself, and needlessly eager in 
 seizing his opportunity of making atonement. 
 In this latter mood he was capable (with the 
 best intentions) of committing acts of the 
 most childish imprudence. With some mis- 
 givings, I asked how he had amused himself 
 in my absence. 
 
 ' I waited for you,' he said, ' till I lost all 
 patience, and went out for a walk. First, I 
 thought of going to the beach, but the smell 
 of the harbour drove me back into the town ; 
 and there, oddly enough, I met with a man, a 
 certain Captain Peterkin, who had been a 
 friend of mine at college.'
 
 i6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' A visitor to Boulogne ? ' I inquired. 
 
 ' Xot exactly.' 
 
 'A resident?' 
 
 ' Yes. The fact is, I lost sight of Peter- 
 kin when I left Oxford — and since that time 
 he seems to have drifted into difficulties. 
 We had a long talk. He is living here, he 
 tells me, until Ins afiairs are settled.' 
 
 I needed no further enlightenment— 
 Captain Peterkin stood as plainly revealed to 
 me as if I had known him for years. ' Isn't 
 it a little imprudent,' I said, ' to renew your 
 acquaintance with a man of that sort? 
 Couldn't you have passed him, with a 
 bow ? ' 
 
 Eomayne smiled uneasily. 'I dare say 
 you're right,' he answered. ' But, remember, 
 I had left my aunt, feeling ashamed of the un- 
 just way in which I had tliought and spoken of
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 17 
 
 her. How did I know that I mightn't be 
 wronging an old friend next, if I kept 
 Peterkin at a distance? His present posi- 
 tion may be as much his misfortune, poor 
 fellow, as his fault. I was half inclined to 
 pass him, as you say — but I distrusted my 
 own judgment. He held out his hand, and 
 he was so glad to see me. It can't be 
 helped now. I shall be anxious to hear 
 your opinion of him.' 
 
 'Are we going to dine with Captain 
 Peterkm ? ' 
 
 'Yes. I happened to mention that 
 wretched dinner yesterday at our hotel. He 
 said, ' Come to my boarding-house. Out of 
 Paris, there isn't such a table d'hote in 
 France.' I tried to get off it — not caring, as 
 you know, to go among strangers — I said 
 I had a friend with me. He invited you 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 1 8 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 most cordially to accompany me. More ex- 
 cuses on my part only led to a painful result. 
 I hurt Peterkin's feelings. ' I'm down in the 
 world,' he said, ' and I'm not fit company 
 for you and your friends. I beg your 
 pardon for taking the liberty of inviting 
 you ! ' He turned aw^ay with the tears in 
 his eyes. What could I do ? ' 
 
 I thought to myself, ' You could have 
 lent him five pounds, and got rid of his invi- 
 tation without the slightest difficult}^' If I 
 had returned in reasonable time to go out 
 with Eomayne, we might not have met the 
 captain — or, if w^e had n\et him, my pre- 
 sence would have prevented the confidential 
 talk and the invitation that followed. I felt 
 I was to blame — and yet, how could I help 
 it ? It was useless to remonstrate : the mis- 
 chief was done.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 19 
 
 We left the Old Town on our risht 
 hand, and drove on, past a little colony of 
 suburban villas, to a house standing by itself, 
 surrounded by a stone wall. As we crossed 
 the front garden on our way to the door, I 
 noticed against the side of the house two 
 kennels, inhabited by two large watch -dogs. 
 Was the proprietor afraid of thieves ? 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 III. 
 
 The moment we were introduced to the 
 drawing-room, my suspicions of the company 
 we were likelj' to meet with were fully con- 
 firmed. 
 
 * Cards, billiards, and betting ' — there 
 was the inscription legibly written on the 
 manner and appearance of Captain Peterkin. 
 The bright-eyed yellow old lady who kept 
 the boarding-house would have been worth 
 five thousand pounds in jewellery alone, if 
 the ornaments which profusely covered her 
 had been genuine precious stones. The 
 younger ladies present had tlieir cheeks as 
 highly rouged and their eyelids as clabo-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 21 
 
 rately pencilled in black as if tliey were 
 going on the stage, instead of going to 
 dinner. We found these fair creatures 
 drinking Madeira as a whet to their appe- 
 tites. Among the men, there were two who 
 struck me as the most finished and complete 
 blackguards whom I had ever met with in 
 all my experience, at home and abroad. 
 One, with a brown face and a broken nose, 
 was presented to us by the title of ' Com- 
 mander,* and was described as a person of 
 great wealth and distinction in Peru, tra- 
 velling for amusement. The other wore a 
 military uniform and decorations, and was 
 spoken of as ' the General.' A bold bullying 
 manner, a fat sodden face, little leering eyes, 
 and greasy-looking hands, made this man so 
 repellent to me that I privately longed to 
 kick him. Eomayne had evidently been
 
 22 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 announced, before our arrival, as a landed 
 gentleman with a larixe income. Men and 
 women vied in servile attentions to liim. 
 When we went into the dining-room, the 
 fascinating creature who sat next to him 
 held her fan before her face, and so made a 
 private interview of it between the ricli 
 Englishman and herself. With regard to 
 the dinner, I shall only report that it justilied 
 Captain Peterkin's boast, in some degree at 
 least. The wine was good, and the conver- 
 sation became gay to the verge of indeli- 
 cacy. Usually the most temperate of men, 
 Eomayne was tempted by his neighbours 
 into drinking freely. I was unfortunately 
 seated at the opposite extremity of the 
 table, and I had no opportunity of warning 
 hira. 
 
 The dinner reached its conclusion, and we
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 23 
 
 all returned together, on the foreign plan, 
 to coffee and cigars in the drawing-room. 
 The women smoked, and drank liqueurs as 
 well as coffee, with the men. One of them 
 went to the piano, and a little impromptu 
 ball followed, the ladies dancing with their 
 cigarettes in their mouths. Keeping my 
 eyes and ears on the alert, I saw an inno- 
 cent-looking table, with a surface of rose- 
 wood, suddenly develop a substance of green 
 cloth. At the same time, a neat little 
 roulette-table made its appearance from a 
 hiding-place in a sofa. Passing near the 
 venerable landlady, I heard her ask the 
 servant, in a whisper, ' if the dogs were 
 loose ? ' After what I had observed, I could 
 only conclude that the dogs were used as a 
 patrol, to give the alarm in case of a descent 
 of the police. It was plainly high time to
 
 24 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 thank Captain Peterkin for his hospitahty, 
 and to take our leave. 
 
 'We have had enough of this,' I whis- 
 pered to Eomayne in Enghsh. ' Let us go.' 
 
 In these days it is a delusion to suppose 
 that you can speak confidentially in the 
 English language, when French people are 
 within hearing. One of the ladies asked 
 Eomayne, tenderly, if he was tired of her 
 already. Another reminded him that it was 
 raining heavily (as we could all liear), and 
 suggested waiting until it cleared up. The 
 hideous General waved his greasy hand in 
 the direction of the card table, and said, 
 ' The game is waiting for us.' 
 
 Eomayne was excited, but not stupefied, 
 by the wine he had drunk. He answered, 
 discreetly enough, ' I must beg you to ex- 
 cuse me ; I am a poor card player.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 25 
 
 The General suddenly looked grave. 
 * You are speaking, sir, under a strange 
 misapprehension,' he said. ' Our game is 
 lansquenet — essentially a game of chance. 
 With luck, the poorest player is a match for 
 the whole table.' 
 
 Eomayne persisted in his refusal. As a 
 matter of course, I supported him, with all 
 needful care to avoid giving offence. The 
 General took offence, nevertheless. He 
 crossed liis arms on his breast, and looked at 
 us fiercely. 
 
 'Does this mean, gentlemen, that you 
 distrust the company? ' he asked. 
 
 The broken-nosed Commander, hearing 
 the question, immediately joined us, in the 
 interests of peace — bearing with him the 
 elements of persuasion, under the form of a 
 lady on his arm.
 
 i6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 The lady stepped briskly forward, and 
 tapped the General on the shoulder with her 
 fan. ' I am one of the company,' she said, 
 ' and I am sure Mr. Eomayne doesn't distrust 
 me' She turned to Eomayne with her 
 most irresistible smile. ' A gentleman always 
 plays cards,' she resumed, ' when he has a 
 lady for a partner. Let us join our interests 
 at the table — and, dear Mr. Eomayne, don't 
 risk too much ! ' She put her pretty little 
 purse into his hand, and looked as if she had 
 been in love with him for half her lifetime. 
 
 The fatal influence of tlie sex, assisted by 
 wine, produced the inevitable result. Eo- 
 mayne allowed himself to be led to the card 
 table. For a moment, the General delayed 
 the beginning of the game. After what had 
 happened, it was necessary that he should 
 assert the strict sense of justice that was in
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 27 
 
 him. ' We are all honourable men,' he 
 began. 
 
 ' And brave men,' the Commander added, 
 admiring the General. 
 
 ' And brave men,' the General admitted, 
 admiring the Commander. ' Gentlemen, if 
 I have been led into expressing myself with 
 unnecessary warmth of feeling, I apologise, 
 and regret it.' 
 
 ' Nobly spoken ! ' the Commander pro- 
 nounced. The General put his hand on his 
 heart and bowed.'^The game began. 
 
 As the poorest man of the two, I had 
 escaped the attentions lavished by the ladies 
 on Eomayne. At the same time, I was 
 obliged to pay for my dinner, by taking- 
 some part in the proceedings of the evening. 
 Small stakes were allowed, I found, at rou- 
 lette ; and, besides, the heavy chances in
 
 28 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 favour of the table made it hardly worth 
 while to run the risk of cheating in this 
 case. I placed myself next to the least 
 rascally-looking man in the company, and 
 played roulette. 
 
 For a w^onder, I w^as successful at the 
 first attempt. My neighbour handed me my 
 winnings. ' I have lost every farthing I 
 Qj possess,' he whisperd to me, piteously, ' and 
 I have a wife and children at home.' I lent 
 the poor wretch five francs. He smiled 
 faintly as he looked at the money. ' It 
 reminds me,' he said, ' of my last transaction, 
 when I borrowed of that gentleman there, 
 who is betting on the General's luck at the 
 card table. Beware of employing him as I 
 did. What do you think I got for my note 
 of hand of four thousand francs ? A hun- 
 dred bottles of champagne, fifty bottles of
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 29 
 
 ink, Hfty bottles of blacking, three dozen 
 handkerchiefs, two pictures by unknown 
 masters, two shawls, one hundred maps, and 
 — five francs.' 
 
 We went on playing. My luck deserted 
 me ; I lost, and lost, and lost again. From 
 time to time I looked round at the card 
 table. The ' deal ' had fallen early to the 
 General, and it seemed to be indefinitely 
 prolonged. A heap of notes and gold (won 
 mainly from Eomayne, as I afterwards dis- 
 covered) lay before him. As for my neigh- 
 bour, the unhappy possessor of the bottles of 
 blacking, the pictures by unknown masters, 
 and the rest of it, he won, and then rashly 
 presumed on his good fortune. Deprived of 
 h*s last farthing, he retired into a corner of 
 the room, and consoled himself with a cigar. 
 I had just risen, to follow his example,
 
 30 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 when a furious uproar burst out at the card 
 table. 
 
 I saw Eomayne spring up, and snatch 
 the cards out of the General's hand. ' You 
 scoundrel ! ' he shouted, ' you are cheating ! ' 
 The General started to his feet in a fury. 
 ' You He ! ' he cried. I attempted to inter- 
 fere, but Eomayne had already seen the 
 necessity of controlling himself. ' A gentle- 
 man doesn't accept an insult from a swindler,' 
 he said, coolly. ' Accept this, then ! ' the 
 General answered — and spat on him. In an 
 instant Eomayne knocked him down. 
 
 The blow was dealt straight between his 
 eyes : he was a gross big-boned mail, and he 
 fell heavily. For the time he was stunned. 
 The women ran, screaming, out of the room. 
 The peaceable Commander trembled from 
 head to foot. Two of the men present, who,
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 31 
 
 to give them their due, were no cowards, 
 locked the doors. ' You don't go,' they said, 
 ' till we see whether he recovers or not/ 
 Cold water, assisted by the landlady's smell- 
 ing salts, brought the General to his senses 
 after a while. He whispered something to 
 one of his friends, who immediately turned 
 to me. ' The General challenges Mr. Eo- 
 mayne,' he said. 'As one of his seconds, 
 I demand an appointment for to-morrow 
 morning.' I refused to make any appoint- 
 ment unless the doors were first unlocked, 
 and w^e were left free to depart. ' Our car- 
 riage is waiting outside,' I added. ' If it 
 returns to the hotel without us, there will be 
 an inquiry.' This latter consideration had 
 its effect. On their side, the doors were 
 opened. On our side, the appointment was 
 made. We left the house.
 
 32 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 IV. 
 
 In consenting to receive the General's 
 representatives, it is needless to say that I 
 merely desired to avoid provoking another 
 quarrel. If those persons were really im- 
 pudent enough to call at the hotel, I had ar- 
 ranged to threaten them with the interference 
 of the police, and so to put an end to the 
 matter. Eomayne expressed no opinion on 
 the subject, one way or the other. His con- 
 duct inspired me with a feeling of uneasiness. 
 The iiltliy insult of which he had been made 
 the object seemed to be rankling in his 
 mind. He went away thoughtfully to his 
 own room. ' Have you nothing to say to
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. -t.i 
 
 me,' I asked. He only answered, ' Wait till 
 to-moiTOW.' 
 
 The next day tlie seconds appeared. 
 
 I had expected to see two of the men 
 with whom we had dined. Tu my astonish- 
 ment, the visitors proved to be officers of the 
 General's regiment. They brought proposals 
 for a hostile meeting the next morning ; the 
 choice of weapons being left to Eomayne as 
 the challenged man. 
 
 It was now quite plain to me that the 
 General's peculiar method of card-playing 
 had, thus far, not been discovered and ex- 
 posed. He might keep doubtful company, 
 and might (as I afterwards heard) be sus- 
 pected in certain quarters. But that he still 
 had, formally-speaking, a reputation to pre- 
 serve, was proved by the appearance of the 
 two gentlemen present as his representatives. 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 They declared, witli evident sincerity, that 
 Eomayne had made a fatal mistake ; had 
 provoked the insult offered to him ; and had 
 resented it by a brutal and cowardly outrage. 
 As a man and a soldier, the General was 
 doubly bound to insist on a duel. Xo apology 
 would be accepted, even if an apology were 
 offered. 
 
 In this emergency, as I understood it, 
 there w^as but one course to follow. I 
 jefused to receive the challenge. 
 
 Being asked for my reasons, I found it 
 necessary to speak within certain limits. 
 Though w^e knew the General to be a cheat, 
 it was a delicate matter to dispute his right 
 to claim satisfaction, when he had found two 
 officers to carry his message. I produced 
 the seized cards (which Eomayne had 
 brought away with him in his pocket), and
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 35 
 
 offered them as a formal proof that my friend 
 had not been mistaken. 
 
 The seconds — evidently prepared for this 
 circumstance by tlieir principal — declined to 
 examine the cards. In the first place, they 
 said, not even the discovery of foul play 
 (supposing the discovery to have been really 
 made) could justify Eomayne's conduct. In 
 the second place, the Generals high charac- 
 ter made it impossible, under any circum- 
 stances, that lie could be responsible. Like 
 ourselves, he had rashly associated with bad 
 company ; and he had been the innocent 
 victim of an error or a fraud, committed by 
 some other person present at the table. 
 
 Driven to my last resource, I could now 
 only base my refusal to receive the challenge 
 on the ground that we were Englishmen, and 
 that the practice of duelling had been 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 abolished in England. Both the seconds at 
 once declined to accept this statement in 
 justification of my conduct. 
 
 ' You arc now in France/ said the elder 
 of the two, ' where a duel is the established 
 remedy for an insult, among gentlemen. 
 You arc bound to respect the social laws of 
 the country in which you are for the time 
 residing. If you refuse to do so, you lay 
 yourselves open to a public imputation on 
 your courage, of a nature too degrading to be 
 more particularly alluded to. Let us adjourn 
 this interview for three hours on the ground 
 of informality. We ought to confer with 
 tico gentlemen, acting on Mr. Eomayne's 
 behalf. Be prepared with anotlier second to 
 meet us, and reconsider your decision before 
 we call again.' 
 
 The Frenchmen had barely taken their
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 37 
 
 departure by one door, when Eomayne 
 entered by another. 
 
 'I have heard it all,' he said quietly. 
 ' Accept the challenge.' 
 
 I declare solemnly that I left no means 
 untried of opposing my friend's resolution. 
 No man could have felt more strongly con- 
 vinced than I did, that nothing could justify 
 the course he was taking. My remonstrances 
 were completely thrown away. He was deaf 
 to sense and reason, from the moment when 
 he had heard an imputation on his courage 
 suggested as a possible result of any aflliir in 
 which he was concerned. 
 
 ' With your views,' he said, ' I won't 
 ask you to accompany me to tlie ground. 
 I can easily fmd Frencli seconds. And 
 mind this, if you attempt to prevent the 
 meeting, the duel will take place elsewhere
 
 38 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ■ — and our friendship is at an end from that 
 moment/ 
 
 After this, I suppose it is needless to add 
 that I accompanied him to the ground the 
 next morning as one of his seconds.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 39 
 
 V. 
 
 ^^ were punctual to the appointed lioiu^ 
 — eiglit o'clock. 
 
 The second who acted with me was a 
 Trench gentleman, a relative of one of the 
 officers who had brought the challenge. At 
 his suggestion, we had chosen the pistol a& 
 our weapon. Eomayne, like most English- 
 men at the j^resent time, knew nothing of the 
 use of the sword. He was almost equally 
 inexperienced witli the pistol. 
 
 Our opponents were late. They kept us 
 waiting for more tlian ten minutes. It was 
 not pleasant weather to wait in. The day 
 had dawned damp and drizzhng. A thick
 
 40 THE BLACK RODE. 
 
 wliite fog was slow!}- rolling in on us from 
 the sea. 
 
 When they did appear, tlie General was 
 not among them. A tall, well-dressed young 
 man sainted Eomayne with stern courtes}^ 
 and said to a stranger who accompanied him, 
 ' Explain the circumstances.' 
 
 The stranger proved to be a surgeon. 
 He entered at once on the necessary explana- 
 tion. The General was too ill to appear. 
 He had been attacked that morning by a fit 
 — the consequence of the blow tliat he had 
 received. Under these circumstances, his 
 eldest son (Maurice) was now on the ground 
 to fight the duel, on his father's behalf; 
 attended by the General's seconds, and with 
 tlie General's full approval. 
 
 We instantly refused to allow the duel 
 to take place ; Eomayne loudly declaring
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 41 
 
 that he had no quarrel with the General's 
 £on. Upon this, Maurice broke aAvay from 
 his seconds ; drew off one of his gloves ; and 
 stepping close up to Eomayne, struck him 
 on the face with the glove. ' Have you no 
 quarrel with me now ? ' the young Frenchman 
 asked. ' Must I spit on you, as my father 
 did ? ' His seconds dragged him away, and 
 apologised to us for the outbreak. But the 
 mischief was done. Eomayne's fiery temper 
 flashed in his eyes. ' Load the pistols,' he 
 said. After the insult publicly offered to 
 him, and tlie outrage publicly threatened, 
 there was no other course to take. 
 
 It ]iad been left to us to produce the 
 pistols. We tlierefore requested the seconds 
 of our opponent to examine, and to load 
 them. While this was being done, the 
 advancing sea-fog so completely enveloped
 
 42 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 US, tliat the duellists were unable to see each 
 other. We were obliged to wait for the 
 chance of a partial clearing in the atmo- 
 sphere. Eomayne's temper had become 
 calm again. The generosity of his nature 
 spoke in the words which he now addressed 
 to his seconds. 
 
 ' After all,' he said, ' the young man is a 
 good son — he is bent on redressing what he 
 believes to be his father s wrong. Does his 
 flipping his glove in my face matter to me .^ 
 I think I shall fire in the air.' 
 
 ' I shall refuse to act as your second if 
 you do,' answered the French gentleman 
 who was assistino^ us. ' The General's son is 
 famous for his skill with the pistol. If you 
 didn't see it in his face just now, I did — he 
 means to kill you. Defend your life, sir ! ' 
 I spoke quite as strongly, to the same
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 43 
 
 purpose, when my turn came. Eomayne 
 yielded — he placed himself unreservedly in 
 our hands. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour the fog lifted a 
 little. We measured the distance, having 
 previously arranged (at my suggestion) that 
 the two men should both fire at the same 
 moment, at a given signal. Eomayne's com- 
 posure, as they faced each other, was, in a 
 man of his irritable nervous temperament, 
 really wonderful. I placed him sideways, 
 in a position which in some degree lessened 
 his danger, by lessening the surface exposed 
 to the bullet. My French colleague put 
 the pistol into his hand, and gave him the 
 last word of advice. ' Let your arm hang 
 loosely down, with the bari'cl of the pistol 
 pointing straight to the ground. When you 
 hear the signal, only lift your arm as far
 
 44 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 as the elbow ; keep tlie elbow pressed 
 against your side — and fire.' We could do 
 no more for him. As w^e drew aside — I ow^n 
 it — my tongue was like a cinder in my 
 mouth, and a horrid inner cold crept 
 through me to the marrow of my bones. 
 
 The signal was given, and the two shots 
 were fired at the same time. 
 
 My first look w\as at Eomayne. He 
 took off his hat, and handed it to me with a 
 smile. His adversary's bullet had cut a 
 piece out of the brim of his hat, on the 
 right side. He had literally escaped by a 
 hairbreadth. 
 
 While I was congratulating him, the fog 
 gathered again more thickly than ever. 
 Looking anxiously towards the ground occu- 
 pied by our adversaries, we could only see 
 vague, shadowy forms hurriedly crossing
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 45 
 
 and re-crossing each other in the mist. 
 Somethmg had happened I My French col- 
 league took my arm and pressed it signifi- 
 cantly. ' Leave me to inquire,' he said. 
 Eomayne tried to follow ; I held him back 
 — we neither of us exchanged a word. 
 
 The fog thickened and thickened, until 
 nothing was to be seen. Once we heard 
 the surgeon's voice, calhng impatiently for a 
 light to help him. E'o liglit appeared that 
 we could see. Dreary as the fog itself, the 
 silence gathered round us again. On a 
 sudden it was broken, horribly broken, by 
 another voice, strange to both of us, shriek- 
 ing hysterically through the impenetrable 
 mist. 'Where is he?' the voice cried, in 
 the French language. ' Assassin ! Assassin ! 
 where are you ? ' Was it a woman ? or was 
 it a boy ? We heard nothing more. The
 
 46 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 effect upon Eomayne was terrible to see. 
 He who had cahnly confronted the weapon 
 lifted to kill him, shuddered dumbly like 
 a terror-stricken animal. I put my arm 
 round him, and hurried him away from the 
 place. 
 
 We waited at the hotel until our French 
 friend joined us. After a brief interval he 
 appeared, announcing that the surgeon 
 would follow him. 
 
 The duel had ended fatally. The chance 
 course of the bullet, urged by Eomayne's 
 unpractised hand, had struck the General's 
 son just above the right nostril — had pene- 
 trated to the back of his neck — and had 
 communicated a fatal shock to the spinal 
 marrow. He was a dead man before they 
 could take him back to his father's house. 
 
 So far, our fears were confirmed. But
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 47 
 
 there was sometliing else to tell, for which 
 our worst presentiments had not prepared 
 us. 
 
 A younger brother of the fallen man (a 
 boy of thirteen years old) had secretly 
 followed the diielUng party, on their way 
 from his fatlier's house — liad hidden himself 
 — and had seen the dreadful end. The 
 seconds only knew of it when he burst out 
 of his place of concealment, and fell on his 
 knees by his dying brother's side. His were 
 the frightful cries which we had heard from 
 invisible lips. The slayer of his brother .was 
 the ' assassin ' whom he had vainly tried to 
 discover through the fathomless obscurity of 
 the mist. 
 
 We both looked ^ Eomayne. He 
 silently looked back at us, like a man turned 
 to stone. I tried to reason with him.
 
 48 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Your life was at your opponent's 
 mercy,' I said. ' It was lie who w^as skilled 
 in the use of the pistol ; your risk was 
 infinitely greater than his. Are you respon- 
 sible for an accident? Eouse yourself, 
 Eomayne ! Think of the time to come, 
 when all this will be forgotten.' 
 
 * Never,' he said, ' to the end of my life. 
 
 He made that reply in dull monotonous 
 tones. His eyes looked wearily and vacantly 
 straight before him. I spoke to him again. 
 He remained impenetrably silent ; he ap- 
 peared not to liear, or not to understand me. 
 The surG;con came in, while I was still at a 
 loss what to say or do next. Without wait- 
 ing to be asked for his opinion, he observed 
 Eomayne attentively, and then drew me 
 away into the next room. 
 
 'Your friend is sufierinjj from a severe
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 49 
 
 nervous shock,' he said. 'Can you tell ine 
 anything of his habits of life ? ' 
 
 I mentioned the prolonged night studies, 
 and the excessive use of tea. The surgeon 
 shook his head. 
 
 ' If you want my advice,* he proceeded, 
 ' take him home at once. Don't subject him 
 to further excitement, when the result of the 
 duel is known in the town. If it ends in our 
 appearing in a court of law, it will be a mere 
 formality in this case, and you can surrender 
 when the time comes. Leave me your 
 address in London.' 
 
 I felt that the wisest thin^ I could do 
 was to follow his advice. The boat crossed 
 to Folkestone at an early hour that day — wo 
 had no time to lose. Eomayne offered no 
 objection to our return to England ; he 
 seemed perfectly careless what became of 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE BLACK KOBE. 
 
 liim. ' Leave me quiet,' he said ; ' and do as 
 you like.' I wrote a few lines to Lady 
 Berrick's medical attendant, informing him of 
 the circumstances. A quarter of an hour 
 afterwards we were on board the steamboat. 
 
 There were very few passengers. After 
 we had left the harbour, my attention was 
 attracted by a young English lady — travelling, 
 apparently, with her mother. As we passed 
 her on the deck she looked at Eomayne, 
 witli compassionate interest so vividly ex- 
 pressed in her beautiful face, that I imagined 
 they might be acquainted. "With some 
 difficulty, I prevailed sufficiently over the 
 torpor that possessed him to induce him to 
 look at our fellow-passenger. 
 
 ' Do you know that charming person ? ' 
 I asked. 
 
 'No,' he replied, with the weariest in-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 51 
 
 difference. 'I never saw lier before. I'm 
 tired — tired — tired ! Don't speak to me ; 
 leave me by myself.' 
 
 I left him. His rare personal attractions 
 — of which, let me add, lie never appeared 
 to be conscious — had evidently made their 
 natural appeal to the interest and admiration 
 of the young lady who had met him by 
 chance. The expression of resigned sadness 
 and suffering, now visible in his face, added 
 greatly no doubt to the influence that he had 
 unconsciously exercised over the sympathies 
 of a delicate and sensitive woman. It was 
 no uncommon circumstance in liis past ex- 
 perience of the sex — as I myself well knew 
 — to be the object, not of admiration only, 
 but of true and ardent love. lie had never 
 reciprocated the passion — had never even 
 appeared to take it seriously. Marriage- 
 E 2 
 
 n.WPRSlTY OF ILUN01%
 
 52 rilh BLACK ROBE, 
 
 might, as the plirase is, be the salvation of 
 him. Would he ever marry ? 
 
 Leaning over the bulwark, idly pursuing 
 this train of thought, I was recalled to 
 present things b}^ a low sweet voice — the 
 voice of the lady of whom I had been think- 
 
 ing- 
 
 ' Excuse me for disturbing you,' she 
 said ; ' I think your friend wants you.' 
 
