Love's Loyalty 
 
 CECIL CLARKE
 
 :mL.:^^i^i£Ml;^^ii..j^^i3^^kir. 
 
 '.^TiiH^'. 
 
 L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLR5ITY 
 
 or ILLl NOIS
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LOVE'S LOYALTY.
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ELSIE GREY: 
 
 A Tale of Truth. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. 
 
 GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH 
 
 NEWBERY HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 LONDON AND SYDNEY
 
 LovE's Loyalty 
 
 BY 
 
 CECI L CLARKE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 * ELSIE GREY,' 'ULRICA,' 'THE LITTLE ALPINE FOX DOG,' 
 
 * WHEN ALL WAS YOUNG,' 
 
 'GREAT-HEART AND HIS LITTLE FRIENDS,' ETC. 
 
 All-conquering Love! Who shall withstand thee when, armed with 
 Heaven's might, thou knockest at man's conscience-gate. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 GRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSH 
 
 NEWBERY HOUSE, CHARING CROSS ROAD 
 
 AND SYDNEY
 
 The Rights of Translation atid of Reproduction are reserved.
 
 
 V . 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CIRCE'S CRIB. . . . . . .1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. .... .II 
 
 j^ CHAPTER III. 
 
 *J THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. . .21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. . . . -35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ^ A PROPOSED REVERSION. ..... 50 
 
 V 
 
 On 
 
 <>^ 
 
 ^^ CHAPTER. VI. 
 
 i>b FOREBODINGS. ...... 62 
 
 ':^ CHAPTERVII. 
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'pilot.' .
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PACJK 
 
 life's little span. ..... 89 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'assets— NIL. ." . . . . .114 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. . . . . .1.32 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' . -157 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MADAME TRAILL. . . . . . .177 
 
 CHAPTERXIII. 
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. . . . . . 2IO 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IS IT PEACE ?...... 24s 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ' HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR 1 ' . 280
 
 LOVE'S LOYALTY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CIRCE'S CRIB. 
 
 In a tortuous city-alley, one of similar traps for the 
 unwary to lose themselves, stands a building whose 
 door-posts are bright with many a strip of brass. 
 These ornaments announce a dozen concerns or 
 more undergoing an elaborate process of winding-up 
 by a firm of accountants on the first floor. The 
 pedestrian would be wise to pause and learn a lesson, 
 for these records are pregnant with the histories of 
 many a brilliant undertaking, melancholy epigraphs 
 of sundry ambitious schemes of the promoter. Of 
 two facts, the investigator may feel assured. Any 
 life-blood which may have stirred the pulses of those 
 ventures at the outset is being fatally cupped from 
 them in the present crisis. He will also be relieved 
 to know that the promoters have feathered their own 
 nests at the expense of the confiding shareholders. 
 
 Six down from the top, sandwiched between a 
 
 syndicate with an alluring title, and a Phosphate 
 
 Company equally attractive, was inscribed, not very 
 
 long ago, 'The Great Wheal Paradox Mine,' all 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 three speculations being marked as limited and in 
 liquidation. 
 
 What a fall was registered in those few words ! 
 As the blackened case of some spent rocket remains 
 the only evidence of meteoric splendour, so did only 
 this trumpery strip recall halcyon days of promotion 
 money, luncheons, and directors' fees. A sad ending 
 in truth to some splendid project for the benefit of 
 mankind, as set forth in an inspired prospectus, the 
 pretty May-fly bait at which a shoal of innocents 
 had risen and snapped so eagerly. Alas ! that so 
 much subtle brain-power should have been expended 
 in vain. If the wayfarer be not stirred to pity over 
 this reflection, his heart must indeed be stony. 
 
 But those business premises are not entirely given 
 over to such cruel sport, for, doubtless to encourage 
 the financiers to fresh schemes of public benevol- 
 ence, the ground floor is dedicated to the worship of 
 Bacchus. There, behind a baize door with lozenge- 
 shaped panels indicating the bar, and under the very 
 roof, haunted by the shades of former efforts, he may 
 nerve himself to fresh exertions for the benefit of his 
 country. 
 
 Enter this choice den any working day between 
 noon and nightfall, and you will find a crowd of 
 bibulous patrons, jostling each other before its marble- 
 topped counter. Obviously a sanguine collection of 
 humanity, as may be gathered from their conversa- 
 tion and confidential whisperings. No suggestion of 
 failure is ever allowed to intrude upon programmes 
 arranged for the welfare of others : at the start, success 
 is assured. To promote and in due time launch some 
 attractive company upon the ever-greedy waters of 
 speculation would seem mere child's-play to these
 
 CIRCE'S CRIB. 3 
 
 bold, if thirsty, mortals hob-nobbing over their pota- 
 tions in hoarse tones of mutual good fellowship. 
 
 One corner of this delectable apartment is con- 
 cealed from vulgar gaze by a faded curtain. But if 
 the stranger be fortunate in having secured the favour 
 of some honoured patron of the crib (a distinction 
 only conferred after excessive treating), he will find 
 that the drapery hides a cozy nook indeed. Over 
 those innocent-looking tables, around which — their 
 arms spread wide to enfold you in their embraces — 
 several wooden chairs are grouped, how many a fine 
 project must have been hatched ; the drafts of what 
 splendid prospectuses drawn out. It is grievous to 
 think how the cruel breakers of failure should so 
 often have cast these gay promoters upon the merci- 
 less reefs of liquidation as sole reward for their dis- 
 interestedness. What joy, however, to reflect how 
 their brave natures have risen superior to each reverse, 
 and, the hour of probation at an end, stirred by new 
 and lofty impulses, they have been eager to start 
 something else for the welfare of others. 
 
 Before raising that seductive curtain, let us take 
 our stand unobserved, and single out a few speci- 
 mens for illustration. Who will not envy that 
 amorous gentleman lolling against the counter as 
 he exchanges pleasantries with the Hebe of his 
 choice ? Surely those inspired sallies which flow so 
 glibly from his lips must have greatly edified 
 her, or the bold eyes would not meet his in such 
 appreciation of his wit. What can this well-dressed 
 person be who can afford to spend his noon thus 
 in pleasant idleness, quaffing merrily the while .-* 
 Probably one of those enigmas known under the 
 comprehensive term of ' something in the city,' pos-
 
 4 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 sessing no local habitation, and, perchance, without 
 a name (worth having) when wanted by his creditors. 
 He is, no doubt, as many other patrons are, a hanger- 
 on to the frail skirts of speculation, ready to plunge 
 into any tempting market with the best of them. 
 Judging from his spirits this morning, some recent 
 immersion must have been quite refreshing. Perhaps 
 there are times when the dip is not so exhilarating. 
 Then neither Circe nor Dulcinea know his presence 
 for awhile. 
 
 Seated in the centre of a coterie of fellow-drinkers, 
 his hat tilted rakishly on one side, an unsteady hand 
 raised to emphasise some choice retort, is one of 
 the Crib's most esteemed guests. He has already 
 imbibed sufficient to have sent any less hardened 
 tippler fuddled out into the noonday bustle. Now 
 and again some ' outside' dealer beckons his client 
 aside, when the group of boon companions is hur- 
 riedly left, and a whispered conference follows. The 
 festive operator's instructions taken as to 'opening' 
 or ' closing,' ' bulling,' ' bearing,' ' stagging,' or some 
 such feat so alarming to the uninitiated, the telling 
 anecdote and rum-and-water are taken up afresh. 
 At the further end of the bar another habitue enter- 
 tains a privileged few with jest and anecdote, not 
 always tuned to ears polite. Indeed, just now this 
 seems a very vulgar old man, as in husky tones, 
 his rubicund face illumined by an unctuous grin, he 
 pours forth his mirth -provoking tale, raising that 
 ready laugh which too surely bespeaks the vacant 
 mind. Perhaps we misjudge him though, for Hebe 
 listens too, and, the story ended, is lavish in her 
 praise of it. ' You're a gay sort, you are ! ' is her 
 comment, as she raps the narrator playfully over
 
 CIRCE S CRIB. 5 
 
 the knuckles with a spoon. Then she hurries off 
 to wait on other thirsty souls, clamorous for atten- 
 tion. These are of a different stamp to those more 
 leisurely consumers selected at random as types of 
 Circe's slaves. The youths who hurry in are, it is 
 true, as regular in their potations as the most grasp- 
 ing caterer could desire. But at this time of day 
 they have to take their drinks — as they do their busi- 
 ness in the ' House ' yonder — in a hurried, boisterous 
 fashion. A nod or a wink and the dram is served 
 and tossed off with a celerity only an expert can 
 acquire. You must drop in later when the ' bitter ' 
 period has set in, if you want to catch the lively 
 jobber with his jocular rash full out upon him. 
 Then, over some prized Circean draught (in which 
 water plays quite an undignified part), he will en- 
 liven you with many a ribald joke conveyed in a 
 jargon peculiarly his own — an accomplishment which 
 has gone far to elevate this particular specimen of 
 humanity (as it has the Parisian cocker) to quite a 
 unique position. 
 
 Now let us enter the sanctum on a fine morning, 
 when the Great Wheal Paradox formed one of the 
 ornaments on the door-posts. There are only two 
 guests within. The elder, a seedy -looking party 
 with thin, drooping whiskers and a restless, excitable 
 manner, not inviting confidence, offers a strange con- 
 trast to the pale, handsome man who should be in the 
 prime of life. Whilst the one exhausts himself with 
 a flow of strong invective, the younger leans back 
 pareing his nails, his face a blank. Only a scornful 
 smile at times indicates any interest in his com- 
 panion's harangue. 
 
 ' Don't you think we've had enough of this, Rush-
 
 6 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 worth,' he inquires languidly, during the pause 
 necessitated by the other's appeal to a tankard be- 
 side him. ' I never knew any fellow harp on a 
 grievance as you do. One would fancy this was 
 the first time you'd been pinched. Do keep your 
 oration for somebody else ; it's wasted on me. What 
 do I care how you came out of the Paradox? It 
 was a swagger enough concern while it lasted.' 
 
 ' Yes, " swagger," and to spare for some of you 
 gentry. But how about the real wire-pullers ; those 
 who did all the . . . .' 
 
 ' Don't say dirty work. It's such a deuced un- 
 pleasant word, why not financing? If they didn't 
 look out for themselves when they had the chance, 
 that's their business ; they've nobody else to blame. 
 The affair's over, let's drop it.' 
 
 ' Is it over ! ' grumbles the thirsty man. ' I wonder 
 what old Folley thinks about that' 
 
 ' If Mr Bostock was perverse enough to accept the 
 hospitalities of Holloway rather than those of foreign 
 climes, he has only himself to thank. As I've told 
 you, that lemon has been squeezed dry long ago, so 
 far as we're concerned. If you've any claim against 
 the estate, why not apply to our kind friends up- 
 stairs? They'll let you rank as creditor, I'll be 
 bound, or, try and square them. You got them the 
 job ; they ought to be grateful. That's my advice, 
 and you're welcome to it' 
 
 Mr Rushworth brings his fist down on the table 
 with an angry thump. 
 
 ' Curse 'em, the bloodsuckers, many's the good 
 thing they've dropped into through me.' 
 
 * All the more reason for now showing their 
 gratitude.'
 
 CIRCE S CRIB. 7 
 
 'Yes, you always were an injured innocent,' con- 
 tinues the other drily. ' Look here, I've got some- 
 thing worth all the Wheal Paradoxes in Christen- 
 dom, a real big thing, and no error if properly 
 worked.' 
 
 He draws a paper from his pocket as he speaks. 
 
 'Just cast your discerning optic over that, will 
 you? If it's not a masterpiece of composition, 
 somebody's education has been neglected.' 
 
 ' Your production, of course ? ' inquires the ill- 
 treated Rush worth. 
 
 ' I didn't say so. Perhaps the style may divulge 
 the authorship, if you're particularly anxious on 
 the subject.' 
 
 The other runs his eye over the prospectus as 
 bidden. 
 
 ' It's not bad, but I should have laid it on a bit 
 thicker. This sort of thing,' after another pull at 
 the tankard for inspiration. ' " It is acknowledged 
 on all sides, how an enormous return awaits the 
 judicious employment of capital in the direction 
 indicated. That the absolute necessity exists for 
 an organ, which shall, at first hand, dissemminate 
 the true principles of faith in the English tongue, 
 amongst our fellow-countrymen, throughout the vast 
 continent of Europe, no right - minded person can 
 deny. That such a want has been so long neglected, 
 is little short of a scandal, v/hich it is the duty of 
 all good Christians to remove. A glance at the 
 names upon this directorate will convince the most 
 sceptical, that the shareholders' interests will be 
 jealously guarded by men of unblemished character 
 and integrity. The head offices of the paper will, 
 as announced, be established in Paris, a city where
 
 8 love's loyalty. 
 
 the demon of corruption stalks abroad, clad in most 
 attractive garb. There, a journal of religious tone, 
 circulating amongst our compatriots, forced by cir- 
 cumstances to reside within the walls of that aban- 
 doned capital, cannot fail to produce untold bless- 
 ings. ]\Iany shares have been already privately 
 placed. Early application for the remainder is 
 therefore imperative. Promises of support from 
 influential members of society in all quarters of 
 the globe, and of many diverse shades of opinion, 
 continue to reach the directorate by every post. 
 Thus the success of the undertaking is at the 
 outset assured. The investor, drawing his ample 
 half-yearly dividend, will be cheered with the re- 
 flection that his money is advancing a most righte- 
 ous cause — a cause it is the absolute duty of every 
 man, woman, and child in this realm to further 
 with might and main, and with no niggardly hand." 
 There, that's my notion of how it should run,', 
 concludes Mr Rushworth proudly, with a flourish 
 of the now empty pewter. 
 
 'Thanks, my friend. You may consider yourself, 
 after that superb effort, permanently engaged upon 
 the staff of the journal. Your peroration, though 
 somewhat flowery, and I fancy, a trifle too liberal in 
 its adjectives, is especially brilliant. In the name 
 of my colleagues, let me offer you the pro teiu. 
 secretaryship of the undertaking. Your decision 
 must be immediate, as there are many applicants.' 
 
 ' With a substantial cash deposit, and a year's 
 prospective salary sunk in shares ? I am greatly 
 obliged to you for the offer, I'm sure.' 
 
 * Not if secured by the company's debenture 
 bonds ?'
 
 CIRCE S CRIB. 
 
 Even then I might hesitate.' 
 
 'You are unreasonable, Rushworth. The affair 
 will float, as sure as my name's Henry Wodehouse. 
 High Church, Low Church, Broad Church, they'll 
 all welcome us with open arms. The opposition 
 small fry — Messengers, Heralds, Registers, and the 
 like — will be absolutely nowhere. Look at this. 
 *' The Continental Pilot, a zveekly journal pledged 
 to the diffusion of true evangelical doctrines throughout 
 the chief capitals of Europe^ Why, we shall be at 
 a premium if the thing's even whispered on the 
 market ! There's nothing like a spice of religion to 
 work the oracle briskly. Won't you change your 
 mind and accept service under the Pilot's banner ? ' 
 
 * I'm open for a cheque on account of literary 
 services already rendered. Otherwise, I prefer to 
 look on for the present,' responds the cautious 
 Rushworth. 
 
 'You'll be one of us before long, my boy. By- 
 the-way, talking of bonds, I had no end of a 
 jobation from our choleric friend Foster this morn- 
 ing. He doesn't take his pinching in the Paradox 
 any more kindly than you, so you have a companion 
 in adversity. His language is forcible, though his 
 strictures on my share in what he is pleased to 
 call " that bogus swindle " are ungracious, to say the 
 least of it. Fortunately, I am not of a vindictive turn, 
 or I might pursue him for libel. Hang it, I only 
 advised to the best of my judgment. Surely I'm 
 not to be held responsible if people's investments 
 don't always turnup trumps? These Anglo-Indian 
 chaps are all alike when they get squeezed a bit. I 
 suppose it's their livers, poor devils. But there's 
 something else in his letter, which micfht rouse the
 
 lO LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 mildest of men. Unless I'm much mistaken, he's 
 been meddling with my domestic affairs again. If 
 I'm right, he'll find me an ugly customer to tackle.' 
 
 ' A demon of the first water unquestionably. 
 What an ennobling picture ! A doting husband 
 roused to defend his happy home from the attention 
 of the Indian Python.' 
 
 * Here, drop that, Rushworth/ interrupts Henry 
 Wodehouse, turning pale, and fairly roused by what 
 seems to be an unwelcome home-thrust. ' When I 
 want any more of your airy pleasantries, I'll call for 
 them. Until then, kindly limit your efforts to your 
 special circle of admirers at the counter yonder.' 
 
 The would-be pioneer of Faith upon the Continent 
 of Europe rises in indignation. 
 
 ' Have another drink, old man, to show there's no 
 ill-feeling,' suggests the elder, soothingly. 
 
 ' What a sponge it is ! No thanks, I want to keep 
 my head clear for the Pilot this afternoon. I'm still 
 disposed to be liberal. There's the pro tein. Secretary- 
 ship open for you till to-morrow. Mark my words, 
 it'll be a big pot' 
 
 ' I thought he'd show the cloven-foot before long,' 
 muses Mr Rushworth, when the promoter has passed 
 behind the curtain. ' Poor little beggar of a wife. 
 She's stuck to him through thick and thin, I hear, 
 till she couldn't stand it any longer. Now she's 
 abroad with her young 'uns, though I don't believe 
 he knows where. But he'll find her out, never fear, 
 that is, if there's any coin knocking about. Sponge, 
 indeed, I like that ! He's a virtuous sort of party 
 to chaff me. I'm not over strait-laced, perhaps, but 
 I should think twice before I sailed as close to the 
 wind as friend H. W. does pretty often.'
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. 
 
 ' Now, then, Nora, listen to this from Schiller's Jung- 
 frau. It's a difficult bit, so I've tried my hardest. 
 Shirley's heard part, I'll tell you what she said pre- 
 sently, but I want your opinion first, her's isn't up 
 to much. That's right, open the dictionary again in 
 case we want to refer. Are you ready ? ' 
 
 Miss Nora, thus appealed to, moved nearer to the 
 young student and nodded encouragingly. 
 
 * Then, here goes. Prologue. Scene the Fourth. 
 Joan on the stage all by herself. She's got the 
 helmet Bertrand has brought with him from the 
 town, and which fascinates her so. She's awfully 
 romantic, besides being upset by what she's heard. 
 (But you've seen the piece, and will remember. I 
 haven't.) This is what she says, — 
 
 ** Good-bye, you mountains, you beloved pasturages, 
 You sad still valleys, I say good-bye. 
 Joan will now no longer scamper about amongst you, 
 Joan repeats over you a perpetual good-bye. 
 You meadows I watered, you trees I planted, 
 Keep on being merry and green. 
 Good-bye you grottoes and cool wells, 
 You echo, friendly voice of the valley, 
 Which often gave me back an answer to my songs,
 
 12 
 
 Joan departs and never comes back again. 
 You places of all my quiet enjoyments, 
 I am going to leave you behind me for ever ! 
 Disperse yourselves lambs, over the heath, 
 You are now a — " 
 
 1 can't find this word anywhere, but I think it means 
 " flock." 
 
 *' Without any curate to look after you, 
 Because I must feed another herd 
 There on the bloody field of hazard. 
 Thus has the call of the spectre taken hold of me ; 
 Conceited, earthly desires do not urge me along " ' 
 
 The youth paused troubled by some passage where 
 the words were chopped up into more than their 
 usual number of fragments. 
 
 'This is a puzzler. Let's have old James to the 
 rescue. As far as it goes, how do you like it, Nora ? ' 
 
 Miss Wodehouse's gaze was fixed on the glittering 
 spire of the Court church opposite, though for all she 
 saw she might have been looking elsewhere. 
 
 * It is a lovely soliloquy,' she murmured dreamily, 
 'and made me cry, when I saw Fraulein Schuster play 
 the character so powerfully last winter. I think your 
 translation is capital. But would you feel offended 
 if I suggested something?' 
 
 ' Not in the least,' responded the scholar valiantly. 
 ' Fancy asking. I know I'm an awful duffer and 
 make no end of mistakes. You're ever so much 
 more of a swell at German than I am.' 
 
 ' I did not mean that, Neil, for I make sad blunders 
 only too often myself. What I thought was . . . 
 well, that perhaps you have been rather too literal 
 in your rendering ; not caught the spirit of that 
 sorrowful, impassioned farewell quite tenderly. Yet,' 
 the critic hastened to add for fear of seeming captious,
 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. 1 3 
 
 * I know it is very, very difficult, almost impossible, 
 indeed, for beginners to convey the sentiment in 
 another language. But Neil, " scamper " and " curate " ! 
 What droll words to use ; where ever did you get 
 them from ? I am afraid they would never pass. 
 Then you have forgotten the proper use of the word 
 thou, which plays so important a part in this country. 
 I am sure the brave and romantic Joan of Arc must 
 have spoken to the spots she loved so well most 
 affectionately. You are quite certain you are not 
 annoyed at my criticisms ? ' 
 
 'Not a bit. Of course, if I'd put "scamper" and 
 "curate" in the same line it might have sounded 
 rather disrespectful. The words are in the diction- 
 ary all right Kind old sensitive Nora, always think- 
 ing of other people, especially curates. Do you 
 know,' continued the youth afcer a pause, ' I really 
 fancy I shall have to kiss you, if you don't mind, 
 though there are foreigners about.' 
 