 She spoke with tlie modesty and self- 
 possession of a highly-bred woman. A little 
 heightening of her colour made her, to my 
 eyes, more beautiful than ever. I thanked 
 lier, and hastened back to Eomayne. 
 
 He was standing by the barred skylight 
 which guarded the machinery. I instantly 
 noticed a change in him. His eyes wander- 
 ing here and there, in scarcli of me, had 
 more than recovered tlieir animation — there
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 53 
 
 was a wild look of terror in them. He 
 seized me roughly by the arm, and pointed 
 down to the engine-room. 
 
 ' What do you hear there ? ' he abked. 
 
 ' I hear the thump of the engines.' 
 
 ' Nothing else ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing. What do you hear ? ' 
 
 He suddenly turned away. 
 
 ' I'll tell you,' he said, ' when w^e get on 
 shore.'
 
 SECOND SCENE, 
 VANGE ABBEY.— THE FOREWAENINGS.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE 57 
 
 VI. 
 
 As we approached the harbour at Folkes- 
 stone, Eomayne's agitation appeared to 
 subside. His head drooped ; his eyes half 
 closed — he looked like a weary man quietly 
 falling asleep. 
 
 On leaving the steamboat, I ventureed 
 to ask our charming fellow-passenger if I 
 could be of any service in reserving places 
 in the London train for her mother and her- 
 self. She thanked me, and said they were 
 going to visit some friends at Folkestone. 
 In making this reply, she looked at Eomaync. 
 ' I am afraid he is very ill P ' she said, 
 in gently lowered tones. Before I could
 
 85 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 answer, her mother turned to her with an ex- 
 pression of surprise, and directed her atten- 
 tion to the friends whom she had mentioned, 
 waiting to greet her. Her hist look, as they 
 took her away, rested tenderly and sorrow- 
 fully on Eomayne. He never returned it — 
 he was not even aware of it. As I led him 
 to the train he leaned more and more 
 heavily on my arm. Seated in the carriage, 
 he sank at once into profound sleep. 
 
 We drove to the hotel at which my 
 friend was accustomed to reside when he 
 was in London. His long sleep on the jour- 
 ney seemed, in some degree, to have relieved 
 him. We dined together in his private room. 
 When the servants had witlidrawn, I found 
 that the unhappy result of the duel was still 
 preying on his mind. 
 
 ' The horror of having killed that man,'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 59 
 
 he said, ' is more than I can bear alone. 
 For God's sake, don't leave me ! ' 
 
 I had received letters at Boulogne, 
 which informed me that my wife and family 
 had accepted an invitation to stay with some 
 friends at the sea- side. Under these cir- 
 cumstances, I was entirely at his service. 
 Having quieted his anxiety on this point, I 
 reminded him of what had passed between 
 us on board the steamboat. He tried to 
 change the subject. My curiosity was too 
 strongly aroused to permit this ; I persisted 
 in helping his memory. 
 
 ' We were looking into the engine-room,' 
 I said; 'and you asked me what I heard 
 there. You promised to tell me what you 
 
 heard, as soon as we got on shore ' 
 
 He stopped me, before I could say more 
 'I begin to think it was a delusion,' he
 
 6o THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 answered. ' You oiiglit not to interpret too 
 literally what a person in my dreadful situa- 
 tion may say. The stain of another man's 
 blood is on me ' 
 
 I interrupted him in my turn. ' I refuse 
 to hear you speak of yourself in that way,' I 
 said. ' You are no more responsible for the 
 Frenchman's death than if you had been 
 driving, and had accidentally run over him 
 in the street. I am not the right companion 
 for a man who talks as you do. The proper 
 person to be with you is a doctor.' I really 
 felt irritated with him — and I saw no reason 
 for concealing it. 
 
 Another man, in his place, might have 
 been offended with me. There was a native 
 sweetness in Komayne's disposition, which 
 asserted itself even in his w^orst moments of 
 nervous irritability. He took my hand.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 6i 
 
 ' Don't be hard on me,' he pleaded. ' I 
 will try to think of it as you do. Make 
 some little concession on yom- side. I want 
 to see how I get through the night. We 
 will return to what I said to you on board 
 the steamboat to-morrow morning. Is it 
 agreed ? ' 
 
 It was agreed, of course. There was a 
 door of communication between our bed- 
 rooms. At his suggestion it was left oj)en. 
 ' If I find I can't sleep,' he explained, ' I 
 want to feel assured that you can hear me if 
 I call to you.' 
 
 Three times in the night I woke, and, 
 seeing the light burning in his room, looked 
 in at him. He always carried some of his 
 books with him when he travelled. On 
 each occasion when I entered the room, he 
 was reading quietly. 'I suppose I fore-
 
 62 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 stalled my night's sleep on the railway,' he 
 said. ^ It doesn't matter ; I am content. 
 Something that I was afraid of has not 
 happened. I am used to wakeful nights^ 
 Go back to bed, and don't be uneasy about 
 me.' 
 
 The next morning the deferred explana- 
 tion was put off again. 
 
 ' Do you mind waiting a little longer .^ * 
 he asked. 
 
 ' Not if you particularly wish it.' 
 
 ' Will you do me another favour ? You 
 know that I don t like London. The noise 
 in the streets is distracting. Besides, I may 
 tell you I have a sort of distrust of noise, 
 
 since ' He stopped, with an appearance 
 
 of confusion. 
 
 ' Since I found you looking into the 
 engine-room ? ' I asked.
 
 THE BLACK KOBE. 63 
 
 ' Yes. I don't feel inclined to trust the 
 chances of another night in London. I 
 want to try the effect of perfect quiet. Do 
 you mind going back with me to Vange? 
 Dull as the place is, you can amuse your- 
 self. There is good shooting, as you 
 know. 
 
 In an hour more we had left London.
 
 64 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Vange Abbey is, as I suppose, tlie most 
 solitary country house in England. If Eo- 
 mayne wanted quiet, it was exactly the 
 place for him. 
 
 On the rising ground of one of the 
 wildest moors in the Xorth Eiding of York- 
 shire, the ruhis of tlie old monastery are 
 visible from all points of the compass. 
 There are traditions of thriving villages 
 clustering about the Abbey, in tlie days of 
 the monks, and of hostchics devoted to 
 tlie reception of pilgrims from every part 
 of the Christian world. Xot a vestige of 
 these buildings is left. They were deserted
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 65 
 
 by tlie pious inhabitants, it is said, at the 
 time when Henry the Eighth suppressed the 
 monasteries, and gave the Abbey and the 
 broad lands of Vange to his faithful friend 
 and courtier, Sir Miles Eomayne. In the 
 next generation, tlie son and heir of Sir 
 Miles built the dwelling-house, helping 
 himself liberally from the solid stone walls 
 of the monastery. With some unimportant 
 alterations and repairs, the house stands, 
 defying time and weather, to the present 
 day. 
 
 At the last station on the railwa}^ the 
 horses were waiting for us. It was a 
 lovely moonlio^ht ni^ht, and we shortened 
 the distance considerably by taking the 
 bridle path over the moor. Between nine 
 and ten o'clock we reached the Abbey. 
 
 Years had passed since I had last been 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Eomayne's guest. Nothing, out of the 
 house or iii tlie house, seemed to have 
 undergone any change in the interval 
 Neither the good North-country butler, nor 
 his buxom Scotch wife, skilled in cookery, 
 looked any older : they received me as if I 
 had left them a day or two since, and had 
 come back again to live in Yorkshire. My 
 well-remembered bedroom was w^aitinc^ for 
 me ; and the matchless old Madeira wel- 
 comed us when my host and I met in the 
 inner-hall, wdiicli was the ordinary dining- 
 room of the Abbey. 
 
 J\s we faced each other at the well- 
 spread table, I began to hope that the 
 familiar influences of his country home 
 WTre beginning already to breathe their 
 blessed quiet over the disturbed mind of 
 Eomayne. In the presence of his faithful
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 67 
 
 old servants, he seemed to be capable of 
 controlling the morbid remorse that op- 
 pressed him. He spoke to them composedly 
 and kindly; he was affectionately glad to 
 see his old friend once more in the old 
 house. 
 
 When we were near the end of our 
 meal, something happened that startled me. 
 I had just handed tlie wine to Eomayne^ 
 and he had filled his glass — when he sud- 
 denly turned pale, and lifted his head like a 
 man whose attention is unexpectedly roused. 
 No person but ourselves was in the room ; I 
 was not speaking to him at the time. He 
 looked round suspiciously at tlie door 
 behind him, leading into tlie library, and 
 rang the old-fashioned handbell w^hicli 
 stood by him on the table. The servant 
 was directed to close the door, 
 p 2
 
 eSr THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Are you cold ? ' I asked. 
 
 ' ]^o.' He reconsidered that brief an- 
 swer, and contradicted himself. ' Yes — the 
 library fire has burnt low, I suppose.' 
 
 In my position at the table, I had seen 
 the fire : the grate w^as lieaped with blazing 
 coals and wood. I said nothing. The pale 
 change in his face, and his contradictory 
 reply, roused doubts in me which I had 
 hoped never to feel again. 
 
 He pushed away his glass of wine, and 
 still kept his eyes fixed on the closed door. 
 His attitude and expression were plainly 
 sufra'estive of the act of listenino-. Listeninir 
 to what ? 
 
 After an interval, he abruptly addressed 
 me. ' Do you call it a quiet night ? ' he 
 said. 
 
 *As quiet as quiet can be,' I replied.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 69 
 
 ' The wind has dropped — and even the fire 
 doesn't crackle. Perfect stillness, indoors 
 and out/ 
 
 ' Out ? ' he repeated. For a moment, he 
 looked at me intently, as if I had started 
 some new idea in his mind. I asked as 
 lightly as I could, if I had said anything to 
 surprise him. Instead of answ^ering me, he 
 sprang to his feet w^ith a cry of terror, and 
 left the room. 
 
 I hardly knew wdiat to do. It w^as im- 
 possible, unless he returned immediately, to 
 let this extraordinary proceeding pass with- 
 out notice. After w^aiting for a few minutes, 
 I rani? the bell. 
 
 The old butler came in. He looked in 
 blank amazement at the empty chair. 
 ' Where's the master ? ' he asked. 
 
 I could only answer that he had left the
 
 70 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 table suddenly, ^vitl:out a word of explana- 
 tion. ' He may perhaps be ill,' I added. 
 ' As liis old servant, you can do no harm if 
 you go and look for him. Say that I am 
 waiting here, if he wants me.' 
 
 The minutes passed slovsly and more 
 slowly. I was left alone for so long a time 
 that I began to feel seriously uneas}-. My 
 hand was on the bell again, when there was 
 a knock at the door. I had expected to see 
 the butler. It vras the groom wlio entered 
 the room. 
 
 ' Garthwaite can't come down to you sir,' 
 said the man. ' He asks if you will please 
 go up to the master on the Belvidere.' 
 
 The house — extending round three sides 
 of a square — was only two stories high. Tlie 
 flat roof, accessible through a species of 
 hatchway, and still surrounded by its sturdy
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 71 
 
 stone parapet, was called ' The Belvidere,' in 
 reference as usual to the fme view wliicli it 
 commanded. Fearing I knew not what, I 
 mounted the laddei' which led to tlie roof. 
 Eomayne received me witli a harsh outburst 
 of laughter — that saddest false lauditer 
 wliich is true trouble in diso-uise. 
 
 o 
 
 ' Here's somethino- to amuse vou ! ' he 
 cried. 'I believe old Garthwaite thinks I 
 am drunk — he won't leave me up here by 
 myself.' 
 
 Letting this strange assertion remain un- 
 answered, tlie butler withdrew. As he 
 passed me on his waj' to the ladder, lie 
 whispered, ' Be careful of the master ! I 
 tell you, sir, lie Jias a bee in his bonnet tliis 
 night.' 
 
 Although not of the north country myself, 
 I knew the meaning of the phrase. Garthwaite
 
 72 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 suspected tliat the master was nothing less 
 than mad ! • 
 
 Eomayne took my arm Avlien we were 
 alone — we walked slowly from end to end of 
 the Belvidere, The moon was, b}^ this time, 
 low^ in the heavens ; but her mild mysterious 
 liolit still streamed over the roof of the house 
 and the high heathy ground round it. I 
 looked attentively at Eomayne. He w\as 
 deadly pale ; his hand shook as it rested on 
 ]ny arm — and that was all. Neither in look 
 nor manner did he betray the faintest sign of 
 mental derangement. He had perhaps need- 
 lessly alarmed the faithful old servant by 
 something that he had said or done. I 
 determined to clear up that doubt imme- 
 diately. 
 
 ' You left the table very suddenly,' I said. 
 ^ Did you feel ill?'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 73 
 
 ' Not ill,' he replied. ' I was frightened. 
 Look at me — I'm frightened still.* 
 
 ' What do you mean .^ ' 
 
 Instead of answering, he repeated the 
 strange question which he had put to me 
 downstairs. 
 
 ' Do you call it a quiet night ? ' 
 
 Considering the time of year, and the 
 exposed situation of the house, the night was 
 almost preternaturally quiet. Throughout 
 the vast open country all round us, not even 
 a breath of air could be heard. The night- 
 birds were away, or were silent at the time. 
 But one sound was audible, when we stood 
 still and listened — the cool quiet bubble of a 
 little stream, lost to view in the valley-ground 
 to the south. 
 
 ' I have told you already,' I said. ' So
 
 74 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 still a night I never remember on this York- 
 shire moor.' 
 
 He laid one hand heavily on my shoulder. 
 ' What did the poor boy say of me, Avhose 
 brother I killed ? ' he asked. ' Wliat words 
 did we hear througli the dripping darkness 
 of the mist ? ' 
 
 ' I won't encourage you to think of them. 
 I refuse to repeat the words.' 
 
 He pointed over the nortliAvard parapet. 
 
 ' It doesn't matter whether you accept or 
 refuse/ he said, ' I hear the boy at this 
 moment there ! ' 
 
 He repeated the horrid words — marking 
 the pauses in the utterance of them with 
 his finger, as if ihcy were sounds that he 
 heard : — 
 
 ' Assassin ! Assassin ! where are you ? '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 75 
 
 ' Good God ! ' I cried. ' You don't mean 
 that you really liear the voice ? ' 
 
 ' Do you hear what I say ? I hear the 
 boy as plainly as you hear me. The voice 
 screams at me through the clear moonlight, 
 as it screamed at me through the sea-fog. 
 J\f:^ain and ao-ain. It's all round the house. 
 That way now, where the light just touches 
 on the tops of the heather. Tell the servants 
 to have the horses ready the first thing in 
 the morning. We leave Vange Abbey to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 These were wild words. If he had 
 spoken them wildly, I might have shared 
 the butler's conclusion that his mind was de- 
 ranged. There was no undue vehemence in 
 his voice or his manner. He spoke with a 
 melancholy resignation — he seemed like a 
 prisoner submitting to a sentence that he
 
 75 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 had deserved. Eemembering the cases of 
 men sufferiniT from nervous disease who had 
 been haunted by apparitions, I asked if he 
 saw any imaginary figure under the form of 
 a boy. 
 
 ' I see nothing,' he said ; ' I only hear. 
 Look yourself. It is in the last degree im- 
 probable — but let us make sure that nobody 
 has followed me from Boulogne, and is 
 playing me a trick.' 
 
 We made the circuit of the Belvidere. 
 On its eastward side, the liouse wall was 
 built against one of the towers of the eld 
 Abbey. On the westward side, the ground 
 sloped steeply down to a deep pool or tarn. 
 Northward and southward, there was 
 nothing to be seen but the open moor. 
 Look where I might, with the moonlight to 
 make the view plain to me, the solitude was
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. *jj 
 
 as void of any living creature as if we had 
 been surrounded by the awful dead world of 
 the moon. 
 
 ' Was it the boy's voice that you heard 
 on the voyage across the Channel? ' I asked. 
 
 * Yes, I heard it for the first time — down 
 in the engine-room ; rising and falling, rising 
 and falling, like the sound of the engines 
 themselves.' 
 
 ' And when did you hear it again ? ' , 
 
 ' I feared to hear it in London. It left 
 me, I should have told you, when we step- 
 ped ashore out of the steamboat . I was 
 afraid that the noise of the traffic in the 
 streets might bring it back to me. As you 
 know, I passed a quiet night. I had the 
 hope that my imagination had deceived me 
 — that I was the victim of a delusion, as 
 people say. It is no delusion. In the
 
 7S THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 perfect tranquillity of diis place the voice has 
 come back to me. While Ave were at table 
 I heard it again — behind me, in the library. 
 I heard it still, when the door was shut. I 
 ran up here to try if it would follow me into 
 the open air. It lias followed me. We 
 may as well go down ngain into the hall. I 
 know now that there is no escaping from it. 
 My dear old home has become horrible to 
 me. Do you mind retiuiiing to London to- 
 morrow .^ ' 
 
 What I felt and feared in this miserable 
 state of things matters little. The one 
 chance I could see for Eomayne was to 
 obtain the best medical advice. I sincerely 
 encouraged liis idea of going back to 
 London the next day. 
 
 We had sat together by the hall fire for 
 about ten minutes, when he took out his
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 79 
 
 handkerclilef, aud wiped away tlie persj)i- 
 ratioii from his foreliead, drawing a deep 
 breath of rehef. ' It has gone ! ' he said 
 faintly. 
 
 ' Wlien you hear the boy's voice,' I 
 askedj ' do you hear it continuously ? ' 
 
 ' N"o, at intervals ; sometimes longer, 
 sometimes shorter.' 
 
 ' And thus far, it comes to you suddenly, 
 and leaves 3'ou suddenly .^ ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' Do my questions annoy you .^ ' 
 
 ' I make no complaint,' he said sadly. 
 ' You can see for yourself — I patiently suffer ' 
 the punishment that I have deserved.' 
 
 I contradicted him at once. ' It is 
 nothing of the sort ! It's a nervous malady, 
 which medical science can control and cure 
 Wait till we get to London.'
 
 8o THE BLACK ROBE 
 
 This expression of opinion produced no 
 effect on liini. 
 
 'I have taken the life of a fellow- 
 creature,' he said. 'I have closed the 
 career of a young man who, but for me, 
 might have lived long and happily and hon- 
 ourably. Say what you may, I am of the 
 race of Cain. He had the mark set on his 
 brow. I have my ordeal. Delude yourself, 
 if you like, with false hopes. I can endure 
 — and hope for nothing. Good-night/
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 8 1 
 
 YIII. 
 
 Early the next morinng, the good old 
 butler came to me, in great perturbation, 
 for a word of advice. 
 
 ' Do come, sir, and look at the master ! 
 I can't find in my heart to wake him.' 
 
 It was time to Avake him, if we were to 
 go to London that day. I went into the 
 bedroom. Although I was no doctor, the 
 restorative importance of that profound and 
 quiet sleep impressed itself on me so 
 strongly, that I took the responsibility of 
 leaving him undisturbed. The event proved 
 that I had acted wisely. He slept until 
 noon. There was no retmni of ' the torment 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 82 THE BLACK KOBE. 
 
 of the voice ' — as lie called it, poor fellow. 
 Wc passed a quiet day, excepting one little 
 interruption, which I am waiiied not to 
 pass over without a word of record in this 
 narratl\'e. 
 
 We had returned from a ride. Eo- 
 mayne had gone into the library to read ; 
 and I was just leaving the stables, after a 
 look at some recent improvements, when a 
 l^ony-chaise with a gentleman in it drove up 
 to the door. He asked politely if he might 
 be allowed to see the house. There were 
 some fine pictures at Yange, as well as 
 many interesting relics of antiquity ; and the 
 rooms wore shown, i]i Eomayne's absence, to 
 the very few travellers v/ho were adven- 
 turous enough to cross the heathy desert 
 that surrounded the Abbey. On this occa- 
 sion, the strancrer was informed that Mr.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 83 
 
 Eomaync was at liome. He at once apolo- 
 gised — with an appearance of disappoint- 
 ment, however, which induced me to stej) 
 forward and speak to him. 
 
 'Mr. Eomajme is not very well,' I said ; 
 * and I cannot venture to ask you into the 
 house. But you will be welcome, I am surcv 
 to walk round the grounds, and to look at 
 tlie ruins of the Abbey.' 
 
 He thanked me, and accepted the invita- 
 tion. I find no great difficulty in describing 
 him, generally. He was elderly fat and 
 cheerful ; buttoned up in a long black frock 
 coat, and presenting tliat closely shaven face 
 and that inveterate expression of watcliful 
 humility about the eyes, which avc all asso- 
 ciate with the revei-end personality of a 
 priest. 
 
 To my surprise, he seemed, in sjnie
 
 84 THE BLACK KOBE. 
 
 degree at least, to know liis way about the 
 place. lie made straight for the dreary 
 little lake "v\hinh I have already mentioned, 
 and stood looking at it with an interest 
 which was so incomprehensible to me, that I 
 own I Avatched hhn. 
 
 He ascended the slope of the moorland, 
 and entered the gate which led to the 
 grounds. All that the gardeners had done 
 to make the place attractive failed to claim 
 his attention. He walked past lawns, 
 shrubs, and flower-beds, and only stopped at 
 an old stone fountain, which tradition 
 declared to have been one of the ornaments 
 of the garden in the time of the monks. 
 Having carefully examined this relic of an- 
 tiquity, he took a sheet of paper from his 
 pocket, and consulted it attentively. It 
 might have been a plan of the house and
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 85 
 
 grounds, or it migiit not — I can only report 
 that he took the path which led him, by the 
 shortest way, to the ruined Abbey church. 
 
 As he entered the roofless enclosure, he 
 reverently removed his hat. It was impos- 
 sible for me to follow him any further, with- 
 out exposing myself to the risk of discovery. 
 I sat down on one of the fallen stones, 
 waiting to see him again. It must have 
 been at least half an hour before he ap- 
 peared. He thanked me for my kindness, 
 iis composedly as if he had quite expected 
 to find me in the place that I occupied. 
 
 ' I have been deeply interested in all 
 that I have seen,' he said. ' May I venture 
 to ask, what is perhaps an indiscreet ques- 
 tion on the part of a stranger ? * 
 
 I ventured, on my side, to inquire what 
 the question might be.
 
 86 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Mr. rtomayne is indeed fortunate,' he 
 resumed, ' in tlie po^^session of this beautiful 
 place. He is a young man, I think ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 'Is lie married .^ ' 
 
 ' Xo.' 
 
 ' Excuse my curiosity. The owner of 
 A^ange Abbey is an interesting person to all 
 good antiquaries like myself Many thanks 
 again. Good- day.' 
 
 His pony-chaise took him away. His 
 last look rested — not on me — but on the old 
 Abbey.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. S7 
 
 IX. 
 
 My record of events approaches its con- 
 clusion. 
 
 On the next clay we returned to the 
 Iiotel in London. At Eomayne's suggestion, 
 I sent the same evening to my own house 
 for any letters which might be waiting for 
 me. His mind still dwelt on the duel : he 
 was morbidly eager to know if any com- 
 munication had been received from the 
 Erench surgeon. 
 
 When the messenger returned ^vith my 
 letters, the Boulogne post-mark was on one 
 of the envelopes. At Eomayne's entreaty,
 
 88 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 this was the letter that I opened first. The 
 surgeon's signature was at the end. 
 
 One motive for anxiety — on my part — 
 was set at rest in the first Hnes. After an 
 official inquiry into the circumstances, the 
 French authorities had decided that it was 
 not expedient to put the survivor of the 
 duellists on his trial before a court of law. 
 Ko jury, hearing the evidence, would find 
 him guilty of the only charge that could be 
 formally brought against him — the charge 
 of ' homicide by premeditation.' Homicide 
 by misadventure, occurring in a duel, was 
 not a punishable offence by the French law. 
 My correspondent cited many cases in proof 
 of it, strengthened by the publicly-expressed 
 opinion of the illustrious Berryer himself. 
 In a word, we had nothing to fear. 
 
 The next page of the letter informed us
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 89 
 
 that the police had surprised the card-play- 
 ing community with whom we liad spent the 
 evening at Boulogne, and that the much-be- 
 jewelled old landlady had been sent to prison 
 for the offence of keeping a gambling-house. 
 It was suspected in the town that the 
 General was more or less directly connected 
 with certain disreputable circumstances dis- 
 covered by the authorities. In any case, he 
 had retired from active service. He and his 
 wife and family had left Boulogne, and had 
 gone away in debt. No investigation had 
 thus far succeeded in discovering the place 
 of tneir retreat. 
 
 Eeading this letter aloud to Eomayne, 
 I was interrupted by him at the last sen- 
 tence. 
 
 ' The inquiries must have been carelessly 
 made,' he said. ' I will see to it myself.'
 
 9D THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 'What interest can ijou liave in the 
 inquiries ? ' I exclaimed. 
 
 'The strongest possible interest/ he 
 answered. ' It has been my one hope to 
 make some little atonement to tlie poor 
 people whom I have so cruelly wronged. 
 If the wife and children are in distressed 
 circumstances (which seems to be only too 
 likely) I may place them beyond the reach 
 of anxiety — anonymously, of course. Give 
 me the suri:^eon's address. I shall write 
 instructions for tracing them at my expense 
 — merely announcing that an Unknown 
 Friend desires to be of service to the 
 General's fjxmily.' 
 
 This appeared to me to be a most im- 
 prudent thing to do. I said so plainly — and 
 quite in vain. With his customary impetu- 
 osity, lie wrote the letter at once, and sent it 
 to the post that night.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 91 
 
 X. 
 
 0^ the question of submitting himself to 
 medical advice (which I now earnestly 
 pressed upon him), Eomaync was disposed 
 to be equally unreasonable. But in this 
 case, events declared themselves in my 
 favour. 
 
 Lady Berrick's last reserves of strength 
 had given way. She had been brought to 
 London in a dying state while we were at 
 Vange Abbey. Eomayne was summoned to 
 Iiis aunt's bedside on the third day of our 
 residence at the hotel, and was present at 
 her death. The nnpression produced on his 
 mind roused the better part of his nature.
 
 92 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 He was more distrustful of liimself, more 
 accessible to persuasion than usual. In this 
 gentler frame of mmd he received a welcome 
 visit from an old friend, to whom he was 
 sincerely attached. The visit — of no great 
 importance in itself — led, as I have since 
 been informed, to very serious events in 
 Eomayne's later life. For this reason, I 
 briefly relate what took place within my 
 own hearinc^. 
 
 Lord Loring — well known in society as 
 the head of an old English Catholic family, 
 and the possessor of a magnificent gallery of 
 pictures — was distressed by the change for 
 the worse which he perceived in Eomayne 
 when he called at the hotel. I was present 
 when they met, and rose to leave the room, 
 feeling that the two friends might perhaps 
 be embarrassed by the presence of a third
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 93 
 
 person. Eomayne called me back. ' Lord 
 Loring ought to know "svhat lias happened to 
 me,' he said. ' I have no heart to speak of 
 it myself. Tell him everything, and if he 
 agrees with you, I will submit to see the 
 doctors.' Witli those words, he left us 
 together. 
 
 It is almost .needless to say that Lord 
 Loring did agi^ee with me. He was himself 
 disposed to think that the moral remedy, in 
 Eomayne's case, might prove to be the best 
 remedy. 
 
 'With submission to what the doctors 
 may decide,' his lordship said, 'the right 
 thing to do, in my opinion, is to divert our 
 friend's mind from himself. I see a plain 
 necessity for making a complete change in 
 the solitary life that he has been leading for 
 years past. Why shouldn't he marry .^ A
 
 94 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 woman's influence, by merely giving a new 
 turn to liis thoughts, might cliarm away that 
 horrible voice which haunts him. Perhaps 
 you think this a merely sentimental view of 
 the case ? Look at it practically, if 3'ou like, 
 and you come to the same conclusion. With 
 that fine estate — and with the fortune which 
 he has now inherited from his aunt — it is 
 his duty to marry. Don't you agree with 
 me?' 
 
 ' I agree most cordially. ]jut I see 
 serious difficulties in your lordship's wa}^ 
 Eomayne dislikes society ; and, as to marry- 
 ing, his coldness towards women seems (so 
 far as I can judge) to be one of the incurable 
 defects of his character.' 
 
 Lord Loring smiled. ' "^^y dear sir, 
 nothing of that sort is incm'able, if we can 
 only find the right woman.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 95 
 
 The tone iu which he spoke suggested to 
 me that he had got ' the right woman ' — and 
 I took the liberty of saying so. He at once 
 acknowledged that I had guessed right. 
 
 ' Eomayne is, as you say, a difficult sub- 
 ject to deal with,' he resumed. * If I commit 
 the slightest imprudence, I shall excite his 
 suspicion — and there will be an end of my 
 hope of being of service to him. I shall 
 proceed carefully, I can tell you. Luckily, 
 poor dear fellow% he is fond of pictures ! It's 
 quite natural that I should ask him to see 
 some recent additions to my gallery — isn't 
 it ? There is the trap that I set ! I have a 
 sweet girl to ten:pt him, staying at my house, 
 w^ho is a little out of health and spirits her- 
 self. At the right moment, I shall send word 
 upstairs. She may well happen to look in 
 at the gallery (by the merest accident) just
 
 96 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 at the time when Eomayne is looking at my 
 new i:)ictures. The rest depends, of com'se, 
 on the effect she produces. If you knew 
 her, I beheve you would ngree with me that 
 the experiment is worth trying.' 
 
 !N"ot knowing the lady, I had little faith 
 in the success of the experiment. No one, 
 however, could doubt Lord Loring's admir- 
 able devotion to his friend — and with that I 
 was fain to be content. 
 
 When Eomayne returned to us, it was 
 decided to submit liis case to a consultation 
 of physicians at the earliest possible moment. 
 When Lord Loring took his departure, I 
 accompanied him to the door of the hotel, 
 perceiving tliat he wislied to sny a word 
 more to me in private. lie had, it seemed, 
 decided on waiting for the result of the 
 medical consultation before he tried the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 97 
 
 effect of the young lady's attractions ; and 
 he wished to caution me against speaking 
 prematurely of visiting the picture gallery to 
 our friend. 
 
 Not feeling particularly interested in 
 these details of the worthy nobleman's little 
 plot, I looked at his carriage, and privately 
 admired the two splendid horses that drew 
 it. The footman opened the door for his 
 master, and I became aware, for the first 
 time, that a gentleman had accompanied 
 Lord Loring to the hotel, and had waited 
 for him in the carriage. The gentleman 
 bent forward, and looked up from a book 
 that he was reading. To my astonishment, 
 I recognised the elderly fat and cheerful 
 priest who had showm such a knowledge of 
 localities, and such an extraordinary interest 
 in Vange A])bey ! 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 It struck me as an odd coincidence tliat 
 I should see the man again in London, so 
 soon after I had met with him in Yorkshire. 
 This was all I thought about it, at the time. 
 If I had known then, what I know now, I 
 might have dreamed, let us say, of throwing 
 that priest into the lake at Yange, and 
 might have reckoned the circumstance among 
 the wisely - improved opportunities of my 
 hfe. 
 
 To return to the serious interests of the 
 present narrative, I may now announce that 
 my evidence as an eye-witness of events has 
 come to an end. The day after Lord 
 Loring's visit, domestic troubles separated 
 me, to my most sincere regret, from Eo- 
 mayne. I have only to add, that the fore- 
 going narrative of personal experience has 
 been written with a due sense of responsi-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 99 
 
 bility, and that it may be depended on 
 throughout as an exact statement of the 
 truth. 
 
 John Philip Hynd 
 
 (late Major, 110th Regiment).
 
 THE STOEY, 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE CONFIDENCES. 
 
 In an upper room of one of tlie palatial 
 bouses wliicli are situated on the north side 
 of Hyde Park, two ladies sat at breakfast, 
 and gossiped over their tea. 
 
 The elder of the two was Lady Loring — 
 .still in the prime of life ; possessed of the 
 golden hair and the clear blue eyes, tlfe 
 delicately-florid complexion, and the freely 
 developed figure, wliich are among the 
 iavourite attractions popularly associated 
 with the beauty of Englishwomen. Her 
 younger companion was the unknown lady 
 admired by Major Hynd on the sea passage
 
 104 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 from France to England. With hair and 
 eyes of the darkest brown; with a pure 
 pallor of complexion, only changing to a 
 faint rose tint in moments of agitation ; with 
 a tall graceful figure, incompletely developed 
 in substance and strength — she presented an 
 almost complete contrast to Lady Loring. 
 Two more opposite types of beauty it would 
 have been hardly possible to place at the 
 same table. 
 
 The servant brought in the letters of the 
 morning. Lady Loring ran through her 
 correspondence rapidly, pushed away the 
 letters in a heap, and poured herself out a 
 second cuj) of tea. 
 
 * Nothing interesting this morning for 
 me,' she said. ' Any news of your mother, 
 Stella?' 
 
 The young lady handed an open letter
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 105 
 
 to her hostess, with a faint smile. * See for 
 yourself, Adelaide,' she answered, with the 
 tender sweetness of tone which made her 
 voice irresistibly charming — ' and tell me if 
 there were ever two women so utterly 
 unlike each other as my mother and my- 
 self/ 
 
 Lady Loring ran through the letter, as 
 she had run through her own correspond- 
 ence. 'Never, dearest Stella, have I en- 
 joyed myself as I do in this delightful 
 country house, — twenty-seven at dinner 
 every day, without including the neighbours 
 — a little carpet dance every evening — we 
 play billiards, and go into the smoking 
 room — the hounds meet three times a week 
 — all sorts of celebrities among the company, 
 famous beauties included — such dresses! 
 such conversation! — and serious duties, my
 
 ic6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 dear, not neglected — higli church and 
 choral service in the town on Sundays — ■ 
 recitations in the evening from Paradise 
 Lost, by an amateur elocutionist — oh, you 
 foolish, headstrong child ! ^vhy did you 
 make excuses and stay in London, when 
 you might have accompanied me to this 
 earthly Paradise ? — are you really ill ? — my 
 love to Lady Loring — and of course, if you 
 are ill, you must have medical advice — they 
 ask after you so kindly here — the first 
 dinner bell is ringing, before I have half 
 done my letter — what am I to wear? — why 
 is my daughter not here to advise me,' &c., 
 iK:c., &c. 
 
 ' There is time to change your mind 
 and advise your mother,' Lady Loring 
 remarked with grave irony as she returned 
 the letter.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 107 
 
 ' Don't even speak of it ! ' said Stella. ' I 
 really know no life that I sliould not prefer 
 to the life that my mother is enjoying at this 
 moment. What should I have done, Ade- 
 laide, if you had not offered me a happy 
 refuge in your house ? My " earthly Para- 
 dise " is here, where I am allowed to dream 
 away my time over my drawings and my 
 books, and to resign myself to poor health 
 and low spirits, without being dragged into 
 society, and (worse still) threatened with that 
 " medical advice " in which, when she isn't 
 threatened with it herself, my poor dear 
 mother believes so implicitly. I wish you 
 would hire me as your " companion," and let 
 me stay here for the rest of my life.' 
 
 Lady Loring's bright face became grave 
 while Stella was speaking. 
 
 ' My dear,' she said kindlji ' I know, well
 
 lo8 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 how you love retirement, and how differently 
 you think and feel from other young women 
 of your age. And I am far from forgetting 
 what sad circumstances have encouraged the 
 natural bent of your disposition. But, since 
 you have been staying with me this time, I 
 see something in you which my intimate 
 knowledge of your character fails to explain. 
 We have been friends since we were toorether 
 at school — and, in those old days, we never 
 had any secrets from each other. You are 
 feeling some anxiety, or brooding over some 
 sorrow, of which I know nothing. I don't 
 ask for your confidence ; I only tell you what 
 I have noticed — and I say with all my heart, 
 Stella, I am sorry for you.' 
 
 She rose, and, with intuitive delicacy, 
 changed the subject. ' I am going out 
 earlier than usual this morninjz,' she resumed.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 109 
 
 ' Is there anything I can do for you ? ' She 
 laid her hand tenderly on Stella's shoulder, 
 waiting for the reply. Stella lifted the 
 hand and kissed it with passionate fondness. 
 
 * Don't think me ungrateful,' she said ; ' I 
 am only ashamed.' Her head sank on her 
 bosom ; she burst into tears. 
 
 Lady Loring waited by her in silence. 
 She well knew the girl's self-contained 
 nature, always shrinking, except in moments 
 of violent emotion, from the outward betrayal 
 of its trials and its sufferings to others. The 
 true depth of feeling which is marked by this 
 inbred modesty is most frequently found in 
 men. The few women who possess it are 
 without the communicative consolations of 
 the feminine heart. They are the noblest 
 — and but too often tlie unhappiest of their 
 sex.
 
 no THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Will you wait a little before you go 
 out ? ' Stella asked softly. 
 
 Lady Loring returned to tlie chair that 
 she had left — hesitated for a moment — and 
 then drew it nearer to Stella. ' Shall I sit by 
 you ? ' she said. 
 
 ' Close by me. You spoke of our school 
 days just now, Adelaide. There was some 
 difference between us. Of all the girls, I 
 was the youngest — and you were the eldest, 
 or nearly the eldest, I think ? ' 
 
 ' Quite the eldest, my dear. There is a 
 difference of ten years between us. But wliy 
 do you go back to that ? ' 
 
 ' It's only a recollection. My father was 
 alive then. I was at first home-sick and 
 frightened in the strange place, among the 
 big girls. You used to let me hide my face
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. in 
 
 on your shoulder, and tell me stories. May 
 I hide in the old way, and tell my story ? * 
 
 She was now the calmest of the two. 
 The elder woman turned a little pale, and 
 looked down in silent anxiety at the darkly 
 beautiful head that rested on her shoulder 
 
 'After such an experience as mine has 
 been,' said Stella, 'would you think it pos- 
 sible that I could ever again feel my heart 
 troubled by a man — and that man a 
 stranger ? ' 
 
 ' My dear ! I think it quite possible. 
 You are only now in your twenty-third year. 
 You were innocent of all blame at that 
 wretched bygone time which you ouglit 
 never to speak of again. Love and be 
 happy, Stella — if you can only find the man 
 who is worthy of you. But you frighten mo
 
 112 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 when you speak of a stranger. Where did 
 you meet with him ? ' 
 
 ' On our way back from Paris.* 
 
 'Travelhng in the same carriage with 
 you?* 
 
 ' No — it was in crossing the Channel. 
 There were few travellers in the steamboat, 
 or I might never have noticed him.* 
 
 ' Did he speak to you ? * 
 
 ' I don't think he even looked at me.* 
 
 'That doesn*t say much for his taste, 
 Stella.* 
 
 ' You don't understand. I mean, I have 
 not explained myself properly. He was 
 leaning on the arm of a friend ; weak and 
 worn and wasted, as I supposed, by some 
 long and dreadful illness. There was 
 an angelic sweetness in his face — sucli 
 patience ! such resignation ! For Heaven's
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 113 
 
 sake keep my secret. One hears of men 
 falling in love with women at first siorht. 
 But a woman who looks at a man, and feels 
 — oh, it's shameful ! I could hardly take 
 my eyes off him. If he had looked at me in 
 return, I don't know what I should have 
 done — I burn when I think of it. He was 
 absorbed in his suffering and his sorrow. 
 My last look at his beautiful face was on the 
 pier, before they took me away. The perfect 
 image of him has been in my heart ever 
 since. In my dreams, I see him as plainly 
 as I see you now. Don't despise me, Ade- 
 laide ! ' 
 
 ' My dear, you interest me indescribably. 
 Do you suppose he was in our rank of hfe ? 
 
 I mean, of course, did he look like a gentle- 
 man?' 
 
 ' There could be no doubt of it.' 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 ' Do try to describe him, Stella. Was lie 
 tall and well dressed P ' 
 
 'Neither tall nor short — rather thm — 
 quiet and graceful in all his movements — 
 dressed plainly, in perfect taste. How can I 
 describe him? When his friend brought 
 him on board, he stood at the side of the 
 vessel, looking out thoughtfully towards the 
 rsea. Such eyes I never saw before, Adelaide, 
 in any human face — so divinely tender and 
 sad — and :the colour of them that dark 
 violet blue, .so uncommon and so beautiful — 
 too beautiful, for a man. I may say the same 
 of his hair. I saw it completely. For a 
 minute or two he removed his hat — his head 
 was fevered, I think — and he let the sea 
 breeze blow over it. The pure light brown 
 of his hair was just warmed by a lovely 
 reddish tinge. His beard was of the same
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 115 
 
 colour ; short and curling, like the beards of 
 the Eoman heroes one sees in pictures. I 
 shall never see him again — and it is best for 
 me that I shall not. What can I hope from 
 a man who never once noticed me ? But I 
 sliould like to hear that he had recovered his 
 health and his tranquillity, and that liis life 
 was a happy one. It has been a comfort ta 
 me, Adelaide, to open my heart to you. I 
 am getting bold enough to confess every- 
 thing. Would you laugh at mo, I wonder, 
 if I ?' 
 
 She stopped. Her pale complexion 
 softly glowed into colour ; her grand dark 
 eyes brightened — she looked her loveliest 
 at that moment. 
 
 'I am far more inclined, Stella, to cry 
 over you than to laugh at you,' said Lady 
 Loring. ' There is something, to mv mind.
 
 il6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 very sad about this adventure of yours. 
 I wish I could find out who the man is. 
 Even the best description of a person falls 
 so short of the reality ! ' 
 
 ' I thought of showing you something/ 
 Stella continued, ' which might help you to 
 see him as I saw him. It's only making 
 one more acknowledgment of my own folly.' 
 
 ' You don't mean a portrait of him ! * 
 Lady Loring exclaimed. 
 
 ' The best that I could do from recol- 
 lection,' Stella answered sadly. 
 
 ' Bring it here directly 1 ' 
 
 Stella left the room and returned with a 
 little drawing in pencil. The instant Lady 
 LoriDg looked at it, she recognised Eo- 
 mayne, and started excitedly to her feet. 
 
 ' You know him ! ' cried Stella. 
 
 Lady Loring had placed herself in an
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 117 
 
 awkward position. Her husband had de- 
 scribed to her his interview with Major 
 Hynd, and had mentioned his project for 
 bringing Eomayne and Stella together, 
 after first exacting a promise of the strictest 
 secrecy from his wife. She felt herself 
 bound — doubly bound, after what she had 
 now discovered — to respect the confidence 
 placed in her ; and this at the time when 
 she had betrayed herself to Stella ! With a 
 woman's feline fineness of perception, in 
 all cases of subterfuge and concealment, she 
 picked a part of the truth out of the whole, 
 and answered harmlessly without a moment's 
 hesitation. 
 
 ' I have certainly seen him,' she said — 
 ' probably at some party. But I see so 
 many people, and I go to so many places, 
 that I must ask for time to consult my
 
 ii8 THE 13 LACK ROBE. 
 
 jnemoiy. My husband might help me, if 
 you don't object to my asking him/ she 
 added shly. 
 
 Stella snatched the drawing away from 
 lier, in terror. ' You don't mean that you 
 ■will tell Lord Loring ? ' she said. 
 
 ' My dear child ! how^ can you be so 
 foolish? Can't I show him the drawing 
 without mentioning who it was done by ? 
 His memory is a much better one than 
 mine. If I say to him, "Where did we 
 meet that man ? " — he may tell me at once 
 — he may even remember the name. Of 
 course, if you like to be kept in suspense, 
 you have only to say so. It rests with you 
 to decide.' 
 
 Poor Stella gave way directly. She 
 returned the drawmg, and affectionately 
 kissed her artful friend. Having now
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, iic, 
 
 secured the means of consulting, her hus- 
 band without exciting suspicion, Lady Lor- 
 ing left the room. 
 
 At that time in the morninir, Lord 
 Loring was generally to be found either in 
 the library or the picture gallery. His wife 
 tried the library first. 
 
 On entering tlie room, she found but 
 one person in it — not the person of whom 
 she was in search. There, buttoned up in 
 his long frock coat, and surrounded by 
 books of all sorts and sizes, sat the plump 
 elderly priest who had been the especial 
 object of Major Ilynd's avei'sion. 
 
 'I beg your pardon. Father Eenwell,' 
 said Lady Loring ; ' I hope I don't interrupt 
 your studies ? ' 
 
 Father Benwell rose and bowed, witli a 
 pleasant paternal smile. ' I am only trying
 
 120 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 to organise an improved arrangement of the 
 library,' he said simply. ' Books are com- 
 panionable creatures — members, as it were, 
 of his family, to a lonely old priest like my- 
 self. Can I be of any service to your 
 ladyship ? ' 
 
 ' Thank you, Father. If you can kindly 
 tell me where Lord Loring is ' 
 
 ' To be sure ! His lordship was here 
 five minutes since — he is now in the pic- 
 ture gallery. Pray permit me ! ' 
 
 With a remarkably light and easy step 
 for a man of his age and size, he advanced 
 to the further end of the library, and 
 opened a door which led into the gallery. 
 
 ' Lord Loring is among the pictures,' 
 he announced. ' And alone.' He laid a 
 certain emphasis on the last word, which 
 might or might not (in the case of a spiritual
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 121 
 
 director of the liousehold) invite a word of 
 explanation. 
 
 Lady Loriug merely said, ' Just what I 
 wanted ; thank you once more, Father 
 Benwell' — and passed into the picture 
 gallery. 
 
 Left by himself again in the library, the 
 priest walked slowly to and fro, thinking. 
 His latent power and resolution began to 
 show themselves darkly in his face. A 
 skilled observer would now have seen 
 plainly revealed in him the habit of com- 
 mand, and the capacity for insisting on his 
 right to be obeyed. From head to foot. 
 Father Benwell was one of those valuable 
 soldiers of the Church who acknowledge 
 no defeat, and who improve every victory. 
 
 After a while, he returned to the table 
 at which he had been writing when Lady
 
 122 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Lorino' entered the room. An unfinished 
 letter lay open on tlie desk. He took up his 
 pen and completed it in these words : ' I have 
 therefore decided on trustino; this serious 
 matter in the hands of Arthur Penrose. I 
 know he is young — but we have to set 
 against the drawback of his youth, the 
 counter-merits of his incorruptible honesty 
 and his true religious zeal. No better man 
 is just now within my reach — and there is 
 no time to lose. Eomayne has recently 
 inherited a kirc^e increase of fortune. He 
 will be the object of the basest conspiracies 
 — conspiracies of men to win his money, 
 and (worse still) of women to marry him. 
 Even these contemptible elForts may be ob- 
 stacles in the way of our righteous purpose, 
 unless we are first in the field. Penrose 
 left Oxford last week. I expect him here
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 123 
 
 tliis morning, by my invitation. When I 
 liave given liim the necessary instructions, 
 and have found the means of favourably 
 introducing him to Eomayne, I shall have 
 the honour of forwarding a statement of 
 our prospects so far.' 
 
 Having signed these lines, he addressed 
 the letter to 'The Eeverend the Secretary, 
 Society of Jesus, Eome.' As he closed and 
 sealed the envelope, a servant opened the 
 door communicating with the hall, and 
 announced : 
 
 ' Mr. Arthur Penrose.'
 
 124 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 CHAPTEE IT. 
 
 THE JESUITS. 
 
 Father Be>^well rose, and welcomed the 
 visitor with his paternal smile. 'I am 
 heartily glad to see you,' he said — and held 
 out his hand with a becoming mixture of 
 dignity and cordiality. Penrose lifted the 
 offered hand respectfully to his lips. As one 
 of the ' Provincials ' of the Order, Father 
 Benwell occupied a high place among the 
 Eughsli Jesuits. He was accustomed to 
 acts of homage offered by his younger 
 brethren to their spiritual chief. ' I fear 
 you are not well,' he proceeded gently. 
 ' Your hand is feverish, Arthur.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 125 
 
 * Thank you, Father — I am as well as 
 usual.' 
 
 ' Depression of spirits, perhaps ? ' Father 
 Benwell persisted. 
 
 Penrose admitted it with a passing smile. 
 ' My spirits are never very lively,' he 
 said. 
 
 Father Benwell shook his head in gentle 
 disapproval of a depressed state of spirits in 
 a young man. ' This must be corrected,' he 
 remarked. 'Cultivate cheerfulness, Arthur. 
 I am myself, thank God, a naturally cheerful 
 man. My mind reflects, in some degree 
 (and reflects gratefully), the brightness and 
 beauty which are part of the great scheme 
 of creation. A similar disposition is to be 
 cultivated — I know instances of it in my own 
 experience. Add one more instance, and 
 you will really gratify me. In its seasons of
 
 126 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 rejoicing, our Cliurcli is eminently cheerful. 
 Shall I add another encoiu'agement ? A 
 great trust is about to be placed in you. Be 
 socially agreeable, or you will fail to justify 
 the trust. This is Father Benwell's little 
 sermon. I think it has a merit, Arthur — it 
 is a sermon soon over.' 
 
 Penrose looked up at his superior, eager 
 to hear more. 
 
 He was a very young man. His large, 
 thoughtfid, well-opened grey eyes, and his 
 habitual refinement and modesty of manner, 
 gave a certain attraction to his personal 
 appearance, of which it stood in some need. 
 In stature he was little and lean ; his hair 
 had become prematurely thin over his broad 
 forehead ; there were hollows already in his 
 cheeks, and marks on either side of his thin 
 delicate lips. He looked like a person who
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 127 
 
 had passed many miserable hours in need- 
 lessly despairing of himself and his prospects. 
 With all this; there was something in him so 
 irresistibly truthful and sincere — so sugges- 
 tive, even ^vhere he might be wrong, of a 
 purely conscientious belief in his own errors 
 — that he attached people to him without an 
 effort, and often without being aware of it 
 himself. What would his friends have said 
 if they had been told that the religious 
 enthusiasm of this gentle, self-distrustful, 
 melancholy man, might, in its very innocence 
 of suspicion and self-seeking, be perverted to 
 dangerous uses in unscrupulous hands ? His 
 friends would, one and all, have received 
 the scandalous assertion with contempt ; and 
 Penrose himself, if he had heard of it, might 
 have failed to control his temper for the first 
 time in his life.
 
 128 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 * May I ask a question, without giving 
 offence ? ' he said, timidly. 
 
 Father Benwell took his hand. ' My 
 dear Arthur, let us open our minds to each 
 other without reserve. What is your ques- 
 tion P ' 
 
 ' You have spoken, Father, of a great 
 trust that is about to be placed in me.' 
 
 ' Yes. You are anxious, no doubt, to 
 hear what it is ? ' 
 
 ' I am anxious to know, in the first place, 
 if it requires me to go back to Oxford/ 
 
 Father Benwell dropped his young 
 friend's hand. ' Do you dislike Oxford ? ' he 
 asked, observing Penrose attentively. 
 
 ' Bear with me. Father, if I speak too 
 confidently. I dislike the deception which 
 has obliged me to conceal that I am a 
 Catholic and a priest.*
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 129 
 
 Father Benwell set this httle difficulty 
 right, with the air of a man who could make 
 benevolent allowance for unreasonable 
 scruples. ' I think, Arthur, you forget two 
 important considerations,' he said. ' In the 
 first place, you have a dispensation from 
 your superiors, which absolves you of all 
 responsibility in respect of the concealment 
 that you have practised. In the second 
 place, w^e could only obtain information of 
 the progress which our Church is silently 
 making at the University by employing you 
 in the capacity of — let me say, an inde- 
 pendent observer. However, if it will con- 
 tribute to your ease of mind, I see no objec- 
 tion to informing you that you will not be 
 instructed to return to Oxford. Do I relieve 
 
 you? 
 
 There could be no question of it. Pen- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 rose breathed more freely, in every sense of 
 the word. 
 
 ' At the same time,' Father Benwell con- 
 tinued, ' let lis not misunderstand each other. 
 In the new sphere of action which we design 
 for you, you will not only be at liberty to 
 acknowledge that you are a Catholic, it will 
 be absolutely necessary that you should do 
 so. But you will continue to wear the 
 ordinary dress of an English gentleman, and 
 to preserve the strictest secrecy on the sub- 
 ject of your admission to the priesthood, 
 until you are further advised by myself. 
 Now, dear Arthur, read that paper. It is 
 the necessary preface to all that I have yet 
 to say to you.' 
 
 The ' paper ' contained a few pages of 
 manuscript, relating the early history of 
 Vange Abbey, in the days of the monks.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 131 
 
 and the circumstances under ^vhicli the 
 property was confiscated to lay uses in the 
 time of Henry the Eighth. Penrose handed 
 back the httle narrative, vehemently ex- 
 pressing his sympathy with the monks, and 
 his detestation of the King. 
 
 ' Compose yourself, Arthur,' said Father 
 Benwell, smiling pleasantly. ' We don't 
 mean to allow Henry the Eighth to have it 
 all his own way for ever.' 
 
 Penrose looked at his superior in blank 
 bewilderment. His superior withheld any 
 further information for the present. 
 
 'Everything in its turn,' the discreet 
 Father resumed ; ' the turn of explanation 
 has not come yet. I have something else to 
 show you first. One of the most interesting 
 relics in England. Look here.' 
 
 He unlocked a flat mahogany box, and 
 K 2
 
 132 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 displayed to view some writings on vellum, 
 evidently of great age. 
 
 ' You have had a little sermon already,' 
 he said. ' You shall have a little story now. 
 No doubt you have heard of JSTewstead 
 Abbey — famous among the readers of poetry 
 as the residence of Byron ? King Henry 
 treated Newstead exactly as he treated 
 Vange Abbey I Many years since, the lake 
 at Newstead was drao-ored, and the brass 
 
 CO ' 
 
 eagle which had served as the lectern in the 
 old church was rescued from the waters in 
 which it had lain for centuries. A secret 
 receptacle was discovered in the body of the 
 eagle, and the ancient title-deeds of the 
 Abbey were found in it. The monks had 
 taken that method of concealing the legal 
 proof of their rights and privileges, in the 
 hope — a vain hope, I need hardly say — that
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 133 
 
 a time might come when Justice would 
 restore to them the property of which they 
 had been robbed. Only last summer, one 
 of our bishops, administering a northern 
 diocese, spoke of these circumstances to a 
 devout Catholic friend, and said he thought 
 it possible that the precaution taken by the 
 monks at Newstead might also have been 
 taken by the monks at Yange. The friend, 
 I should tell you, was an enthusiast. Say- 
 ing nothing to the bishop (whose position 
 and responsibilities he was bound to respect), 
 he took into his confidence persons whom he 
 could trust. One night — in the absence of 
 the present proprietor, or I should rather 
 say, the present usurper, of the estate — the 
 lake at Yange was privately dragged, with a 
 result that proved the bishop's conjecture to 
 be right. Eead those valuable documents.
 
 134 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Knowing your strict sense of honour, my 
 son, and your admirable tenderness of con- 
 science, I wish you to be satisfied of the 
 title of the Church to the lands of Vange, 
 by evidence which is beyond dispute.' 
 
 With this little preface, he waited while 
 Penrose read the title-deeds. ' Any doubt 
 on your mind ? ' he asked, when the reading 
 had come to an end. 
 