 ' Neil, Neil, I am surprised at you ! ' 
 
 ' I daresay you are ; but I feel I shall have to, all 
 the same. You're so jolly pretty, you see. Besides, 
 I'm your cousin, so why shouldn't I ? ' 
 
 ' Many times removed this morning. Further off 
 than ever, if you behave so badly as that,' admonished 
 the young lady with a smile. 
 
 ' Bother, Let's be cousins-german really, — that's 
 Shirley's feeble little joke, isn't it? — and love each 
 other very much.' 
 
 ' Well, so we are cousins, of course ; nobody can 
 alter that relationship. Now, if you wish, we will 
 continue the translation. Shall I help you with the 
 sentence we left off at ? ' 
 
 Oddly enough the lad was not eager to resume his
 
 14 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 Studies. The subject opened up seemed altogether 
 too attractive to be dropped thus abruptly. 
 
 * I can't make out why you're always so tremend- 
 ously down on a fellow about that. Of course, we've 
 arranged to be married all right some day. If we 
 don't love each other now, we never shall.' 
 
 ' I am very fond of you, Neil,' responded Miss 
 Wodehouse simply. 'And perhaps we shall be 
 happy together "some day," as you prophesy. But 
 at present we are a great deal too young to even 
 dream of such a thing as marriage, or even a 
 betrothal, which — ' 
 
 'You'll give me your word, though,' broke in the 
 youth eagerly, as he pressed his cousin's disengaged 
 hand with a fervour altogether beyond his years. 
 ' You'll tell me again, with your own lips, Nora dear, 
 that you won't fall in love with any other fellow when 
 you're quite grown-up, " out," or whatever people call 
 it ? Do promise me that. I'm. awfully frightened of 
 those curates.' 
 
 ' Silly, silly Neil. Remember what I told you in 
 the Grosser Garten last Sunday.' 
 
 Master Challoner's face fell. 
 
 ' I recollect that well enough. But Aunt Celia, 
 can't want you always at anyrate after she gets back 
 to England. Besides, she's got Shirley to live with 
 her. As to your being a year or two older than me, 
 that don't matter in the least, and as for having no 
 money — ' 
 
 ' Now, that's very wrong. Yes,' after further con- 
 sideration, 'very, very wicked also. As if I would 
 ever leave lonely, little mother, with only Shirley to 
 look after her, in England or anywhere else. Sister's 
 a dear, good pet, as everybody knows, but think how
 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. 1 5 
 
 giddy and restless ! A [^rown-up, thoughtful woman 
 she never can be, I am afraid.' 
 
 ' Not like pretty, old-fashioned Nora is, long before 
 her time, eh ? ' 
 
 Miss Wodehouse turned her head aside. 
 
 ' How lovely the Elbe looks to-day,' she remarked, 
 with a view to change the conversation, which was 
 becoming rather embarrassing. ' Just think at this 
 very spot last winter, one could walk across on the 
 ice ; and now it is so hot we can scarcely breathe. 
 How charmingly blue the sky is, and how the water 
 dances and sparkles. I can hardly look at it without 
 blinking.' 
 
 ' Yes. Shouldn't I just like another bathe after 
 dinner, if it wasn't for those beastly lessons. ' 
 
 'Another!' echoed Miss Nora, in astonishment; 
 * why, mother says you have become half a fish 
 already since we settled here ; you can't want to live 
 in the water altogether, surely ? 
 
 ', I don't know so much about that ; this weather 
 it wouldn't be half bad. Look here,' plunging sud- 
 denly back to the forbidden topic, ' it's no use your 
 trying to put me off by talking about the river, and 
 how jolly Dresden looks in the sun. I mean to marry 
 you when I'm a man and can afford it. You see if 
 1 won't. I'm not nearly so badly off as you think. 
 And I've got what some people haven't — prospects.' 
 
 Of a sudden, with accompaniment of a merry peal 
 of laughter, a lithe form sprang out from ambush 
 upon the pair. The discarded Jungfrau was tossed 
 out of the boy's hand in a trice. 
 
 'This is what you call coming out to translate your 
 Schiller without being disturbed, is it? You two 
 dreadful young spoonies — yes, I know it's a sad word
 
 i6 love's loyalty. 
 
 to use, my dear, but I really can't help it,' rang out 
 a clear, fresh voice. ' It's no good trying to look so 
 shocked. Miss Honora Wodehouse, for I've heard 
 everything. I should have pounced out on you long 
 ago, only I was laughing too much. When,' — and the 
 eavesdropper turned on her cousin, who was groping 
 ignominiously after his treasured memoranda con- 
 cerning the luckless Maid of Orleans — ' when you 
 wanted to kiss your lady-love, you impertinent boy. 
 How likely she would indeed ! ' 
 
 ' I have you, anyhow, Shirley,' retaliated the crest- 
 fallen youth collecting his leaflets, and very red in the 
 face with his exertions. 
 
 * Yes, once, Master Clever, and that doesn't count. 
 When you took me unawares under the mistletoe 
 at Budleigh-Tarleton. So I make feeble little jokes 
 about our relationship, do I ? And my opinion on 
 your feeblest of feeble translations isn't up to much. 
 How grateful some people are, and what sweet 
 memories they have ! You've forgotten all about 
 Ritter Toggenburg, Neil, haven't you ? ' 
 
 'The soldier chap who built a hut at the foot of 
 a convent to be near his sweetheart's window? ' 
 
 * Yes, only he sat there too long, and one night 
 caught a dreadful cold, poor young man. He was 
 faithful to his vow though, and when they found him 
 dead in the morning, he was still looking up at the 
 casement. Now, that is what I call being a hero, if 
 you like ! Well, I put all your nonsense into the 
 finest English known, and yet you dare to say that 
 my help is not worth having ! I do call this being 
 " real mean," as that American girl Miss Wiggins is 
 always saying through her nose.' 
 
 After which reproach Miss Shirley plumped sud-
 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. ly 
 
 denly down on the bench between this enterprising 
 young couple, who, ignoring such trifles as destiny 
 or other mundane considerations, had decided to be 
 happy together at some future period. 
 
 * Don't you think spooning rather hot work a morn- 
 ing like this ? ' inquired the interloper. There was a 
 merry twinkle in her eye, as she turned from one to 
 the other, vainly endeavouring to adjust her features 
 to suit the gravity of the occasion. * It must be 
 splendid in one way, you never can feel hungry. It's 
 nearly half-past twelve now, for instance, and when 
 people breakfast at seven, of course they can't pos- 
 sibly want anything to eat until supper-time. I mean 
 love-sick boys and girls.' 
 
 Neil was on his legs promptly. 
 
 * DonnerzuetteVy it isn't as late as that, Shirley, is it ? 
 Sha'n't I catch it, and with botany lesson at two.' 
 
 * Indeed, it is. Franz was carrying the soup into 
 the dining-room when I passed. But you needn't 
 use lengthy German words, all the same. . . . Oh, 
 Neil, what have you said to our little Nora ? Look, 
 she's crying ! Poor, poor Nollekins, what has he 
 done to you ? ' And with true sisterly concern, the 
 girl took the elder's face between her hands and 
 peered lovingly into it, as if to try and read what 
 was the matter. Then she rapturously kissed the 
 object of her solicitude. 
 
 'Go home at once, you naughty boy, how dare 
 you ? ' she rebuked her cousin. * Never mind, my 
 poppet, you shall not be left alone with him any 
 more to torment you.' 
 
 ' It is not that, Shirley darling,' whispered Nora, 
 in woe-begone accents. ' But I cannot stand being 
 teased ; I know it is very silly of me, but I cannot.' 
 VOL. I. B
 
 1 8 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 ' My wee, delicate sister. So it is stupid, blunder- 
 ing Shirley who has done all the mischief; how 
 I do hate her ! But she shall never chaff you 
 again, so long as she lives. Never, never, never,' 
 and the compact was sealed with three distinct 
 salutes on lips, cheeks, and forehead. 
 
 'I am sure you do not intend to be unkind, 
 dear sister ; only, you will try to be more careful 
 for the future, will you not? The least thing seems 
 to upset me so now, after my illness, I cannot 
 understand why.' 
 
 * I know it does, and that's what makes my con- 
 duct so much more wicked. But you're splendidly 
 strong compared with last month ; you must be 
 sure and not forget that, miss. Everybody says 
 so, and what everybody says is always true. When 
 we've had a change into the country, that is, if 
 mother can afford it you'll be so flourishing you 
 won't know yourself You must be sure and re- 
 member that also, please. Come, dry your eyes 
 and let us away.' 
 
 Their arms linked together, the sisters hurried 
 along the bank to join Master Neil, who stood im- 
 patiently waiting their arrival. 
 
 ' I say, girls, come along. It's awfully late, and 
 I'm so jolly hungry.' 
 
 For the sake of the friendly shelter of its inter- 
 lacing boughs, which formed such cool shady groves, 
 the three passed into the gardens of the Japanese 
 Palace. In the shadow cast by the high wall of 
 the museum they paused, planning how best they 
 could contrive to cheat the fierce noon-day rays which 
 blazed down upon the open square before them. 
 
 ' I declare the heat quite jumps up at you from the
 
 COUSINS-GERMAN. I9 
 
 stones. You can see them regularly baking,' ex- 
 claimed Shirley. ' It wouldn't be safe to cross to 
 King Street without a cabbage-leaf inside one's hat.' 
 
 ' Or bits of cucumber stuck on your forehead, like 
 the old woman at the fruit-stall,' threw in Neil. 
 
 'Well, I'm off. It's all right if I can reach the 
 chocolate shop without a sun-stroke.' The girls 
 skirted round in the thin strip of shade the palace 
 offered as shelter to any chance wayfarer. 
 
 * Look, Nora,' whispered the younger, as they 
 passed the entrance, ' he's asleep ! I wouldn't wake 
 him for worlds.' 
 
 The diminutive Saxon sentry referred to, who was 
 propped up against the side of his striped box in an 
 attitude the reverse of martial, was certainly dozing. 
 
 ' Poor little fellow,' sympathised Nora. ' I really 
 don't wonder at it this weather. He looks a mere 
 child, and how badly his uniform fits him.' 
 
 * It's meant to be baggy, dear. They all are, 
 except those of the light-blue officers, who seem 
 as if they would pop bodily out of their jackets 
 if you only just pinched them. Well, here we are 
 at last, safe and sound, in the Meissner Gasse. I'm 
 so glad there's nobody about, for I feel dreadfully 
 untidy. Don't you, Nollekins ? ' 
 
 ' There go those two charming English frauleins 
 from Schmolze's Hotel,' mused Herr Krone, the drug 
 merchant, who (his ample midday meal finished) 
 leant, pipe in mouth, out of window, previous to 
 descending to his warehouse, and his duties, below. 
 ' Ac/i Herr /e I they are indeed beautiful, and their 
 good mother, likewise. Olga, Sophie, Klarchen, the 
 young strangers are now passing along the street' 
 
 ' They generally do about this time, my father,'
 
 20 LOVE'S VICTORY. 
 
 responded the stolid Klarchen, helping herself to 
 another slice of sausage. ' Soon the boy will hurry 
 past to the Institute. About four the others go to 
 meet him. That is their daily programme.' 
 
 ' They live on the second floor in front, don't 
 they ? ' inquired Sophie. 
 
 ' Yes, but they only go down to dinner on 
 Sundays, so at least Otto Hirsch says ; he meets 
 them there. On other days their meals are sent 
 up to their rooms, where they eat them in English 
 fashion.' 
 
 ' So /' exclaimed her sisters, drawing out that 
 exhaustive expression into quite a respectable 
 sentence. 
 
 * Well, it is time I returned to work,' presently de- 
 cided the merchant, drawing his head and shoulders 
 back into the room. ' Remember, my daughters, this 
 is the evening for the Linckesches Bad. There will 
 be fireworks, I hear. I wonder if we shall see those 
 nice people there. Ac/i Herr Je ! ' 
 
 Whether that sigh registered more than a regret at 
 having to resume his duties in such broiling weather, 
 or, by implication, cast an ungenerous reflection on 
 any want of comeliness in Frau Krone's contributions 
 to Dresden society, it would of course be the height 
 of impertinence to attempt to investigate.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 
 
 The lady who awaited the return of her daughters 
 and nephew from the river was not one to be upset 
 by any want of punctuaHty on their part When, 
 therefore, shortly after Miss Shirley's departure, there 
 came a rap at the door followed by the waiter bearing 
 the first courses of dinner concealed in tins piled up 
 one on top of the other, she simply bade him place 
 the erection ready to hand, and come back when she 
 rang for him. 
 
 'They are not likely to be long now,' said Mrs 
 Wodehouse to herself, ' and I want badly to finish 
 this piece. How the morning has flown, to be sure, 
 and what interruptions to work. If I had not had 
 my little ready-reckoner Shirley (as I call her) to help 
 me, goodness knows how I should have contrived to 
 get through my various interviews. As it is, I fear 
 I fell into many traps set for the unwary by the com- 
 pilers of this remarkable language, although these 
 nice Saxons are far too polite to notice one's blunders. 
 That reminds me, I must not forget to call and thank 
 our librarian for getting me those delightful " Rambles 
 in Denmark." ' 
 
 There was a shuffling of feet in the corridor. Miss
 
 22 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 Shirley burst into the room, hot and well-nigh breath- 
 less. 
 
 * Here we are, mummy dear, at last,' cried that 
 lively young body flinging hat and gloves on the sofa 
 and saluting her parent with a playful pat on each 
 soft cheek. ' You must have thought we were lost. 
 It isn't my fault, though. If you only knew what a 
 bother I've had to get those two spoon — ' the speaker 
 pulled up just in time — ' slow-coaches along. As it 
 was, when he ought to have been half through his 
 dinner, we found Neil dawdling about the courtyard 
 watching the cooks, I believe he gets tit-bits given 
 him on the sly ; I do indeed. Now, what have we 
 here ? ' — lifting the lid of tin number one, — ' Carrot 
 soup. That's only for the fourth time this week. 
 And,' peering into the next relay, ' oh, mother, if they 
 haven't sent in those horrid greasy rissoles you dis- 
 like so much.' Miss Shirley puckered up her nose 
 into a decided expression of annoyance. 
 
 ' Never mind, dear. Ring the bell for Karl, and sit 
 down ; I daresay we shall manage very well.' 
 
 ' But it really is too bad,' continued the girl, ' after 
 imploring Herr Schmolze to let us have the things 
 plain, at anyrate. Surely there cannot be any great 
 difficulty in that ? ' 
 
 'You forget, Shirley,' Master Challoner interposed, 
 ' we are expected to dine downstairs and take any- 
 thing we can catch. If the dishes are rich we get 
 them, and so we do, if they're not, worse luck. It's 
 only through old S.'s condescension we are allowed to 
 feed alone, at all.' 
 
 * Indeed it is not, Neil, and please don't talk of us 
 as if we were wild animals,' retaliated his cousin. 
 * When we engaged the apartments it was made part
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 23 
 
 of the bargain with old S., as you call him, that we 
 should only have to put up with that scramble down- 
 stairs once a-week : I ought to know, having arranged 
 the terms. Sunday is quite enough for us, thank 
 you. Why, they begin to smoke almost before the 
 cheese is off the table. I don't mind so much, but 
 think of our poor delicate Nollekins.' 
 
 * Yes, and isn't it a queer circumstance,' remarked 
 the youth, with a sly wink at the company, ' that 
 directly aunt and Nora leave all of a hurry, you 
 think you'd like to stay a little longer. Is it to enjoy 
 the smell of the tobacco, I wonder, or talk to me ? 
 Or does " me " really stand for young Hirsch, the 
 clerk in Herr Krone's drug-shop up the street ? ' 
 
 Miss Shirley, with rising colour, bridled up in 
 defence of her conduct. 
 
 ' Well, I know I speak to him, and so does mother 
 know it. It's economical. I get a German lesson for 
 nothing. But, Neil, if you say he's employed in a 
 shop any more, I shall — well I shall be very angry. 
 Besides, he's quite high up in the office, and a great 
 deal cleverer than you will ever be.' 
 
 ' How do you look when you're waxy ? ' inquired 
 the lad with a grin, ignoring his cousin's ungenerous 
 prophecy regarding his future. 
 
 ' Never mind, young gentleman. Only wait till I 
 get you alone. Then perhaps you may find out.' 
 
 During this short passage -at -arms, Nora sat 
 silent and pensive, trifling with the Saxon dainties 
 placed before her. Mrs Wodehouse from time to 
 time cast a mother's searching glance at her elder 
 child. 
 
 ' How I wish my darling were stronger, and we 
 could get rid of that strange, dreamy look,' came the
 
 24 love's loyalty. 
 
 tender thought. * Still, we must rejoice that, after our 
 anxious time in the spring, she is as well as now. 
 God has indeed been merciful to have spared her to 
 us, for the precious life trembled more than once in 
 the balance. I must try to afford a week up in the 
 mountains presently. The pure air will doubtless 
 work wonders.' 
 
 The waiter now appeared with the remaining con- 
 tributions to the repast, nor can it be chronicled, that 
 Miss Shirley's displeasure was materially appeased, 
 after inspection. 
 
 ' Sagen Sie den Herrn Schmolze dass die ganze 
 Englische familie hier oben gar nicht zufrieden sind — 
 gar nicht, bemerken Sie? I call it shameful,' con- 
 tinued the young cateress, ' after all the trouble I've 
 taken, and the endless talky-talkys out in that poky 
 den of an office, that they won't understand our likes 
 and dislikes. It isn't so much that I complain of the 
 absence of variety, but at those horrible sauerkrauts, 
 and the carraway seeds mixed with everything. Day 
 after day we have to put up with this ill-treatment. 
 And why will they persist in placing bits of herring 
 amongst the potatoes ? ' 
 
 Karl, who would have imperilled his situation 
 sooner than offend this charming English * mees,' was 
 overwhelmed with regrets. 
 
 * I ask ze Herr Chef to secure all ze most nice un- 
 reech portions, hoping thus to satisfy,' the poor youth 
 exclaimed almost in tears. 
 
 ' And you have failed dismally,' retorted Shirley 
 with mock severity, as she shook her curly head at 
 the waiter. * It is very, very wrong of you to try to 
 poison an inoffensive family, who have come to settle 
 in Saxony for a year or two. I really am afraid 1
 
 THExM THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 25 
 
 shall be obliged to bring your conduct under the 
 notice of your employer.' 
 
 But fortunately for the susceptible Karl's peace 
 of mind this admonition (addressed to him in 
 English) was beyond his powers of comprehension. 
 
 * How you do make a fellow laugh, Shir'/ cried 
 Neil who was preparing for flight to the Institute. 
 
 * Has anybody seen my botany-case ? Shirley, I 
 believe you've hidden it. Oh, here it is,' slinging 
 the green receptacle across his shoulders. ' Now 
 I really am off. Good-bye, aunt, good-bye, Nora ; 
 ta-ta Frau Hirsch that is to be. I shall look out 
 for you near the confectioner's as usual.' 
 
 ' Outside mind, Neil,' his cousin called after him. 
 
 * If we catch you in the back parlour again where 
 the boarders go . . .' But her friendly advice was 
 lost on her tormentor, whose long legs had carried 
 him down the stairs out of earshot. 
 
 ' I tell you what I thought we would do this even- 
 ing, dears,' said Mrs Wodehouse, when the repentant 
 Karl had finally bowed himself out of the apartment. 
 (The mother had resumed her embroidery ; Nora 
 was getting ready for more translations, and the 
 irrepressible Shirley was picking out catchy German 
 melodies — * pecking at her bars,' she called the per- 
 formance — from the much-enduring piano they had 
 hired.) ' We will rest quietly at home until it gets 
 cooler. Then stroll out and listen to the band 
 somewhere.' 
 
 The musician faced sharply round. 
 
 ' That will be lovely. Do let us go to the 
 Linckesches Bad for a change ; it is so nice and 
 breezy up there. The little Italian village gets so 
 hot and stuffy this weather, so does the terrace of
 
 26 love's loyalty. 
 
 Bruhl. Then perhaps the Krone family will be 
 there. They are such fun to watch.' 
 
 ' Is it not rather far for our little Nora, dear ? ' 
 
 ' Not along by the river. That way it's no distance.' 
 
 Mrs Wodehouse turned with a smile to the young 
 student. 
 