 ' Not the shadow of a doubt.' 
 
 ' Is the Church's right to the property 
 clear ? 
 
 ,' As clear, Father, as words can make it.' 
 
 ' Very good. We will lock up the 
 documents. Arbitrary confiscation, Arthur, 
 even on the part of a king, cannot override 
 the law. What the Churcli once lawfully 
 possessed, the Church has a right to recover. 
 Any doubt about that in your mind ^ '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 135 
 
 * Only the doubt of liow tlie Churcli can 
 recover. Is there anything in this parti- 
 cular case to be hoped from the law ? * 
 
 ' Nothing whatever.' 
 
 ' And yet, Father, you speak as if you 
 saw some prospect of the restitution of the 
 property. By what means can the restitu- 
 tion be made ? ' 
 
 ' By peaceful and worthy means,' Father 
 Benwell answered. ' By honourable restora- 
 tion of the confiscated property to the 
 Church, on the part of the person who is 
 now in possession of it.' 
 
 Penrose was surprised and interested. 
 'Is the person a Catholic.^' he asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' Not yet.' Father Benwell laid a strong 
 emphasis on those two little words. ' His fat 
 fingers drummed restlessly on the table ; his
 
 136 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 vigilant eyes rested expectantly on Penrose. 
 ' Surely you understand me, Arthur ? ' he 
 added, after an interval. 
 
 The colour rose slowly in the worn face 
 of Penrose. ' I am afraid to understand 
 you/ he said. 
 
 ' Why ? ' 
 
 ' I am not sure that it is my better sense 
 which understands. I am afraid, Father, it 
 may be my vanity and presumption.' 
 
 Father Benwell leaned back luxuriously in 
 his chair. ' I hke that modesty,' he said, with 
 a relishing smack of his lips as if modesty 
 was as good as a meal to him. ' There is 
 power of the right sort, Arthur, hidden 
 under the diffidence that does you honour. 
 I am more than ever satisfied that I have 
 been right in reporting you as worthy of 
 this most serious trust. I beheve the con-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 137 
 
 version of the owner of Yange Abbey is — 
 in your hands — no more than a matter of 
 time/ 
 
 ' May I ask what his name is ? * 
 ' Certainly. His name is Lewis Eo- 
 mayne.' 
 
 ' When do you introduce me to him ? * 
 ' Impossible to say. I have not yet been 
 introduced myself .' 
 
 ' You don't know Mr. Eomayne ? ' 
 ' I have never even seen him.' 
 These discouraging replies were made 
 with the perfect composure of a man who 
 saw his way clearly before him Sinking from 
 one depth of perplexity to another, Penrose 
 ventured on putting one last question. 
 ' How am I to approach Mr. Eomayne .^ ' he 
 asked. 
 
 'I can only answer that, Arthur, by
 
 138 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 admitting you still farther into my confi- 
 dence. It is disagreeable to me,' said the 
 reverend gentleman, with the most becoming 
 humihty, ' to speak of myself. But it must 
 be done. Shall we have a little coffee to 
 help us through the coming extract from 
 Father Benwell's autobiography ? Don't 
 look so serious, my son ! When the occasion 
 justifies it, let us take Hfe lightly.' He rang 
 the bell and ordered the coffee, as if he was 
 the master of the house. The servant treated 
 him with the most scrupulous respect. He 
 hummed a little tune, and talked at intervals 
 of the weather, while they were waiting. 
 ' Plenty of sugar, Arthur ? ' he inquired, 
 when the coffee was brought in. ' iN'o I 
 Even in trifles, I should have been glad to 
 feel that there was perfect sympathy between 
 us. I like plenty of sugar myself.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 139 
 
 Having sweetened his coffee with the 
 closest attention to the process, he was at 
 liberty to enlighten his young friend. He 
 did it so easily and so cheerfully that a far 
 less patient man than Penrose would have 
 listened to him with interest.
 
 I40 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION TO ROMAYNE. 
 
 'Excepting my employment here in the 
 library,' Father Benwell began, 'and some 
 interesting conversation with Lord Loring, 
 to which I shall presently allude, I am 
 almost as great a stranger in this house, 
 Arthur, as yourself. When the object w^hich 
 we now have in view was first taken seriously 
 into consideration, I had the lionour of being 
 personally acquainted with Lord Loring. I 
 was also aware that lie was an intimate and 
 trusted friend of Eomayne. Under these 
 circumstances, his lordship presented himself 
 to our point of view as a means of approach-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 141 
 
 ing the owner of Vange Abbey without 
 exciting distrust. I was charged accordingly 
 with the duty of estabhshing myself on terms 
 of intimacy in this house. By way of 
 making room for me, the spiritual director 
 of Lord and Lady Loring was removed to a 
 cure of souls in Ireland. And here I am in 
 his place ! By-the-way, don't treat me 
 (when we are in the presence of visitors) 
 with any special marks of respect. I am 
 not Provincial of our Order in Lord Loring's 
 house — I am one of the inferior clergy.' 
 
 Penrose looked at him with admiration. 
 * It is a great sacrifice to miake, Father, in 
 your position and at your age.' 
 
 ' Not at all, Arthur. A position of autho- 
 rity involves certain temptations to pride. 
 I feel this change as a lesson in humility 
 which is good for me. For example. Lady
 
 142 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Loring (as I can plainly see) dislikes and 
 distrusts me. Then, again, a young lady 
 has recently arrived here on a visit. She is 
 a Protestant, with all the prejudices incident 
 to that way of thinking — avoids me so care- 
 fully, poor soul, that I have never seen her 
 yet. These rebuffs are wholesome reminders 
 of his falhble human nature, to a man who 
 has occupied a place of high trust and com- 
 mand. Besides, there have been obstacles in 
 my way which have had an excellent effect 
 in rousing my energies. How do you feel, 
 Arthur, when you encounter obstacles ? ' 
 
 ' I do my best to remove them. Father. 
 But I am sometimes conscious of a sense of 
 discoiuragement.' 
 
 ' Curious,' said Father Benwell. ' I am only 
 conscious, myself, of a sense of impatience. 
 What right has an obstacle to get in my way ?
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 143 
 
 — that is how I look at it. For example, the 
 first thing I heard, when I came here, was 
 that Eomayne had left England. My intro- 
 duction to him was indefinitely delayed: I 
 had to look to Lord Loring for all the infor- 
 mation I wanted relating to the man and his 
 habits. There was another obstacle ! Not 
 living in the house, I was obliged to find an 
 excuse for being constantly on the spot, ready 
 to take advantage of his lordship's leisure 
 moments for conversation. I sat down in 
 this room, and I said to myself, ' Before I 
 get up again, I mean to brush these imper- 
 tinent obstacles out of my way ! ' The state 
 of the books suggested the idea of which I 
 was in search. Before I left the house, I was 
 charged with the re-arrangement of the 
 library. From that moment I came and 
 went as often as I liked. Whenever Lord
 
 144 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Loring was disposed for a little talk, there I 
 was, to lead the talk in the right direction. 
 And what is the result ? On the first occa- 
 sion when Eomayne presents himself, I can 
 place you in a position to become his daily 
 companion. All due, Arthur, in the first 
 instance, to my impatience of obstacles. 
 Amusing, isn't it ? ' 
 
 Penrose was perhaps deficient in the 
 sense of humour. Instead of being amused, 
 he appeared to be anxious for more informa- 
 tion. 
 
 'In what capacity am I to be Mr. 
 Komayne's companion ? ' he asked. 
 
 Father Benwell poured himself out 
 another cup of cofiee. 
 
 ' Suppose I tell you first,' he suggested, 
 ' how circumstances present Eomayne to 
 us as a promising subject for conversion.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 145 
 
 He is young ; still a single man ; not com- 
 promised by any illicit connection ; romantic, 
 sensitive, liighly cultivated. No near rela- 
 tions are alive to influence him ; and, to my 
 certain knowledge, his estate is not entailed. 
 He has devoted himself for years past to 
 books, and is collecting materials for a work 
 of immense research, on the Origin of 
 Eeligions. Some great sorrow or remorse — 
 Lord Loring did not mention what it was — 
 has told seriously on his nervous system, 
 already injured by night study. Add to this, 
 that he is now within our reach. He has 
 lately returned to London, and is living quite 
 alone at a private hotel. For some reason 
 which I am not acquainted with, he keeps 
 away from Yange Abbey — the very place, 
 as I should have thought, for a studious 
 man.' 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Penrose began to be interested. ' Have 
 you been to the Abbey ? ' lie said. 
 
 ' I made a little excursion to that part of. 
 Yorkshire, Arthur, not long since. A very 
 pleasant trip — apart from the painful associa- 
 tions connected with the ruin and profanation 
 of a sacred place. There is no doubt about 
 the revenues. I know the value of that pro- 
 ductive part of the estate which stretches 
 southward, away from the barren region 
 round the house. Let us return for a moment 
 to Eomayne, and to your position as his 
 future companion. He has had his books sent 
 to him from Yange, and has persuaded him- 
 self that continued study is the one remedy 
 for his troubles, whatever they may be. At 
 Lord Loring's suggestion, a consultation of 
 physicians was held on his case the other 
 day.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 147 
 
 ' Is he SO ill as that ! * Penrose ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 ' So it appears,' Father Benwell replied. 
 ' Lord Loring is mysteriously silent about the 
 illness. One result of the consultation I ex- 
 tracted from him, in which you are interested. 
 The doctors protested against his employing 
 himself on his proposed work. He was too 
 obstinate to listen to them. There was but 
 one concession that they could gain from him 
 • — he consented to spare himself, in some 
 small degree, by employing an amanuensis. 
 It was left to Lord Loring to find the man. 
 I was consulted by his lordship ; I was even 
 invited to undertake the duty myself. Each 
 one in his proper sphere, my son ! The 
 person Avho converts Eomayne must be young 
 enough and pliable enough to be his friend 
 and companion. Your part is there, Arthur 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 — you are the future amanuensis. How does 
 the prospect strike you now ? * 
 
 'I beg your pardon, Father! I fear I 
 am unworthy of the confidence which is 
 placed in me/ 
 
 ' In what way ? ' 
 
 Penrose answered w^ith unfeigned humi- 
 lity. 
 
 ' I am afraid I may fail to justify your 
 behef in me,' he said, ' unless I can really 
 feel that I am converting Mr. Eomayne for 
 his own soul's sake. However righteous the 
 cause may be, I cannot find, in the restitution 
 of the Church property, a sufficient motive 
 for persuading him to change his religious 
 faith. There is something so serious in the 
 responsibility wdiich you lay on me, that I 
 shall sink under the burden unless my whole 
 heart is in the work. If I feel attracted
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 149 
 
 towards Mr. Eomayne when I first see him ; 
 if he wins upon me, httle by little, until I love 
 him like a brother — then, indeed, I can 
 promise that his conversion shall be the 
 dearest object of my life. But if there is not 
 this intimate sympathy between us — forgive 
 me if I say it plainly — I implore you to pass 
 me over, and to commit the task to the hands 
 of another man.' 
 
 His voice trembled ; his eyes moistened. 
 Father Benwell handled his young friend's 
 rising emotion with the dexterity of a skilled 
 angler humouring the struggles of a hvely 
 fish. 
 
 ' Good Arthur ! ' he said. ' I see much 
 — too much, dear boy — of self-seeking people. 
 It is as refreshing to me to hear you, as a 
 draught of water to a thirsty man. At the 
 same time, let me suggest that you are
 
 I50 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 innocently raising difficulties, where no diffi- 
 culties exist. I have already mentioned as one 
 of the necessities of the case that you and 
 Eomayne should be friends. How can that 
 be, unless there is precisely that sympathy 
 between you which you have so well de- 
 scribed ? I am a sanguine man, and I 
 beheve you will hke each other. Wait till 
 you see him.' 
 
 As the words passed his li^^s, the door 
 that led to the picture gallery was opened. 
 Lord Loring entered the hbrary. 
 
 He looked quickly round him — ap- 
 parently in search of some person who 
 might, perhaps, be found in the room. A 
 shade of annoyance showed itself in his face, 
 and disappeared again, as he bowed to the 
 two Jesuits. 
 
 ' Don't let me disturb you,' he said,
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 151 
 
 looking at Penrose. 'Is tliis the gentleman 
 who is to assist Mr. Eomayne .^ ' 
 
 Father Eenwell presented his young 
 friend. ' Arthur Penrose, my lord. I 
 ventured to suggest that he should call here 
 to-day, in case you wished to put any 
 questions to him.' 
 
 ' Quite needless, after your recommenda- 
 tion,' Lord Loring answered, graciously. 
 ' Mr. Penrose could not have come here at a 
 more appropriate time. As it happens, Mr 
 Eomayne has paid us a visit to-day — he is 
 now in the picture gallery.' 
 
 The priests looked at each other. Lord 
 Loring left them as lie spoke. He walked 
 to the opposite door of the library — opened 
 it — glanced round the hall, and at the stairs 
 — and returned again, with the passing ex- 
 pression of annoyance visible once more.
 
 152 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 ' Come with me to the gallery, gentlemen/ 
 he said ; ' I shall be happy to introduce you 
 to Mr. Eomayne.' 
 
 Penrose accepted the proposal. Father 
 Benwell pointed with a smile to the books 
 scattered about him. * With permission, 
 I will follow your lordship,' he said. 
 
 ' Who was my lord looking for .^ ' That 
 was the question in Father Benwell's mind, 
 while he put some of the books away on 
 the shelves, and collected the scattered 
 papers on the table, relating to his corre- 
 spondence with Eome. It had become a 
 habit of liis life to be suspicious of any 
 circumstances occurrinc^ within his ran^^^e of 
 observation, for which he was unable to 
 account. He midit have felt some stronc^er 
 emotion, on this occasion, if lie liad known 
 that the conspiracy in the library to con-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 153 
 
 vert Komayne was matched by the con- 
 spiracy in the picture gallery to marry him. 
 
 Lady Loring's narrative of the conver- 
 sation which had taken place between 
 Stella and herself had encouraged her 
 husband to try his proposed experiment 
 without delay. ' I shall send a letter at 
 once to Eomayne's hotel,' he said. 
 
 ' Inviting him to come here to-day ? ' 
 her ladyship inquired. 
 
 ' Yes. I shall say I particularly wish to 
 consult him about a ["picture. Are we to 
 prepare Stella to see him .^ or would it be 
 better to let the meeting take her by 
 surprise ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not ! ' said Lady Loring. 
 ' With her sensitive disposition, I am afraid 
 of taking Stella by surprise. Let me only
 
 154 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 tell her that Eomayne is the original of her 
 portrait, and that he is likely to call on you 
 to see the picture to-day — and leave the rest 
 to me.' 
 
 Lady Loring's suggestion was immedi- 
 ately carried out. In the first fervour of her 
 agitation, Stella had declared that her 
 courage was not equal to a meeting with 
 Eomayne on that day. Becoming more 
 composed, she yielded to Lady Loring's per- 
 suasion so far as to promise that she would 
 at least make the attempt to follow her 
 friend to the gallery. ' If I go down with 
 you,' she said, 'it will look as if we had 
 arranged the thing between us. I can't bear 
 even to think of that. Let me look in by 
 myself, as if it was by accident.' Consenting 
 to this arrangement, Lady Loring had pro- 
 ceeded alone to the gallery, when Eomayne's
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 155 
 
 visit was announced. The minutes passed, 
 and Stella did not appear. It was quite 
 possible that she might shrink from openly 
 presenting herself at the main entrance to 
 the gallery, and might prefer — especially if 
 she was not aware of the priest's presence in 
 the room — to slip in quietly by the library 
 door. Failing to find her, on putting this 
 idea to the test, Lord Loring had discovered 
 Penrose, and had so hastened the introduc- 
 tion of the younger of the two Jesuits to 
 Eomayne. 
 
 Having gathered his papers together, 
 Father Ben well crossed the library to the 
 deep bow-window which lighted the room, 
 and opened his despatch-box, standing on a 
 small table in the recess. Placed in this 
 position, he was invisible to any person
 
 156 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 entering the room by the hall door. He 
 had secured his papers in the despatch-box, 
 and had just closed and locked it, when he 
 heard the door cautiously opened. 
 
 The instant afterwards the rusthng of a 
 woman's dress over the carpet caught his ear. 
 Other men might have walked out of the 
 recess and shown themselves. Father Ben- 
 well stayed where he was, and waited until 
 the lady crossed his range of view. 
 
 The priest observed with cold attention 
 her darkly -beautiful eyes and hair, her 
 quickly-changing colour, her modest grace 
 of movement. Slowly, and in evident agi- 
 tation, she advanced to the door of the 
 picture gallery — and paused, as if she was 
 afraid to open it. Father Benwell heard her 
 sigh to herself softly, ' Oh, how shall I meet 
 him ? ' She turned aside to the looking-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 157 
 
 glass over the fire-place. The reflection of 
 her charming face seemed to rouse her 
 courage. She retraced her steps, and timidly 
 opened the door. Lord Loring must have 
 been close by at the moment. His voice 
 immediately made itself heard in the library. 
 
 ' Come in, Stella — come in ! Here is a 
 new picture for you to see; and a friend 
 whom I want to present to you, who must 
 be your friend too — Mr. Lewis Eomayne.' 
 
 The door was closed again. Father 
 Benwell stood still as a statue in the recess, 
 with his head down, deep in thought. After 
 awhile he roused himself, and rapidly re- 
 turned to the writing table. With a rough- 
 ness strangely unlike his customary delibera- 
 tion of movement, he snatched a sheet of 
 paper out of the case, and, frowning heavily, 
 wrote these hues on it : — ' Since my letter
 
 158 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 was sealed, I have made a discovery which 
 must be communicated without the loss of 
 a post. I greatly fear there may be a 
 woman in our way. Trust me to combat 
 this obstacle as I have combated other ob- 
 stacles. In the meantime, the work goes 
 on. Penrose has received his first instruc- 
 tions, and has to-day been presented to 
 Eomayne.' 
 
 He addressed this letter to Eome, as he 
 had addressed the letter preceding it. 'Now 
 for the woman ! ' he said to himself — and 
 opened the door of the picture gallery.
 
 7 HE BLACK ROBE. 159 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 FATHER BENWELL HITS. 
 
 Art has its trials as well as its triumphs. It 
 is powerless to assert itself against the sordid 
 interests of everyday life. The greatest 
 book ever written, the finest picture ever 
 painted, appeals in vain to minds pre- 
 occupied by selfish and secret cares. On 
 entering Lord Loring's gallery, Father Ben- 
 weU found but one person who was not 
 looking at the pictures under false pretences. 
 Innocent of all suspicion of the conflict- 
 ing interests whose struggle now centred in 
 himself, Eomayne was carefuUy studying the 
 picture which had been made the pretext for
 
 l6o THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 inviting him to the house. He had bowed 
 to Stella, with a tranquil admiration of her 
 beauty ; he had shaken hands with Pen- 
 rose, and had said some kind words to his 
 future secretary — and then he had turned to 
 the picture, as if Stella and Penrose had 
 ceased from that moment to occupy his 
 mind. 
 
 ' In your place,' he said quietly to Lord 
 Loring, ' I should not buy this work.' 
 
 * Why not?' 
 
 'It seems to me to have the serious 
 defect of the modern English school of 
 painting. A total want of thought in the 
 rendering of the subject, disguised under 
 dexterous technical tricks of the brush. 
 When you have seen one of that man's 
 pictures, you have seen all. He manufac- 
 tures — he doesn't paint.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. i6r 
 
 Father Ben well came in while Eomayne 
 was speaking. He went through the cere- 
 monies of introduction to the master of 
 Vange Abbey with perfect politeness, but a 
 little absently. His mind was bent on 
 putting his suspicion of Stella to the test of 
 confirmation. Kot waiting to be presented, 
 he turned to her with the air of fatherly 
 interest and chastened admiration which he 
 well knew how to assume in his intercourse 
 with women. 
 
 ' May I ask if you agree with Mr. Eo- 
 mayne's estimate of the picture ? ' he said, in 
 his gentlest tones. 
 
 She had heard of him, and of his position 
 in the house. It was quite needless for 
 Lady Loring to whisper to her, ' Fathei 
 Benwell, my dear I ' Her antipathy identi- 
 fied him as readily as her sympathy might 
 
 YOL. I. M
 
 i62. THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 have identified a man ^vho liad produced a 
 favourable impression on her. ' I have no 
 pretension to be a critic,' she answered, witli 
 frigid politeness. ' I only know what I per- 
 sonally like or dislike.' 
 
 The reply exactly answered Father Ben- 
 well's purpose. It diverted Eomayne's 
 attention from the picture to Stella. The 
 priest had secured his opportunity of read- 
 ing their faces while they were looking at 
 each other. 
 
 ' I think you have just stated the true 
 motive for all criticism,' Eomayne said 
 to Stella. ' Whether we only express our 
 opinions of pictures or books in the course 
 of conversation, or -whether we assert them 
 at full length, with all the authority of print, 
 we are really speaking, in either case, of 
 what personally pleases or repels us. My
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 163 
 
 poor opinion of tliat picture means that it 
 says nothing to Me. Does it say anything 
 to You?' 
 
 He smiled gently as he put the question 
 to her, but there was no betrayal of emo- 
 tion in his eyes or in his voice. Eelieved of 
 anxiety, so far as Eomayne was concerned, 
 Father Benwell looked at Stella. 
 
 Steadily as she controlled herself, the 
 confession of her heart's secret found its way 
 into her face. The coldly-composed expres- 
 sion which had confronted the priest when she 
 spoke to him, melted away softly under the 
 influence of Eomayne's voice and Eomayne 's 
 look. Without any positive change of colour, 
 her delicate skin glowed faintly, as if it felt 
 some animating inner warmth. Her eyes 
 and lips brightened with a new vitality ; 
 her frail elegant figure seemed insensibly to 
 
 3C 2
 
 1 64 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 strengthen and expand, like the leaf of a flower 
 under a favouring sunny air. When she 
 answered Eomayne (agreeing with him, it is 
 needless to say), there was a tender persua- 
 siveness in her tones, shyly inviting him still 
 to speak to her and still to look at her, 
 which would in itself have told Father Ben- 
 well the truth, even if he had not been in a 
 position to see her face. Confirmed in his 
 doubts of her, he looked, with concealed 
 suspicion, at Lady Loring next. Sympathy 
 with Stella was undisguisedly expressed to 
 him in the honest blue eyes of Stella's 
 faithful friend. 
 
 The discussion on the subject of the 
 unfortunate picture was resumed by Lord 
 Loring, who thought the opinions of Eo- 
 mayne and Stella needlessly severe. Lady 
 Loring, as usual, agreed with her husband.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 165 
 
 While the general attention was occupied in 
 this way, Father Benwell said a word to 
 Penrose — thus far, a silent listener to the 
 discourse on Art. 
 
 ' Have you seen the famous portrait of 
 the first Lady Loring, by Gainsborough ? ' 
 he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he 
 took Penrose by the arm, and led him away 
 to the picture — which had the additional 
 merit, under present circumstances, of hang- 
 ing at the other end of the gallery. 
 
 ' How do you like Eomayne ? ' Father 
 Benwell put the question in low peremptory 
 tones, evidently impatient for a reply. 
 
 * He interests me already,' said Penrose. 
 ' He looks so ill and so sad, and he spoke to 
 me so kindly ' 
 
 'In short,' Father Benwell interposed, 
 ' Eomayne has produced a favourable im-
 
 1 66 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 pression on you. Let us get on to the next 
 tiling. You must produce a favourable im- 
 pression on Eomayne.' 
 
 Penrose siglied. ' Witli the best will to 
 make myself agreeable to people whom I 
 like,' he said, ' I don't always succeed. 
 They used to tell me at Oxford that I was 
 shy — and 1 am afraid that is against me. I 
 wish I possessed some of your social advan- 
 tages, Father ! ' 
 
 ' Leave it to ]ne, son ! Are they still 
 talking about the picture ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' I have something more to say to you. 
 Have you noticed the young lady ? ' 
 
 ' I thought her beautiful — but she looks 
 a little cold.' 
 
 Father Ben well smiled. ' When you are 
 as old as I am,' he said, 'you will not believe
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 167 
 
 in appearances where women are concerned. 
 Do you know what / think of her ? Beau- 
 tiful, if you hke — and dangerous as well.' 
 
 ' Dangerous ! In what way ? ' 
 
 'This is for j^our private ear, Arthiu*. 
 She is in love with Eomayne. Wait a 
 minute ! And Lady Loring — unless I am 
 entirely mistaken in what I observed — 
 knows it and , favours it. The beautiful 
 Stella may be the destruction of all our 
 hopes, unless we keep Eomayne out of her 
 way.' 
 
 These words were whispered with an 
 earnestness and agitation which surprised 
 Penrose. His superior's equanimity was not 
 easily overthrown. ' Are you sure, Father, 
 of what you say ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' I am quite sure — or I sliould not have 
 spoken.'
 
 i68 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 ' Do you think i. .r Komayne returns the 
 feeling ? ' 
 
 ' Not yet, luckily. You must use your 
 first friendly influence over him — what is 
 her name ? Her surname, I mean.' 
 
 ' Eyrecourt. Miss Stella Eyrecourt.' 
 
 ' Very well. You must use your influ- 
 ence (when you are quite sure that it is an 
 influence) to keep Mr. Eomayne away from 
 Miss Eyrecourt/ 
 
 Penrose looked embarrassed. ' I am 
 afraid I should hardly know how to do that,' 
 he said. ' But I should naturally, as his 
 assistant, encourage him to keep to his 
 studies.' 
 
 Whatever Arthur's superior might pri- 
 vately think of Arthur's reply, he received it 
 wdth outward indulgence. ' That will come 
 to the same thing,' he said. ' Besides, when
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 169 
 
 I get the information I ^%nt — this is strictly 
 between ourselves- — I may be of some use in 
 placing obstacles in the lady's way.' 
 
 Penrose started. ' Information ! ' he 
 repeated. ' What information? ' 
 
 ' Tell me something before I answer you,' 
 said Father Benwell. ' How old do you 
 take Miss Eyrecourt to be ? ' 
 
 ' I am not a good judge in such matters. 
 Between twenty and twenty-five, perhaps?' 
 
 ' We will take her age at that estimate, 
 Arthur. In former years, I have had 
 opportunities of studying women's cha- 
 racters in the confessional. Can you guess 
 what my experience tells me of Miss Eyre- 
 court?' 
 
 ' No, indeed ! ' 
 
 ' A lady is not in love for the first time 
 when she is between twenty and twenty-
 
 I70 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 five years old — that is my experience,' said 
 Father Benwell. 'If I can find a person 
 capable of informing me, I may make some 
 valuable discoveries in the earlier history 
 of Miss Eyrecoml's life. No more, now. 
 We had better return to our friends.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 171 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 FATHER BENWELL MISSES. 
 
 The group before the picture which had 
 been the subject of dispute was broken up. 
 In one part of the gallery, Lady Loring and 
 Stella were whispering together on a sofa. 
 In another part, Lord Loring was speaking 
 privately to Eomayne. 
 
 'Do you think you will like Mr. Pen- 
 rose ? ' his lordship asked. 
 
 ' Yes — so far as I can tell at present. 
 He seems to be modest and intelligent.' 
 
 ' You are looking ill, my dear Eomayne. 
 Have you again heard the voice that haunts 
 you ? '
 
 172 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Eomayne answered with evident re- 
 luctance. ' I don't know why,' he said — 
 ' but the dread of hearing it again has 
 oppressed me all this morning. To tell you 
 the truth, I came here in the hope that the 
 change might relieve me.' 
 
 ' Has it done so ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — thus far.' 
 
 ' Doesn't that suggest, my friend, that a 
 greater change might be of use to you ? ' 
 
 ' Don't ask me about it, Loring ! I can 
 go through my ordeal — but I liate speaking 
 of it.' 
 
 'Let us speak of something else tlien,' 
 said Lord Loring. ' What do you think of 
 Miss Eyrecourt ? ' 
 
 ' A very striking flice ; full of expression 
 and character. Leonardo would have 
 painted a noble portrait of lier. But there
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 17s 
 
 is something iu her manner ' He 
 
 stopped, imwilhng or unable to finish the 
 sentence. 
 
 ' Something you don't like ? ' Lord 
 Loring suggested. 
 
 ' No ; something I don't quite under- 
 stand. One doesn't expect to find any 
 embarrassment in the manner of a v/ell- 
 bred woman. And yet she seemed to be 
 embarrassed when she spoke to me. 
 Perhaps I produced an unfortunate impres- 
 sion on her.' 
 
 Lord Loring laughed. ' In any man but 
 you, Eomayne, I should call that affecta- 
 tion.* 
 
 ' Why ? ' Eomayne asked sharply. 
 
 Lord Loring looked unfeignedly 
 surprised. ' My dear fellow, do you really 
 think you are the sort of man who impresses
 
 174 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 a woman unfavourably at first siglit ? For 
 once in your life, indulge in the amiable 
 ■weakness of doing yourself justice — and 
 find a better reason for Miss Eyrecourt's 
 embarrassment.' 
 
 For the first time since he and his friend 
 had been talking together, Komayne turned 
 towards Stella. He innocently caught her 
 in the act of looldng at him. A younger 
 w^oman, or a woman of weaker character, 
 w^ould have looked away again. Stella's 
 noble head drooped ; her eyes sank slowly, 
 until they rested on her long w^hite hands 
 crossed upon her lap. For a moment more 
 Eomayne looked at her with steady attention. 
 He roused himself, and spoke to Lord Loring 
 in lowered tones. 
 
 ' Have you known Miss Eyrecourt for a 
 long tune ? ' 
 
 I
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 175 
 
 'She is my wife's oldest and dearest 
 friend. I think, Eomayne, you would feel 
 interested in Stella, if you saw more of her.' 
 
 Eomayne bowed in silent submission to 
 Lord Loring's prophetic remark. 'Let us 
 look at the pictures,' he said quietly. 
 
 As he moved down the gallery, the two 
 priests met him. Father Benwell saw his 
 opportunity of helping Penrose to produce a 
 favourable impression. 
 
 ' Forgive the curiosity of an old student, 
 Mr. Eomayne,' he said in his pleasant 
 cheerful way. 'Lord Loring tells me you 
 have sent to the country for your books. 
 Do you find a London hotel favourable to 
 study?' 
 
 ' It is a very quiet hotel,' Eomayne 
 answered ; ' and the people know my ways.' 
 He turned to Arthur. ' I have my own set
 
 176 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 of rooms, Mr. Penrose,' he continued — ' with 
 a room at your disposal. I used to enjoy 
 the sohtude of my house in the country. 
 My tastes have lately changed — there are 
 times now when I want to see the life in 
 the streets, as a relief Though we are in 
 an hotel, I can promise that you will not be 
 troubled by interruptions, when you kindly 
 lend me the use of your pen.' 
 
 Father Ben well answered before Penrose 
 could speak. ' You may perhaps find my 
 young friend's memory of some use to you, 
 Mr. Eomayne, as well as his pen. Penrose 
 has studied in the Vatican Library. If your 
 reading leads you that way, he knows more 
 than most men of the rare old manuscripts 
 which treat of the early history of Chris- 
 tianity.' 
 
 This delicately managed reference to the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 177 
 
 projected work on ' The Origin of Eeligions ' 
 produced its effect. 
 
 ' I should hke very much, Mr. Penrose, 
 to speak to you about those manuscripts,' 
 Eomayne said. ' Copies of some of them 
 may perhaps be in the British Museum. Is 
 it asking too much to inquire if you are dis- 
 engaged this morning .^ ' 
 
 'I am entirely at your service, Mr. 
 Eomayne.' 
 
 ' If you will kindly call at my hotel in 
 an hour's time, I shall have looked over my 
 notes, and shall be ready for you with a Hst 
 of titles and dates. There is the address.' 
 
 With those words, he advanced to take 
 his leave of Lady Loring and Stella. 
 
 Father Benwell was a man possessed of 
 extraordinary power of foresight — but he 
 was not infallible. Seeiug that Eomayne 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 was on tbe. point of leaving the house, and 
 feeling that he had paved the way success- 
 fully for Eomayne's amanuensis, he too 
 readily assumed that there was nothing- 
 further to be gained by remaining in the 
 gallery. Moreover, the interval before Pen- 
 rose called at the hotel might be usefull}^ 
 filled up by some wise words of advice, 
 relating to the religious uses to which he 
 might turn his intercourse with his employer. 
 Making one of his ready and j)l^usible 
 excuses, he accordingly returned with Pen- 
 rose to the library — and so committed (as 
 he himself discovered at a later time) one of 
 the few mistakes in tlie long record of his 
 life. 
 
 In the meanwliile, Eomaync was not 
 permitted to bring his visit to a conclusion 
 without hospitable remonstrance on the pai't
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 179 
 
 of Lady Loring. She felt for Stella, with a 
 woman's enthusiastic devotion to the in- 
 terests of true love ; and she had firmly 
 resolved that a matter so trifling as the 
 cultivation of Eomayne's mind should not 
 be allowed to stand in the way of the far 
 more important enterprise of opening his 
 heart to the influence of the sex. 
 
 ' Stay, and lunch with us,' she said, 
 when he held out his hand to bid her good- 
 bye. 
 
 ' Thank you, Lady Loring, I never take 
 lunch.' 
 
 ' Well, then, come and dine with us — no 
 party : only ourselves. To-morrow, and 
 next day, we are disengaged. Which day 
 shall it be ? ' 
 
 Eomayne still resisted. ' You are very 
 kind. In my state of health, I am unwilling 
 X 2
 
 i8o THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 to make engagements which I may not be 
 able to keep.' 
 
 Lady Loring was just as resolute on her 
 side. She appealed to Stella. ' Mr. Eo- 
 mayne persists, my dear, in putting me off 
 with excuses. Try if you can persuade him.' 
 
 ' / am not likely to have any influence, 
 Adelaide.' 
 
 The tone in which she replied struck 
 Eomayne. He looked at her. Her eyes, 
 gravely meeting his eyes, held him with a 
 strange fascination. She was not herself 
 conscious how openly all that was noble and 
 true in her nature, all that was most deeply 
 and sensitively felt in her aspirations, spoke 
 at that moment in her look. Eomayne's 
 face changed : he turned pale under the new 
 emotion that she liad roused in him. Lady 
 Loring observed him attentively.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. i8i 
 
 ' Perhaps you underrate your influence, 
 Stella ? ' she suggested. 
 
 Stella remained impenetrable to persua- 
 sion. ' I have only been introduced to Mr. 
 Komayne half an hour since/ she said. ' I 
 am not vain enough to suppose that I can 
 produce a favourable impression on anyone 
 in so short a time.' 
 
 She had expressed, in other words, 
 Eomayne's own idea of himself, in speaking 
 of her to Lord Loring. He was struck by 
 the coincidence. 
 
 'Perhaps we have begun, Miss Eyre- 
 court, by misinterpreting one another,' he 
 said. ' We may arrive at a better under- 
 standing when I have the honour of meeting 
 you again.' 
 
 He hesitated, and looked at Lady Loring. 
 She was not the woman to let a fair oppor-
 
 i82 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 tunity escape her. ' We will say to-morrow 
 evening,' slie resumed, ' at seven o'clock.' 
 
 ' To-morrow,' said Eomayne. He shook 
 hands with Stella, and left the picture gallery. 
 
 Thus far, the conspiracy to marry him 
 promised even more hopefully than the 
 conspiracy to convert him. And Father 
 Benwell, carefully instructing Penrose in the 
 next room, was not aware of it ! 
 
 But the hours, in their progress, mark 
 the march of events as surely as they mark 
 the march of time. The day passed, the 
 evening came — and, with its coming, the 
 prospects of the conversion brightened in 
 their turn. 
 
 Let Father Bemvell himself relate how it 
 happened — in an extract from his report to 
 Rome, written the same evening.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 183 
 
 '. . . . I had arrauo'ed with Penrose 
 that he should call at my lodgings, and tell 
 me how he had prospered at the first per- 
 formance of his duties as secretary to Eo- 
 mayne. 
 
 ' The moment he entered the room, the 
 signs of disturbance in his face told me that 
 something serious had happened. I asked 
 directly if there had been any disagreement 
 between Eomayne and himself. 
 
 'He repeated the word with every 
 appearance of surprise. " Disagreement ? " 
 he said. " No words can tell how sincerely 
 I feel for Mr. Eomayne. I cannot express 
 to you, Father, how eager I am to be of 
 service to him ! " 
 
 ' Eelieved so far, I naturally asked what 
 had happened. Penrose betrayed a marked 
 embarrassment in answering my question.
 
 i84 THE BLACK RODE. 
 
 ' " I have innocently surprised a secret," 
 he said, " on which I had no right to intrude. 
 All that I can honourably tell you, shall be 
 told. Add one more to your many kindnesses 
 — don't command me to speak, when it 
 is my duty towards a sorely- tried man to be 
 silent, even to you." 
 
 'It is needless to say that I abstained 
 from directly answering this strange appeal. 
 " Let me hear what you can tell," I replied, 
 " and then we shall see." 
 
 ' Upon this, he spoke. I need hardly 
 recall to your memory how careful we were, 
 in first planning the attempt to recover the 
 Vange property, to assure ourselves of the 
 promise of success which the peculiar 
 character of the present owner held out to 
 us. In reporting what Penrose said, I 
 communicate a discovery, Avhicli I venture to
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 185 
 
 think will be as welcome to you, as it was 
 to me. 
 
 ' He began by reminding me of what I 
 had myself told him in speaking of Eo- 
 mayne. " You mentioned having heard 
 from Lord Loring of a great sorrow or 
 remorse from which he was suffering," 
 Penrose said. " I know what he suffers 
 and why he suffers, and with what noble 
 resignation he submits to his affliction. We 
 were sitting together at the table, looking 
 over his notes and memoranda, when he 
 suddenly dropped the manuscript from 
 which he was reading to me. A gliastly 
 paleness overspread his face. He started 
 up, and put both his hands to his ears as if 
 he heard something dreadful, and was try- 
 ing to deafen himself to it. I ran to the 
 door to call for help. He stopped me ;
 
 i86 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 lie spoke in faint gasping tones, forbidding 
 me to call anyone in to witness what lie 
 suffered. It was not the first time, 
 he said ; it would soon be over. If I had 
 not courage to remain with him I could go, 
 and return when he was himself again. 
 I so pitied him that I found the courage 
 to remain. When it was over he took me 
 by the hand, and thanked me. I had 
 stayed by him like a fiiend, he said, and 
 like a friend he would treat me. Sooner or 
 later (those were his exact words) I must 
 be taken into his confidence — and it should 
 be now. He told me his melancholy story. 
 I implore you, Father, don't ask me to 
 repeat it ! Be content if I tell you the 
 effect of it on myself Tlie one hope, the one 
 consolation for him, is in our holy religion. 
 With all my lieart I devote myself to his
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 187 
 
 conversion — and, in my inmost soul, I feel 
 tlie conviction that I shall succeed ! " 
 
 ' To this effect, and in this tone, Penrose 
 spoke. I abstained from pressing him to 
 reveal Eomayne's confession. The con- 
 fession is of no consequence to us. You 
 know how the moral force of Arthur's 
 earnestness and enthusiasm fortifies his 
 otherwise weak character. I, too, believe 
 he will succeed. 
 
 'To turn for a moment to another 
 subject. You are already informed that 
 there is a woman in our way. I have my 
 own idea of the right method of deahng 
 with this obstacle when it shows itself more 
 plainly. For the present, I need only assure 
 you that neither this woman nor any woman 
 shall succeed in her designs on Eomayne, if 
 can prevent it.'
 
 1 88 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Having completed his report in these 
 terms, Father Benwell reverted to the con- 
 sideration of his proposed inquiries into the 
 past history of SteHa's hfe. 
 
 Eeflection convinced him that it would be 
 unwise to attempt, no matter how guardedly, 
 to obtain the necessary information from 
 Lord Loring or his wife. If he assumed, at 
 his age, to take a strong interest in a Pro- 
 testant young lady, who had notoriously 
 avoided him, they would certainly feel sur- 
 prise — and surprise might, in due course of 
 development, turn to suspicion. 
 
 There was but one other person under 
 Lord Loring's roof, to whom he could address 
 himself — and that person was the house- 
 keeper. As an old servant, possessing Lady 
 Loring's confidence, she might prove a source 
 of information on the subject of Lady Loring's
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 189 
 
 fair friend ; and, as a good Catliolic, she 
 would feel flattered by the notice of the 
 spiritual director of the household. 
 
 'It may not be amiss,' thought Father 
 Benwell, ' if I try the housekeeper.'
 
 I90 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE ORDER OF THE DISHES. 
 
 Whex Miss Xotman assumed the post of 
 housekeeper m Lady Loring's service, she was 
 accurately described as ' a competent and 
 respectable person ; ' and was praised, with 
 perfect truth, for her incorruptible devotion 
 to the interests of her employers. On its 
 weaker side, her character was represented 
 by the wearing of a youthful wig, and the 
 erroneous conviction that she still possessed 
 a fine fiQ;ure. The rulinj:^ idea in lier narrow 
 little mind was the idea of her own dignity. 
 Any offence offered in this direction oppressed 
 her memory for days together, and found
 
 7 HE BLACK ROBE. 191 
 
 its way outwards in speech to any human 
 being whose attention she could secure. 
 
 At five o'clock, on the day which fol- 
 lowed his introduction to Eomayne, Father 
 Benwell sat drinking his coffee in the house- 
 keeper's room — to all appearance as much at 
 his ease as if he had known Miss ISTotman 
 from the remote days of her childhood. A 
 new contribution to the housekeeper's little 
 library of devotional works lay on the table, 
 and bore silent witness to the means by 
 which he had made those first advances 
 which had won him his present position. 
 Miss Notman's sense of dignity was doubly 
 flattered. She had a priest for l}er guest, 
 and a new book with the reverend gentle- 
 man's autograph inscribed on the title-page. 
 ' Is your coffee to your liking, Father ? ' 
 ' A little more sugar, if you please.'
 
 192 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 Miss Notman was proud of her hand, 
 viewed as one of the meritorious details of 
 her figure. She took up the sugar-tongs 
 with suavity and gi^ace ; she dropped the 
 sugar into the cup with a youthful pleasure 
 in ministerinor to the minor desires of her 
 illustrious guest. 'It is so good of you, 
 Father, to honour me in this way,' she said 
 — with tlie appearance of sixteen super- 
 induced upon the reality of sixty. 
 
 Father Benwell was an adept at moral 
 disguises of all kinds. On this occasion he 
 wore the disguise of pastoral simplicity. ' I 
 am an idle old man at this hour of the after- 
 noon,' he said. ' I hope I am not keeping 
 you from any household duties .^ ' 
 
 * I generally enjoy my duties,' Miss Not- 
 man answered. ' To-day, they have not 
 been so ac^reeable as usual : it is a relief to
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 193 
 
 me to have done with them. Even my 
 humble position has its trials.* 
 
 Persons acquainted with Miss Notman s 
 character, hearing these last words, would 
 have at once changed the subject. When 
 she spoke of 'her humble position,' she 
 invariably referred to some offence offered 
 to her dignity, and she was invariably ready 
 to state the grievance at full length. Ig- 
 norant of this peculiarity, Father Benwell 
 committed a fatal error. He inquired, with 
 courteous interest, wdiat the housekeeper's 
 ' trials ' might be. 
 
 * Oh, sir, they are beneath your notice ! * 
 said Miss Notman, modestly. ' At the same 
 time, I should feel it an liouour to have the 
 benefit of your opinion — I shcu'd eo like to 
 know that you do not altogether disapprove 
 of my conduct, under some provocation. 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 You see. Father, the whole responsibihty of 
 ordering the dinners fells on me. And, 
 when there is company, as there is this 
 evening, the responsibility is particularly 
 trying to a timid person like myself.' 
 
 ' A large dinner party, Miss Notman ? ' 
 * Oh, dear, no! Quite the reverse. 
 Only one gentleman — Mr. Eomayne.' 
 
 Father Benwell set down his cup of 
 coffee, half way to his lips. He at once 
 drew the correct conclusion that the 
 invitation to Eomayne must have been 
 given and accepted after lie had left the 
 picture gallery. That the object was to 
 bring Eomayne and Stella together, under 
 circumstances which would rapidly improve 
 their acquaintance, was as plain to him as if 
 lie had heard it confessed in so many woixls. 
 If he had only remained in the gallery, he
 
 THE BLACK ROJ^E. 195 
 
 might have become acquainted with the 
 form of persuasioa used to induce a man so 
 unsocial as Eomayne to accept an invitation. 
 ' I have myself to blame,' he thouglit bit- 
 terly, ' for being left in the dark.' 
 
 ' Anything wrong with the coffee ? '' 
 Miss Notman asked anxiously. 
 
 He rushed on his fate. He said, 
 ' Nothing whatever. Pray go on.' 
 
 Miss Notman went on. 
 
 ' You see, Father, Lady Loring was un- 
 usually particular about the dinner On this 
 occasion. She said, " Lord Loring reminds 
 me that Mr. Eomayne is a very little eater, 
 and yet very difficult to please in what he 
 does eat." Of course I consulted my ex- 
 perience, and suggested exactly the sort of 
 dinner that was wanted under the circum- 
 stances. I wish to do her ladyship the
 
 196 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 utmost justice. She made no objection to 
 the dinner in itself. On the contrary, she 
 compHmented me on what slie was pleased 
 to call my ready invention. But when we 
 came next to the order in which the dishes 
 
 were to be served ' Miss Notman paused 
 
 in the middle of the sentence, and shud- 
 dered over the private and poignant re- 
 collections which the order of the dishes 
 called up. 
 
 By this time Father Ben well had dis- 
 covered his mistake. lie took a mean ad- 
 vantage of Miss jSTotman's susceptibilities 
 to shp his own private iEquiiies ir.to the 
 interval of silence." 
 
 ' Pardon my ignorance,' he said ; ' my 
 own poor dinner is a matter of ten minutes, 
 and one dish. I don't understand a differ- 
 ence of opinion on a dinner for three people
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 197 
 
 only Lord and Lady Loring, two ; Mr. 
 Eomayne, three — oli ! perhaps I am mis- 
 taken ? Perhaps Miss Eyrecourt makes a 
 fourth ? ' 
 
 * Certainly, Father ! ' 
 
 ' A very charming person, Miss Notman. 
 I only speak as a stranger. You, no doubt, 
 are much better acquainted with Miss Eyre- 
 court ? ' 
 
 ' Much better, indeed — if I may presume 
 to say so,' Miss Notman replied. ' She is 
 my lady's intimate friend ; we have often 
 talked of Miss Eyrecourt during the many 
 years of my residence in this house. On 
 such subjects, her ladyship treats me quite 
 on the footing of an humble friend. A 
 complete contrast to the tone she took, 
 Father, when we came to the order of the 
 dishes. We agreed, of course, about the
 
 198 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 soup and the fisli ; but we had a httle, a 
 very httle, divergence of opinion, as I may 
 call it, on the subject of the dishes to follow. 
 Her ladyship said, "First the sweetbreads, 
 and then the cutlets." I ventured to suggest 
 that the sweetbreads, as white meat, had 
 better not immediately follow the turbot, as 
 white fish. ''The brown meat, my lady," I 
 said, " as an agreeable variety presented to the 
 eye, and then the wdiite meat, recalling plea- 
 sant remembrances of the white fish." You 
 see the point, Father ? ' 
 
 ' I see, Miss JSTotman, that you are a con- 
 summate mistress of an art which is quite 
 beyond poor me. Was Miss Eyrecourt 
 present at the little discussion ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! Indeed, I should have ob- 
 jected to her presence ; I sliould have said
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 199 
 
 she was a young lady out of lier proper 
 place.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; I understand. Is Miss Eyre- 
 court an only child ? ' 
 
 ' She had two sisters, Father BenwelL 
 One of them is in a convent.' 
 
 'Ah, indeed?' 
 
 ' And the other is dead.' 
 
 ' Sad for the father and mother. Miss 
 Notman ! ' 
 
 ' Pardon me, sad for the mother, no 
 doubt. The father died long since.' 
 
 ' Aye ? aye ? A sweet woman, the 
 mother? At least, I tliink I have heard so.' 
 
 Miss Notman shook her head. ' I should 
 wish to guard myself against speaking un- 
 justly of anyone,' she said ; ' but wlien you 
 talk of " a sweet woman," you imply (as it
 
 200 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 seems to me) the domestic virtues. Mrs. 
 Ejrecourt is essentially a frivolous person.* 
 
 A frivolous person is, in the vast majority 
 of cases, a person easily persuaded to talk, 
 and not disposed to be reticent in keeping 
 secrets. Father Benwell began to see his 
 way already to tlie necessary information. 
 ' Is Mrs. Eyrecourt living in London .^ ' he 
 inquired. 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no ! At this time of year 
 she lives entirely in otlier people's houses — 
 goes from one country seat to another, 
 and only thinks of amusing herself No 
 domestic qualities, Father. She would know 
 nothing of the order of the dishes ! Lady 
 Loring, I should have told you, gave way in 
 the matter of the sweetbread. It was only 
 at quite the latter part of my " Menoo " (as 
 the French call it) tliat she sliowed a spirit
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 201 
 
 of opposition well ! well ! I won't dwell 
 
 on that. I will only ask you^ Father, at 
 what part of a dinner an oyster-omelette 
 ought to be served ? ' 
 
 Father Benwell seized his opportunity of 
 discovering Mrs. Eyrecourt's present address. 
 ' My dear lady,' he said, ' I know no more 
 when the omelette ought to be served than 
 Mrs. Eyrecourt herself! It must be very 
 pleasant, to a lady of her way of thinking, 
 to enjoy the beauties of Nature inexpensively 
 — as seen in other people's houses, from the 
 point of view of a welcome guest. I wonder 
 whether she is staying at any country seat 
 which I happen to have seen ? * 
 
 *She may be in England, Scotland, or 
 Ireland, for all I know,' Miss Notman 
 answered, with an unaffected ignorance 
 which placed her good faith beyond doubt.
 
 202 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 *■ Consult your own taste, Father. After 
 eating jelly, cream, and ice-pudding, could 
 you even hole at an oyster- omelette with- 
 out shuddering ? Would you believe it ? 
 Her ladyship proposed to serve the omelette 
 with the cheese. Oysters, after sw^eets ! I 
 am not (as yet) a married woman ' 
 
 Father Benwell made a last desperate 
 effort to pave the way for one more question 
 before he submitted to defeat. ' That must 
 be xjour fault, my dear lady ! ' he interposed, 
 with his persuasive smile.' 
 
 Miss Notman simpered. ' You confuse 
 me. Father ! ' she said softl3\ 
 
 'I speak from inward conviction, Miss 
 Notman. To a looker-on, hke myself, it is 
 sad to see how many sweet women, who 
 might be angels in the households of worthy 
 men, prefer to lead a single life. The
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 203 
 
 Chiircli, I know, exalts the single life to the 
 highest place. But even the Church allows 
 exceptions to its rule. Under this roof, for 
 example, I think I see two exceptions. One 
 of them my unfeigned respect ' (he bowed to 
 Miss Notman) 'forbids me to indicate more 
 particularly. The other seems, to my humble 
 view, to be the young lady of whom we 
 have been speaking. Is it not strange that 
 Miss Eyrecourt has never been married ? ' 
 
 The trap had been elaborately set ; 
 Father Benwell had every reason to antici- 
 pate that Miss Notman would walk into it. 
 The disconcerting housekeeper walked up to 
 it — and then proved unable to advance a 
 step farther. 
 
 ' I once made the same remark myself to 
 Lady Loring,' she said. 
 
 Father BenwelFs pulse began to quicken
 
 204 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 its beat. ' Yes ? ' lie murmured, in tones of 
 the gentlest encouragement. 
 
 ' And her ladyship,' Miss Notman pro- 
 ceeded, ' did not encourage me to go on. 
 "There are reasons for not pursuing that 
 subject," she said ; " reasons into which, I am 
 sure, you will not expect me to enter." She 
 spoke with a flattering confidence in my 
 prudence, which I felt gratefully. Such a 
 contrast to her tone when the omelette pre- 
 sented itself in the order of the dishes ! As 
 I said just now, I am not a married woman. 
 But if I proposed to my husband to give 
 him an oyster-omelette after his puddings 
 and his pies, I should not be surprised if he 
 said to me, " My dear, have you taken leave 
 of your senses ? " I reminded Lady Loring 
 (most respectfully) that a cA^6?5^-omelette 
 might be in its proper place if it followed the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 205 
 
 sweets. " An oy^^^^r-omelette," I suggested, 
 " surely comes after the birds ? " I should 
 be sorry to say that her ladyship lost her 
 temper — I will only mention that I kept 
 mine. Let me repeat what she said, and 
 leave you, Father, to draw your own conclu- 
 sions. She said, " Which of us is mistress in 
 this house, Miss l!^otman ? I order the 
 oyster-omelette to come in with the cheese." 
 There was not only irritability, there was con- 
 tempt — oh, yes ! contempt in her tone. Out 
 of respect for myself, I made no reply. As 
 a Christian, I can forgive ; as a wounded 
 gentlewoman, I may not find it so easy to 
 forget.' 
 
 Miss Notman laid herself back in her 
 easy chair — she looked as if she had suffered 
 martyrdom, and only regretted having 
 been obliged to mention it. Father Benwell
 
 2o6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 surprised the wounded gentlewoman by rising 
 to Ins feet. 
 
 'You are not going away already, 
 Father?' 
 
 ' Time flies fast in your society, dear Miss 
 J^otman. I have an enixa^ement — and I am 
 late for it already.' 
 
 The housekeeper smiled sadly. ' At least 
 let me hear that you don't disapprove of my 
 conduct under trying circumstances,' she 
 said. 
 
 Father Ben well took her hand. ' A true 
 Christian only feels offences to pardon them, 
 he remarked, in his priestly and paternal 
 character. ' You have shown me, Miss 
 Notman, that ijou are a true Christian. My 
 evening has indeed been well spent. God 
 bless you ! ' 
 
 lie pressed her hand ; he shed on her
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 207 
 
 the light of his Mherly smile ; he sighed, 
 and took his leave. Miss Notman's eyes 
 followed him out with devotional admiration. 
 Father Benwell still preserved his 
 serenity of temper when he was out of the 
 housekeeper's sight. One important disco- 
 very he had made, in spite of the difficulties 
 placed in his way. A compromising circum- 
 stance had unquestionably occurred in 
 Stella's past life ; and, in all probability, a man 
 was in some way connected with it. ' My 
 evening has not been entirely thrown away,' 
 he thought, as he ascended the stairs which 
 led from the housekeeper's room to the hall.
 
 2o8 THE BLACK KOBE. 
 
 CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF STELLA. 
 
 Entering the hall, Father Ben well heard a 
 knock at the house door. The servants ap- 
 peared to recognise the knock — the porter 
 admitted Lord Loring. 
 
 Father Benwell advanced and made his 
 bow. It was a perfect obeisance of its kind 
 — respect for Lord Loring, unobtrusively 
 accompanied by respect for himself. ' Has 
 your lordship been walking in the park ? ' he 
 inquired. 
 