 ' And what do you say, miss ? ' 
 
 * I should like to go so much, but — ' and she paused. 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' If you think it too fatiguing for me I will willingly 
 stop at home with my " Robbers." I should be sorry 
 indeed to spoil your evening. I have been such a 
 drag upon you all lately.' 
 
 ' That's the truth,' replied Miss Shirley. ' Such a 
 terrible nuisance. We could never go anywhere ; no- 
 body has been near us for months, except that smoke- 
 dried doctor over the way. No music, no theatres, 
 no anything! Oh, such a dreary, dreary time. And 
 all because silly little Nora would fall ill and couldn't, 
 be persuaded to get well again quick enough . . .' 
 
 ' My dear child,' interrupted Mrs Wodehouse laugh- 
 ing, ' you really must not let your spirits run away 
 with you in this fashion. Of course you know, 
 darling, your sister is only joking.' 
 
 Shirley crossed to her mother's side and stood 
 watching the taper fingers as they plied the needle 
 so deftly. Suddenly she pounced upon her parent 
 — a demonstration of affection the lady was, as a 
 rule, fully prepared for — and embraced her effusively. 
 
 ' Does mummy really think so .'' That her gad- 
 about daughter can never be serious for a moment ? 
 Well, she shall see this evening when her Shirley sits 
 there as sober as a judge, sipping sugar and water, as 
 she listens to Herr Lieder's band, never moving a
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 27 
 
 muscle, as those solemn Dresdeners keep on nod- 
 ding, "j'a, j'a" ing-, and " 7ie, ne'' ing all round, like 
 mandarins.' 
 
 ' It is certainly an amusing experience,' said Mrs 
 Wodehouse. 
 
 ' Of course it is, so that settles the question ; we 
 all want rousing. If Nora gets tired before the per- 
 formance is over, she shall have a droschke home 
 all to herself, even if I have to pay for it out of 
 my pocket - money ; don't be alarmed my dear, 
 they're wondrous cheap in these parts. How about 
 Neil, though ? ' suddenly occurred to his wary cousin. 
 ' If we don't intercept him on the school side of 
 the tuck-shop, he'll never have the moral courage 
 to pass. Once in, it will be such a job to get him 
 out again. Besides, think how poorly he might be 
 to-morrow ? ' 
 
 ' I don't fancy he has any money to spend,' re- 
 marked Nora quietly, busy grappling with the 
 terrors of her Robbers. 
 
 ' Perhaps not ; but do you know what I have 
 discovered, sister? Something almost too dreadful 
 to mention to you in your present frail state.' 
 
 Mrs Wodehouse, in her capacity of temporary 
 guardian over her nephew, glanced up in alarm. 
 
 'That they actually allow some of the elder 
 boarders to run up bills in the back parlour for 
 tarts and windbags, going on tick, they call it. 
 Isn't it shameful ? I heard that horrid, ugly boy 
 Shorter tell a friend, coming out of church last 
 Sunday. Neil is so easily led.' 
 
 ' He would do nothing underhand, I feel sure. 
 With all his boyishness, he is so frank and open 
 always,' replied his champion, and prospective bride.
 
 28 love's loyalty. 
 
 'Yes,' continued Miss Shirley drily. * But boys 
 will be boys, you know, my dear, all the world over, 
 and Neil is no exception to the rule. He might 
 tell us when the mischief was done, and it wanted 
 a whole thaler-note to get him out of his difficulties. 
 Think of the horror of that situation. He must be 
 caught somehow.' 
 
 After considering for awhile, she exclaimed, ' I 
 know. Herr Schmolze takes Flink for a walk about 
 the time school breaks up, and I'm sure he wouldn't 
 mind. May I go and ask him, mother, just to oblige 
 his scJwne Englische fatnilie, you know ? He wouldn't 
 refuse them anything, I'm sure.' 
 
 'Would it not look as if we were spying on the 
 dear fellow ? I should be indeed sorry if he thought 
 that' 
 
 ' Once let him hear what we want him for, and 
 he'll forget even the attractions of the pastrycook's. 
 I know my young gentleman so well.' 
 
 ' Do as you like, then, my love,' for which consent 
 Mrs Wodehouse was rewarded with a hug. 
 
 Shirley thereupon passed through the ante-room, 
 whence, across the courtyard, she could command 
 a view of the hotel-keeper's office. What she saw 
 below caused her face to brighten with merriment. 
 She crept stealthily back into the sitting-room. 
 
 ' Do come out, both of you,' she said, under her 
 breath. ' Don't make a noise or you'll spoil all the 
 fun,' putting her fingers to her lips. 
 
 Advancing on tiptoe to their coign of vantage, the 
 three got a bird's-eye view of the hotel quadrangle 
 and its various offices. The sight was certainly 
 characteristic. 
 
 The heat would seem to have drawn the whole/^r-
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 29 
 
 sonnel of the establishment out to enjoy what shade 
 and fresh air was obtainable within those hospitable 
 walls. There, in a sheltered angle, sat or reclined at 
 length upon the stones master and servants, one 
 common, apparently united, family, all overcome by 
 the heat, and all, when not absolutely asleep, drowsy 
 and listless. 
 
 * Isn't it lovely } ' whispered Shirley. ' If somebody 
 would only arrive in a bustle and pull the porter's 
 bell violently ! How splendid it would be to see the 
 sleeping beauties wake.' 
 
 At this moment Herr Schmolze, who had been 
 swaying backwards and forwards in a very ominous 
 fashion, so nearly toppled off his chair, that Mrs 
 Wodehouse gave quite a start of concern for her 
 landlord's safety. 
 
 As it was, he just contrived to right himself with a 
 jerk, which must have tried his frame considerably. 
 
 * Do look at Drogan ' (this was the cook so styled 
 by an effort of Shirley's fancy), ' and his cooklets. 
 They're for all the world like a row of calico dolls 
 laid out to air. Isn't that the first-floor chamber- 
 maid, Nora, the one with bare arms and an apron 
 over her head to keep the flies off? There can be 
 no mistaking her figure surely. And that miserable 
 shaven poodle ! I feel he must go mad some day. 
 I wonder whether he really is more comfortable 
 sheared close like that, with only one tuft left on his 
 tail to show he has any hair at all. Do you know, 
 I am convinced Fraulein Schmolze's curls grow 
 redder and redder every day.' 
 
 ' She considers them only auburn,' charitably ex- 
 plained Mrs Wodehouse. ' What a good-natured 
 soul she is, to be sure.'
 
 30 love's LOYAL'IY. 
 
 'Yes, we have another invitation to tea on Wed- 
 nesday. Fancy, they have asked me to sing again. 
 Shalln't I feel nervous.' 
 
 ' They arc indeed kind, trying to make us feel quite 
 like one of themselves.' 
 
 * Yes, even down to the carrot soup and sauerkraut. 
 Nollekins ?' 
 
 'Yes, Shirley dear.' 
 
 'What are you dreaming about, my poppet? I do 
 believe you were dozing as well. Are we not grateful 
 for all the Schmolzes attention, and don't we enjoy 
 our evenings with them ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed, we do. And you will sing to us, will you 
 not, Shirley? Last time it was beautiful.' 
 
 'Was it really, now? But if I do oblige the com- 
 pany, we must have our piano down, or they must 
 come up to us. That spinet is altogether too dreadful. 
 How you can treat it so kindly I can't think. I often 
 long to bang it for being so rude to your wee fingers.' 
 
 Miss Shirley turned her attention to the slumbering 
 group below once more. 
 
 ' It really is very sad to see a whole establishment 
 overcome like that. How behindhand the hotel ar- 
 rangements will get, and how cross they will all be 
 presently. I am sure it would be a charity to wake 
 them. Mightn't I go down and ring that door-bell — 
 only just once, dearie ? I wouldn't ask for more.' 
 (Mrs Wodehouse shook her head in dissent.) ' No ; 
 then what's to be done ? Let the imaginative Shirley 
 consider. Yes, that will do capitally. Mind, you 
 two must do exactly what I tell you. First, let me 
 open the windows all along the passage. That's right. 
 Now I'm going to leave you alone for a few minutes. 
 Mother must stop on that side, and peep out ; Nolle-
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 3 1 
 
 kins there. Then watch, and draw your heads in if 
 they look up. It would never do to be caught.' 
 
 After these injunctions, the young lady retired 
 cautiously back into their apartment. In great glee 
 she sat herself down on the music-stool. Then she 
 scraped her forefinger over the keyboard from bass 
 to treble in one long-drawn, ascending wail. After 
 which, bang, bang, bang on a variety of octaves. 
 
 ' If I could only be in two places at once,' she cried, 
 as vocal accompaniment to her performance. ' Do tell 
 me if they hear, and what they looked like when they 
 woke.' 
 
 The temptation to witness the effect of her charit- 
 able stratagem soon got the better of her. The tune 
 snapped off abruptly, as Miss Shirley, upsetting the 
 music-stool in her haste, darted out on to the landing. 
 The scheme had succeeded. The group was broken 
 up, and its members dispersed to their various duties. 
 Only the cook was there, ruefully contemplating his 
 legs stretched out before him, as if doubting their 
 power to carry him back to his domains. But he too 
 roused himself with an effort, disappearing into his 
 kitchen with a yawn. 
 
 ' I am sure they ought to feel very thankful to me. 
 If travellers had arrived and caught them napping in 
 that ridiculous fashion, the hotel's reputation would 
 have been ruined. Now to beard the little man in 
 his den, before he drops off to sleep again.' 
 
 The girl found Herr Schmolze nodding over his 
 accounts, but he was wide-awake in a moment when 
 he caught sight of the smiling EngliUiderin. His 
 panama was lifted with a grace peculiarly his own. 
 
 ' And how is the good mamma and the estimable 
 sister ? ' he inquired, placing a seat for his visitor.
 
 32 love's loyalty. 
 
 ' Adele and I both remark with joy how much stronger 
 Fraulein Nora appears. Heaven be praised for that ! 
 A few weeks' change into our little Switzerland, and 
 no more visits from Herr Klein opposite.' 
 
 Shirley, somewhat awed, now she found herself face- 
 to-face with the object of her recent musical experi- 
 ment, replied that the others were quite well. She 
 considered it very kind of their host to inquire after 
 them in so friendly a manner. Indeed, the Envoy, 
 who had quite made up her mind to open fire with 
 a strong protest against the offending dishes, found 
 herself at the outset disarmed. Who, after such dis- 
 interested sympathy, could descend to a discussion of 
 anything so prosaic as the items of their daily menu ? 
 Her blue eyes however fell upon the strip of paper 
 Herr Schmolze was occupied with. In her capacity 
 as manageress, the sight of so lengthy a document 
 inspired some feelings of anxiety. The proprietor 
 smiled reassuringly. 
 
 ' Fraulein need have no alarm. That is only the 
 old Baron's account. He is very particular to have 
 it regularly, and to-day, owing no doubt to the heat, 
 is, if I may venture to use the expression concern- 
 ing so exalted a personage, inclined to be peevish. Yes,' 
 as Herr Schmolze glanced with satisfaction at the 
 array of figures before him, ' His Excellency's patron- 
 age is by no means to be despised. Do you know, 
 miss, notwithstanding frequent threats to leave us and 
 settle at the Darmstadt, he has been a customer of ours 
 since I was a little boy not higher than that,' and 
 the speaker indicated a distance from the floor, which 
 certainly reduced his proportions to those of a pigmy. 
 
 The visitor's eyes opened wide in astonishment. 
 
 * It is the truth. Ah, he was a great man once.
 
 THEN THEY WERE BUT CHILDREN. 33 
 
 Alas, all his Silesian estates were forfeited many years 
 ago, and now he remains quite poor — for a baron, of 
 course. My aged father well remembers the time 
 when he used to drive in from Riimpelheim, wrapped 
 in furs, under that very arch, his horses' heads decor- 
 ated with bells. You can imagine what a sensation 
 such visits made, and how good they were for busi- 
 ness. Now, unhappily, we get few persons of dis- 
 tinction at the Eagle. But to make amends, have we 
 not occasionally a charming English family like Frau 
 Wodehouseand her daughters ? ' finished Herr Schmolze 
 with a sudden embarrassing attempt at gallantry. 
 
 After such a speech, an enforced diet of carrot 
 soup and sauerkraut for the remainder of their sojourn 
 must be borne with uncomplaining submission. 
 
 ' We have become so fond of hotel life,' responded 
 the damsel, with cheeks a-flame. ' Mamma says she 
 shall never forget all your and Fraulein Adele's kind- 
 ness during Nora's illness. It is so awkward being 
 ill away from home, you see, and at first none of us 
 knew one word of the language.' 
 
 ' But now it is so different. I declare you have 
 caught the accent well enough to deceive a native,' — 
 a compliment which was certainly well deserved. 
 
 It then occurred to Shirley that she was drawing 
 her friend out into quite a lengthy conversation on 
 extraneous subjects, to the neglect of his duties, so she 
 plunged forthwith into the cause of her visit. 
 
 ' Please, Herr Schmolze, I came to ask if, as a 
 favour, when you take Flink out for his walk this 
 afternoon, you would not mind ' — she longed to em- 
 ploy the grand word ' intercept,' but could not quite 
 manage its equivalent in German — 'meeting our 
 cousin Neil at the corner of Pear Street when the 
 VOL. I. C
 
 34 LOVE'S LOYALTY. 
 
 Institute breaks up, and bringing him along with 
 you ? If you would say also that we are going to the 
 Linckesches Bad Concert, and ' — with the terrors of 
 the seductive tuck-shop in view — ' if you would just 
 walk back with him as far as the top of this street, we 
 should all be so very much obliged.' 
 
 Herr Schmolze bowed low once more. It would 
 afford him ten thousand gratifications to render so 
 trifling a service. 
 
 ' Thank you so much,' said Shirley, rising promptly. 
 ' We know you generally walk that way.' 
 
 * And I fancied at first she had been sent to com- 
 plain of the dinners again ! ' meditated Herr Schmolze, 
 mopping his brow, as he watched the light form 
 tripping across his unevenly-paved courtyard. 
 
 *The little dumpling has promised todo it for us ; isn't 
 he nice ? ' announced Shirley, when she reached their 
 apartments. ' And what do you think ? We've a real 
 live baron stopping here. I didn't know it ; did you ? ' 
 
 * Now I come to consider, Miss Schmolze did say 
 something about it. I think I must have met him 
 wandering about the corridors occasionally. He seems 
 a very quiet, harmless old gentleman.' 
 
 ' Of course he does, mother dear. It's only in books 
 titled people are made so desperately wicked. Why, 
 I never could make out' 
 
 ' Nor anybody else. Now if I were you, miss, I 
 should settle down quietly to work for an hour or two. 
 See what a pattern of industry our plodding Nora offers. 
 
 ' Yes, only she hasn't all the worries of housekeeping 
 to distract her, remember. But I will try to finish my 
 " Spring," if only to oblige little mother. Dear me, 
 here's a difficult word to begin with ! Its head and tail 
 seem to have parted company from its body altogether.'
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 
 
 One morning, when that glorious summer was at 
 its height, Nora and Shirley Wodehouse might have 
 been found strolling under the shade of the chestnut 
 trees beside that broad white road which leads the 
 wayfarer eastward from the city of Dresden. 
 
 Above rose the great Waldschlosschen, framed in 
 its forest of green. At their feet, in the fierce blaze 
 of the noon-day sun, basked the German Florence. 
 There, from the green roofs and gilded cupolas of 
 many a palace, church or gallery — as if to glorify 
 the matchless treasures stored within their walls — 
 the rays of the sun flashed forth with dazzling bril- 
 liancy. And flowing ever on through the city's midst 
 wound the busy Elbe, with a constant burthen of 
 craft. All sorts and sizes, from the gay steamer with 
 a full complement of tourists and toilers, to the 
 humble straw-laden barge or ponderous tug. Up 
 and down, crowded or empty, that strong bosom was 
 willing to bear them all. In its strength there was 
 a great clemency shown as well. For did not a 
 hundred ferry-boats, so cleverly punted from point 
 to point of river bank, daily combine to mock that 
 water's power — the impetuous stream which of a
 
 36 love's loyalty. 
 
 truth might often have claimed them as its lawful 
 prey ? Those venturesome swimmers also, who, down 
 by the ancient bridge, leapt so recklessly from off 
 their floating baths — surely some of them should have 
 gone down before that rapid current to rise no more ? 
 Rather it seemed as if they bore charmed lives, so 
 close to steamer's paddle-wheels did many venture ; 
 so rashly, bobbing up and down, did they also tempt 
 the water's greed. 
 
 On the broad open meadow opposite, the sisters 
 noted signs of preparation for that cherished Saxon 
 carnival, the Vogelschiessen, when, for fourteen days, 
 the capital would be gay indeed. Then would phleg- 
 matic citizen and pleasure-seeking visitor pour forth 
 in numbers to booths and shows ; young heads turned 
 with the excitement of attending those wonderful 
 performances provided within for their amusement, or 
 by impending purchases of quaint effigies in ginger- 
 bread and sweetstuff. Their elders, filled with such 
 grave responsibilities as the shooting at the historical 
 wooden birds of necessity brought with them. The 
 poles on which those emblems were to be fixed 
 already rose up, standing out clear against the summer 
 sky, and without doubt the huge eagles were being 
 pieced together and gaily plumed in yonder shed, 
 whence the tapping of bolt and hammer intruded 
 faintly upon the drowsy, scent-laden air. 
 
 ' What a sweet old place it is, and how thankful we 
 ought to be mother chose it before that dull Hanover. 
 I am sure they get no bird-shootings or anything lively 
 there,' exclaimed Shirley. ' What do you think. Sis.' 
 
 Miss Nora, pensive and practical as usual, replied 
 that of all those cities in Europe the choice of which 
 had been suggested as likely to meet the exigencies
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 37 
 
 of their position, she was convinced none could excel 
 this Saxon capital in its advantages for educational 
 or economical purposes. 
 
 ' Well, here is a seat at last. Suppose we sit down 
 and rest ? I am dying to read Mary Grace's letter. 
 You can work and listen, dear, both at the same time, 
 you know.' . 
 
 Mary Grace was a former school-fellow and bosom 
 friend of Shirley's, with the result that the morning 
 mail had brought the latter half-a-dozen pages of 
 tattle, under the well-remembered heading of the 
 Misses Hollebone's Seminary, from which select 
 establishment Mrs Wodehouse's daughter had been 
 suddenly withdrawn for this other atmosphere of 
 learning. Of the tears and protestations of affection 
 that abrupt parting had called forth, we will not speak. 
 Suffice to say that, in those early days, the promises 
 made budded fresh in the memory of both. With 
 Shirley, so loyal and true when once her word was 
 pledged, the leaves, come what might, would never 
 fade. 
 
 It was agreed that the younger should read the 
 pages through first, favouring her sister afterwards 
 with such extracts as warranted quotation. Judging 
 from the merriment provoked, few disclosures required 
 suppressing. Indeed Shirley, who revelled again in 
 many incidents of school-girl life — as revived by her 
 friend's graphic pen — had more than once to apply 
 the safety-valve of unrestrained laughter to her over- 
 charged spirits. 
 
 ' Isn't she a pet to send me all this? ' exclaimed the 
 girl, when the last line had been reached and Mary 
 Grace's bold signature was prominent at the foot, with 
 a few blots for kisses. ' When she promised to write
 
 SS love's loyalty. 
 
 I never thought I should get as much. There's a new 
 French governess, Nollekins, and the jokes they have 
 played off on her arc terrible — all quite harmless 
 and in fun, of course, my dear. Just fancy, they've 
 liad a picnic in Rockleigh Glen ! Imagine, if you 
 can, Phoebe and Susan assisting at such a dis- 
 sipation as that — the idea is too lovely 1 But 
 I must read you Mary's description. " You must 
 know we were promised a holiday for our sweet 
 Princess's wedding. Long before the day, there was 
 much disturbance in the minds of Phoebe and com- 
 pany how the event should be becomingly celebrated. 
 When one of the parlour-boarders (a new girl with 
 plenty of money) suggested a picnic, the idea was 
 received with horror by the authorities, in solemn con- 
 clave assembled. A picnic, indeed ! The very word 
 had a frivolous ring about it, which forbade its utter- 
 ance within the walls of Ephraim House. Such a 
 gathering meant (this was Susan Hollebone's unalter- 
 able conviction), ' a licence and temporary withdrawal 
 of scholastic supervision which might strike a death- 
 blow at the morals of the Academy for ever.' Visions 
 arose that our arch-enemy, Man, might intrude upon 
 the scene, which was sufficient to increase the pro- 
 spective danger to us flock of innocents a thousand- 
 fold. No : a duly escorted excursion to view the 
 wonders of Saltash, or a botanical party, combining 
 instruction with amusement, would be far more 
 rational. But the spark let drop by our champion 
 had kindled such a fire of longing within our breasts, 
 that it was not to be suppressed by any such feeble 
 alternatives as these. Misses Phoebe and Susan, as 
 well as to the whole of their ' able staff of duly certi- 
 ficated assistants ' (quotation from prospectus), were
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 39 
 
 very soon made aware of this. I regret to say in- 
 subordination became the order of the day ; * picnic 
 or peace/ 'refusal and riot/ the war-cry of the 
 Seminary. In the end the rioters gained the day — 
 a result, I must say, largely due to the plucky conduct 
 of Julia Stokes, the parlour-boarder aforementioned. 
 What is more extraordinary, Man was invited to the 
 festivity, and made himself highly agreeable. The 
 curate-in-charge came to our rescue, representing how 
 it would be more than cruel to exclude his sex on so 
 festive an occasion, striving to prove that a male 
 bodyguard was necessary for our protection, a state- 
 ment, from such an authority, naturally carrying much 
 weight. The reverend gentleman was thereupon com- 
 missioned to nominate a dozen youths of the neigh- 
 bourhood for the honour of escorting us, the names 
 having been previously submitted to the censorship 
 of the dragons. Eventually, twelve trusty men were 
 selected. Then twelve little notes in Susan's neatest 
 caligraphy (isn't that a beautiful word, dear ?) — ' We 
 are hoping to organise, for the delectation of our dear 
 girls, and in the quietest possible manner, a rural 
 pleasure-party in the Glen, for the twenty-fifth inst. 
 It would afford my sister and myself much gratifica- 
 tion if you would make one of the number. Our 
 pupils are directed to assemble in the drawing-room 
 at eleven o'clock precisely,' etc. etc. — were delivered 
 at the residences of the favoured dozen by old Simes 
 the gardener. Needless to say, prompt affirmative 
 answers were returned before the day was out 
 Imagine, if you can, the excitement before that event- 
 ful morn. I verily believe the days of the sensitive- 
 minded Phoebe were shortened by the responsibilities 
 with which, in an unguarded moment, she had saddled
 
 40 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 herself. Never assuredly within the period of her irre- 
 proachable reign at the Academy had such a period 
 of frivolity prevailed within its walls. Morning, noon 
 and night the terrors of the approaching Picnic rose 
 before her. Well, the eventful twenty-fifth came at 
 last, and a high state of glee we were in. An early 
 peep out of window had settled any doubts as to the 
 weather. For over the earth hung that dim, shadowy 
 haze which betokened a cloudless sky above, as the 
 sun rose, and our feathered friends twittered a wel- 
 come to the uprising morn (what do you think of 
 that, my dear, as a specimen of my poetic capa- 
 bilities ?) ...."' 
 
 But at this point an interruption occurred, which 
 necessitated a postponement of Shirley's communica- 
 tion. For a stranger sat down on the bench. He 
 gave vent to that long-drawn breath of relief with 
 which tired pedestrians express their gratitude for 
 a seat on a hot summer's day. The two were so 
 accustomed to fatigued Germans taking them un- 
 awares in this fashion, that they only edged up 
 closer, when doubtless further revelations as to the 
 picnic would have been proceeded with in an under- 
 tone. The intruder, however, opened fire upon the 
 girls thus, — 
 
 * Don't let an old fogey like me disturb you, my 
 dears. What a warm morning it is to be sure ! 
 Sensible people the Saxons though, to let us dress in 
 this free and easy style. I haven't had such a treat 
 since the old Punjaub days. You're residents here, 
 I expect. Education — eh ? ' the gentleman asked in 
 the friendliest manner. 
 
 What an odd-looking old man this was. He was 
 dressed all in white, from the hat, with which he was
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 4 1 
 
 vigorously fanning himself, down to the spats, which 
 seemed a continuation of the ' ducks ' over his ankles. 
 Such little hair as he had on his head was white also, 
 and that morning, at anyrate, the very colour had 
 faded out of his eyes, so as not to spoil the general 
 harmony of his appearance. 
 
 Nora's hand was pressed upon her sister's to stop 
 the perhaps too ready flow of information which might 
 otherwise have followed the stranger's inquiry. 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' came the gentle voice of the elder girl. 
 ' We have been here now about eight months, and 
 expect to stay two years at least, if the place suits us, 
 that is. Our mother is here, with a cousin also, who 
 attends the Institute in this the new part of the city.' 
 
 * And plenty of friends you've made already, I'll be 
 bound — eh ? ' This intruder seemed to have con- 
 tracted a habit of finishing up his sentences with a 
 jerky expletive, like some Sussex people employ. It 
 did not, however, appear to require recognition, as 
 he continued briskly, ' Well, there's no time like it' 
 (presumably he meant the period of youth). ' You 
 won't believe me, perhaps, but I was young once — a 
 sad pickle into the bargain — a long while ago, still 
 there's the fact. Now, as you see, I'm as yellow as 
 a guinea, with an abominable temper. I don't mind 
 telling you. India has done that for me, and a good 
 deal besides ; regularly scorched me up, heart, lungs 
 liver, everything. Wasn't that gratitude after helping 
 her with her finances for thirty years or more — eh ? 
 Bless you, young ladies,' this eccentric person con- 
 tinued, with a grim humour, 'she's sent lots of us 
 back like that, dried up old grumblers, toddling about 
 Bath, or Harrogate, or Cheltenham, with our queer 
 fads and fancies, nuisances to everybody. This year
 
 42 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 I thought I'd give Germany a turn. But it's only the 
 same thing: over asrain with their blessed cures and 
 courses. "Water, water, everywhere, yet never a drop 
 to drink" (except as physic) as th ^ story book says. So 
 I've thrown all their confounded treatments overboard. 
 I mean to try Dame Nature instead. Shouldn't wonder 
 if I were drinking their beer soon in desperation.' 
 
 Miss Shirley, with mouth and eyes wide open, 
 busy taking in this remarkable character for repro- 
 duction in the home-circle, thought the speaker had 
 done wisely in giving up the diet. So did Nora, who 
 ventured to say, — 
 
 ' I am afraid you must have overworked yourself, 
 sir ; the climate of India is so trying. Mother has 
 had some relations there, who have all returned more 
 or less invalided.' 
 
 ' Don't people get leave every few years and come 
 to England for their healths? Godpapa Baskerville 
 did, only he didn't get well, and had to stop where 
 he was,' inquired Shirley. 
 
 The old Civil servant faced sharply round, and 
 jerked out, — 
 
 ' Baskerville ? Army-man, tall, thin ; fought like a 
 tiger in the mutiny ? ' Shirley nodded. ' Knew him 
 well. Have never come across him at home, though. 
 Isn't dead, is he — eh ? ' 
 
 This time a reply seemed courted. So Nora told 
 the stranger that the gallant officer in question, now 
 much afflicted with rheumatism, lived either at Mat- 
 lock or Dawlish. The gentleman in white gave a 
 snort, presumably of disapproval. 
 
 ' Worst places he could have chosen, both precious 
 damp and relaxing. Tell him so from me when you 
 write.'
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 43 
 
 ' I am afraid Godpapa cannot be mov^ed now,' she 
 explained. 
 
 ' Um ! Can't he, poor fellow ? Sorry to hear it. 
 He deserved a better fate than that,' from w^hich it 
 may be inferred that whatever liberties the Indian sun 
 had taken with his frame and vitals, it had not turned 
 the milk of human kindness sour in Ned Foster's 
 heart. 
 
 ' But I'm forgetting what I meant to ask when I 
 sat down/ he continued. ' I want to find an English 
 lady and her family staying in this place. Like a 
 donkey, I've mislaid the address. Perhaps you could 
 put me in the way ? ' 
 
 Shirley rose valiantly to the occasion. 
 
 ' I think you said they were English ? Then there 
 won't be the least difficulty. Directly any arrive here, 
 the Polizei — that's the police — are down upon them 
 at once to find out what they want. Then they make 
 them fill up a terrible-looking document, full of ques- 
 tions. And if they can't give satisfactory reasons for 
 stopping, they w^on't let them, at least not more than a 
 certain time. All you've got to do is to go to the 
 head police-station over there, and they'll tell you the 
 history of every stranger in the place for the last six 
 months. It isn't done out of curiosity, but from the 
 purest motives of friendliness. We had a great bother 
 to persuade them to let us stop — hadn't we, Nora ? — 
 although we really had come here for educational 
 purposes.' 
 
 'Yes, dear. They actually thought mother could 
 go back and leave us at school alone — fancy that, sir ! 
 But, then, we were in apartments. Since we've been 
 at the Golden Eagle, we have not been molested so 
 much.'
 
 44 love's loyalty. 
 
 The gentleman in white thought these formaHties 
 must be very vexatious. He inquired if there was not 
 some Hst of visitors pubUshed, the sort of thing he 
 had been in the habit of consulting at the various 
 health-resorts he frequented. 
 
 Shirley laughed. 
 
 ' Oh, yes. There's the Auzeiger ; only they spell 
 the names so badly, it's almost impossible to trace 
 your best-beloved friend. Then there's the Guide, 
 published in English, with a list of the sights worth 
 seeing ; but people are generally miles away before 
 their names get into that. Such a dear little paper, 
 full of funny paragraphs taken out of other ones. They 
 give you the operas and dramas to be performed at the 
 theatres, with a most useful — isn't argument the right 
 word, Nora? — of the plot of anything difficult for 
 strangers to follow. Very considerate it is of them. 
 Nevill and I were only saying the other day what a 
 fine chance there would be for a regular grown-up 
 English newspaper. Nevill was to be editor, and 
 Nora and I contributors. That would have been fun. 
 Nora, you must know, is quite a budding literary 
 genius. I'm much too frivolous.' 
 
 'Nevill, did you say, my dear? What's his other 
 name ? ' interrupted the old gentleman. 
 
 * Challoner. He's our cousin who goes to the In- 
 stitute. We call him Neil for short.' 
 
 ' Bless my soul ! ' exclaimed Mr Foster, surv^eying 
 his neighbours wonderingly. ' Then, unless I'm much 
 mistaken, you're the Miss Wodehouses — my dear 
 friend Celia Carmichael's girls, grown out of all re- 
 cognition — the very family I'm looking for — eh ? 
 Bless my soul ! ' the gentleman repeated, turning 
 from one to the other. ' I don't wonder at your look-
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 45 
 
 ing SO astonished, and not knowing me, especially in 
 this costume. I expect you've heard of old Ned 
 Foster, though? Surely that boy Nevill hasn't quite 
 forgotten him.' 
 
 Shirley fairly jumped from her seat in surprise. 
 She held her hand out eagerly. 
 
 'Why, of course, I understand now,' she cried. 
 ' You're Neil's guardian, and we've been sitting here 
 all this time without recognising you. Nora, just 
 think of that ! It's little mother then you're looking 
 for, and you've arranged for Neil to come and live 
 with us till he's of age. How delighted our darling 
 will be. Do come and see her now. How dreadfully 
 rude you must have thought us.' 
 
 In the young lady's excitement, the sentences jostled 
 each other out of their proper places. 
 
 Nora stood up, holding out her hand shyly. 
 
 'You must indeed have thought us foolish, Mr 
 Foster, not to have remembered you. After the 
 number of times our cousin has described you, be- 
 sides telling us of your great kindness to him.' 
 
 ' Um!' grunted Mr Foster. ' He told you that, did 
 he, the young rascal. It's a pity he isn't more truth- 
 ful at his age. What's he grown up like, my dears ? 
 Though I've kept my eye on him pretty sharp, by 
 proxy, I haven't seen much of the lad myself.' 
 
 Shirley promptly accepted the responsibility. 
 
 ' He's tall, fair, and rather lanky, with light wavy 
 hair and grey eyes — beautiful liquid ones, which look 
 straight at you without flinching. Full of fun, and 
 rather boisterous, like all boys. Very sensitive, and 
 upset at all sorts of odd things — isn't he, Nora ? What 
 people call having a highly-strung, nervous tempera- 
 ment, I think. If he cries — which he does sometimes.
 
 46 love's loyalty. 
 
 though not often — it is dreadful to see him, but the 
 tears are soon over. He used to be very delicate ; 
 English school-life was too rough for him. But 
 under mother's care, he's grown quite another boy, 
 with a splendid appetite. Let me see, what else can 
 I say about him ? Well, he's extremely generous, 
 and, I'm afraid, inclined to be extravagant with his 
 pocket-money. Somewhat hasty and impulsive, a 
 great tease, but a dear good fellow for all that — "real 
 nice," as Miss Wiggins the American girl calls him. 
 What we should have done without him when this 
 little sister of mine fell ill, I really don't know. He 
 would sit by her for hours and keep watch, as quiet 
 as a mouse. He is an orphan, as you know, poor 
 fellow, and will be sixteen next birthday, which is not 
 far off. I ought perhaps to say that he is not quite 
 so persevering with his German as we should wish. 
 But,' concluded Shirley, with a sigh, * no doubt all that 
 W'ill come right in time.' 
 
 * No doubt about that,' Mr Foster agreed drily. 
 ' So Miss Nora has been ill, has she ? What was it 
 now — over-study, or growing too fast ? Not fallen in 
 love yet ^ ' 
 
 The younger sister stopped him at once with a 
 frown and shake of the head, which w^as meant to be 
 very impressive. 
 
 * It was nothing, really. Only some silly low fever, 
 or something of that sort. She's got quite strong 
 again. Don't you think she looks so ? ' 
 
 * The picture of health. I declare the sight of your 
 bonny faces has done me a world of good already. 
 Now, tell me about Cclia — I mean, Mrs Wodehouse.' 
 
 ' Dear little mother ? Oh, she's splendidly well now, 
 thank you. We were afraid at first the place might
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 47 
 
 not be quite agreeing with her; she was so pale and 
 thin, and did not lose her cough as she ought. But 
 lately she has picked up wonderfully. You've heard, 
 perhaps, that her life has not been altogether a happy 
 one — that our darling has borne much trouble very, 
 very bravely ^ How she has come out here — to try 
 and forget?' 
 
 Yes. Mr Foster knew the whole miserable story 
 only too well. A sorry picture enough, with its sequel 
 in flight. Much kindly pity for those two worse than 
 fatherless ones was reflected in his faded eyes. How 
 little of the real misery, thought he, had the pure 
 minds of these innocent ones been able to grasp. 
 With what tender care must not a mother's love have 
 veiled another's misdeeds, have kept back the truth 
 from unsuspecting hearts. Ripening years would 
 bring the bitterness of it all home to them wherever 
 they might look for rest ; the sting perchance of un- 
 merited shame and poverty. But now let their lives 
 be cloudless. Time enough for the darkness to 
 gather later. 
 
 'And this young monkey, Neil, as you call him. 
 I suppose they let him out of school soon, and 
 then all the fun begins ? ' 
 
 * There is not much leisure for play,' explained 
 Nora. ' He has to be back, you see, by two o'clock. 
 Sometimes, I am sorry to say, he gets kept in for 
 insubordination.' 
 
 ' Yes. When that happens, we have no end of bother 
 to pack him off in time again: he's such a dreadful 
 dawdle. It's too bad, though, to shut him up for 
 punishment in the lobby, with all the damp coats and 
 umbrellas. Don't you think so?' 
 
 Mr Foster imagined the experience to be the re-
 
 48 love's loyalty. 
 
 verse of pleasant, particularly if the lad were a sport 
 for rheumatism. 
 
 ' When's the best time to find your mother in ? ' 
 the gentleman in white inquired. 
 
 ' She never goes out before dinner, unless very 
 early, shopping with me and a big basket,' ex- 
 claimed Shirley. 
 
 ' Then tell her, please, to look out for a visit from 
 old Ned Foster at twelve sharp to-morrow. Don't 
 forget. Good-bye, little ladies.' 
 
 He placed his shrivelled hands on the shoulders of 
 each girl in turn, and holding them at arm's length, 
 gazed sadly upon their pure young faces. 
 
 ' You wouldn't care to give an old fogey like me 
 a kiss, perhaps ? ' he asked. ' Too much to expect 
 on such a beautiful morning, and in public — eh ? ' 
 
 As answer, two pairs of lips promptly saluted his 
 parchment cheeks. 
 
 ' Yes, we would,' cried Shirley gaily ; ' why not ? ' 
 
 'You, who have been so kind and good to Nevill 
 and all of us, need scarcely ask so small a favour,' 
 echoed her sister. 
 
 The ex-Civil servant gave one of his characteristic 
 snorts, assuredly of satisfaction this time, and his 
 voice seemed rather shaky as he repeated, — 
 
 * Good-bye, my dears, and don't forget my message.' 
 Then he trudged away, muttering to himself, ' Poor 
 Celia's girls — poor Celia's girls. God help them.' 
 
 'Whoever do you think we've seen this morning, 
 dearie .'* ' was Shirley's greeting, as she bounced 
 into the sitting-room on the second floor of the 
 Golden Eagle. 'You'd never guess.' 
 
 ' Then spare me the effort by telling me at once, 
 my love.'
 
 THE GENTLEMAN IN WHITE. 49 
 
 *Mr Edward Foster, Neil's guardian, and he's com- 
 ing to call upon you to-morrow, at twelve o'clock 
 sharp.' 
 
 ' You don't tell me so ? ' 
 
 Shirley thought her mother turned rather pale. 
 
 ' It's perfectly true. Such a dear old man, dressed 
 all in white, with the funniest way of talking — all jerks 
 and questions. But he was so chatty and nice. Do 
 you know, he seemed quite upset when he left, after 
 kissing us. He's gone for a walk towards Loschwitz, 
 to cheer himself up. Wasn't it stupid of us not to 
 recognise him ? ' 
 
 The girl's sharp eyes detected something crumpled 
 up in the other's hands. Over her sweet face there 
 passed the first shadow it had known that day. 
 
 * Oh, darling, I am so sorry,' as she slid her arm 
 round her mother's waist, and pressed the slender form 
 protectingly to her. ' Just as we were beginning to be 
 so happy, too ! How wicked it is to write and worry 
 you like this.' 
 
 ' It is hard, indeed, to bear, but we must be strong, 
 Remember always, my child, he is your father. Never 
 forget that, whatever happens. Hush ! I hear your 
 cousin and Nora coming. Not a word before them.' 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHATTER V. 
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 
 
 The morning Ned Foster, late of the Indian Civil 
 Service, had fixed to visit Celia Wodehouse happened 
 to be the one on which Miss Shirley's weekly singing- 
 lesson took place, at the hands of a long-haired Saxon 
 professor. Not a frivolous time, by any means, to be 
 spent in pecking at her bars, but an hour's honest 
 work, divided into two sections ; the first, with going 
 over those aids for the voice which, as the pupil ad- 
 vanced in proficiency, an ingenious compiler had con- 
 trived to develop into quite captivating arrangements 
 of tune ; the second, in rehearsing to her master the 
 song left for practice. This was the chief delight of 
 the morning. However flighty the young lady might 
 have been in much, no one could accuse her of neglect- 
 ing opportunities for advancement, or do otherwise 
 than admire the boldness with which the most alarm- 
 ing shakes and turns were attacked, and subsequently 
 vanquished, thus turning her flightiness to quite prac- 
 tical results in another direction. In a word. Miss 
 Shirley's heart was in her work ; the training of that 
 precious organ of sound, with which heaven had en- 
 dowed her, a labour of love and duty. 
 
 Watch her as she stands there erect, with flushed
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 5 I 
 
 cheek, her whole soul gone forth to the simple words 
 set in their grand framework of inspired melody. 
 Listen to the full, clear notes, nor check that bright 
 enthusiasm by one unkindly censure. Rather pray 
 that the gem may be cut and polished to prove a 
 priceless jewel, of which no mortal hand can rob its 
 wearer. 
 
 The song ended amidst a silence, — Mrs Wodehouse 
 and Nora always formed the audience, — which was a 
 far greater compliment than mere empty applause. 
 The professor passed his hands over the keyboard 
 absently before committing himself to a judgment. 
 
 * That is not so bad for a beginner. But, Fraulein 
 must excuse me, the attack, and in parts phrasing, 
 were faulty. Attention now,' as he selected a par- 
 ticular passage for illustration after his own method, 
 though Shirley (had she been captious) might have 
 taken exception to even her teacher's mastery over 
 the higher notes. ' You will practise that thoroughly, 
 and let me hear it again on Thursday. Study, study, 
 study, miss. In that alone is to be found the secret 
 of success. And now I go, for in a quarter of an 
 hour I must take the Von Rasch children in the 
 Sophienstrasse.' 
 
 There was not much of the professor's face visible, 
 what with his long hair and spectacles. But his eyes 
 certainly seemed to twinkle more than their wont, as 
 he placed his heels together and bowed profoundly to 
 Airs Wodehouse. 
 
 ' I am to go on with the next six exercises, as usual, 
 Herr Klibler ? ' inquired Shirley, from the piano. 
 
 ' Certainly, and have good care of the sixteenth 
 arrangement : it is difficult.' Then he bent low over 
 the proud mother. 'She has ze voice of ze — what
 
 52 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 you call, lerche ? — yes, skylark. Of a truth, we must 
 cultivate her. It is of all rules, me contrary to flatter 
 my pupils. But this one ! Honoured lady, I make 
 you my congratulations sincere, for the voice is of a 
 quality the most rarest. In the future she shine con- 
 spicuous, unless I me much mistake.' 
 