 ' I have been out on business/ Lord 
 Loring answered ; ' and I sliould hke to tell 
 you about it. If you can spare me a few
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. »ic9 
 
 minutes, come into the library. Some time 
 since/ he resumed, when the door was closed, 
 'I think I mentioned that my friends ^^had 
 been speaking to me on a subject of some 
 importance — the subject of opening my 
 pictiu'e gallery occasionally to the public' 
 
 'I remember,' said Father Benwell. 
 ' Has your lordship decided what to do ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. I have decided (as the phrase is) 
 to "go with the times," and follow the ex- 
 ample of other owners of picture galleries. 
 Don't suppose I ever doubted that it is my 
 duty to extend, to the best of my ability, the 
 civihsing influences of Art. My only hesita- 
 tion in the matter arose from a dread of 
 some accident happening, or some injury 
 being done, to the pictures. Even now, I 
 can only persuade myself to try the experi- 
 ment under certain restrictions. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 2IO THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' A wise decision, undoubtedly,' said 
 Father Benwell. 'In such a city as this, 
 you could hardly open your gallery to any- 
 body who happens to pass the house-door.' 
 
 ' I am glad you agree with me, Father. 
 The gallery will be opened for the first time 
 on Monday. Any respectably-dressed per- 
 son, presenting a visiting card at the offices 
 of the librarians in Bond Street and Eegent 
 Street, will receive a free ticket of admission ; 
 the number of the tickets, it is needless to 
 say, being h mi ted, and the gallery being only 
 opened to the public two days in the week. 
 You will be here, I suppose, on Monday ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly. My work in the library, as 
 your lordship can see, has only begun.' 
 
 ' I am very anxious about ihe success of 
 this experiment,' said Lord Loriiig. ' Do 
 look in at the gallery once or twice in the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 211 
 
 course of the day, and tell me what your 
 own impression is.' 
 
 Having expressed his readiness to assist 
 ' the experiment ' in every possible way, 
 Father Benwell still lingered in the library. 
 He was secretly conscious of a hope that he 
 might, at the eleventh hour, be invited to 
 join Eomayne at the dinner-table. Lord 
 Loring only looked at the clock on the 
 mantelpiece ; it was nearly time to dress for 
 dinner. The priest had no alternative but 
 to take the hint, and leave the house. 
 
 Five minutes after he had withdrawn, a 
 messenger delivered a letter for Lord Loring, 
 in which Father Benwell's interests were 
 directly involved. The letter was from 
 Eomayne ; it contained his excuses for 
 breaking his engagement, literally at an 
 hour's notice. 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 * Only yesterday,' lie wrote, ' I had a re- 
 turn of what you, my dear friend, call " the 
 delusion of the voice." The nearer the hour 
 of your dinner approaches, the more keenly 
 I fear that the same thing may happen in 
 your house. Pity me, and forgive me.' 
 
 Even good-natured Lord Loring felt 
 some difficulty in pitying and forgiving, when 
 he read these lines. ' This sort of caprice 
 might be excusable in a woman,' he thought. 
 ' A man ought really to be capable of ex- 
 ercising some self-control. Poor Stella ! 
 And what will my wife say ? ' 
 
 He walked up and down the library, 
 with Stella's disappointment and Lady 
 Loring's indignation prophetically present in 
 his mind. There was, however, no help for 
 it — he must accept his responsibility, and be 
 the bearer of the bad news.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 213 
 
 He was on the point of leaving the 
 library, when a visitor appeared. The 
 visitor was no less a person than Eomayne 
 himself. ' Have I arrived before my letter ? ' 
 he asked eagerly. 
 
 Lord Lor in g showed him the letter. 
 
 ' Throw it into the lire,' he said, ' and let 
 me try to excuse myself for having written 
 it. You remember the happier days when 
 you used to call me the creature of impulse? 
 An impulse produced that letter. Another 
 impulse brings me here to disown it. I can 
 only explain my strange conduct by asking 
 you to help me at the outset. Will you 
 carry your memory back to the day of the 
 medical consultation on my case ? I want 
 you to correct me, if I inadvertently mis- 
 represent my advisers. Two of them were 
 physicians. The third, and last, was a
 
 214 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 surgeoD, a personal friend of yours ; and lie^ 
 as well as I recollect, told you how the 
 consultation ended ? ' 
 
 ' Quite right, Eomayne — so far.' 
 
 ' The first of the two physicians,' Eo- 
 mayne proceeded, ' declared my case to be 
 entirely attributable to nervous derangement, 
 and to be curable by purely medical means. 
 I speak ignorantly ; but, in plain English, 
 that, I believe, was the substance of what he 
 said ? ' 
 
 'The substance of what he said,' Lord 
 Loring replied, ' and the substance of his 
 prescriptions — which, I think, you after- 
 wards tore up ? ' 
 
 ' If you have no faith in a prescription,' 
 said Eomayne, ' that is, in my opinion, the 
 best use to which you can put it. When it 
 came to the turn of the second physician, he
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 215 
 
 (lifTerecl with the first, as absohitely as one 
 man can differ with another. The third 
 medical authority, your friend the surgeon, 
 took a middle course, and brought the con- 
 sultation to an end by combining the first 
 physician's view and the second physician's 
 view, and mingling the two opposite forms 
 of treatment in one harmonious result ? ' 
 
 Lord Loring remarked that this was not 
 a very respectful way of describing the con- 
 clusion of the medical proceedings. That it 
 was the conclusion, however, he could not 
 honestly deny. 
 
 ' As long as I am right,' said Eomayne, 
 ' nothing else appears to be of much import- 
 ance. As I told you at the time, the 
 second physician appeared to me to be the 
 only one of the three authorities who really 
 understood my case. Do you mind giving
 
 2i6 THE BLACK RCBE, 
 
 me, in few words, your own impression of 
 what he said ? ' 
 
 ' Are you sure that I shall not distress 
 you?' 
 
 ' On the contrary, you may help me to 
 hope.' 
 
 ' As I remember it,' said Lord Loring, 
 ' the doctor did not deny the intluence of 
 the body over the mind. He was quite 
 willing to admit that the state of your 
 nervous system might be one, among other 
 
 predisposing causes, which led you 1 
 
 really hardly like to go on.' 
 
 ' Which led me,' Eomayne continued, 
 finishiug the sentence for his friend, ' to feel 
 that I never shall forgive myself — accident 
 or no accident — for having taken that man's 
 life. Now go on.' 
 
 'The delusion that you still hear the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 217 
 
 voice,' Lord Loring proceeded, ' is, in the 
 doctor's opinion, the moral result of the 
 morbid state of your mind at the time when 
 you really heard the voice on the scene of 
 the duel. The influence acts physically, of 
 course, by means of certain nerves. But it 
 is essentially a moral influence ; and its 
 power over you is greatly maintained by 
 the self-accusing view of the circumstances 
 which you persist in taking. That, in sub- 
 stance, is my recollection of what the doctor 
 said.' 
 
 ' And when he was asked what remedies 
 he proposed to try,"* Eomayne inquired, ' do 
 you remember his answer ? " The mischief 
 which moral influences have caused, moral 
 influences alone can remedy." ' 
 
 ' I remember,' said Lord Loring. ' And 
 he mentioned, as examples of what he meant.
 
 21 8 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 the occurrence of some new and absorbing 
 interest in your life, or the working of some 
 complete change in your habits of thought — 
 or perhaps some influence exercised over 
 you by a person previously unknown, 
 appearing under unforeseen circumstances, 
 or in scenes quite new to you.' 
 
 Komayne's eyes sparkled. 
 
 ' Now you are coming to it ! ' he cried. 
 ' Now I feel sure that I recall correctly 
 tlie last words the doctor said : — " If my 
 view is the right one, I should not be sur- 
 prised to hear that the recovery which we 
 all wish to see liad found its beginning in such 
 apparently trilhng circian stances as the tone 
 of some other person's voice or the influence 
 of some other person's look." That plain 
 expression of his opinion only occurred to 
 my memory after I liad written my foolish
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 219 
 
 letter of excuse. I spare you the course of 
 other recollections that followed, to come at 
 once to the result. For the first time I have 
 the hope, the faint hope, that the voice 
 which haunts me has been once already con- 
 trolled by one of the influences of which the 
 doctor spoke — the influence of a look.' 
 
 If he had said this to Lady Loring, 
 instead of to her husband, she would have 
 understood him at once. Lord Lorins^ 
 asked for a word more of explanation. ' 
 
 ' I told you yesterday,' Eomayne an- 
 swered, ' that a dread of the return of the 
 voice had been present to me all the morn- 
 ing, and that I had come to see the picture 
 with an idea of trying if change would re- 
 heve me. While I was in the gallery I was 
 free from the dread, and free from the voice. . 
 When I returned to the hotel it tortured
 
 220 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 me — and Mr. Penrose, I grieve to say, saw 
 what I suffered. You and I attributed the 
 remission to the change of scene. I now 
 believe we were both wrong. Where was 
 the change.^ In seeing you and Lady 
 Loring, I saw the two oldest friends I have. 
 In visiting your gallery, I only revived tlie 
 familiar associations of hundreds of other 
 visits. To what influence was I really in- 
 debted for my respite? Don't try to dis- 
 miss the question by laughing at my morbid 
 fancies. Morbid fancies are realities to a 
 man like me. Eemember the doctor's 
 words, Loririg. Think of a new face, seen in 
 your house ! Think of a look that searched 
 my heart for the first time ! ' 
 
 Lord Loring glanced once more at the 
 clock on the mantel-piece. The hands 
 pointed to the dinner hour.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 221 
 
 ' Miss Eyrecourt ? ' he whispered. 
 ' Yes ; Miss Eyrecourt.' 
 The library door was thrown open by a 
 servant. Stella herself entered the room.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 THE PRIEST OR THE WOMAN? 
 
 Lord Lorixg hurried away to his dressiDg- 
 room. ' I won't be more than ten minutes,' 
 he said — and left Eomayne and Stella 
 together. 
 
 She was attired with her customary love 
 of simplicity. White lace was the only 
 ornament on her dress of delicate silvery 
 grey. Her magnificent hair was left to 
 plead its own merits, without adornment of 
 any sort. Even the brooch which fastened 
 her lace pelerine vras of plain gold only. 
 Consci(nis that she was showing her beauty 
 to the greatest advantage in the eyes of a
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 223 
 
 man of taste, she betrayed a little of the em- 
 barrassment which Eomayne had already 
 noticed at the moment when she gave him 
 her hand. They were alone, and it was the 
 first time she had seen him in evening dress. 
 It may be that women have no posi- 
 tive appreciation of what is beautiful in 
 form and colour — or it may be that they 
 have no opinions of their own when the 
 laws of fashion have spoken. This at least 
 is certain, that not one of them in a thou- 
 sand sees anything objectionable in the 
 gloomy and hideous evening costume of a 
 gentleman in the nineteenth century. A 
 handsome man is, to their eyes, more seduc- 
 tive than ever in the contemptible black 
 coat and the stiff white cravat which he 
 wears in common with the servant who 
 waits on him at table. After a stolen glance
 
 224 THE BLACK RODE, 
 
 at Komayne, Stella lost all confidence in 
 herself — she began turning over the photo- 
 graphs on the table. 
 
 The momentary silence which followed 
 their first greeting became intolerable to her. 
 Eather than let it continue, she impulsively 
 confessed the uppermost idea in her mind 
 when she entered the room. 
 
 'I thought I heard my name when I 
 came in,' she said. * Were you and Lord 
 Loring speaking of me ? ' 
 
 Eomayne owned without hesitation that 
 they had been speaking of her. 
 
 She smiled, and turned over another 
 photograph. But when did sun-pictures 
 ever act as a restraint on a woman's curio- 
 sity ? The words passed her lips in spite of 
 her. 'I suppose I mustn't ask what you were 
 saying ? '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 225 
 
 It was impossible to answer this plainly 
 without entering into explanations from 
 which Eomayne shrank. He hesitated. 
 
 She turned over another photograph. ' I 
 understand,' she said. ' You were talk- 
 ing of my faults.' She paused, and stole 
 another look at him. ' 1 will try to correct 
 my faults, if you will tell me what they 
 are.' 
 
 Eomayne felt that he had no alternative 
 but to tell the truth — under certain reserves. 
 ' Indeed you are wrong,' he said. ' We 
 were talking of the influence of a tone or a 
 look on a sensitive person.' 
 
 ' The influence on Me ? ' she asked. 
 
 'No. The influence which You might 
 exercise on another person.' 
 
 She knew perfectly w^ell tliat he was 
 speaking of himself. But she was deter- 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 326 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 mined to feel the pleasure of making him 
 own it. 
 
 ' If I have any such influence as you 
 describe,' she began, 'I hope it is for 
 good ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly for good.' 
 
 'You speak positively, Mr. Eomayne. 
 Almost as positively — only that can hardly 
 be — as if you were speaking from ex- 
 perience.' 
 
 He might still have evaded a direct reply, 
 if she had been content with merely saying 
 this. But she looked at him while she spoke. 
 He answered the look. 
 
 ' Shall I own that you are right ? ' he 
 said. ' I w^as thinking of my own experience 
 yesterday.' 
 
 She returned to the photographs. ' It 
 sounds impossible,' she rejohied softly. There
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 223 
 
 was a pause. ' Was it anything I said ? ' she 
 asked. 
 
 ' No. It was only when you looked at 
 me. But for that look, I don't think I 
 should have been here to-day.' 
 
 She shut up the photographs on a 
 sudden, and drew her chair a little away 
 from him. 
 
 ' I hope,' she said, ' you have not so poor 
 an opinion of me as to think I like to be 
 flattered?' 
 
 Eomayne answered with an earnestness 
 that instantly satisfied her. 
 
 * I should think it an act of insolence to 
 Hatter you,' he said. ' If you knew the true 
 reason why I hesitated to accept Lady 
 Loring's invitation — if I could own to you 
 the new hope for myself that has brought 
 me here — you would feel, as I feel, that I
 
 228 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 have been only speakiDg the truth. I 
 
 daren't say yet that I owe you a debt of 
 
 gratitude for such a httle thmg as a look. 
 
 I must wait till time puts certain strange 
 
 fancies of mine to the proof.' 
 
 ' Fancies about me, Mr. Eomayne ? ' 
 Before he could answer, the dinner bell 
 
 rang. Lord and Lady Loring entered the 
 
 library together. 
 
 The dinner having pursued its appointed 
 course (always excepting the case of the 
 omelette), the head servant who had waited 
 at table was graciously invited to rest, after 
 his labours, in the housekeeper's room. 
 Having additionally conciliated him by 
 means of a glass of rare liqueur. Miss Not- 
 man, still feeling her grievance as acutely as 
 ever, ventured to inquire, in tlie first place,
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 229 
 
 if the gentlefolks upstairs had enjoyed their 
 dinner. So far the report ivas, on the 
 ■svliole, favourable. But the conversation 
 was described ns occasionally flagging. 
 The burden of the talk had been mainly 
 borne by my lord and my lady, Mr. Eo- 
 mayne and Miss Eyrecourt contributing but 
 little to the social enjoyment of the evening. 
 Eeceiving tliis information without much 
 appearance of interest, the housekeeper put 
 another question, to which, judging by her 
 manner, she attached a certain importance. 
 She wished to know if the oyster-omelette 
 (accompanying the cheese) had been re- 
 ceived as a welcome dish, and treated with 
 a just recognition of its merits. The answer 
 to this was decidedly in the negative. Mr. 
 Eomayne and Miss Eyrecourt liad dechned 
 to taste it. My lord had tried it, and had
 
 230 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 left it on his plate. My lady alone had 
 really eaten her share of the misplaced dish. 
 Having stated this apparently trivial circum- 
 stance, the head servant was surprised by 
 the effect which it produced on the house- 
 keeper. She leaned back in her chair and 
 closed her eyes, with an appearance of un- 
 utterable enjoyment. That night there was 
 one supremely happy woman in London. 
 And her name was Miss Notman. 
 
 Ascending from the housekeeper's room 
 to the drawing-room, it is to be further re- 
 ported that music was tried, as a means of 
 getting througli the time, in the absence of 
 general conversation. Lady Loring sat down 
 at tlie piano, and played as admirably as 
 usual. At the other end of the" room Eo- 
 
 CI- 
 
 mayne and Stella were together, hstening to 
 tlie music. Lord Loring walking backwards
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 231 
 
 and forwards, with a restlessness which was 
 far from being characteristic of himin his 
 after-dinner hours, was stopped when he 
 reached the neighbourhood of the piano by 
 a private signal from his wife. 
 
 ' What are you walking about for ? ' 
 Lady Loring asked in a whisper, without 
 interrujDting her musical performance. 
 
 ' I'm not quite easy, my dear.' 
 
 ' Turn over the music. Indigestion ? ' 
 
 'Good heavens, Adelaide, what a ques- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Well, what is it then ? ' 
 
 Lord Loring looked toward? Stella and 
 her companion. ' They don't seem to get 
 on together as well as I had hoped,' he said. 
 
 ' I should think not — when you are walk- 
 ing about and disturbin^^ them ! Sit down 
 there behind me.'
 
 232 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' What am I to do ? ' 
 
 ' Am I not playing? Listen to me/ 
 
 'My dear, I don't understand modern 
 German music' 
 
 ' Then read the evening paper.' 
 
 The evening paper had its attractinos. 
 Lord Loring took his wife's advice. 
 
 Left entirely by themselves, at the other 
 end of the room, Eomayne and Stella justi- 
 fied Lady Loring's belief in the result of 
 reducing her husband to a state of repose. 
 Stella ventured to speak iirst, in a discreet 
 undertone. 
 
 'Do you pass most of your evenings 
 alone, Mr. Eomayne ? ' 
 
 ' Not quite alone. I have the company 
 of my books.' 
 
 ' Are your books the companions that you 
 like best?'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 233 
 
 ' I have been true to those companions, 
 Miss Eyrecourt, for many years. If the 
 doctors are to be beheved, my books have 
 not treated me very well in return. They 
 have broken down my liealth, and have made 
 me, I am afraid, a very unsocial man.' He 
 seemed about to say more, and suddenly 
 checked the impulse. ' Why am I talking 
 of myself.^' he resumed with a smile. 'I 
 never do it at other times. Is this another 
 result of your influence over me ? ' 
 
 He put the question with an assumed 
 gaiety. Stella made no effort, on her side, 
 to answer him in the same tone. 
 
 ' I almost wish I really had some 
 influence over you,' she said gravely and 
 sadly. 
 
 'Why?' 
 
 ' I should try to induce you to shut up
 
 234 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 your books, and clioose some living com- 
 panion who might restore you to your 
 happier self.' 
 
 ' It is already done,' said Eomayne ; ' I 
 have a new companion in Mr. Penrose.' 
 
 'Penrose?' she re2:)eated. 'He is the 
 friend — is he not — of the priest here, whom 
 they call Father Benwell ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' I don't like Father Benwell.' 
 
 ' Is that a reason for disliking Mr. Pen- 
 rose ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said boldly, ' because he is 
 Father Benwell's friend.' 
 
 'Indeed you are mistaken. Miss Eyre- 
 court. Mr. Penrose only entered yesterday 
 on his duties as my secretary, and I have 
 already had reason to think highly of him. 
 Many men, after tliat experience of me,' he
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 235 
 
 added, speaking more to himself than to her, 
 ' might have asked me to find another secre- 
 tary/ 
 
 Stella heard those last words, and looked 
 at him in astonishment. ' Were you angry 
 with Mr. Penrose?' she asked innocently. 
 ' Is it possible that you could speak harshly 
 to any person in your employment ? ' 
 
 Eomayne, smiled. ' It was not Avhat I 
 said,' he answered. ' I am subject to attacks 
 — to sudden attacks of illness. I am sorry 
 I alarmed Mr. Penrose by letting him see 
 me under those circumstances.' 
 
 She looked at him ; hesitated ; and 
 looked away again. ' Would you be angry 
 with me if I confessed something .^ ' she 
 said timidly. 
 
 ' It is impossible I can be aogry with 
 you ! '
 
 236 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 'Mr. Eomayne, I think I have seen 
 what your secretary saw. I know how 
 you suffer, and how patiently you bear 
 it.' 
 
 ' You ! ' he exclaimed. 
 
 ' I saw you with your friend, when you 
 came on board the steamboat at Boulogne. 
 Oh, no, you never noticed me ! You never 
 knew how I pitied you. And afterwards, 
 when you moved away by yourself, and 
 stood by the place in which the engines 
 work — you are sure you won't think the 
 worse of me, if I tell it ^ ' 
 
 'No! no!' 
 
 ' Your face frightened me — I can't 
 describe it — I went to your friend and took 
 it on myself to say that you wanted him. 
 It was an impulse — I meant well.' 
 
 ' I am sure you meant well.' As he
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. lyj 
 
 spoke, his face darkened a little, betraying 
 a momentary feeling of distrust. Had slie 
 put indiscreet questions to his travelling 
 companion ; and had tlie Major, under the 
 persuasive influence of her beauty, been 
 weak enough to answer them. ' Did you 
 speak to my friend ? ' he asked. 
 
 'Only when I told him that he had 
 better go to you. And I think I said after- 
 wards I was afraid you were very ill. We 
 were in the confusion of arriving at Folkestone 
 — and, even if I had thought it right to say 
 more, there was no opportunity.' 
 
 Eomayne felt ashamed of the suspicion 
 by which he had wronged her. ' You have 
 a generous nature,' he said earnestly. 
 ' Among the few people whom I know, how 
 many would feel the interest in me that you 
 felt?'
 
 238 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Don't say that, Mr. Eomayne ! You 
 could have had no kinder friend than the 
 gentleman who took care of you on your 
 journey. Is he with you now, in London ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ^ I am sorry to hear it. You ought to 
 have some devoted friend always near you.' 
 
 She spoke very earnestly. Eomayne 
 shrank, with a strange shyness, from letting 
 her see how her sympathy affected him. He 
 answered lightly. ' You go almost as far as 
 my good friend there reading the newspaper,' 
 he said. 'Lord Loring doesn't scruple to 
 tell me that I ought to marry. I know he 
 speaks with a sincere interest in my welfare, 
 lie little thinks how he distresses me.' 
 
 ' Why should he distress you P ' 
 
 ' lie reminds me — live as long as I may 
 — that I must live alone. Can I ask a
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 239 
 
 woman to share siicli a dreary life as mine? 
 It would be selfish, it would be cruel ; I 
 should deservedly pay the penalty of allow- 
 ing my wife to sacrifice herself. The time 
 would come when she would repent having 
 married me.' 
 
 Stella rose. Her eyes rested on him 
 with a look of gentle remonstrance. ' I 
 think you hardly do women justice,' she said 
 softly. ' Perhaps some day a woman may 
 induce you to change your opinion.' She 
 crossed the room to the piano. ' You must 
 be tired of playing, Adelaide,' she said, 
 putting her hand caressingly on Lady 
 Loring's shoulder. 
 
 'Will you sing, Stella?' 
 
 She sighed, and turned away. ' Not to- 
 night,' she answered. 
 
 Eomayne took his leave rather hurriedly.
 
 240 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 He seemed to be out of spirits and eager to 
 get away. Lord Loring accompanied bis 
 o'liest to the door. ' You look sad and care- 
 worn,' he said. ' Do you regret having left 
 your books to pass an evening with us ? ' 
 
 Eomayne looked up absently, and an- 
 swered, ' I don't know^ yet.' 
 
 Eeturning to report this extraordinary 
 reply to his wife and Stella, Lord Loring 
 found the drawing-room empty. Eager for 
 a little private conversation, the two ladies 
 had gone upstairs. 
 
 ' Well ? ' said Lady Loring, as they sat 
 
 together over the fire. ' What did he 
 
 say?' 
 
 Stella only repeated what he had said 
 
 before she rose and left him. ' What is 
 
 there in Mr. Eomayne's life,' she asked,
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 241 
 
 ' which made him say that lie would be 
 selfish and cruel if he expected a woman to 
 marry him? It must be something more 
 than mere illness. If he had committed 
 a crime, he could not have spoken more 
 strongly. Do you know what it is ? ' 
 
 Lady Loring looked uneasy. *I pro- 
 mised my husband to keep it a secret from 
 everybody,' she said. 
 
 ' It is nothing degrading, Adelaide — I 
 am sure of that.' 
 
 ' And you are right, my dear. I can 
 understand that lie has surprised and dis- 
 appointed you ; but, if you knew his motives 
 
 ' she stopped, and looked earnestly at 
 
 Stella. ' They say,' she went on, ' the love 
 that lasts longest is the love of slowest 
 growth. This feeling of yours for Eomayne 
 is of sudden growth. Are you very sure 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 that your whole heart is given to a man of 
 whom you know little ? ' 
 
 'I know that I love him,' said Stella 
 simply. 
 
 ' Even though he doesn't seem, as yet, to 
 love you ? ' Lady Loriog asked. 
 
 ^All the more because he doesn't. I 
 should be ashamed to make the confession 
 to anyone but you. It is useless to say any 
 more. Good-night.' 
 
 Lady Loring allowed her to get as far as 
 the door, and then suddenly called her back. 
 Stella returned unwillingly and wearily. ' My 
 head aches and my heart aches,' she said. 
 ' Let me go away to my bed.' 
 
 ' I don't like you to go away, wronging 
 Eomayne perhaps in your thoughts,' said 
 Lady Loring. ' And, more than that, for 
 the sake of your own happiness, you ought
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 243 
 
 to judge for yourself if this devoted love of 
 yours may ever hope to win its reward. It 
 is time, aud more than time, that you should 
 decide whether it is good for you to see 
 Eomaync again. Have you courage enough 
 to do that .^ ' 
 
 ' Yes — if I am convinced that it ought to 
 be done.' 
 
 'Nothing would make me so happy,' 
 Lady Loriug resumed, ' as to know that you 
 were one day, my dear, to be his wife. But 
 I am not a prudent person — I can never 
 look, as you can, to consequences. You 
 won't betray me, Stella? If I am doing 
 wrong in telling a secret which has been 
 trusted to me, it is my fondness for you that 
 misleads me. Sit down again. You shall 
 know what the misery of Eomayne's life 
 really is.' 
 
 k2
 
 244 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 With those words, she told the terrible 
 story of the duel, and of all that liad 
 followed it. 
 
 ' It is for 3'ou to say,' she concluded, 
 'whether Eomayne is right. Can any 
 woman hope to release him from the tor- 
 ment that he suffers, with nothing to help 
 her but love ? Determine for yourself.' 
 
 Stella answered instantly. 
 ' I determine to be his wife ! ' 
 
 With the same pure enthusiasm, Penrose 
 had declared that he too devoted himself to 
 the deliverance of Eomayne. The loving 
 woman was not more resolved to give her 
 whole life to him, than the fanatical man was 
 resolved to convert him. On the same 
 common battle-ground the two were now to 
 meet in unconscious antagonism. Would 
 the priest or the woman win the day ? '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 24$ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE PUBLIC AND THE PICTURES. 
 
 Ox the memorable Monday, when the pic- 
 ture gallery was opened to the public for the 
 first time, Lord Loring and Father Ben well 
 met in the library. 
 
 ' Judging by the niunber of carriages 
 already at the door,' said Father Benwell, 
 ' your lordsliip's kindness is largely appre- 
 ciated by the lovers of Art.' 
 
 ' All the tickets were disposed of in three 
 hours,' Lord Loring answered. ' Everybody 
 (the librarians tell me) is eager to see the 
 pictures. Have you looked in yet ? '
 
 246 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 'Not yet. I thought I would get on 
 first with my work among the books.' 
 