 With which prophecy this cautious singing-master 
 bowed himself out. 
 
 On the floor below, punctual to his appointment, he 
 passed Mr Foster labouring up the stairs, as if, amongst 
 other ravages on his constitution, the prolonged Indian 
 sojourn had impaired his staying powers. As the clock 
 over the guardhouse struck the hour, the ex- Civil ser- 
 vant rapped with his stick upon the door of Mrs Wode- 
 house's apartment. A voice he had not heard for many 
 a day called out ' Come in.' 
 
 * My dear old friend,' exclaimed the lady, advanc- 
 ing to meet her visitor, with both hands held out in 
 cordial welcome. 'This is indeed a pleasure. Ot 
 course, my girls have told me all about your strange 
 meeting yesterday. We shall have our young man 
 home from the Institute soon ; we have as yet said 
 nothing to him of your being here. He will be so 
 surprised and delighted. Pray sit down.' 
 
 With old-fashioned gallantry, Ned Foster raised 
 Mrs Wodehouse's fingers to his lips. 
 
 ' It is a long time since we met, Celia.' 
 
 ' Longer than I for one care to consider,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 'And where is the nightingale caged I heard 
 warbling just now? There v/as quite an enthusiastic 
 audience downstairs, I assure you.' 
 
 ' That was Miss Shirley at her singing lesson ; she 
 is the musical genius of the family. Nora, the great
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 53 
 
 linguist and scholar, quite a prodigy, we consider 
 her.' 
 
 * And my particular responsibility ? ' 
 
 * Nevill ? Oh, he has no special talents, at least 
 nothing strikingly developed as yet.' 
 
 *A good all-round youth, as the cricketers say, 
 perhaps — eh ? ' 
 
 ' We may safely predict that. And he is everyone's 
 favourite. He has grown such a manly, handsome 
 fellow, full of life and spirits, besides being a capital 
 swimmer and fencer for his age. But here he comes 
 to answer for himself Nevill, dear, your guardian, 
 Mr Foster, has come out all the way from England to 
 see you.' 
 
 Master Challoner's face was a study to behold, as 
 the varied emotions conjured up by so unexpected a 
 meeting ranged themselves before his youthful under- 
 standing. He had his botany case slung round him. 
 There was a slight suspicion of munching going on, as 
 if the pangs of hunger had been hurriedly stayed at 
 the popular tuck-shop round the corner. 
 
 ' Hullo, Mr Foster, when did you come? How long 
 are you going to stop ? ' he inquired in a breath, for 
 the moment forgetting his manners. 
 
 ' Um ! ' grunted the visitor. * Supposing just long 
 enough for you to pack up your traps and come back 
 with me. What would you think of that — eh ? ' 
 
 The lad's face dropped. 
 
 ' I say, you don't really mean that, sir, do you? It's 
 so jolly out here, you know, and I'm picking up the 
 language finely. Aunt is awfully kind, so are Nora 
 and Shirley.' 
 
 ' They couldn't bear to part with you, just yet, that's 
 your opinion ? Well, we must see what sort of a
 
 54 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 character they give you presently. Come closer, and 
 let me have a good look, my eyes are not as keen as 
 they were.' 
 
 Ned Foster surveyed Master Neil intently. Cer- 
 tainly Shirley's description of her cousin had been a 
 faithful one. The frank, open look, the trustful eyes, 
 grey and clear. An honest English bearing too, in 
 which deceit and meanness assuredly found no place. 
 Unless human instinct were sadly at fault, here was 
 the seed from which an honest, upright man should 
 spring. So at least the critic seemed to think as he 
 gave out a sharp volley of characteristic snorts. 
 
 * You'll do, I fancy,' was the verdict under his breath. 
 ' Now go and amuse your cousins. I've got some- 
 thing to talk over with your aunt here.' 
 
 ' Suppose you all walked across the bridge, dears, 
 as far as the old market — only mind and keep in 
 the shade as much as possible. There will be plenty 
 of time before dinner. I daresay Mr Foster will 
 excuse you.' 
 
 The three took the hint, and went off merrily. 
 
 Then those two, the poor mother, whose life had 
 been so cruelly spoilt by a sworn protector's neglect and 
 sin, and the real friend, going down the hill uncom- 
 forted by a woman's love, found themselves, after long 
 years, once more alone together. And before the 
 minds of both there rose the memory of a short, 
 passion-laden wooing and rejection. Little wonder 
 that the remembrance of what might have been 
 provoked a painful silence, or that the eyes of one 
 was dimmed by tears. 
 
 ' How can I thank you, Edward, for all your noble 
 help of late .... Ah, it is no use to deny it. With- 
 out this aid, who knows what would have become of
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 55 
 
 US ? My earnest prayer is, that I am doing my duty 
 by this dear Neil we have all learnt to love ; that 
 your trust in me is not abused.' 
 
 ' Don't let a thought of that trouble you, Celia. 
 Bless me, the lad must live somewhere. The luck of 
 it was, finding you willing to look after him.' 
 
 ' The allowance is too liberal by far, in reality our 
 own mainstay. I feel ashamed to accept it. And 
 when I consider it is given so generously because — ' 
 
 ' Because,' interrupted Mr Foster, his feet beating 
 an excited tattoo upon the polished boards, * because, 
 it's no use mincing matters, your husband is a scamp — 
 a bully into the bargain. Why didn't you let the law 
 release you long ago ? ' 
 
 ' I could not bring myself to it,' wept this good 
 woman, who was a wife only in name. ' The thing 
 seemed too horrible. Think of my dear girls.' 
 
 ' Um ! 1 don't see how they could have been much 
 worse off than they are now. A good deal better, 
 perhaps. Excuse my bluntness.' 
 
 ' The disgrace of it,' urged Mrs Wodehouse. 
 
 ' I can't see that either. His shame, if you like ; 
 nobody else's.' 
 
 ' The whole miserable business paraded before the 
 public' 
 
 The mother shuddered at the contemplation of 
 such an exposure. Ned Foster let his feelings betray 
 him into exclaiming, — 
 
 ' Devil take the public and its opinion,' though, of 
 course, he at once apologised for the slip. ' You're 
 too sensitive, Celia. Mark my words, he'll never 
 give you a moment's peace until you've put the law 
 in action against him. Much as I hate it, it's useful 
 sometimes.'
 
 56 love's loyalty. 
 
 ' I cannot persuade myself to act as you wish. 
 Let things rest as they are, I beg.' 
 
 ' Then you must make up your mind for another 
 peck of trouble. Suppose he got hold of your where- 
 abouts ; followed you out here. That would be a 
 pretty kettle of fish.' 
 
 ' We must bear what is in store for us as best we 
 may. Why need we talk further of this ? Let us 
 change the subject. What have you been doing with 
 yourself all this while ? The money-agents could 
 give us no information.' 
 
 ' What I told your girls yesterday. Mooning about 
 from one hydropathic place to another, trying to patch 
 myself, till I'm sick of the whole lot of them. I've 
 tried half-a-dozen at least in Germany too, but it's no 
 good. And now I'm here.' 
 
 'This is not a watering-place in the sense you 
 are accustomed to,' said Mrs Wodehouse, with 
 a smile. ' But perhaps you are on your way to 
 Teplitz ? ' 
 
 ' No, I'm not. I've decided to give 'em all up, for 
 the present at anyrate. I'm going in for a course of 
 German beer instead. Began yesterday at that big 
 place behind where I met your children. Poor stuff 
 it was, too, after our bottled Bass.' 
 
 ' I don't fancy you can be serious. If you are, I 
 should suggest caution. From what I hear, it is a 
 very treacherous beverage.' 
 
 ' Whatever your young people take seem to agree 
 with them, anyway.' 
 
 * I am so glad to hear you say that. But dear Nora 
 is far too thin from a mother's point of view. She 
 has not quite recovered from that trying illness of 
 hers.'
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 57 
 
 ' Never fear, she'll fill out in time. The other is 
 plump enough for both.' 
 
 The parent shook her head. 
 
 ' My child is far from strong. At times I am sadly 
 anxious about her.' 
 
 ' I shouldn't let her study too hard if I were 
 you. Plenty of fresh air and exercise. Not 
 too much stewing over those crack-jaw foreign 
 words.' 
 
 * There is no lack of open-air life in this delightful 
 place, I assure you. My young people seem to live 
 out-of-doors.' 
 
 ' Nothing like it. And your own health ? ' inquired 
 Mr Foster abruptly. 
 
 * It is well enough, thank you. If only — ' 
 Mrs Wodehouse paused. 
 
 Ned Foster did not help her out with her sentence 
 this time. Instead, he took a turn up and down the 
 room, his hands behind his back, muttering to himself 
 
 'Look, here, Celia,' he said at last, suddenly stopping 
 short in front of the woman he had wooed in vain in 
 happier days. ' I'm a blunt, plain-spoken sort of fellow. 
 You must forgive me if I blunder over what I'm going 
 to say. We've had some hard knocks in our time, 
 you and I, and we're now both old — and wise enough 
 too, I hope — to talk over certain things without making 
 fools of ourselves. Look here, my good friend, I'm 
 not such a cad as to sneak out and make love to a 
 married woman on the sly. You refused me once, 
 and as things were then, I'm inclined to think it was 
 about the most sensible thing you ever did in your 
 life. I want to be quite frank with you. My advice 
 about getting rid of this precious husband of yours, 
 this drag on you and your children, is altogether
 
 58 love's loyalty. 
 
 selfish : I should be a bigger cad than ever, if I let 
 you suppose it wasn't. You'll know what I mean. 
 If the man hadn't proved himself utterly unworthy, 
 closed the door to all pity by his conduct, Ned 
 Foster would say, stick to him through thick and 
 thin. But he's a scoundrel ; a thief as well — don't be 
 upset, there's a dear creature — and the sooner you're 
 rid of him the better. If he had his desserts, he'd be 
 in prison at this moment, with his swindling concerns. 
 That's the plain truth.' 
 
 ' I loved him — once,' murmured Mrs Wodehouse 
 through her tears. 
 
 ' And I trusted him. We have both been deceived. 
 It's no use beating about the bush, Celia. If you 
 were free, and could put up with an irritable old chap 
 like me, mightn't' — the pleader's voice shook with 
 emotion — ' mightn't we join hearts, and end our days 
 in peace together? You're a woman of the world, and 
 will know what to say. I'd try and do my best by 
 you and yours. I would indeed.' 
 
 It was odd how, when strongly moved, Mr Foster 
 could drop his jerky, elliptical method of speech, and 
 become quite eloquent. The reverse might have been 
 expected. 
 
 Mrs Wodehouse looked her admirer straight in the 
 face. 
 
 'You have been our true and noble friend when 
 others have deserted us. It is like your honest self to 
 speak openly as you have done, and I thank you. Let 
 me meet your generous words with equal frankness. 
 Edward, you ask me for something I have no longer 
 to give. Respect and sincere regard, — those are yours 
 now, as always. But a heart to love' — and if one so 
 uncomplaining could be bitter, then was there bitter-
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 59 
 
 ness in her tones — ' it is dead within me. Think what 
 I have passed through of late, and you will believe that 
 I speak the truth.' 
 
 No heart to give away ! She, so full of tenderness 
 for all who came across her path. This gentle woman, 
 whose life had been one long example of patient self- 
 denial ; who had striven so earnestly, with such ad- 
 mirable patience, to win an erring husband back to 
 home and duty. Failing in that, had lavished all a 
 mother's care upon her little ones with such a bright 
 result — she could look her benefactor in the face 
 and tell him that the fountain of her love was for 
 ever dry. 
 
 Yet was it not the truth — of such love, that is for 
 which Edward Foster pleaded ? Could the idol set up 
 have been so rudely shattered — a woman's faith too 
 sorely abused for her to trust again ? Rather, as trick- 
 ling water in time wears out the hardest rock, had not 
 the cruel anxieties of years broken down the loving 
 spirit ? 
 
 ' I'm not to be put off as easily as that,' the old 
 man said. ' I've managed to get my own way in 
 most things. Wasn't I called " Barnacle Ned " at the 
 Residency ? Not a very elegant nickname, perhaps, 
 but apposite enough. Don't let what I've said 
 bother you. But it's only fair to say I've put things 
 in training whether you let me have the reversion of 
 you, or whether you don't. Only speak the word, and 
 those cute lawyer fellows will manage your release 
 somehow, I'll be bound. Now, be a plucky little 
 woman, Celia, and sign this paper to set the ball roll- 
 ing at anyrate.' (Mr Foster produced a document 
 from his pocket.) ' The thing will be kept quite quiet. 
 If you have to go to England, it won't be yet. They
 
 6o love's loyalty. 
 
 do wonders in this line now-a-days by proxy or on 
 commission, or some such legal jargon.' 
 
 The old strife was at work within the woman's 
 heart. Not a contest, Heaven knows, in which self 
 intruded ; but the struggle for guidance as to what 
 was right towards her own. At length she rose, pale, 
 yet calm, and said, — 
 
 ' I fear it is the only plan, Edward, though I have 
 striven hard to avert the blow. Act as you consider 
 best. But remember between us there is no pledge : 
 it must not, cannot be.' 
 
 ' I enforce no promise now. Your decision is right, 
 what was to be expected from a Carmichael. You 
 had better let me read you out this rigmarole, before 
 you sign.' 
 
 There was not much of it. Merely an authority 
 from ' Celia Clayton Wodehouse, recently of Budleigh- 
 Tarleton, in the county of Devon, a British subject, at 
 present residing at the Hotel Golden Eagle, Dresden, 
 in the kingdom of Saxony,' empowering ' Edward 
 Crowley Foster, late of Her Majesty's Civil Service, 
 now of 113B Cork ^Street, Burlington Gardens, in the 
 city of London, retired Government official, to act, 
 with full power and discretion, on behalf of the said 
 Celia Clayton Wodehouse, in respect of certain matters, 
 as set forth herein,' and so on. 
 
 ' You won't regret having done that,' said the ex- 
 Civil servant as, with trembling hand, the lady placed 
 her signature over the initials already pencilled at 
 foot of the paper. ' Just in time, too, for I hear our 
 young friends on the staircase. A few months more, 
 and you'll be free, unless I'm much mistaken. 
 You needn't be afraid I shall bother you, unless 
 obliged.'
 
 A PROPOSED REVERSION. 
 
 ' You have acted very nobly by me. I shall never 
 forget,' the poor wife murmured. 
 
 ' Um ! I don't quite follow you there, Celia,' said 
 Mr Foster.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FOREBODINGS. 
 
 Only those who have experienced the fierce heat of a 
 Dresden summer can realise with what pent-up fury 
 such a storm as our friends looked out upon one after- 
 noon can burst over God's earth. It would seem as 
 if, during those weeks without a cloud, when the blue 
 skies smiled upon all, as the sun went down each 
 evening bathed in a peaceful glow, thunder and light- 
 ning gathered mockingly behind that clear expanse, 
 then to have opened their fire at some given signal 
 from On High. Awful, appalling was Heaven's can- 
 nonade ; grandly impressive the blinding flash, the 
 sullen roar ; incessant the hiss and rumble of the 
 elements. And the rain ! Down it came, as if the 
 parched ground panted with insatiable thirst. With 
 what joy must the pastures of Saxon Switzerland 
 have lapped up that blessed deluge. How it coursed 
 with welcome violence through the Dresden streets 
 after the long spell of hot weather which had pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 ' What a sell ! ' exclaimed Master Neil, who was 
 flattening his nose against the window in a very de- 
 jected frame of mind. ' I promised Shorter I'd meet 
 him at the baths. . . . Dotmerwettcr, there's a flash ! '
 
 FOREBODINGS. 64 
 
 ' You had better come away from the window, Neil, 
 I think. In England, you know, we always used to 
 cover up the fire-irons in a storm, and should do so 
 here if there were any. I feel sure it is dangerous to 
 stand as close as you are,' expostulated the prudent 
 Miss Nora. 
 
 ' Yes, and you can make yourself quite easy, young 
 gentleman, that you won't be able to keep the appoint- 
 ment with your hideous friend, Mr Shorter,' threw in 
 Shirley. ' You had much better settle down calmly 
 to something indoors, instead of standing glued to the 
 window in that mournful fashion. As Nollekins says, 
 you might get struck, for the elements are very play- 
 ful, and, trouble though you are, we don't want to lose 
 you just yet.' 
 
 ' It can't last for ever, that's a good job. I'm sure 
 it's poured long enough for anybody. How awfully 
 muddy the baths will be.' 
 
 'You ungrateful creature! Haven't you had frizz- 
 ling enough during the last six weeks at that floating 
 wash-house of yours, without complaining at a little 
 rain ? ' 
 
 ' A little ! ' echoed the boy, ' I like that. Why, it's 
 coming down cats and dogs.' 
 
 ' What an unfortunate day for that dear old Mr 
 Foster to have to start back to England.' 
 
 ' What's he off in such a hurry for, Shirley ? He's 
 only just got here.' 
 
 ' How should I know ? Business, most likely. Per- 
 haps to find a boarding-school for his tiresome Nevill 
 Challoner. How we shall miss him, and mother will 
 also.' 
 
 'Listen!' exclaimed Master Neil; 'what a funny 
 noise.'
 
 64 love's loyalty. 
 
 It was the tail-end of the bombardment, as, with 
 low, angry murmurs, Nature's artillery slackened fire, 
 and turned its guns eastward up the valley. But al- 
 though the flashes lost their vividness, the peals be- 
 came less noisy, the skies were still heavy charged 
 with war. Even when only a faint rumbling marked 
 the track of the storm as it rolled away, some louder 
 growl than before told how the enemy was still 
 close at hand, ready to renew the onslaught at any 
 moment. 
 
 ' I do hope the din has not disturbed little mother/ 
 exclaimed Shirley. 'These storms upset her always 
 so. I will go and see if she is asleep.' 
 
 To use Mrs Wodehouse's expression, she certainly 
 was ' a sad coward,' when the elements broke loose in 
 this unruly manner. Had not British pluck come to 
 her rescue, she would willingly have sought seclusion 
 in Herr Schmolze's cellar, until the skies had cleared 
 again. As it was, she went to her room, closing the . 
 shutters, and covering up the looking-glass in case of 
 accidents. 
 
 ' She's sleeping soundly,' her daughter reported. 
 ' I am so glad. Nollekins, you are as white as a 
 ghost. 1 believe you're frightened. And, you naughty 
 child ! you've been trying to shirk your medicine 
 again. Drink this up, miss, at once.' 
 
 Some of the smoke-dried doctor's prescription was 
 administered forthwith. 
 
 ' Thank you so much for reminding me, sister,' she 
 said, with a smile. ' I quite forgot it.' 
 
 ' Then don't be so neglectful again. Now, Master 
 Neil, if you think you're going to spend your half- 
 holiday grumbling at the weather, you're much mis- 
 taken. What's the use of having a boy-cousin if he
 
 FOREBODINGS. 65 
 
 can't make himself agreeable ? We must improve 
 our minds with something. What shall it be ? ' 
 
 ' I know,' cried the lad. ' Let's have a game of 
 Plots ; it's an awful joke.' 
 
 'Very well. If you promise not to get too excited 
 over it.' 
 
 ' All right. Who'll skeleton ? ' 
 
 'What does he mean, dear?' appealing to the 
 more erudite Nora. 
 
 * I expect it is his way of asking which of us shall 
 give the key of the story to work upon. Skeleton- 
 plot is what he is thinking of 
 
 * I see. There is such a thing as being too sharp 
 in this world. You're much too young to try and 
 coin words yet awhile; it's only authors like Nora 
 who can afford to do that. Bear that in mind for the 
 future, Master Neil. Nora, you must start us, of course,' 
 as she placed pen, ink and paper before her sister. 'I 
 know you won't be able to contrive anything thrilling 
 if we watch. So the boy and I will retire and play 
 cat's-cradle in the lobby till you tell us you're ready. 
 Come along, cousin.' 
 
 The versatile Miss Shirley claimed to be the patentee 
 of this game of Plots. Very proud she was of her 
 invention. Most grateful, also, was Mrs Wodehouse, 
 for it kept the young lady profitably engaged for 
 many an hour when her high spirits might otherwise 
 have become rather too much for ordinary mortals. 
 