 'I have just come from the gallery,' 
 Lord Loring continued. ' And here I am, 
 driven out of it again by the remarks of 
 some of the visitors. You know my beau- 
 tiful copies of Eaphael's Cupid and Psyche 
 designs ? The general impression, especially 
 among the ladies, is that they are disgusting 
 and indecent. That was enough for me. If 
 you happen to meet Lady Loring and 
 Stella, kindly tell them that I have gone 
 to the club.' 
 
 ' Do the ladies propose paying a visit to 
 the gallery ? ' 
 
 ' Of course — to see the people ! I liave 
 recommended them to wait until they are 
 ready to go out for their drive. Li their in- 
 door costume they might become the objects
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 247 
 
 of general observation, as the ladies of the 
 house. I shall be anxious to hear, Father, 
 if you can discover the civilising influences of 
 Art among my guests in the gallery. Good 
 
 mornmg. 
 
 Father Benwell rano* the bell when Lord 
 Loring had left him. 
 
 ' Do the ladies drive out to-day at their 
 usual hour ? ' he inquired, when the servant 
 appeared. The man answered in the affir- 
 mative. The carriage w^as ordered at three 
 o'clock. 
 
 At half-past two Father Benwell slipped 
 quietly into the gallery. He posted himself 
 midway between the hbrary door and the 
 grand entrance ; on the watch, not for the 
 civilising influences of Art, but for the ap- 
 pearance of Lady Loring and Stella. He 
 was still of opinion that Stella's ' frivolous '
 
 248 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 mother might be turned into a source of 
 valuable information, on the subject of her 
 daughter's earlier life. The first step towards 
 attaining this object was to discover Mrs. 
 Eyrecourt's present address. Stella would 
 certainly know it — and Father Benwell felt 
 a just confidence in his capacity to make the 
 young lady serviceable, in this respect, to the 
 pecuniary interests of the Church. 
 
 After an interval of a quarter of an hour, 
 Lady Loring and Stella entered the gallery 
 by tlie library door. Father Benwell at once 
 advanced to pay his respects. 
 
 For some little time he discreetly re- 
 frained from making any attempt to lead the 
 conversation to the topic that he had in view. 
 He was too well acquainted with the insati- 
 able interest of women in lookino- at other 
 
 o 
 
 women to force himself into notice. The
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 249 
 
 ladies made their remarks on the pretensions 
 to beauty and to taste in dress among the 
 throng of visitors — and Father Benwell 
 waited by them, and listened, with the resig- 
 nation of a modest young man. Patience, 
 being a virtue, is sometimes its own reward. 
 Two gentlemen, evidently interested in the 
 pictures, approached the priest. He drew 
 back, with his ready politeness, to let them 
 see the picture before which he happened to 
 be standing. 
 
 The movement disturbed Stella. She 
 turned sharply — noticed one of the gentle- 
 men, the taller of the two — became deadly 
 pale — and instantly quitted the gallery. Lady 
 Loring, looking where Stella had looked, 
 frowned angrily, and followed Miss Eyrecourt 
 into the library. Wise Father Benwell let 
 them go, and concentrated his attention on
 
 250 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 the person who had been the object of this 
 starthng recognition. 
 
 Unquestionably a gentleman — with light 
 hair and complexion — with a bright bene- 
 volent face, and keen intelligent blue eyes 
 — apparently still in the prime of life. Such 
 was Father Benwell's first impression of the 
 stranger. He had evidently seen Miss Eyre- 
 court at the moment when she first noticed 
 him ; and he too showed signs of serious 
 agitation. His face flushed deeply, and his 
 eyes expressed, not merely surprise, but dis- 
 tress. He turned to his friend. ' This place 
 is hot,' he said ; ' let us get out of it ! ' 
 
 ' My dear Winterfield ! ' the friend re- 
 monstrated, ' we haven't seen half the pic- 
 tures yet.' 
 
 ' Excuse me if I leave you,' the other 
 replied. 'I am used to the free air of the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 251 
 
 country. Let us meet again this evening. 
 Come and dine with me. The same address 
 as usual — Derwent's HoteL' 
 
 With those words he hurried out, making 
 his way, without ceremony, through the 
 crowd in the picture gallery. 
 
 Father Benwell returned to the library. 
 It was quite needless to trouble himself 
 further about Mrs. Eyrecourt or her address. 
 ' Thanks to Lord Loring's picture gallery,' he 
 thought, ' I have found the man ! ' 
 
 He took up his pen and made a Httle 
 memorandum — ' Winterfield. Dcrwent's 
 Hotel.'
 
 252 THE BLACK EOBE, 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 FATHER BEXWELL's CORRESPOXDEXCE. 
 I. 
 
 To Mr. Bitrake. Private and Confidential. 
 
 Sir, — I imderstand that your connection 
 with the law does not exclude your occasional 
 superintendence of confidential inquiries, 
 which are not of a nature to injure your 
 professional position. The enclosed letter of 
 introduction will satisfy you that I am in- 
 capable of employing your experience in a 
 manner unbecoming to you, or to myself. 
 
 The inquiry that I propose to you relates 
 to a gentleman named Winterfield. lie is 
 now staying in London, at Derwent's Hotel,
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 253 
 
 and is expected to remain there for a week 
 from the present date. His place of resid- 
 ence is on the North Devonshire coast, and 
 is well known in that locality by the name 
 of Beaupark House. 
 
 The range of my proposed inquiry dates 
 back over the last four or five years — cer- 
 tainly not more. My object is to ascertain, 
 as positively as may be, whether, within this 
 limit of time, events in Mr. Winterfield's life 
 have connected him with a young lady 
 named Miss Stella Eyrecourt. If this proves 
 to be the case, it is essential that I should 
 be made acquainted with the whole of the 
 circumstances. 
 
 I have now informed you of all that I 
 want to know. Whatever the information 
 may be, it is most important that it shall be 
 information which I can implicitly trust.
 
 254 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Please address to me, when you write, under 
 
 cover to the friend whose letter I enclose. 
 
 I beg your acceptance — as time is of 
 
 importance — of a cheque for preliminary 
 
 expenses, and remain, sir, your faithful 
 
 servant, 
 
 Ambrose Benwell. 
 
 II. 
 
 To the Secretary^ Society of Jesus ^ Borne. 
 
 I enclose a receipt for the remittance 
 which your last letter confides to my care. 
 Some of the money has been already used in 
 prosecuting inquiries, the result of which 
 will, as I hope and believe, enable me to 
 effectually protect Eomayne from the ad- 
 vances of the woman who is bent on mar- 
 rying him.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 255 
 
 You tell me that our Eeverend Fathers, 
 lately sitting in council on the Vange Abbey 
 affair, are anxious to hear if any positive steps 
 have yet been taken towards the conversion 
 of Komayne. I am happily able to gratify 
 their wishes, as you shall now see. 
 
 Yesterday, I called at Eomayne's hotel to 
 pay one of those occasional visits which help 
 to keep up our acquaintance. He was out, 
 and Penrose (for whom I asked next) was 
 with him. Most fortunately, as the event 
 proved, I had not seen Penrose, or heard 
 from him, for some little time ; and I thought 
 it desirable to judge for myself of the progress 
 that he VN^as making in the confidence of his 
 employer. I said I would wait. The hotel 
 servant knows me by siglit. I was shown into 
 Eomayne's waiting-room. 
 
 This room is so small as to be a mere
 
 256 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 cupboard. It is lit by a glass fanlight over the 
 door which opens from the passage, and is 
 supplied with air (in the absence of a fireplace) 
 by a ventilator in a second door, which com- 
 municates with Eomayne's study. Looking 
 about me, so far, I crossed to the other end 
 of the study, and discovered a dining-room 
 and two bedrooms beyond — the set of apart- 
 ments being secluded, by means of a door at 
 the end of the passage, from the other parts 
 of the hotel. I trouble you with these de- 
 tails in order that you may understand the 
 events that followed. 
 
 I returned to the waiting-room, not for- 
 getting of course to close the door of com- 
 munication. 
 
 Nearly an hour must have passed before I 
 heard footsteps in the passage. The study 
 door was opened, and the voices of persons
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 257 
 
 entering the room reached me through the 
 ventilator. I recognised Eomayne, Penrose 
 — and Lord Loring. 
 
 The first words exchanged among them 
 informed me that Eomayne and his secretary 
 had overtaken Lord Loring in the street, as 
 he was approaching the hotel door. The 
 three had entered the house together — at a 
 time, probably, when the servant who had 
 admitted me was out of the way. However 
 it may have happened, there I was, forgotten 
 in the waiting-room ! 
 
 Could I intrude myself (on a private con- 
 versation perhaps) as an unannounced and 
 unwelcome visitor ? And could I help it, if 
 the talk found its way to me through the 
 ventilator, along with the air that I breathed ? 
 If our Eeverend Fathers think I was to blame, 
 I bow to any reproof which their strict sense 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 of propriety may inflict on me. In the mean- 
 time I beg to repeat the interesting passages 
 in the conversation, as nearly word for word 
 as I can remember them. 
 
 His lordship, as the principal personage 
 in social rank, shall be reported first. He 
 said, 'More than a week has passed, Eo- 
 mayne, and we have neither seen you nor 
 heard from you. Why have you neglected 
 us?' 
 
 Here, judging by certain sounds that 
 followed, Penrose got up discreetly, and 
 left the room. Lord Loring went on. 
 
 He said to Eomayne, ' Now we are alone, 
 I may speak to you more freely. You and 
 Stella seemed to get on together admirably 
 that evening when you dined with us. Have 
 you forgotten what you told me of her 
 influence over you .^ or have you altered
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 259 
 
 your opinion — and is that the reason why 
 you keep away from us ? ' 
 
 Eomayne answered, ' My opinion remains 
 unchanged. All that I said to you of Miss 
 Eyrecourt, I believe as firmly as ever.' 
 
 His lordship remonstrated, naturally 
 enough. ' Then why remain away from the 
 good influence ? Why — if it really can be 
 controlled — risk another return of that 
 dreadful nervous delusion ? ' 
 
 ' I have had another return.' 
 
 ' Which, as you yourself believe, might 
 have been prevented ! Eomayne, you astonish 
 me.' 
 
 There was a time of silence, before 
 Eomayne answered this. He was a little 
 mysterious when he did reply. ' You know 
 the old saying, my good friend — of two evils, 
 
 8 2
 
 26o THE BLACK KOBE. 
 
 choose the least. I bear my sufferings as 
 one of two evils, and the least of the two.' 
 
 Lord Loring appeared to feel the necessity 
 of touching a delicate subject with a light 
 hand. He said, in his pleasant way, ' Stella 
 isn't the other evil, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Most assuredly not.' 
 
 ' Then what is it ? 
 
 Eomayne answered, almost passionately, 
 ' My own weakness and selfishness ! Faults 
 which I must resist, or become a mean and 
 heartless man. For me, tlie worst of the 
 two evils is there. I respect and admire 
 Miss Eyrecourt — I believe her to be a woman 
 in a thousand — don't ask me to see her again ! 
 Where is Penrose ? Let us talk of something 
 else.* 
 
 Whether this wild way of speaking of- 
 fended Lord Loring, or only discouraged
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 261 
 
 him, I cannot say. I heard him take his leave 
 in these words : — ' You have disappointed 
 me, Eomayne. We will talk of something 
 else the next time we meet.* The study door 
 was opened and closed. Eomayne was left 
 by himself. 
 
 Solitude was apparently not to his taste 
 just then. I heard him call to Penrose. I 
 heard Penrose ask, ' Do you want me ? ' 
 
 Eomayne answered, ' God knows I want 
 a friend — and I have no friend near me but 
 you ! Major Hynd is aAvay, and Lord Loring 
 is offended with me.' 
 
 Penrose asked why. 
 
 Eomayne, thereupon, entered on the 
 necessary explanation. As a priest, writing 
 to priests, I pass over details utterly uninter- 
 estiniT to us. The substance of what he said 
 amounted to this : — Miss Eyrecourt had pro-
 
 262 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 duccd an impression on him whicli was new 
 to liim in his experience of women. If he 
 saw more of her, it might end — I ask your 
 pardon for repeating the ridiculous expression 
 — in his ' faUing in love with her/ In this 
 condition of mind or body, whichever it may 
 be, he would probably be incapable of the 
 self-control which he had hitherto practised. 
 If she consented to devote her life to him, he 
 might accept the cruel sacrifice. Eather 
 than do this, he would keep away from her, 
 for her dear sake — no matter what he might 
 suffer, or whom he might offend. 
 
 Imagine any human being, out of a 
 lunatic asylum, talking in this way. Shall I 
 own to you, my reverend colleague, how this 
 curious self-exposure struck me .^ As I 
 listened to Eomayne, I felt grateful to the 
 famous Council which definitely forbade the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 263 
 
 priests of the Catliolic Cliurcli to marry. We 
 might otherwise have been morally enervated 
 by the weakness which degrades Eomayne — 
 and priests might have become instruments 
 in the hands of women. 
 
 But you will be anxious to hear what 
 Penrose did under the circumstances. For 
 the moment, I can tell you this, he startled 
 me. 
 
 Instead of seizing the opportunity, and 
 directing Eomayne's mind to the consolations 
 of religion, Penrose actually encouraged him 
 to reconsider his decision. All the weakness 
 of my poor little Arthur's character showed 
 itself in his next words. 
 
 He said to Eomayi^e, ' It may be wrong 
 in me to speak to you as freely as I wish to 
 speak. But you have so generously admitted 
 me to your confidence — you have been so
 
 264 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 considerate and so kind towards me — that I 
 feel an interest in your happiness, which 
 perhaps makes me over bokl. Are you very 
 sure that some such entire change in your 
 life as your marriage might not end in deliv- 
 ering you from your burden? If such a 
 thing could be, is it wrong to suppose that 
 your wife's good influence over you might be 
 the means of making your marriage a happy 
 one ? I must not presume to offer an opinion 
 on such a subject. It is only my gratitude, 
 my true attachment to 3^ou, that ventures to 
 put the question. Are you conscious of 
 having given this matter — so serious a matter 
 for you — sufficient thought ? ' 
 
 Make your mind easy, reverend sir ! Eo- 
 mayne's answer set everything right. 
 
 He said, ' I have thought of it till I could 
 think no longer. I still believe that sweet
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 265 
 
 woman miglit control the torment of the 
 voice. But could she deliver me from the 
 remorse perpetually gnawing at my heart ? 
 I feel as murderers feel. In taking another 
 man's life — a man who had not even injured 
 me ! — I have committed the one unatonable 
 and unpardonable sin. Can any human 
 creature's influence make me forget that? 
 No more of it — no more. Come ! Let us 
 take refuge in our books.' 
 
 Those words touched Penrose in the 
 right place. Now, as I understand his 
 scruples, he felt that he might honourably 
 speak out. His zeal more than balanced his 
 weakness, as you will presently see. 
 
 He was loud, he was positive, when I 
 heard him next. ' No ! ' he burst out, ' your 
 refuge is not in books, and not in the 
 barren religious forms which call themselves
 
 266 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Protestant. Dear master, the peace of mind, 
 which you beheve you have lost for ever, you 
 will find again in the divine wisdom and com- 
 passion of the holy Catholic Church. There 
 is the remedy for all that you suffer ! There 
 is the new life that will yet make you a happy 
 man ! ' 
 
 I repeat what he said, so far^ merely to 
 satisfy you that we can trust his enthusiasm, 
 when it is once roused. Nothing will dis- 
 courage, nothing will defeat him now. He 
 spoke with all the eloquence of conviction — 
 using the necessary arguments with a force 
 and feehng which I have rarely heard 
 equalled. Eomayne's silence vouched for 
 the effect on him. He is not the man to 
 listen patiently to reasoning which he thinks 
 he can overthrow. 
 
 Having heard enough to satisfy me that
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 2,67 
 
 Penrose had really begun the good work, I 
 quietly slipped out of the waiting-room, and 
 left the hotel. 
 
 To-day being Sunday, I shall not lose a 
 post if I keep my letter open until to-morrow. 
 I have already sent a note to Penrose, asking 
 him to call on me at his earliest convenience. 
 There may be more news for you before post 
 time. 
 
 Monday, 10 a.m. 
 
 There is more news. Penrose has just 
 left me. 
 
 His first proceeding, of course, was to 
 tell me what I had already discovered for 
 myself. He is modest, as usual, about the 
 prospect of success which awaits him. But 
 he has induced Komayne to suspend his 
 historical studies for a few days, and to
 
 268 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 devote his attention to the books which we 
 are accustomed to recommend for perusal 
 in such cases as his. This is unquestionably 
 a great gain at starting. 
 
 But my news is not at an end yet. Eo- 
 mayne is actually playing our game — he has 
 resolved definitely to withdraw himself from 
 the influence of Miss Eyrecourt ! In 
 another hour, he and Penrose will have 
 left London. Their destination is kept a 
 profound secret. All letters addressed to 
 Eomayne are to be sent to his bankers. 
 
 The motive for this sudden resolution is 
 directly traceable to Lady Loring. 
 
 Her ladyship called at the hotel yesterday 
 evening, and had a private interview with 
 Eomayne. Her object, no doubt, was to 
 shake his resolution, and to make him sub- 
 mit himself again to Miss Eyrecourt's fasci-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 269 
 
 nations. What means of persuasion she used 
 to effect this purpose is of course unknown 
 to us. , Penrose saw Eomayne after her 
 ladyship's departure, and describes him as 
 violently agitated. I can quite understand 
 it. His resolution to take refuge in secret 
 flight (it is really nothing less) speaks for 
 itself as to the impression produced on him, 
 and the danger from which, for the time at 
 least, we have escaped. 
 
 Yes ! I say ' for the time at least.' Don't 
 let our reverend fathers suppose that the 
 money expended on my private inquiries has 
 been money thrown away. Where these 
 miserable love affairs are concerned, women 
 are daunted by no adverse circumstances and 
 warned by no defeat. Eomayne has left 
 London, in dread of his own weakness — we 
 must not forget that. The day may yet
 
 270 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 come when nothing will interpose between 
 us and failure but my knowledge of events 
 in Miss Eyrecourt's life. 
 
 For the present, there is no more to be 
 said.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 271 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 STELLA ASSERTS HERSELF. 
 
 Two days after Father Benwell had posted 
 his letter to Eome, Lady Loring entered her 
 husband's study, and asked eagerly if he had 
 heard any news of Eomayne. 
 
 Lord Loring shook his head. ' As I told 
 you yesterday,' he said, ' the proprietor of 
 the hotel can give me no information. I 
 went myself this morning to the bankers, 
 and saw the head partner. He offered to for- 
 ward letters, but he could do no more. Until 
 further notice, he was positively enjoined 
 not to disclose Eomayne's address to any- 
 body. How does Stella bear it ? '
 
 272 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 ' In the worst possible way,' Lady Loring 
 answered. ' In silence.' 
 
 ' Not a word even to you ? ' 
 
 ' Not a word.' 
 
 At that reply, the servant interrupted 
 them by announcing the arrival of a visitor, 
 and presenting his card. Lord Loring 
 started, and handed it to his wife. The card 
 bore the name of ' Major Hynd,' and this 
 line was added in pencil : — ' On business 
 connected with Mr. Eomayne.' 
 
 ' Show him in directly ! ' cried Lady 
 Loring. 
 
 Lord Loring remonstrated. ' My dear ! 
 perhaps I had better see this gentleman 
 alone ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not — unless you wish to drive 
 me into committing an act of the most
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 273 
 
 revolting meanness ! If you send me away 
 I shall listen at the door/ 
 
 Major Hynd was shown in, and was duly 
 presented to Lady Loring. After making 
 the customary apologies, he said, ' I returned 
 to London last night, expressly to see 
 Eomayne on a matter of importance. Fail- 
 ing to discover his present address at the 
 liotel, I had the liope that your lordship 
 nno;ht be able to direct me to our friend.' 
 
 ' I am sorry to say I know no more than 
 you do,' Lord Loring replied. ' Eomayne'e 
 present address is a secret confided to his 
 bankers, and to no one else. I will give you 
 tlieir names, if you wish to write to him.' 
 
 Major Hynd hesitated. 'I^am not quite 
 sure that it would be discreet to write to 
 liim, under the circumstances.' 
 
 Lady Loring could no longer keep 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 silence. ' Is it possible, Major H3md, to tell 
 us what the circumstances are ? ' she asked. 
 ' I am almost as old a friend of Eomajme as 
 my husband — and I am very anxious about 
 him.' 
 
 The Major looked embarrassed. ' I can 
 hardly answer your ladyship,' he said, ' with- 
 out reviving painful recollections ' 
 
 Lady Loring's impatience interrupted the 
 Major's apologies. ' Do you mean the duel ? ' 
 she inquired. 
 
 Lord Loring interposed. ' I should tell 
 you. Major Hynd, tliat Lady Loring is as 
 well informed as I am of what happened at 
 Boulogne, and of the deplorable result, so 
 far as Eomayne is concerned. If you still 
 wish to speak to me privately, I will ask you 
 to accompany me into the next room.' 
 
 Major Hynd's embarrassment vanished.
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 275 
 
 ' After what you tell me/ he said, ' I hope 
 to be favoured with Lady Loring's advice. 
 You both know that Eomayne fought the 
 fatal duel with a son of the French General 
 who had challenged him. When we re- 
 turned to England, we heard that the 
 General and his family had been driven away 
 from Boulogne by pecuniary difficulties. 
 Eomayne, against my advice, wrote to the 
 surgeon who had been present at the duel, 
 desiring that the General's place of retreat 
 might be discovered, and expressing his wish 
 to assist the family anonymously, as their 
 Unknown Friend. The motive, of course, 
 was, in his own words, ' to make some little 
 atonement to the poor people whom he had 
 wronged.' I thought it a rash proceeding at 
 the time ; and I am confirmed in my opinion 
 by a letter from the sm'geon, received 
 
 T 2
 
 276 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 yesterday. Will you kindly read it to Lady 
 Loring ? ' 
 
 He handed the letter to Lord Loring. 
 Translated from the French, it ran as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 ' Sir, — I am at last able to answer Mr. 
 Eomayne's letter definitely, with the cour- 
 teous assistance of the French Consul in 
 London, to whom I applied when other 
 means of investigation had produced no re- 
 sult. 
 
 ' A week since, the General died. Cir- 
 cumstances connected with the burial 
 expenses informed the Consul that he had 
 taken refuge from his creditors, not in 
 Paris as we supposed, but in London. 
 The address is. Number 10, Camp's Hill, 
 Islincjton. I should also add that the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 277 
 
 General, for obvious reasons, lived in Lon- 
 don under tlie assumed name of Marillac. 
 It will be necessary, therefore, to inquire for 
 his widow by the name of Madame Marillac. 
 
 ' You will perhaps be surprised to find 
 that I address these lines to you, instead of 
 to Mr. Eomayne. The reason is soon told. 
 
 ' I was acquainted with the late General 
 — as you know — at a time when I was not 
 aware of the company that he kept, or of 
 the deplorable errors into which his love of 
 gambling had betrayed him. Of his widow 
 and his children I know absolutely nothing. 
 Whether they have resisted the contaminat- 
 ing influence of the head of the household 
 — or whether poverty and bad example 
 combined have hopelessly degraded them — 
 I cannot say. There is at least a doubt 
 whether they are worthy of Mr. Eomayne's
 
 278 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 benevolent intentions towards them. As an 
 honest man, I cannot feel this doubt, and 
 reconcile it to my conscience to be the 
 means, however indirectly, of introducing 
 them to Mr. Eomayne. To your discretion I 
 leave it to act for the best, after this warning.' 
 
 Lord Loring returned the letter to Major 
 Hynd. ' I agree with you,' he said. ' It is 
 more than doubtful whether you ought to 
 communicate this information to Eomayne.' 
 
 Lady Loring was not quite of her 
 husband's opinion. ' While there is a doubt 
 about these people,' she said, ' it seems only 
 just to find out what sort of character they 
 bear in the neighbourhood. In your place. 
 Major Hynd, I should apply to the person in 
 whose house they live, or to tlie tradespeople 
 whom they have employed.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 279 
 
 ' I am obliged to leave London again 
 to-day,' the Major replied ; ' but on my 
 retm'n I will certainly follow your ladyship's 
 advice.' 
 
 ' And you will let us know the result ? ' 
 
 ' With the greatest pleasure.' 
 
 Major Hynd took his leave. ' I think 
 you will be responsible for wasting the 
 Major's time,' said Lord Loring, when the 
 visitor had retired. 
 
 ' I think not,' said Lady Loring. 
 
 She rose to leave the room. ' Are you 
 going out ? ' her husband asked. 
 
 ' No. I am going upstairs to Stella.' 
 
 Lady Loring found Miss Eyrecourt in 
 her own room. The little portrait of 
 Eomayne which she had "* drawn from re- 
 collection lay on the table before her. She 
 was examining it with the closest attention.
 
 28o THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' Well, Stella, and what does the portrait 
 tell you ? ' 
 
 ' What I knew before, Adelaide. There 
 is nothing false and nothing cruel in that 
 face.' 
 
 'And does the discovery satisfy you? 
 For my part, I despise liomayne for hiding 
 himself from us. Can you excuse him ? ' 
 
 Stella locked up the portrait in her 
 writing-case. ' I can wait,' she said quietly. 
 
 This assertion of patience seemed to 
 irritate Lady Loring. ' What is the matter 
 with you this morning ? ' she asked. ' You 
 are more reserved than ever.' 
 
 ' No ; I am only out of spirits, Adelaide. 
 I can't help thinking of that meeting with 
 Winterfield. I feel as if some misfortune 
 was hanging over my head.' 
 
 ' Don't speak of that hateful man ! ' her
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 281 
 
 ladyship exclaimed. 'I have somethiDg to 
 tell you about Eomayne. Are you com- 
 pletely absorbed in your presentiments of 
 evil? or do you think you can listen to 
 me?' 
 
 Stella's face answered for her. Lady 
 Loring described the interview witli Major 
 Hynd in the minutest detail — including, by 
 way of illustration, the Major's manners 
 and personal appearance. ' He and Lord 
 Loring,' she added, ' both think that 
 Eomayne will never hear the last of it if 
 he allows these foreigners to look to him for 
 money. Until something more is known 
 about them, the letter is not to be 
 forwarded.' 
 
 ' I wish I had the letter ! ' cried Stella. 
 
 ' Would you forward it to Eomayne ? ' 
 
 * Instantly ! Does it matter whether
 
 282 THE BLACK ROBE, 
 
 these poor French people are worthy of his 
 generosity ? If it restores his tranquillity to 
 help them, who cares whether they deserve 
 the help ? They are not even to know who 
 it is that assists them — Eomayne is to be 
 their unknown friend. It is he, not they, 
 whom we have to think of — his peace of 
 mind is everything ; their merit is nothing. 
 I say it's cruel to liim to keep him in 
 ignorance of what has happened. Why 
 didn't you take the letter away from Major 
 Hynd?' 
 
 ' Gently, Stella ! The Major is going to 
 make inquiries about the widow and children 
 when he returns to London.' 
 
 ' When he returns ! ' Stella repeated 
 indignantly. ' Who knows what the poor 
 wretches may be suffering in the interval, 
 and what Eomayne may feel if he ever hears
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 283 
 
 of it? Tell me the address again — it was 
 somewhere in Islington, you said.' 
 
 ' Why do you want to know it ? ' Lady 
 Loring asked. ' You are not going to write 
 to Eomayne yourself .^ ' 
 
 ' I am going to think, before I do any- 
 thing. If you can't trust my discretion, 
 Adelaide, you have only to say so ! ' 
 
 It was spoken sharply. Lady Loring's 
 reply betrayed a certain loss of temper on 
 her side. ' Manage your own affairs, Stella 
 — I have done meddling with them.' Her 
 unlucky visit to Eomayne at the hotel had 
 been a subject of dispute between the two 
 friends — and this referred to it. ' You shall 
 have the address,' my lady added in her 
 grandest manner. She wrote it on a piece 
 of paper, and left the room. 
 