 It seemed that one of the party conducted the out- 
 line of some original story up to a certain point, when 
 the thread snapped off abruptly. In this unfinished 
 condition the MS. was passed round to the players, 
 who were to take up the stitches where dropped, and 
 weave therefrom such a pattern to its conclusion as 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 love's loyalty. 
 
 their several fancies might dictate. When all had 
 finished, the papers were handed to some impartial 
 critic — usually Mrs Wodehouse — whose judgment was 
 considered final. (There were some minor regulations 
 as to length, manner of writing, etc., set forth, but the 
 above was the broad outline of the scheme.) The 
 selected plot was then read aloud, and a prize awarded 
 as incentive to further exertions. It will thus be seen 
 how the person in whom such autocratic power was 
 vested became possessed of a mine of literary treasure, 
 raked gratuitously into the editorial coffers. What a 
 windfall for any aspiring novelist to whom plots were 
 a bugbear I That IMrs Wodehouse was a conscien- 
 tious, impartial umpire, no one will doubt, or that the 
 duties of selection brought heavy responsibilities with 
 them. It was therefore well that in the present 
 instance the lady refreshed herself with a nap before 
 accepting the honorary function to be thrust upon her. 
 
 That afternoon Miss Nora appeared to be putting 
 all her resources into her task. The pensive face wore 
 a very earnest expression, as she transferred her ideas 
 from that too active brain to paper. 
 
 ' What a time she's taking, Shir', and doesn't she 
 look grave?' whispered Master Neil, who was im- 
 patient to commence operations. ' I believe she's 
 writing a tragedy.' 
 
 * Oh no ; that's quite against the rules. Don't you 
 remember. Rule VI. says " The plots of the tales are 
 to be light, and no player must, under any circum- 
 stances, introduce dismal matter or he or she will have 
 to pay a forfeit besides losing the chance of a prize." 
 And nobody must begin with " Once upon a time," or 
 " Towards the close of a beautiful autumn evening, 
 three horsemen might have been seen wearily urging
 
 FOREBODINGS. 6/ 
 
 their tired steeds," and so on. Both styles are strictly 
 forbidden. Tragedies, you know, are gloomy, Neil, so 
 are most dramas.' 
 
 ' I forgot. But I wish she'd look sharp. If only 
 that young muff Hirsch were here to play as well ! 
 Wasn't it fun trying to teach him the game, Shir' ? ' 
 
 ' Now I am ready,' said the quiet voice presently. 
 
 ' To save time, suppose you read it out to us,' sug- 
 gested the patentee, when the two had seated them- 
 selves, each armed with a stumpy pencil. 
 
 ' Very well, dear, if you wish it.' Miss Nora began 
 with a distinctness of utterance highly creditable. 
 
 * I ought to tell you, perhaps, that what I have 
 written is not absolutely original. I took the idea 
 from a dream I once had.' (' I expect a good many 
 writers wish they could have that sort of dream,' in- 
 terpolated Master Neil.) 
 
 Having thus relieved her conscience in respect to 
 any literary indebtedness to Nature, the young lady 
 proceeded, — 
 
 ' The scene of my story is laid in Brittany — ' 
 
 ' Excuse my interrupting, Nora,' exclaimed Shirley. 
 
 * That's the place mother thought of going to once, 
 isn't it ? It's a cheap country to live in, people 
 say.' 
 
 ' Yes, that is so, dear. Well, you must know that 
 at a charming seaside resort in that romantic district — 
 (' Much frequented by the English ? ' inquired Neil, 
 but he was at once suppressed) — a retired colonel has 
 settled. His name is Hayter, and he has one son and 
 one daughter. I am sorry to say the former is not at 
 all steady, causing his father a great deal of anxiety. 
 Indeed, were it not for the pleadings of his sister, it is 
 doubtful if the old man would keep him any longer
 
 6S love's loyalty. 
 
 under his roof. But Margaret Hayter, besides being 
 very lovely, is of a sweet and noble disposition. Over 
 and over again she persuades her father to forgive 
 this Hubert. At length, however, matters become 
 unbearable, and the lad — he is very little older than 
 our Nevill — is sent away in disgrace, under the care 
 of someone with a special talent for training un- 
 manageable boys, and who keeps a collection of them 
 for the purpose in his menagerie at St Servan. Mar- 
 garet is thus left alone with her father. P^earing she 
 may be dull, as the place (which we will call La 
 Grasse) is almost empty, except in summer, the 
 colonel invites an orphan niece of his to come over 
 and make a long stay. Unfortunately this girl turns 
 out to be anything but nice ; in fact, she is very sly, and 
 has nasty almond-shaped eyes ; a character best de- 
 scribed as deep. Her uncle is far too unsuspecting to 
 notice these faults. He is indeed quite deceived by 
 the girl's seeming artlessness. Margaret, on the con- 
 trary, reads her relative's character rightly before she 
 has been many days in the house. In a noble-minded 
 spirit she sets herself the task of trying to reform her 
 visitor, knowing under what disadvantages she has 
 laboured, her education having been sadly neglected. 
 Apparently her efforts meet with success. But a 
 nature like Clara Jessop's is not moulded afresh easily. 
 With such, a rod of iron is oftener the kindest teacher, 
 and poor Margaret's plan was of the gentlest. She 
 thinks it has succeeded, but circumstances now prove 
 her mistake. 
 
 ' The only people in the place whose friendship the 
 colonel cultivates, are a merry family of the name of 
 Soutcr, taken charge of by a maiden aunt. During 
 the summer a brother joins the circle, and I must call
 
 FOREBODINGS. 69 
 
 him the hero of my story. He is an artist, very very 
 handsome, and good — ' 
 
 ' And he falls in love with the noble-spirited 
 Margaret, the sly girl trying to upset everything by 
 making mischief between them,' cried Shirley, unable 
 to contain herself any longer. ' Oh dear, what have 
 I done I I've broken my own rules. Do forgive me ; 
 it popped out unawares.' 
 
 ' Well, I certainly had made them do as you say,' 
 rebuked Miss Nora, sorrow in her tones. ' But I shall 
 really not be able to finish properly if you interrupt' 
 
 ' You'll have to pay a fine. Shir' ; that's only fair,' 
 remarked Master Neil. 
 
 ' All right, cousin ; don't be afraid. Now go on, 
 Nollekins, I'm all excitement' 
 
 ' There is not much more to tell, now you have 
 anticipated my disclosures. Let me see, where was 
 I ? There is a heart-rending scene between the two 
 lovers, down on the rocks, one morning because of this 
 horrid Clara, and the mischief she has made. Both 
 the colonel and aunt receive anonymous letters soon 
 afterwards, and then there are sad upsets in the families. 
 The artist goes away and Margaret is, of course, very 
 miserable. I've left off there because I think it would 
 be the best place.' 
 
 ' What a clever tale. I'm sure I shall never be 
 able to make it end prettily with my clumsy style.' 
 
 Neil's pencil was nearly bitten through already. 
 
 ' I suppose we may take the characters where we 
 like?' he inquired. 
 
 ' Of course you can, you silly boy. To Bath, or 
 educational Hanover. People who write novels 
 always change the scene as much as possible. You 
 wouldn't keep two such sweet creatures as Nora's
 
 70 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 hero and heroine cooped up in one place all their 
 lives, would you ? Only, don't kill either of them, 
 please, Neil ; that would be too wicked, besides being 
 against the rules.' 
 
 ' I had meant to have taken them both out to sea, 
 and drowned them, to finish all their bother. I won't, 
 of course, as you say I musn't.' 
 
 ' I should think not, indeed.' 
 
 Then the three proceeded, after their several 
 methods, to work up Miss Nora's story to a satis- 
 factory conclusion. 
 
 What of Ellen Wodehouse, now the storm had 
 passed over? She had slipped quietly out, and, 
 armed with mackintosh and umbrella, set forth upon 
 an errand into the old town — an act of imprudence 
 which would have incurred Miss Shirley's gravest 
 displeasure. 
 
 * I need not disturb my treasures at their game,' 
 said the lady, as she peeped in upon th^m. ' I will 
 leave a few lines on the slab, in case they wonder at 
 my flight. This suspense is unbearable. It wears 
 what strength I have left out of me.' 
 
 The poor persecuted lady passed down the stairs 
 into the street. 
 
 The rain had ceased. Only a dark mass of cloud, 
 rolling off the hills, told where the elements still 
 lingered in imposing grandeur. Over the city the 
 sun shone out afresh, spreading a radiant arc across its 
 spires and domes. Heaven's gracious promise once 
 more smiled down on all. But it would be some while 
 yet ere the rivulets ceased to course along the streets, or 
 boughs and eaves to sprinkle their silvery showers on 
 passers-by. Mrs Wodehouse noticed, as she hurried 
 past, that the toy-sentries at the guardhouse still mis-
 
 FOREBODINGS. yi 
 
 trusted the weather, for, duly cloaked, they timidly 
 sought shelter in their boxes. Through the arches 
 of the ancient bridge the swollen water, checked 
 by many a buttress, darted swiftly. All round, in 
 the gay twittering of the birds on river-bank, or the 
 dull murmur of traffic beyond. Nature and man 
 (hushed for a while by recent cannonade) lifted up 
 their voices, awakened and refreshed. 
 
 Mrs Wodehouse knew Edward Foster to be precise 
 in all his plans. It did not therefore surprise her to 
 find him pacing the cobbles in front of his hotel, con- 
 sulting his repeater. In a neat little heap at the 
 entrance stood a well-worn trunk and hat-box, sur- 
 mounted by the plaid-shawl and sandwich-case, with- 
 out which the Anglo-Indian never travelled. 
 
 There was a Saxon flower-maiden, with her basket 
 of posies, seated demurely upon a bench outside. The 
 porter, whose chief occupation appeared to be to 
 lift his gold-banded cap to arriving and departing 
 guests, was gazing vacantly at the windows of the 
 royal palace opposite. Otherwise, few people were 
 about. 
 
 ' Bless my soul, what brings you here, Celia .? 
 Nothing wrong with the young people, I hope ? ' 
 exclaimed Mr Foster. 
 
 * Nothing whatever. But I could not rest until I 
 had seen you, and asked your advice about — this.' 
 
 ' Um ! Come inside.' 
 
 The old gentleman led the way to the waiting-room. 
 ' Read that, kind friend, and tell me if it is not 
 too cruel to harass me thus.' 
 
 There was a brightness in her eye Ned Foster did 
 not like. The heightened flush of cheek, the short, 
 quick breathing, pointed to an unwise emotion.
 
 72 love's loyalty. 
 
 ' Not very prudent of you to walk across in the 
 wet, was it, Celia ? ' 
 
 * I was afraid of missing you. But for the weather, 
 I should have been here this nnorning.' 
 
 ' Freshened the place up a bit, though, hasn't it ? 
 That downpour was a perfect godsend. Reminded 
 me of the tropics. What have we here ? ' 
 
 'The same wretched demands ; the same unmanly 
 threats to steal away my darlings. I know not what 
 to do.' 
 
 ' He mustn't come here, that's certain/ said the 
 lady's adviser. 
 
 ' How to prevent it, if he persist ? ' 
 
 'Leave that to me. . Meanwhile, don't notice his 
 effusions ; keep a stout heart, and your own counsel. 
 Mark my words, everything will come right, if you're 
 plucky.' 
 
 ' It were hard to think otherwise. Yes, it must all 
 end, in God's good time.' 
 
 ' Of course it must. You'll be a happier woman 
 than ever you were when all this bother's settled.' 
 
 A look of unutterable sadness passed across the 
 woman's face. 
 
 ' Happiness and I have parted company long since, 
 Edward,' came the low response. 
 
 ' Then the sooner you make friends again the 
 better. Now, you know, I'm a bit of a fidget about 
 trains, so we'll be off. I can drop you at the corner 
 of your street, if you'll let me.' 
 
 The hall-porter having enticed a blue-coated driver 
 from his beer and cards at a neighbouring settle, once 
 more raised his hat respectfully. The two drove off. 
 
 A strange silence fell upon them. 
 
 ' If we should never meet again, Edward, you will
 
 FOREBODINGS. 73 
 
 know that my prayers were with you — until the end. 
 I shall never forget. For any pain I may have caused 
 you, forgive me.' 
 
 ' Now, that's very foolish, Celia,' said the ex-Civil 
 servant. ' Did I not say that things would soon be 
 brighter .'' Don't give way, there's a good soul' 
 
 ' Not as long as will and strength hold together. 
 If they fail me, what then ? ' 
 
 ' I need not tell you where to seek comfort. This 
 must be your corner. Unless I'm much mistaken, 
 there's one of your young ones half-out-of-window. 
 Good-bye, Celia — for a month or so.' 
 
 ' Good-bye, Edward ; you are my only friend.' She 
 pressed his hand gratefully. ' Do not let my affairs 
 worry you. I am unworthy of your great interest in 
 my welfare. Something tells me it will be a long 
 farewell,' she murmured, as she turned presently away, 
 sick at heart, and weary.
 
 CHAPTER VI I. 
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE ' PILOT.' 
 
 With the proverbial lavishness of promoters, Henry 
 Wodehouse was determined that the launch of his 
 philanthropic venture upon the waters of public 
 favour should be accomplished amid all possible sur- 
 roundings of prosperity. Hence his offices * adjoining 
 a main west-end artery ' (to quote the inspired pro- 
 spectus once more) were fitted up with the utmost 
 regard to comfort. As a matter of fact, the ' Pilot ' 
 burst upon the world from the first floor front of a 
 not very delectable side street, from over a tobac- 
 conist's. But, to make amends for any shortcomings 
 of position, the display outside was prodigious. Per- 
 mission had also been granted to emblazon the shop- 
 keeper's private lamp with the aim and object of the 
 journal ; a privilege for which the tobacconist was 
 promised a standing paragraph advertisement, which 
 would assuredly double his business. During its 
 infancy, the ' Pilot's ' messenger — a foreign waiter out 
 of employment — was apparent at the entrance, in a 
 bran-new livery, distributing leaflets to the passers-by. 
 Each window of the rooms displayed an enormous red 
 Maltese cross, the emblem by which the pioneer of 
 Faith was shortly to be known throughout the length
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 75 
 
 and breadth of Europe. As was only right for so 
 important a functionary, the managing-director, un- 
 exceptionally attired, drove up daily to his offices in 
 a chartered S. T. hansom, being careful, however, to 
 fling the end of his Havana away before turning the 
 corner ; smoking and the avowed principles of the 
 ' Pilot ' somehow not seeming to harmonise. 
 
 Mr Wodehouse had not over-estimated the magnetic 
 power of his prospectus upon a certain profession. 
 Many of the Church's ministers had come forward 
 with their cash-deposits, in support of a scheme so obvi- 
 ously deserving of their sympathies. One enthusiast 
 had even gone so far as to advocate from his pulpit 
 the journal's claim to attention, a gratuitous publicity 
 for which he ought to have been canonised. Oddly 
 enough, in business circles, the company was not re- 
 garded with unalloyed favour. Convincing as the 
 prospectus undoubtedly was, the keen eyes of in- 
 vestors detected the omission of sundry practical 
 inducements to operate, which prevented the shares 
 standing at the premium so promising an undertak- 
 ing merited. This was ungrateful, for Mr Rushworth, 
 now won over to the cause, had, backed by his chief, 
 been lavish in his recommendations of the project 
 amongst the knowing ones before the bar of Circe's 
 Crib, and elsewhere. As that spot flattered itself 
 it reflected in no small degree the opinions of the 
 * House,' the doors of which were now so cruelly 
 shut against many of the wine-shop's patrons, it cer- 
 tainly seemed surprising that all these exertions on 
 behalf of the ' Pilot ' should have missed fire. Let us 
 hope that the liberality of the potations needful to 
 promote this desirable end helped to soften the 
 disappointment.
 
 76 . love's loyalty. 
 
 One morning Henry Wodehouse, checking over his 
 vouchers, came across an application which brought 
 a smile to his usually unruffled features. It was from 
 Edward Crowley Foster, for one share only. 
 
 'So,' mused the projector, 'our irrepressible Anglo- 
 Indian wants to keep a friendly eye on us, does he ? 
 Well, he is welcome, with all my heart. I trust the 
 study of our columns may tend to his conversion. 
 He shall be put on the free list at once. Frangois,' 
 to the ex-waiter, ' see that this gentleman is supplied 
 daily with a copy of the paper. I ought to consider 
 myself lucky, with such a party ready to constitute 
 himself my guardian angel at a moment's notice. 
 Guardianship seems quite in his line. I wonder 
 whether he'll think it worth while looking me up 
 in Paris, where I'm likely enough to find myself 
 pretty often. I fancy he's got an ugly customer to 
 deal with, though, if he persists in prying into my 
 affairs. Better give that little game up, my venerable, 
 before — Come in.' 
 
 These were half-a-dozen printers and compositors, 
 who were to decide whether they would enrol them- 
 selves under the ' Pilot's ' banner. 
 
 'After what you've told us, sir,' their spokesman 
 said, ' we have decided to join you.' 
 
 ' I feel sure it will be for your benefit ; there is 
 a grand future before us,' returned the director, in the 
 blandest tones. ' When can you start ? ' 
 
 * There isn't much to keep us here. But, you see, 
 most of us are family men, and — ' 
 
 ' If you take an old stager's advice, I wouldn't have 
 your wives over until you're settled a bit. Why not 
 let the women-folk follow on later?' suggested this 
 considerate employer.
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT. 7/ 
 
 The husbands' faces fell. 
 
 * My good fellows, let me be frank with you. We're 
 in a hurry to get the paper out ; the very stones of 
 the Continent are crying out for it. Petticoats must 
 prove a hindrance. I've pledged my word to the 
 directorate there shall be no unnecessary delay. 
 You'll stand by me in this, I'm sure ? ' 
 
 Who could resist such a touching appeal ? Most of 
 the men agreed to start that very night, leaving the 
 room happy at the prospect of employment. Times 
 had been bad. Surely here was a chance at last 
 
 ' Thank goodness, that's settled. Our editor's a 
 smart chap ; another week ought to see the " Pilot " 
 fairly on its legs. Who is it?' to Francois, who en- 
 tered with a card. '"The Reverend Mark Chapman, 
 Little Troutington Rectory, Devonshire." Show the 
 reverend gentleman in.' 
 
 The director motioned his visitor to be seated. 
 The divine's honest, healthy face afforded a strange 
 contrast to that of the pale, wearied philanthropist. 
 His clear blue eyes fixed the promoter with a gaze 
 scarcely appreciated. 
 
 ' I was in town for a few days,' the Reverend Mark 
 explained, ' and thought I would look in respecting 
 the prospectus you were kind enough to send me. 
 I've held more than one Continental chaplaincy, and 
 naturally take a personal interest in your undertak- 
 ing. The scheme set forth thoroughly commends 
 itself to me.' (Mr Wodehouse bowed.) ' My only 
 doubt is lest you should be unable to sustain the 
 avowed objects, so admirably set forth in this docu- 
 ment. Moreover, the paper might lapse into sec- 
 tarianism, which would be deplorable, and could only 
 mean ruin, sir, morally, as well as financially.'
 
 yS love's loyalty. 
 
 ' We have been careful to place ourselves above all 
 risk of that, by engaging on our staff only men of 
 irreproachable integrity/ 
 
 ' So your prospectus tells me. I fear, however, 
 their temptations to go astray will be great. But I 
 am not here to throw cold water on so worthy a 
 project ; I repeat, it has my warmest sympathies. 
 May I add, in a small way, my support also ? I am 
 not a rich man, sir, far from it, still I am disposed to 
 back my convictions to the extent of twenty shares 
 or so.' 
 
 *You could not find a sounder investment. The 
 amount of advice we get without any practical mone- 
 tary accompaniment, would fairly astonish you. Un- 
 fortunately, to the general public our list closed on 
 Tuesday. But I think I can manage a small allotment 
 privately.' (As a matter of fact, the speaker then and 
 there made over a supply he had reserved for a friend, 
 who was desirous of having a little flutter with them.) 
 
 'You're very kind, I'm sure. I may as well pay 
 up at once. You allow a certain discount, I fancy ? ' 
 
 'Yes, the usual bank rate,' which just then stood at 
 a conveniently low figure. The clergyman handed 
 over his cheque. " ' A certificate will be sent you by 
 post,' " quoted Mr Wodehouse. 
 
 The Reverend Mark again wished the ' Pilot ' all 
 the success it deserved, and departed. His was a 
 sample of many similar visits paid about that time 
 to the director's sanctum. 
 
 ' I was afraid the worthy man meant to draw me 
 into a theological discussion,' mused Henry Wode- 
 house. 'The Church has certainly stumped up hand- 
 somely till now. I only hope it won't try to sink us 
 with its blessed fads. All these clericals think about
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 79 
 
 is the chance of using us to air their particular 
 doctrines. They must be let down easy by-and-by, 
 though we must humour them at first. Such 
 narrowness of spirit is very contemptible in these 
 days of enlightenment. Now, if they were all as 
 prompt as that respected vicar, how gaily we should 
 sail along, to be sure.' 
 
 But the promoter was not left long to his cogitations. 
 