 Easily irritated. Lady Loring had the
 
 284 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 merit of being easily appeased. That meanest 
 of all vices, the vice of sulkiness, had no 
 existence in her nature. In five minutes she 
 regretted her little outburst of irritability. 
 For five minutes more she waited, on the 
 chance that Stella might be the first to seek 
 a reconciliation. The interval passed, and 
 nothing happened. ' Have I really offended 
 her ? ' Lady Loring asked herself. The next 
 moment she was on her way back to Stella. 
 The room was empty. She rang the bell 
 for the maid. 
 
 ' Where is Miss Eyrecourt ? ' 
 
 ' Gone out, my lady.' 
 
 ' Did she leave no message ? ' 
 
 'No, my lady. She went away in a 
 great hurry.' 
 
 Lady Loring at once drew the conclusion 
 that Stella had rashly taken the affair of the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 285 
 
 General's family into lier own hands. Was 
 it possible to say how this most imprudent 
 proceeding might end? After hesitating 
 and reflecting, and hesitating again, Lady 
 Loring's anxiety got beyond her control. She 
 not only decided on following Stella, but, in 
 the excess of her nervous apprehension, she 
 took one of the men-servants with her, in 
 case of emergency !
 
 286 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE general's FAMILY. 
 
 Not always remarkable for arriving at just 
 conclusions. Lady Loring had drawn the 
 right inference this time. Stella had stopped 
 the first cab that passed her, and had di- 
 rected the driver to Camp's Hill, Islington. 
 
 The aspect of the miserable little street, 
 closed at one end, and swarming with dirty 
 children quarrelling over their play, daunted 
 her for the moment. Even the cabman, draw- 
 ing up at the entrance to the street, expressed 
 his opinion that it was a queer sort of place 
 for a young lady to venture into alone. 
 Stella thought of Eomayne. Her firm per-
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 287 
 
 suasion that she was helping him to perform 
 an act of mercy, which was (to his mind) an 
 act of atonement as well, roused her courage. 
 She boldly approached the open door of No. 
 10, and knocked on it with her parasol. 
 
 The tangled grey hair and grimy face of 
 a hideous old woman showed themselves 
 slowly at the end of the passage, rising from 
 the strong-smelling obscurity of the kitchen 
 regions. ' What do you want ? ' said the 
 half-seen witch of the London slums. ' Does 
 Madame Marillac Hve here?' Stella asked. 
 'Do you mean the foreigner?' 'Yes.' 
 ' Second floor.' With those instructions the 
 upper half of the witch sank and vanished. 
 Stella gathered her skirts together, and 
 ascended a filthy flight of stairs for the first 
 time in her life. 
 
 Coarse voices, shameless language, gross
 
 288 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 laucfliter beliind the closed doors of the first 
 floor hurried her on her way to the rooms 
 on the higher flight. Here there was a 
 change for the better — here, at least, there 
 was silence. She knocked at the door on 
 the landing of the second floor. A gentle 
 voice answered, in French, ' Entrez ' — then 
 quickly substituted the English equivalent, 
 ' Come in.' Stella opened the door. 
 
 The wretchedly furnished room was scru- 
 pulously clean. Above the truckle-bed, a 
 cheap little image of the Virgin was fastened 
 to the wall, with some faded artificial flowers 
 arranged above it in the form of a wreath. 
 Two women, in dresses of coarse black stn IF, 
 sat at a small round table, working at the 
 same piece of embroidery. The elder of the 
 two rose when the visitor entered the room. 
 Her worn and weary face still showed the
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 289 
 
 remains of beauty in its finely proportioned 
 parts — her dim eyes rested on Stella with an 
 -expression of piteous entreaty. ' Have you 
 come for the work, madam ? ' she asked, in 
 English, spoken with a strong foreign accent. 
 ^ Pray forgive me ; I have not finished it 
 yet.' 
 
 The second of the two workwomen 
 suddenly looked up. 
 
 She, too, was wan and frail ; but her eyes 
 • were bright ; her movements still preserved 
 the elasticity of youth. Her likeness to the 
 elder woman proclaimed their relationship, 
 even before she spoke. ' Ah ! it's my fault! ' 
 she burst out passionately in French. 'I was 
 hungry and tired, and I slept hours longer 
 than I ought. My mother wks too kind to 
 wake me and set me to work. I am a selfish 
 wretch — and my mother is an angel ! ' She 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' dashed away the tears gathering in her eyes^ 
 and proudly, fiercely, resumed her work. 
 
 Stella hastened to reassure them, the 
 moment she could make herself heard. 
 ' Indeed, I have nothing to do with the 
 work,' she said, speaking in French, so that 
 they might the more readily understand her. 
 ' I came here, Madame Marillac — if you will 
 not be offended with me, for plainly owning 
 it — to offer you some little help.' 
 
 ' Charity .^ ' asked the daughter, looking 
 , up again sternly from her needle. 
 
 ' Sympathy,' Stella answered gently. 
 
 The girl resumed her work. ' I beg 
 your pardon,' she said ; ' I shall learn to 
 submit to my lot in time.' 
 
 The quiet long-suffering mother placed a 
 chair for Stella. ' You have a kind beautiful 
 face, Miss,' she said ; ' and I am sure vou
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 291 
 
 will make allowances for my poor girl. I 
 remember the time when I was as quick to 
 feel as she is. May I ask how you came to 
 hear of us ? ' 
 
 ' I hope you will excuse me,' Stella 
 replied. ' I am not at liberty to answer that 
 question.' 
 
 The mother said nothing. The daughter 
 asked sharply, ' Why not ? ' 
 
 Stella addressed her answer to the mother. 
 ' I come from a person who desires to be of 
 service to you as an unknown friend,' she said. 
 
 The wan face of the widow suddenly 
 brightened. ' Oh ! ' she exclaimed, ' has my 
 brother heard of the General's death ? and 
 has he forgiven me my marriage at last ? ' 
 
 ' No, no ! ' Stella interposed ; ' I must not 
 mislead you. The person whom I represent 
 is no relation of yours.' 
 u 2
 
 292 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 Even ill spite of this positive assertion, 
 the poor woman held desperately to the 
 hope that had been ronsed in her. ' The 
 name by v^hicli you know me may mislead 
 you,' she suggested anxiously. 'My late 
 liusband assumed the name in his exile here. 
 Perhaps, if I told you ' 
 
 The daughter stopped her there. ' My 
 dear mother, leave this to me.' The widow 
 sighed resignedly, and resumed her work. 
 ' Madame Marillac will do very well as a 
 name,' the girl continued, turning to Stella, 
 ' until we know something more of each 
 other. I suppose you are well acquainted 
 with the person whom you represent ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, or I should not be here.' 
 
 ' You know the person's family connec- 
 tions, in that case ? and you can say for
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 293 
 
 certain whether they are French connections 
 or not ? ' 
 
 ' I can say for certain,' Stella answered, 
 ' that they are English connections. I rep- 
 resent a friend who feels kindly towards 
 Madame Marillac ; nothing more.' 
 
 ' You see, mother, you were mistaken. 
 Bear it as bravely, dear, as you have borne 
 other trials.' Saying this very tenderly, she 
 addressed herself once more to Stella, with- 
 out attempting to conceal the accompanying 
 change in her manner to coldness and 
 distrust. • One of us must speak plainly/ 
 she said. ' Our few friends are nearly as 
 poor as we are, and they are all French. I 
 tell you positively that we have no English 
 friends. How has this anonymous benefac- 
 tor been informed of our poverty? You are
 
 294 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 a stranger to us — ijou cannot have given the 
 information ? ' 
 
 Stella's eyes were now opened to the 
 awkward position in which she had placed 
 herself. She met the difficulty boldly, still 
 upheld by the conviction that she was serving 
 a purpose cherished by Eomayne. 'You 
 had good reasons, no doubt, mademoiselle, 
 when you advised your mother to conceal 
 her true name,' she rejoined. ' Be just 
 enough to believe that your " anonymous 
 benefactor " has good reasons for conceal- 
 ment too.' 
 
 It was well said, and it encouraged 
 Madame Marillac to take Stella's part. ' My 
 dear Blanche, you speak rather harshly to 
 this good young lady,' she said to her 
 daughter. ' You have only to look at her, 
 and to see that she means well.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 295 
 
 Blanche took up her needle again, with 
 dogged submission. ' If we are to accept 
 •charity, mother, I should like to know the 
 hand that gives it,' she answered. ' I will 
 say no more.' 
 
 ' When you are as old as I am, my dear,' 
 rejoined Madame Marillac, ' you will not 
 think quite so positively as you think now 
 I have learnt some hard lessons,' she pro- 
 ceeded, turning to Stella, ' and I hope I am 
 the better for them. My life has not been a 
 happy one ' 
 
 ' Your hfe has been a martyrdom ! ' said 
 the girl, breaking out again in spite of 
 lierself. ' Oh, my father ! my father ! ' She 
 pushed aside the work, and hid lier face in 
 lier hands. 
 
 The gentle mother spoke severely for the 
 -first time. ' Eespect your father's memory ! '
 
 296 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 she said. Blanche trembled and ke[)t silence.. 
 ' I have no false pride,' Madame Marillac 
 continued. 'I own that we are miserably 
 poor ; and I thank you, my dear y<.'ung lady,, 
 for your kind intentions towards us, without 
 embarrassing you by any inquiries. We 
 manage to live. While my eyes last, our 
 work helps to support us. My good eldest 
 daughter has some employment as a teacher 
 of music, and contributes her little share to 
 assist our poor household. I don't distrust 
 you — I only say, let us try a little longer if 
 we cannot help ourselves.' 
 
 She had barely pronounced the last 
 words, when a startling interruption led to 
 consequences which the persons present liad 
 not foreseen. A shrill wailing voice suddenly 
 pierced througli the flimsy partition which 
 divided the front room and the back room..
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. i^j 
 
 ' Bread ! ' cried the voice in French ; ' I'm 
 himgry. Bread ! bread ! ' 
 
 The daughter started to her feet. ' Think 
 of his betraying us at this moment ! ' she 
 exclaimed indignantly. The mother rose in 
 silence, and opened a cupboard. Its position 
 was opposite to the place in which Stella 
 was sitting. She saw two or three knives 
 and forks, some cups and saucers and plates, 
 and a folded table-cloth. Nothing else 
 appeared on the shelves ; not even the stray 
 crust of bread for which the poor woman 
 had been looking. ' Go, my dear, and 
 quiet your brother,' she said — and closed 
 the cupboard door again as patiently as 
 ever. 
 
 Stella opened her pocket-book when 
 Blanche had left the room. ' For God's 
 sake, take something ! ' she cried. ' I offer
 
 298 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 it with the sincerest respect — I ofTer it as a 
 loan.' 
 
 Madame Marillac gently signed to Stella 
 to close tlie pocket-book again. ' That kind 
 heart of yours must not be distressed about 
 trifles,' she said. ' The baker will trust us 
 until we get the money for our work — and 
 my daughter knows it. If you can tell me 
 nothing else, my dear, will you tell me your 
 Christian name? It is painful to me to 
 speak to you quite as a stranger.' 
 
 Stella at once complied with the request. 
 Madame Marillac smiled as she repeated the 
 name. 
 
 ' There is almost another tie between us,' 
 she said. ' We have your name in France — 
 it speaks with a famihar sound to me in this 
 strange place. Dear Miss Stella, when my 
 poor boy startled you by that cry for food
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 299 
 
 be recalled to me the saddest of all my 
 anxieties. When I think of Am, I should be 
 tempted if my better sense did not restrain 
 me — No ! no ! put back the pocket-book. I 
 am incapable of the shameless audacity of 
 borrowing a sum of money which I could 
 never repay. Let me tell you what my 
 trouble is, and you will understand that I 
 am in earnest. I had two sons. Miss Stella. 
 The elder — the most lovable, the most affec- 
 tionate of my children — was killed in a duel.' 
 The sudden disclosure drew a cry of 
 sympathy from Stella, which she was not 
 mistress enough of herself to repress. Now 
 for the first time she understood the remorse 
 that tortured Eomayne, as she had not under- 
 stood it when Lady Loring had t©ld her the 
 terrible story of the duel. Attributing the 
 effect produced on her to the sensitive nature
 
 300 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 of a young woman, Madame Marillac inno- 
 cently added to Stella s distress by making 
 excuses. 
 
 ' I am sorry to have frightened you, my 
 dear,' she said. 'In your happy country 
 such a dreadfLil death as my son's is unknown. 
 I am obliged to mention it, or you might not 
 understand what I have still to say. Perhaps 
 I had better not go on ? ' 
 
 Stella roused herself. ' Yes ! yes ! ' she 
 answered eagerly. ' Pray go on ! ' 
 
 ' My son in the next room, ' the widow 
 resumed, ' is only fourteen years old. It has 
 pleased God sorely to afflict a harmless crea- 
 ture. He has not been in his right mind 
 since — since the miserable day when he 
 followed the duellists, and saw liis brother's 
 death. Oh ! you are turning pale ! How 
 thoughtless, how cruel of me ! I ought to
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 301 
 
 liave remembered that such horrors as these 
 have never overshadowed your happy hfe ! ' 
 
 Struggling to recover her self-control, 
 Stella tried to reassure Madame Marillac by a 
 gesture. The voice which she had heard in the 
 next room was — as she now knew — the voice 
 that haunted Eomayne. Not the words that 
 had pleaded hunger and called for bread — 
 but those other words, ' Assassin f assassin ! 
 where are you ? ' — rang in her ears. She 
 entreated Madame Marillac to break the 
 unendurable interval of silence. The widow's 
 calm voice had a soothing influence which 
 she was eager to feel. ' Go on ! ' she repeated. 
 * Pray go on ! * 
 
 ' I ought not to lay all the blame of my 
 boy's affliction on the duel,' said Madame 
 Marillac. ' In childhood, his mind never 
 grew with his bodily growth. His brother's
 
 302 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 death may have only hurried the result 
 which was sooner or later but too sure to 
 come. You need feel no fear of him. He 
 is never violent — and he is the most beautiful 
 of my children. Would you like to see 
 him?' 
 
 ' No ! I would rather hear you speak of 
 him. Is he not conscious of his own mis- 
 fortune ? ' 
 
 ' For weeks together, Stella — I am sure I 
 may call you Stella ? — he is quite calm ; you 
 would see no difference outwardly between 
 him and other boys. Unhappily, it is just 
 at those times that a spirit of impatience 
 seems to possess him. He watches his oppor- 
 tunity, and, however careful we may be, he 
 is cunning enough to escape our vigilance.' 
 
 ' Do you mean that he leaves you and 
 his sisters ? '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 303 
 
 'Yes, that is what I mean. For nearly 
 two months past he has been away from us. 
 Yesterday only, his return relieved us from 
 a state of suspense which I cannot attempt 
 to describe. We don't know where he has 
 been, or in the company of what per- 
 sons he has passed the time of his absence. 
 J^o persuasion will induce him to speak to us 
 on the subject. This morning we listened 
 while he was talking to himself 
 
 Was it part of the boy's madness to repeat 
 the words which still tormented Eomayne ? 
 Stella asked if he ever spoke of the duel. 
 
 'Never ! He seems to have lost all 
 memory of it. We only heard, this morning, 
 one or two unconnected words — somethin^r 
 about a woman, and then more that^ppeared 
 to allude to some person's death. Last night 
 I was with him when he Avent to bed, and
 
 304 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 I found that he liad something to conceal 
 from me. He let me fold all his clothes, as 
 usual, except his waistcoat — and that he 
 snatched away from me, and put it under his 
 pillow. We have no hope of being able to 
 examine the waistcoat v/ithout his know- 
 ledge. His sleep is like the sleep of a dog ; 
 if you only approach him, he wakes instantly. 
 Forgive me for troubhng you with these 
 trifling details, only interesting to ourselves. 
 You will at least understand the constant 
 anxiety that we suffer.' 
 
 ' In your unhappy position,' said Stella, 
 ' I should try to resign myself to parting with 
 him — I mean to placing him under medical 
 <5are.' 
 
 The mother's face saddened. ' I have 
 inquired about it,' she answered. ' He must 
 pass a night in the workhouse before he can
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 305 
 
 be received as a pauper lunatic in a public 
 asylum. Oh, my dear, I am afraid there is 
 some pride still left in me ! He is my only 
 son now ; his father was a General in the 
 French army; I was brought up among 
 people of good blood and breeding — I can't 
 take my own boy to the workhouse ! ' 
 
 Stella understood her. ' I feel for you 
 with all my heart,' she said. ' Place him 
 privately, dear Madame Marillac, under 
 skilful and kind control — and let me, do let 
 me, open the pocket-book again.' 
 
 The widow steadily refused even to look 
 at the pocket-book. ' Perhaps,' Stella per- 
 sisted, ' you don't know of a private asylum 
 that would satisfy you .^ ' 
 
 ' My dear, I do know of such »a place ! 
 The good doctor who attended my husband 
 in his last illness told me of it. A friend of 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 3o6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 his receives a certain number of poor people 
 into his house, and charges no more than the 
 cost of maintaining them. An unattain- 
 able sum to me ! There is the temptation 
 that I spoke of. The help of a few pounds 
 I might accept, if I fell ill, because I might 
 afterwards pay it back. But a larger sum — 
 never ! ' 
 
 She rose, as if to end the interview. 
 Stella tried every means of persuasion that 
 she could think of, and tried in vain. The 
 friendly dispute between them might have 
 been prolonged, if they had not both been 
 silenced by another interruption from the 
 next room. 
 
 This time, it was not only endurable, it 
 was even welcome. The poor boy was 
 playing the air of a French vaudeville on a 
 pipe or flageolet. ' Now he is happy ! ' said
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 307 
 
 the mother. ' He is a born musician ; do 
 come and see him ! ' An idea struck Stella. 
 She overcame the inveterate reluctance in 
 her to see the boy so fatally associated with 
 the misery of Eomayne's life. As Madame 
 Marillac led the way to the door of commu- 
 nication between the rooms, she quickly took 
 from her pocket-book the bank-notes with 
 which she had provided herself, and folded 
 them so that they could be easily concealed 
 in her hand. 
 
 She followed the widow into the little 
 room. 
 
 The boy was sitting on his bed. He laid 
 "down his flageolet and bowed to Stella. His 
 long silky hair flowed to his shoulders. But 
 one betrayal of a deranged mind presented 
 itself in his delicate face — his large soft eyes 
 had the glassy vacant look which it is im- 
 X 2
 
 3o8 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 possible to mistake. ' Do you like music,, 
 mademoiselle ? ' lie asked gently. Stella 
 asked liim to play his little vaudeville air 
 again. He proudly complied with the 
 request. His sister seemed to resent the 
 presence of a stranger. ' The work is at a 
 standstill,' she said — and passed into the 
 front room. Her mother followed her as far 
 as the door, to give her some necessary 
 directions. Stella seized her opportunity. 
 She put the bank-notes into the pocket of 
 the boy's jacket, and whispered to him, 
 ' Give them to your mother when I have 
 gone away.' Under those circumstances, she 
 felt sure that Madame Marillac would yield 
 to the temptation. She could resist much — 
 but she could not resist her son. 
 
 The boy nodded, to show that he under- 
 stood her. The moment after, he laid
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 309 
 
 •down his flageolet with an expression of 
 surprise. 
 
 ' You are trembling ! ' he said. ' Are 
 you frightened ? ' 
 
 She was frightened. The mere sense of 
 touching him had made her shudder. Did 
 she feel a vague presentiment of some evil to 
 •come from that momentary association with 
 hhn ? 
 
 Madame Marillac, turning away again 
 from her daughter, noticed Stella's agitation. 
 ' Surely, my poor boy doesn't alarm you .^ ' 
 she said. Before Stella could answer, some 
 one outside knocked at the door. Lady 
 Loring's servant appeared, charged with a 
 carefully-worded message. ' If you please, 
 Miss, a friend is waiting for yoif below.' 
 Any excuse for departure was welcome to 
 •Stella at that momerxt. Slie promised to call
 
 3IO THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 at the house again iu a few days. Madame 
 Marillac kissed her on the forehead as slie 
 took leave. Her nerves were still shaken 
 by that momentary contact with the boy. 
 Descending the stairs, she trembled so that 
 she was obliged to hold by the servant's arm. 
 She was not naturally timid. What did it 
 mean ? 
 
 Lady Loring's carriage was waiting at 
 the entrance of the street, with all the child- 
 ren in the neisrhbonrhood assembled to 
 admire it. She impulsively forestalled the 
 servant in opening the carriage door. ' Come 
 in ! ' she cried. ' Oh, Stella, you don't know 
 how you have frightened me ! Good heavens, 
 you look frightened yourself! From what 
 wretches have I rescued you ? Take my^ 
 smellino- bottle, and tell me all about it.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 311 
 
 The fresli air, and the reassuring pre- 
 sence of her old friend, revived Stella. She 
 was able to describe her interview with the 
 General's family, and to answer the inevitable 
 inquiries which the narrative called forth. 
 Lady Loring's last' question was the most 
 important of the series : — ' What are you 
 going to do about Eomayne ? ' 
 
 ' I am going to write to him the moment 
 we get home.' 
 
 The answer seemed to alarm Lady 
 Loring. ' You won't betray me ? ' she said. 
 
 * What do you mean ? ' 
 
 * You won't let Eomayne discover that I 
 have told you about the duel ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly not. You shall see my letter 
 before I send it to be forwarded.' 
 
 Tranquilhsed so far. Lady Loring be- 
 thought herself next of Major Hynd. ' Can
 
 312 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 we tell him what you have done? ' her lady- 
 ship asked. 
 
 ' Of course we can tell him,' Stella 
 replied. ' I shall conceal nothing from Lord 
 Loring, and I shall beg your good husband 
 to write to the Major. He need only say 
 that I have made the necessary inquiries, 
 after being informed of the circumstances by 
 you, and that I have communicated the 
 favourable result to Mr. Eomayne.' 
 
 ' It's easy enough to write the letter, my 
 dear. But it's not so easy to say what Major 
 Hynd may think of you.' 
 
 ' Does it matter to me what Major Hynd 
 thmks?' 
 
 Lady Loring looked at Stella with a mali- 
 cious smile. 'Are you equally indifferent,' 
 she said, ' to what Eomayne's opinion of your 
 conduct may be ? '
 
 THE BLACK ROBE, 313 
 
 Stella's colour rose. ' Try to be serious, 
 Adelaide, when you speak to me of Komayne,' 
 she answered gravely. ' His good opinion of 
 me is the breath of my life.' 
 
 An hour later, the important letter to 
 Eomayne was written. Stella scrupulously 
 informed him of all that had happened — 
 with two necessary omissions. In the first 
 place, nothing was said of the widow's refer- 
 ence to her son's death, and of the efiect 
 produced by it on his younger brother. The 
 boy was simply described as being of weak 
 intellect, and as requiring to be kept under 
 competent control. In the second place, 
 Eomayne was left to infer that ordinary 
 motives of benevolence were the only mo- 
 tives, on his part, known to Miss Eyrecourt. 
 
 The letter ended in these hues : — 
 
 ' If I have taken an undue liberty in
 
 314 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 venturing, unasked, to appear as your repre- 
 sentative, I can onl}^ plead that I meant well. 
 It seemed to me to be hard on these poor 
 people, and not just to you in your absencer 
 to interpose any needless delays in carrying 
 out those kind intentions of yours, which 
 had no doubt been properly considered be- 
 forehand. In forming your opinion of my 
 conduct, pray remember that I have been 
 careful not to compromise you in any way. 
 You are only known to Madame Marillac as 
 a compassionate person who offers to help 
 her, and who wishes to give that help anony- 
 mously. If, notwithstanding this, you disap- 
 prove of what I have done, I must not con- 
 ceal that it will grieve and humiliate me — I 
 have been so eager to be of use to you, when 
 others appeared to hesitate. I must find 
 my consolation in remembering that I have
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 315 
 
 become acquainted with one of the sweetest 
 and noblest of women, and that I have 
 helped to preserve her afflicted son from 
 dangers in the futm^e which I cannot pre- 
 sume to estimate. You will complete what 
 I have only begun. Be forbearing and kind 
 to me if I have innocently offended in this 
 matter — and I shall gratefully remember the 
 day wdien I took it on myself to be Mr. 
 Eomayne's almoner.' 
 
 Lady Loring read these concluding sen- 
 tences twice over. 
 
 ' I think the end of your letter will have 
 its effect on him,' she said. 
 
 ' If it brings me a kind letter in reply,' 
 Stella answered, ' it will have all the effect I 
 liope for.' 
 
 ' If it does anything,' Lady Loring re- 
 joined, ' it will do more than that.'
 
 3i6 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 ' What more can it do ? ' 
 
 ' My dear, it can bring Eomayne back to 
 you.' 
 
 Those hopeful words seemed rather to 
 startle Stella than to encourage her. 
 
 ' Bring him back to me ? ' she repeated. 
 ' Oh, Adelaide, I wish I could think as you 
 do ! ' 
 
 ' Send the letter to the post,' said Lady 
 Lorinor, ' and we shall see.'
 
 THE BLACK ROBE 317 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 FATHER BENWELL's CORRESPO^'DENCE. 
 I. 
 
 Arthur Penrose to Father Benwell. 
 
 Eeyerend and dear Father, — ^When I last 
 had the honour of seeing you, I received 
 your instructions to report, by letter, the re- 
 sult of my conversations on religion with Mr. 
 Eomayne. 
 
 As events have turned out, it is needless 
 to occupy yoiu' time by dwelling at any 
 length on this subject, in writing. Mr. 
 Eomayne has been strongly impressed by the 
 excellent books which I have introduced to
 
 31 8 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 his notice. He raises certain objections, 
 which I have done my best to meet ; and lie 
 promises to consider my arguments with his 
 closest attention, in the time to come. I am 
 happier in the hope of restoring his mental 
 tranquillity — in other and worthier words, of 
 effecting his conversion — than I can tell you 
 in any words of mine. I respect and admire, 
 I may almost say I love, Mr. Eomayne. 
 
 The details which are wanting in this brief 
 report of progress I shall liavc the privilege 
 of personally relating to you. Mr. Eomayne 
 no longer desires to conceal himself from his 
 friends. He received a letter this morning 
 which luis changed all liis plans, and has 
 decided him on immediately returning to 
 London. I am not acquainted with the con- 
 tents of the letter, or witli the name of the 
 writer ; but I am pleased, for Mr. Eomayne's
 
 THE BLACK ROBE. 319 
 
 sake, to see that the reading of it has made 
 him happy. 
 
 By to-morrow evening I hope to present 
 my respects to you. 
 
 II. 
 
 Mr. Bitrahe to Father Benwell. 
 
 Sir, — The inquiries which I have insti- 
 tuted at your request have proved successful 
 in one respect. 
 
 I am in a position to tell you that events 
 in Mr. Winterfield's life have unquestionably 
 connected him with the young lady named 
 Miss Stella Eyrecourt. 
 
 The attendant circumstances, however, 
 are not so easy to discover. Judging by the 
 careful report of the person whom I employ, 
 there must have been serious reasons, in this 
 case, for keeping facts secret and witnesses
 
 320 THE BLACK ROBE. 
 
 out of the way. I mention this, not to dis- 
 courage you, but to prepare you for delays 
 that may occur on our way to discovery.' 
 
 Be pleased to preserve your confidence in 
 me, and to give me time — and I answer for 
 the result. 
 
 THE EXD OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
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