 This time it was the newly-engaged London corre- 
 spondent who waited on him. Ungenerous people 
 might have fancied that Mr Wodehouse's lips framed 
 an oath when he heard he waited without. But this 
 was, of course, a mistake. Nothing more than a slight 
 expression of irritation, excusable, perhaps, under the 
 circumstances. The fact is, this gentleman's engage- 
 ment having been cemented at the expense of a cer- 
 tain outlay in the company's shares, he considered 
 himself entitled to a finger in the editorial pie — a 
 concession the managing-director was by no means 
 disposed to grant him. Being a hard-headed, practical 
 Scotchman, his inquiries concerning the paper's doings 
 were not unfrequently exhaustive to the verge of em- 
 barrassment. Such confidences as were vouchsafed 
 in reply met with a truly Scotch reception, the reverse 
 of reciprocal. Altogether Mr MTherson's inquisitive- 
 ness was resented by the philanthropist as being not 
 only premature but aggressive. ' Our own ' was not, 
 however, to be easily baulked of his devices — a de- 
 termination which caused his chief much mental dis- 
 turbance, and a devout wish that he had selected a 
 correspondent from the ranks of his own countrymen. 
 
 ' I've told you more than once, sir,' said Mr Wode- 
 house, after the first affectionate greetings were over, 
 ' that my directors insist on the " Pilot " being kept
 
 8o 
 
 free from politics. " A column and a-half of matter 
 dealing with religious and educational topics, free from 
 all schism or party bias." So, I think, was their agree- 
 ment with you ? ' 
 
 Mr MTherson, who sat erect and solemn, his hands 
 folded over his umbrella, as if he were one of twelve 
 victims within an omnibus, replied, — 
 ' Ay, ay ; that's the identical wording.' 
 ' Well, in the face of this, you can hardly expect me 
 to encourage your notion of turning our columns into 
 a vehicle for enlarging on sundry National Church 
 grievances. That appears to be your particular hobby. ' 
 
 * And aren't they religious topics,' inquired the other 
 solemnly. 
 
 ' Distinctly. Undeniably inflammatory, and poH- 
 tical as well, judging from the specimens you've 
 favoured me with. Calculated, indeed, to entangle our 
 readers in controversies and bickerings, which cannot 
 be too strongly condemned.' 
 
 * You'll get a poor letter from me if my hands are 
 tied,' grunted the Scotchman. * I'll touch the subject 
 lightly enough, but creep in it must somehow. It's 
 a scandalous persecution our elders are undergoing ; 
 a monstrous — ' 
 
 'A word of advice, Mr M'Pherson. If your con- 
 victions are really so strong upon you that our journal 
 offers the only safety-valve, why not throw up the 
 appointment before your pugnacious instincts get the 
 whole staff into trouble ? It will be pleasanter for all 
 parties concerned.' 
 
 Mr MTherson did not propose such an exercise 
 of self-denial. In his dry, spasmodic fashion he would 
 then and there have again thrashed out the subject 
 to its bitter end, had not the other improvised an
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 8l 
 
 important engagement in the city. As it was, the 
 Scotchman button-holed the wily Henry at the street 
 corner, barking out a series of inquiries concerning 
 the progress of the ' Pilot,' only to be met by pardon- 
 able evasion. Repulsed, he returned to the office, and 
 renewed his attack upon Mr Wodehouse's/m7> writer 
 (as he was grandly named) with, however, but moder- 
 ate success. The youth was not easy to draw at any 
 time. In those early days he possessed that best of all 
 safeguards against official indiscretion, — a mind an 
 absolute blank as to the financial operations of his 
 employer. ' Our own ' had therefore to proceed upon 
 his way after, it must be confessed, a somewhat de- 
 pressing and unproductive interview. But he had 
 got his stake in the paper, and he meant to utilise it. 
 
 Soon came the red-letter day in the annals of the 
 * Pilot ' ; for the French mail brought over a bundle of 
 the first issue of the journal which was to outstrip all 
 others in the field. Eagerly was the package opened, 
 and the sheet's appearance scanned. There was the 
 heading, designed by Henry's own loving hand — the 
 title and the cross in bold relief with these modest 
 words beneath : ' A weekly newspaper established for 
 the diffusion, in the English tongue, of the True Prin- 
 ciples of Faith throughout the length and breadth of 
 Europe.' In two little panels, left and right, figured 
 an imposing list of branch offices, then, it must be 
 owned, very much in embryo. After, came the place 
 of issue and date, in large type, Paris, May \st, i8 — ■ 
 (was ever such a May-Day ?), and the ' Pilot's ' fee for 
 each copy, in centimes. 
 
 At last was the promoter cheered with a perusal, in 
 print, of that inevitable address 'To our readers/ 
 without which no paper in this or any other clime 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 love's loyalty. 
 
 has been known to sue for patronage. It was the 
 joint production of himself and the versatile Rush- 
 worth. It ran thus : — 
 
 * This day we fulfil our promise of presenting to our 
 subscribers and the public the first number of that 
 journal whose birth has been so eagerly awaited by 
 thousands of our countrymen abroad. On the anxieties 
 and trials, now happily overcome, culminating in this 
 cheering result, we will not dwell. Suffice to say, that 
 it has been a labour of love and duty from which 
 neither we, nor the humblest member of our staff, 
 have shrunk by so much as a hair's-breadth. Such 
 reward as we seek will be more than amply secured 
 when this our venture meets with appreciation at 
 your hands. 
 
 ' Kind readers, we are not in accord with those 
 stern moralists who would seek to enforce the prin- 
 ciples to which we are pledged with harsh or unneces- 
 sary rigour. Hence our aim will be to mingle with 
 our words of wisdom such elements of lightness as 
 shall commend themselves, in attractive literary garb, 
 alike to old and young. With this object, we propose 
 to devote a column regularly to such harmless, yet 
 inspirating, incentives to perseverance as the double- 
 acrostic and anagram. ' Nuts to crack ' and ' Hard 
 Cases ' will, no doubt, in due time make their appear- 
 ance for the elders' ingenuity. * Bible classes,' for the 
 little ones, also a ladies' column, for the discussion of 
 essentially matters feminine, will become a permanent 
 feature. There will likewise be a Poet's Corner, for 
 original verse, to which aspirants to fame are affec- 
 tionately welcomed. Negotiations are pending with 
 a writer of repute for a serial story of unexceptionable
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 83 
 
 moral tendency. By engaging a journalist of acknow- 
 ledged experience, accuracy and impartiality are 
 guaranteed for our London letter, which — whilst 
 shunning all trace of partisanship — will touch upon 
 those topics of the hour of interest for the true 
 churchman. A marked feature of the paper will 
 be the attention given to Home News. It is 
 not, alas, within our power to, as yet, establish 
 a special wire, although that facility may doubtless 
 be available ere long. But, by arrangements with 
 an agency of standing, the very latest telegrams, 
 up to the time of our going to press, will be at our 
 disposal. 
 
 ' We pass over, with a mingled scorn and pity, the 
 ungenerous taunts hurled at us by those of our 
 rivals, possibly known to a few of you. The petty 
 spite dictating such outbursts must be patent to the 
 meanest capacity. When our barque ploughs the 
 troublous seas of journalism, outstripping all others 
 in the race, Sticcess writ large on each wide- spread 
 canvas, then will this lesser fry be glad to grasp the 
 friendly tow-rope thrown out, and for which we assure 
 them they will not cry in vain. 
 
 * With these few words, we place our bantling in 
 your arms, convinced that, nurtured by our joint 
 fostering care, a ripe and honoured senility will crown 
 a venture presented to the world on this auspicious 
 morning. 
 
 'The Directorate of the " Pilot " 
 Newspaper Company, Ld.' 
 
 No one can deny that, if the promises foreshadowed 
 in this touching address were no more than in part 
 fulfilled, the ' Pilot ' would become a model weekly
 
 84 love's loyalty. 
 
 periodical, compelling recognition from the wide circle 
 it so forcibly appealed to. 
 
 Regretfully must it be owned that that first number 
 did not satisfy the exacting taste of its projector. 
 Neither in type nor matter was this issue worthy, in 
 his opinion, of the cause it so zealously championed. 
 Severely did Henry Wodehouse glance down the 
 columns, detecting many a printer's error ; his sensi- 
 tive spirit ruffled by grievous literary blemishes ; his 
 mind appalled at the mass of information daringly 
 filched (with no word of indebtedness) from the 
 columns of his contemporaries. It is true that origin- 
 ality bloomed in Mr M'Pherson's first instalment. 
 But it was promise of a dangerous kind, betraying 
 already those tendencies to backsliding, against which 
 this over-zealous correspondent had been so repeatedly 
 cautioned. 
 
 With the contents-bills Henry was good enough 
 to express unqualified approval. The six enclosed 
 in the parcel were at once distributed as follows. One 
 appeared prominently in each window of the public 
 office. Frangois placed a third on its board beside 
 the doorway. The gentleman who retailed Le Figaro^ 
 Le Gaiilois, Le Petit Journal, to the ex-patriots around 
 the delightful region of Leicester Square, accepted a 
 fourth ; a fifth awakened envy in the hearts of those 
 Americans dropping in at Mr Mole's adjacent read- 
 ing-room ; and a sixth flaunted gaily from the rail- 
 ings, where that choice display of journalism daily 
 tempts the public, hard by the Charing Cross post 
 office. 
 
 If Mr Wodehouse had then known the trials attend- 
 ing the introduction into the world of his infant, his 
 instincts would assuredly have been moved to pity
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 85 
 
 rather than cavil. Who would believe that, at the 
 eleventh hour, the cup had been cruelly dashed from 
 the lips of the administration by a decree forbidding 
 the paper's appearance at all ? That inexorable press 
 censorship, which watches so tenderly ovei the morals 
 of the Parisian public, was suddenly seized with the 
 wicked notion that there were already enough English 
 sheets printed within their walls to satisfy all reason- 
 able requirements of strangers, resident or migratory. 
 The authorities clothed their unrighteous dictum in 
 language polite yet forcible. They tried, moreover, to 
 mercifully soften the blow, by predicting nought but 
 failure for the enterprise, if it ever did start. Could it 
 be that Mr Rushworth's libellous reference to the 
 Devil's presence in the thoroughfares of their capital 
 had reached the ears of the censors? That, stunsr 
 by such calumny, they had seized upon this ignoble 
 means of revenge? Whatever were the causes for 
 the dread edict, it is a fact that the * Pilot ' escaped 
 disaster by little short of a miracle. 
 
 This is how the rescue was effected. 
 
 In his agitation, the editor was rushing round to the 
 British Embassy to plead for intervention, when, by 
 the happiest of coincidences, he came across the 
 Honourable Montgomery Spooner, who held a seat 
 at the board of the company. 
 
 ''Ullo, Mr Editor, whither away in such a hurry? 
 Nothing wrong in the Boulevard Kaufmann, I hope ? ' 
 
 'Everything, sir,' gasped the unhappy scribe. 'Look 
 at this beastly document, when everything was going 
 on so splendidly. The idiots want to stop the paper ! ' 
 
 The director repeated the words slowly. He was 
 rather young, and not very quick at grasping facts, 
 possibly owing his seat at the board to that very
 
 S6 love's loyalty. 
 
 deficiency of intellect. But visions of a curtailment 
 if not absolute cessation, of fees and pleasant luncheon 
 parties, crossed his brain. Fixing the man of letters 
 with a glance of stern disapproval, he drawled, — 
 
 * Look here, don't you know, this won't do. What 
 business have these French beggars to interfere ? ' 
 
 The editor, who at that moment was far too upset 
 to be a respecter of persons, bluntly replied, — 
 
 * How the deuce should I know ? But they've done 
 it, and that's the truth. What's more, if we can't talk 
 them over between this and to-morrow, the " Pilot's " 
 doomed. The public never forgive a false start in our 
 line. Stop a bit, aren't you a friend of Captain 
 Vavasour, or whatever his name is, over the way ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes. I know Jim Vavasour — rather. What's 
 he got to do with it ? ' 
 
 'A good deal. His excellency is away just now. 
 These attacJie fellows always like a chance of distin- 
 guishing themselves. Now's the time for one of them. 
 Do you follow me ? ' 
 
 ' I think so. By Jove ! I wonder if Jim could pull us 
 through.' 
 
 ' Of course he could ; but there's no time to waste. 
 For God's sake, don't leave us in the lurch,' implored 
 the editor, as the Honourable Montgomery showed 
 signs of wavering. 
 
 At the risk of being run down in the passage of the 
 Place Vendome, the commoner held firmly on to his 
 patrician sheet-anchor. The pavement beyond the 
 Bristol was reached in safety. In a few minutes the 
 two stood beneath the royal arms of the Embassy. 
 
 * You'd better interview the captain alone,' Mr 
 Jenkins recommended. ' He won't believe a word 
 I say. Protest by all that's sacred we're loyal repub-
 
 NUMBER ONE OF THE 'PILOT.' 8/ 
 
 licans to the backbone ; don't mean to touch poHtics 
 by so much as a paragraph. Explain the exact 
 nature and object of the paper. Here, show him this ; 
 it's all in a nutshell. Tell him, which is as true as 
 gospel, it's a cabal got up by those infernal Yankees 
 to crush us. Convince him it's his bounden duty to 
 stop 'em, and get this plaguy thing cancelled. Say 
 we'll worship the very ground he treads on if he'll 
 only see Monsieur le Baron at once, and help us out 
 of this mess. Say anything, in fact.' 
 
 * All right. If Jim's grumpy, I'll tell him he won't 
 get any more shooting at the guv'nor's place ; that 
 ought to fetch him.' 
 
 ' Admirable ; you're a born diplomatist. I'm close 
 by if wanted.' 
 
 The Honourable Montgomery departed on his 
 errand of mere , whilst the editor paced the Rue 
 d'Aiguesseau in an agony of suspense. At length 
 the intermediary came leisurely forth from beneath 
 the opposite portals. Mr Jenkins was by his side in 
 a moment. 
 
 ' Well ? ' he inquired anxiously. 
 
 ' I've done the trick,' drawled the youth. ' At first 
 Jim wouldn't listen one little bit. But I played the 
 trump card about the shooting, and that roused him. 
 It wasn't enough, though. I had to put him up to a 
 good thing for the Grand Prix before he'd fairly bite.' 
 (The nobleman said this as if, in the interests of 
 the " Pilot," he had parted with something quite irre- 
 coverable). ' He seemed in such a deuce of a funk 
 about offending the Government, or some nonsense or 
 other, besides being afraid his excellency would pitch 
 into him when he comes back. But at last he sent 
 an attacJic chappie off to the baron with a note,
 
 88 love's loyalty. 
 
 whilst another chappie went and rummac^ed about in 
 some pigeon-holes. Then a French beggar, with a 
 big portfolio, and no hair on to speak of, turned up, 
 and jabbered away in fine style. When he'd done, 
 Jim said, after his intervention, the Powers that 
 Be would probably leave our paper alone for the 
 present. But at the first signs of jibbing, they'd 
 shunt us into a siding, and leave us to get out as 
 best we could. The beggars seem to have got it into 
 their heads the w^hole thing was a plant, with you 
 working the oracle.' 
 
 ' I'm much obliged to them, I'm sure. However, 
 thank goodness that worry's over. I must get back 
 to the mill, and set them going post-haste. Consider 
 me your debtor for life, sir.' 
 
 *ril book that, Mr Editor. Ta-ta. I'm off to 
 Voisin's,' responded the Honourable Montgomer>% 
 and he ambled off to his well-earned breakfast 
 
 By this means the grim catastrophe w^hich 
 threatened the ' Pilot's ' existence was providentially 
 averted. Who will now say there is not something 
 in a name? 
 
 But Mr Wodehouse did not hear of all this until 
 the following morning. His mind w^as consequently 
 filled with righteous indignation at the blunders made. 
 Nor did he fail to express his disapproval in a letter 
 to his subordinates abroad, of becoming sternness 
 and reproof.
 
 CHAPTER VII I. 
 
 life's little span. 
 
 Neil's guardian had been in England a couple of 
 months, and those who loved the old man for his 
 honest sympathy had heard little of his doings. 
 
 That he was at work upon his kindly mission to 
 set a much-wronged woman free from the yoke of 
 one who had long since forfeited all considerations of 
 pity, Mrs Wodehouse well knew. But the few letters 
 received had told her how Edward Foster's plans for 
 her release were as yet in their infancy; the legal 
 difficulties in the way graver by far than her champion 
 had imagined. She heard, too, with grief of her hus- 
 band's connection with that ignoble literary venture, 
 the * Pilot.' What, all the specious argument notwith- 
 standing, could it end in, save fresh disgrace to him, 
 ruin to others ? Ned Foster, his perceptions sharpened 
 by recent Wheal Paradox experiences, had at once 
 mentally stamped the affair as an impudent swindle. 
 With keener foresight he had, as we know, provided 
 himself with one share in the undertaking, that he 
 might, if need be, assist at its councils, and possibly 
 ultimate exposure. 
 
 But it must be frankly owned that the ex-Civil ser- 
 vant's simple mind did not so readily grasp the exact-
 
 90 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 ing requirements of the law In respect to divorce. 
 For him, it was enough that the woman he loved and 
 honoured was bound to a worthless scamp; immediate 
 release should be hers by right. It was only when 
 the lawyers told him how proof, positive and absolute, 
 was essential to the formation of a case ; made clear 
 to him the difference between the lesser relief of separ- 
 ation and that other more elastic dissolution prayed 
 for, that the good fellow realised the thorns with which 
 his path was beset, or the magnitude of the operations 
 he had taken upon himself. 
 
 Surely, he argued, the cruelty he was invited to 
 prove was written on every page of Henry Wode- 
 house's conduct of late ? Had not existence with him 
 become intolerable, by reason of his unmanly conduct, 
 resulting in the sorely-persecuted lady's flight, with 
 her children, from under a roof which covered only 
 the mockery of home? Doubtless it was the case, 
 these astute gentlemen conceded. But until she, who 
 alone held the right, could be persuaded to unlock 
 her lips, and come forward in person to support her 
 allegations, the legal wheels were clogged. Then 
 there was the second plea of desertion. Unfortun- 
 ately, it was only too clear that the erring husband 
 was ready to resume his position when it suited his 
 convenience. He might even contend that his wife 
 wilfully tried to conceal her whereabouts from him. 
 How did Mr Foster propose to get over that ? As to 
 the third unholy plea, the Anglo-Indian could not 
 bring his mind to set the repulsive machinery in 
 motion to establish Henry Wodehouse's guilt. Here, 
 then, on all three counts, the evidence, in the law's 
 eyes at anyrate, was neither conclusive nor complete. 
 So that fine-soundincf document which Ned Foster
 
 LIFES LITTLE SPAN. 9I 
 
 had taken so much trouble to prepare — and it will be 
 remembered to his credit he had done it all himself — 
 was only so much wastepaper. No doubt it was a 
 judgment on the old gentleman for trying to cheat 
 the profession out of its lawful perquisites. 
 
 Why, then, it will be asked, did he not urge Mrs 
 Wodehouse to return at once to England, and put an 
 end to this miserable business ? Most cogent reason 
 of all, because the lady herself wrote that her strength 
 failed her thus early in the struggle. She implored 
 her friend to stop forthwith all further action and ex- 
 pense. Amongst other things, she wrote : — 
 
 ' After you had left, I felt that I had done wrong 
 in accepting your generous offer of assistance. Is it 
 not our mission in this world to suffer, and to forgive .'' 
 What right have I, a poor sinful woman, to rebel 
 against a Higher Will? Now that you tell me mine 
 must be the hand to strike, it is powerless. Let us be 
 thankful that we have been left in peace so long. 
 You may think my decision weak and foolish. Be- 
 lieve me, it has not been made without much anxious 
 thought. I am convinced it is for the best. Have 
 I not my darlings to consider? How would it be 
 possible to keep the shadow of this rupture from 
 darkening their lives in days to come ? Things must 
 rest as they are. As for yourself, and for the pain I 
 am forced to give you, take comfort from what I said 
 when you were with us. A profound admiration, a 
 lasting respect, surely these are far worthier tributes 
 than aught else. What solace could now be found in 
 a union, as you would have it? Alas, that I should 
 have to repeat the words, love is dead within me. Is 
 it not enough that all my prayers are for your happi- 
 ness and well-being? Ask me no more.
 
 92 LOVE S LOYALTV. 
 
 *No\v, my dear Edward, I must tell you of another, 
 and far graver barrier — one it were a sin to disguise 
 further from you. My health fails me fast. Ever 
 since the day you left, this lamentable weakness 
 increases. The cough, too, which I had hoped was 
 easier, now troubles me sorely. Try as I may to 
 keep these symptoms from my little ones, their soli- 
 citude finds me out. Persistently they urge me to 
 consult a doctor, and I feel I must no longer delay. 
 For m}'self I do not grieve, because God is so merci- 
 ful, and He seems to tell me that I am ready. But 
 for them ! Day and night my mind is harassed with 
 thoughts for their future. Is it too much to pray that 
 I may be spared a while longer to help my defence- 
 less ones along the only right path ; to see their 
 armour of Faith so securely buckled, that they may 
 go forth alone, armed with fullest strength, to fight 
 the good fight of this care-laden world, where life is 
 too often so very, very sad ; that I may reach my 
 dear England once more before I die. Forgive me, 
 my true friend, that I must write you thus. In justice 
 to you, to myself, to that dear boy placed in my care, 
 it were wrong to keep back this truth longer. 
 
 ' But my letter shall not be all in a sorrowful key. 
 I am rejoiced to tell you that Neil gains ground fast 
 with his studies ; he wins golden opinions from all. I 
 have been careful to impress upon him that in the 
 future he will be dependent upon himself and his 
 exertions for his career ; that the sum due upon his 
 majority will of itself be quite insufficient for his main- 
 tenance. Hence, I have sought to bend his mind in 
 the direction of thrift and self-reliance. With heart- 
 felt gratitude, I notice already that my efforts have 
 not been in vain. Every day does he remind me
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. 93 
 
 more and more of his poor father — yet why do I 
 write "poor" of one who was so rich in goodness 
 here, and must be thrice-blessed and richer beyond 
 all human conjecture now ? As for my own, the Lord 
 will in His bounty provide for them. Under His all- 
 merciful wings, they will find protection from harm. 
 The same voice which whispers to me that I am ready, 
 tells me that as well.' 
 
 No need to say with what sorrow the old man re- 
 ceived these grievous tidings. Willingly would he 
 have hurried abroad with such consolation as his 
 presence might bring. But as ill-luck would have it, 
 he was ill ; to travel then might have cost him his 
 life. Greatest sorrow of all, he feared the forebod- 
 ings were true. Nor was he unprepared. No one 
 could have looked on that tender mother, with eyes 
 sharpened by loving pity, and not have seen how the 
 stream of her life ebbed slow yet sure to the great 
 ocean of rest. And who would dare to say that, 
 when it might come, Heaven's repose had not been 
 nobly earned ? 
 
 So Edward Foster had to fall back upon written, 
 in lieu of spoken words of comfort — sorry substitutes 
 of a truth when one's heart, racked with anxious 
 doubts, yearns for personal communion. 
 
 Thus it came about that the lovely Saxon summer, 
 gliding almost imperceptibly into an autumn scarcely 
 less superb, found the English family still sojourning in 
 the city they had chosen for their home. 
 
 But over the friendly roof of the Golden Eagle now 
 hung the grim canopy of sickness. Within those 
 rooms, so recently echoing with careless mirth, voices 
 now were hushed. Feet prone to clatter heedlessly 
 trod gently, lest they should disturb. No longer those
 
 94 love's loyalty. 
 
 absorbing games of * Plots,' kept restless brains and 
 fingers employed. A thunder-cloud of trouble and 
 anxiety had settled down upon them. The day of its 
 uplifting no one could discern. 
 
 Who shall write of those dark hours spent in turn 
 by Nora and Shirley Wodehouse, in tearful watchful- 
 ness, by the bedside of one who, in time of need, had 
 measured her own devotion with no grudging hand ? 
 Of the misery of those aching hearts when they were 
 told of the grievous malady which sapped the energies 
 of one who was all-in-all to them ? With considerate 
 care did the good doctor fulfil his promise to the in- 
 valid. Yet who could mistake the grave tones and 
 pitying looks, or misconstrue the meaning of those 
 formal words, laden with such ominous meaning ? Of 
 course, it was too horrible to believe for an instant 
 that there was danger, the sisters endeavoured to per- 
 suade themselves a hundred times a day. Dr Klein, 
 Herr Schmolze, their kind Saxon neighbours — they 
 were all mistaken. The sufferer would soon be well 
 again. 
 
 Why, it seemed only the other evening, when Neil 
 had gone off early to bed, that the two had sat planning 
 out their futures so gaily. 
 
 They were to go back in the spring to Budleigh- 
 Tarleton, and settle down again in the tiny cottage, 
 where they had once lived so happily. They would 
 be poor at first ; but what did that matter, when 
 Shirley was so strong, and willing to work for all ? 
 Dear little mother and Nora were to sit at home 
 quietly, and finish off by the dozen those lovely anti- 
 macassars and nicknacks at which they were so clever, 
 and which would be sure to realise such splendid 
 prices. It was not unlikely either that Nora, if she
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. 95 
 
 had not already become a writer of repute, would be 
 able to turn her undeniable talents to account by 
 giving German lessons in the village. * Only fancy,' 
 Shirley had cried, 'putting a card in the window, 
 " The German language taught here with accuracy 
 and dispatch." ' Phoebe and Susan Hollebone would 
 have a fit if they read that ! Of course, as for me, 
 the girl had concluded proudly, ' there need be no 
 anxiety. I have only to tune my magnificent organ 
 to concert-pitch, when money will come rolling in. 
 I might even learn the fiddle, to add to my other 
 accomplishments.' Neil would by that time have 
 obtained a situation in a counting-house, and very 
 likely have become so prosperous that he was remit- 
 ting part of his salary monthly to his aunt as some 
 slight return for all she had done for him. 
 
 This was the way Miss Shirley had mapped out 
 their respective futures. But the sisters remembered 
 how their mother had risen suddenly from the table 
 and checked the merry talk, kissing them tenderly, 
 and saying she was going to her room. An hour 
 later, they had surprised her upon her knees in prayer, 
 sobbing as if her heart would break. 
 
 For some days after that, Mrs Wodehouse had 
 certainly been ailing. Her cough, too, was trouble- 
 some, and the least breath of air stirring, as they 
 strolled upon the river-bank, seemed to chill her 
 through. At length she had been persuaded to call 
 in Dr Klein from opposite, who was no stranger. He 
 would very soon put her to rights. Now, as a result 
 of his visits, these daughters were told this horrible 
 thing ; that some latent illness, against which the 
 lady had struggled all too courageously, had conquered 
 her at last : that, under those very eyes, so keenly
 
 g6 love's loyalty. 
 
 watchful for her well-being, some insidious malady 
 had developed itself by stealth, to lay the brave 
 Christian woman low. But they would not believe 
 it was more than some passing trouble. A week or 
 so of rest and careful nursing, then all would be well. 
 Their dear mother had always been delicate, and of 
 late years her life, for certain reasons, had been 
 saddened in much, owing to the wickedness of others. 
 Of course, this had told upon her. But she would 
 soon be herself. They must be very sure of that. 
 
 But as time went on, and the finger of autumn began 
 to touch the trees, the hoped-for improvement did not 
 come ; rather the sufferer seemed every day to grow 
 weaker. Even the noontide visit to Herr Schmolze's 
 garden, where, supported by loving hands, Mrs Wode- 
 house would stroll or rest awhile in the bright sun- 
 shine, had to be given up. 
 
 And as those who watched saw this grievous sick- 
 ness stealing on, crushing the strength out of one they 
 loved, an awful dread seized upon them. What if this 
 doctor only told half the truth ? if their parent's state 
 were worse even than their gravest fears, which 
 pointed no further than to a long prostration ? if the 
 hand of death were already on her ? Horror — it could 
 not, must not be. 
 
 In that time of poignant distress, the fortitude and 
 brave resource in trouble it had been the mother's 
 constant care to foster in her children, since they 
 prattled around her knee, rescued them from the use- 
 lessness of despair. There was no weak repining, no 
 hysterical emotion, which could only have brought 
 harm to the sufferer. It must be action, prompt and 
 decisive. First duty of all, the worst must be known. 
 After that, should their fears be unhappily confirmed,
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. 97 
 
 every nerve must be strained, every means procured 
 to save this most precious life. 
 
 If only they were in England. That was the regret 
 unspeakable filling the minds of both. Then would 
 they have invoked the highest human skill to save 
 her, lying there so pale and helpless, withal so 
 patient, in her sufferings. Little was said. It was no 
 time for idle words. A fond, sisterly embrace, one 
 trustful kiss, a few unruly tears, and their hearts, 
 tuned in unison of grief, swept all other thoughts 
 than those of practical utility aside. 
 
 It was at once decided that Shirley should slip out 
 to Dr Klein's, whilst Nora tended the invalid. The 
 sisters knew the German was at home. Now and 
 again his gaunt figure appeared at the window. He 
 had acquired a habit of late, they had noticed, of 
 peeping out at the Golden Eagle, as if to gather from 
 its unpretending front some indication of his patient's 
 condition. That the doctor's practice was a limited 
 one was evident. Possibly he wished to be within 
 call at a moment's notice. 
 
 Dr Klein was a humane practitioner. He had con- 
 ceived an intense pity for these strangers. His own 
 lot had been full of struggles. It had pleased the 
 Almighty to take from him very soon the helpmate 
 he had chosen, leaving him at middle age a very 
 lonely man. His ambition — and skill had warranted 
 the venture — led him from the country into the 
 more fashionable quarter of the city across the 
 river. In the end, after many reverses, he had drifted 
 where we find him, into a side street of the New 
 Town, there to pick up what professional crumbs he 
 could — a poor and disappointed man. But the 
 arrival of these nice people had cheered him. Long 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 . love's loyalty. 
 
 before he had been called in to attend Miss Nora, 
 he had mentally made friends with them (as, for that 
 matter, the young people had with him), and during 
 his many leisure hours, pipe in mouth, had woven 
 quite a romantic history respecting the sojourners on 
 the second floor of the Golden Eagle. When he got 
 to know the family, it is needless to say, he found 
 that his imagination had been at fault. Dr Klein, 
 like many other residents round about, at anyrate 
 learnt to honour and respect this English family. 
 Who could not but admire the proud resignation and 
 cheerfulness with which the lady accepted her posi- 
 tion, or do otherwise than envy the bright, happy 
 unselfishness of her charges ? They came as a ray 
 of welcome sunshine. And for that Dr Klein loved. 
 and blessed them. 
 
 Shirley knocked boldly at the door of the apart- 
 ment. The owner at once admitted her. He saw 
 that something was wrong. 
 
 ' I am wanted, Fraulein ? ' he inquired, searching 
 for his hat. 
 
 ' No, it is not that, Herr Doctor. I have come — ' 
 
 The girl stopped short, her hand upon her heart to 
 stay its throbbings. 
 
 ' Rest awhile, my dear young lady. It is not 
 always prudent, you know, to run upstairs in such a 
 hurry,' the doctor said, with a smile, as he placed a 
 chair for his visitor. ' Suppose we collect our thoughts 
 a little. Then you shall tell me what is the matter.' 
 
 He seated himself also, pretending to be busy with 
 his books. In reality he was thinking how best he 
 should fulfil the task he saw lay before him — that sad 
 duty which many a stronger man than he had been 
 tempted to put aside. For he read in the shocked
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. 99 
 
 look that the dreaded truth had burst in upon Shirley. 
 There she sat, the golden-haired, erewhile joyous 
 songstress, whose thrilling notes had been so often 
 wafted across the street to his comfort, with the im- 
 press of a first great sorrow upon her pure young face. 
 
 ' I have come, Dr Klein,' Shirley repeated pre- 
 sently, and the voice shook with emotion, though 
 otherwise there was about her an unnatural com- 
 posure, *to ask you a favour. My sister and I 
 both feel sure you will grant it, because you have 
 always been so very kind to us. Moreover, it would 
 be so cruel to refuse.' There was a pause, during 
 which the speaker seemed nerving herself to a painful 
 effort. * It is about our dear mother there. Of 
 course, we know that she is very ill. You have pre- 
 pared us also that we shall never see her quite strong 
 or well again. But, dear sir, is there something more 
 than that ? Can it be possible that you think she — 
 may — die ? ' 
 
 Shirley had risen. She stood pale and trembling, 
 yet very calm, before the man who, as far as mortal 
 could know, held the grim secret. 
 
 Dr Klein took the hands outstretched in such 
 pitiful supplication between his own, and drew the 
 lithe form towards him. 
 
 * My dear young lady, what can have put such queer 
 fancies into your and Miss Nora's heads ! ' he said 
 soothingly. ' It is true that your mother is very ill 
 — it were wrong to deny that. But, with all the 
 splendid care and nursing, we must be patient, and — 
 hope for the best. Let me tell you we medical men 
 see some fine cures in our experience. Why, I could 
 instance several in this very city — when I was in 
 practice in the Altstadt, you know — which would
 
 icxD love's loyalty. 
 
 fairly astonish you. Frau Trautmann, for example. 
 She had tried all the baths in Germany without suc- 
 cess, until she came to us. Now she lives, well and 
 hearty, at Chemnitz, a very old woman. Then there 
 was Herr Schmidt of the Sidonienstrasse. Every- 
 body had given him up, when behold — ' 
 
 Shirley interrupted Dr Klein with a gesture. There 
 was that in her face which told him his anecdotes 
 brought her no relief 
 
 ' You must not try and put me off like that,' she 
 said in low, broken tones, and with a quiet dignity im- 
 possible to withstand. It is perhaps right of you to 
 wish to lessen the blow for us, but there is no need. 
 Nora and I are not cowards ; you must remember, we 
 are English. We are quite ready to hear the worst ; 
 what we cannot bear is this horrible suspense. You 
 will tell me quickly, kind sir, will you not?' 
 
 Was the thing possible ? The doctor marvelled 
 that this poor girl, whose very soul must be wrung 
 with the torture of doubt, could stand before him thus 
 calmly, and put a question fraught with omen to two 
 defenceless lives. He had come across strange scenes 
 in his time, but had never known emotions so bravely 
 kept in check as now. This must be a fine character, 
 thought Dr Klein ; to prevaricate further would be 
 harsh. So, with grave, unimpassioned emphasis, 
 he told his sad professional story. How, as his 
 listener already knew, a dangerous milady, long con- 
 cealed by unwise force of will, had o'ermastered its 
 victim (as, if neglected, must ever be the case) ; 
 how its insidious poison had slowly sapped a once 
 strong constitution, impaired by great and harassing 
 anxieties ; how he could not do otherwise than con- 
 fess — but then it must be admitted, doctor s were often
 
 LIFES LITTLE SPAN. lOI 
 
 wrong, though he would not confess that to everyone — 
 the symptoms filled him with gravest alarm. He did 
 not bluntly tell his visitor that her mother would die 
 out there in a cruel enforced exile. One alone had the 
 right to tell her that. Rather, he mingled with the 
 bitter cup many reassuring drops of solace. What he 
 did suggest was, that he feared a lamentable delay 
 had forestalled all earthly skill. Dr Klein's convic- 
 tions were, in fact, summed up in those ominous 
 words, * too late.' Had the sufferer allowed herself to 
 have been warned in time, all might have been well. 
 Now, except by little short of a miracle, he was 
 afraid she must pay the penalty for her rashness in 
 de ying the inexorable aws of Nature and of health. 
 (That his patient was dying of a broken heart, Dr 
 Klein knew full well. But he could not tell this poor 
 girl that.) 
 
 * It is true, then,' Shirley murmured, when her friend 
 had finished. She spoke as one lost in a dream. A 
 long-drawn sigh escaped her lips, and her eyes were 
 turned towards the sick-chamber with a far-off gaze 
 hardly of earth. ' My darling, has it come to this, 
 that by our wicked blindness we have let you fall into 
 such a dreadful state,' — the doctor lifted up his hands 
 in pained remonstrance, but Shirley did not heed — ■ 
 * you, who have always been so gentle and so sweet ? ' 
 
 She turned suddenly from the window. In those 
 few moments it would seem as if the mask of child- 
 hood had fallen from her face, it shone out so firm 
 and brave and resolute. 
 
 ' Forgive me, Dr Klein ; I will not be foolish 
 again.' 
 
 Then, with nervous energy, free from all hesitation 
 or restraint, Shirley entreated the Saxon to lend her
 
 I02 love's loyalty. 
 
 his aid in this dire strait. As he no doubt knew, they 
 had settled down in this quiet corner of the city for 
 economy, and to be near her cousin's school. Pur- 
 posely, they had avoided the more fashionable quarters. 
 The girl could not call to mind a single countryman 
 there she would care to go to in her trouble. A tele- 
 gram must be sent at once to their only real friend, Mr 
 Foster, her cousin's guardian, summoning him again to 
 Dresden, as they had promised faithfully they would do 
 in case of need. If Shirley framed the message, would 
 the kind doctor see that it went off instantly ; they 
 were so slow about such matters at the hotel ? (Most 
 certainly, he would.) Then the same messenger must 
 take a note to the Britishchaplain in theWilhelms-platz, 
 asking when he could be seen on urgent private busi- 
 ness. Would Dr Klein feel offended if the celebrated 
 Dr Mosenthal of Leipzig were called in to consult with 
 him ? (On the contrary, it would be a satisfaction.) 
 
 ' There is one thing I feel I ought to tell you before 
 I go,' Shirley continued rapidly. There was still the 
 nervous tremor in her voice, but she did not lose a 
 tittle of her self-control. ' You may have wondered 
 why I have said nothing about my father. I am sorry 
 to say he is not a good man. He has been very cruel 
 tov/ards our darling there. Indeed, that was the reason 
 we came abroad, to avoid him ; that is the only secret 
 of our lives. But, I suppose, he must be told.' 
 
 The girl paused. Dr Klein, taking her remark as 
 an inquiry, said it grieved him to have the rumours 
 he had heard of the family's position confirmed. On 
 such a delicate subject, however, he dare not advise. 
 The esteemed pastor across the water would tell the 
 young lady the wisest course to pursue. 
 
 ' Yes, he will know. I think that is all, for the pre-
 
 life's little span. 103 
 
 sent. We shall never forget your kindness to us, 
 Dr Klein.' 
 
 The man hoped Shirley would not mention that 
 again. His humble services were at the stranger's 
 disposal whenever needed. At his usual hour he 
 would be at the hotel, previously summoning Dr 
 Mosenthal to meet him there. 
 
 ' If you p.lease. Now, I will go and arrange with 
 my sister about our cousin Nevill. We shall have to 
 be very careful what we say to him, because he is so 
 sensitive and easily upset. Poor Neil ! He has been 
 so useful to us all lately. Now he must be told this 
 dreadful- news. He will be terribly shocked.' The 
 soft, tearless eyes reflected an intense pity. In tones 
 touching indeed in their calm, newborn melancholy, 
 she turned and said, ' You know, sir, they love each 
 other very dearly. She has been father, mother, 
 everything to him.' 
 
 Then for a space the brave heart gave way. Shirley 
 sank down, and over the young life there swept a brief, 
 resistless storm. Nor did the man intrude upon that 
 sacred grief. When the uncontrollable emotion had 
 ceased, and a flood of hysterical tears brought a wel- 
 come relief, he raised the girl tenderly from the ground, 
 and pressed some soothing mixture to her lips. After 
 a while, as only a stifled sob at intervals shook her, she 
 looked up and said, ' I am better now.' Then she rose, 
 her old energy awakened, and pressing the doctor's 
 hand in gratitude, passed quickly from the house. 
 
 Dr Klein was true to his promise. Another hour 
 found the clergyman with the girls, comforting them 
 in this their bitter trial. His wife would follow him 
 soon — the earnest Christian worker, who brought, 
 wherever she went, a practical aid and sympathy
 
 I04 love's loyalty. 
 
 which made her name a by-word for benevolence 
 throughout the colony where she laboured so dili- 
 gently. The chaplain at once took charge of Neil, 
 It was of all others the day for a walk into the 
 country, he said ; and on their way home the young 
 scholar must make the acquaintance of Masters Frank 
 and Herbert, who had already become famous lin- 
 guists, and whose tastes in the matter of swimming 
 and boating were sure to be congenial. 
 
 The leafy avenues of the Grosser Garten had donned 
 their autumn dresses. But the breeze which faintly 
 stirred the boughs overhead, and sent down ever and 
 anon a rustling shower to strew the paths, was as yet 
 kindly in its touch, heralding no chilling blasts of the 
 fall. Nor did it more than gently ripple the waters of 
 the lake, which lay there so constant in its reflection 
 of the grand palace above. There stood the majestic 
 pile, reflected upon the mirror-like surface, which 
 had thrown back its inverted portrait from the bright . 
 days of youth, until now, full of historic memories, it 
 reared its head in a grey and weatherbeaten old age. 
 Hard-by was the zoological collection, on which the 
 Dresdeners set such store, and whence from time to 
 time came the dull roar of the larger beasts, mingled 
 with many curious squeaks and snarls — bewildering 
 chatter of the lower orders of creation. 
 
 In a quiet by-path, removed from the broader walks 
 which the children made their happy autumn play- 
 ground, the man and boy sat down. 
 
 Shirley was right when she had said that great care 
 would be necessary when breaking the news of his 
 aunt's hopeless state to her cousin. It was well, there- 
 fore, that the task fell upon one whose calling fitted 
 him so for the duty. Unlike the stronger-nerved girl,
 
 life's little span. 105 
 
 Neil Challoner's highly-strung temperament had met 
 those troubles which had already touched him with a 
 passionate, and, at first, unreasonable emotion, dis- 
 tressing to witness. So it was in this instance. With 
 kindly tact, his companion let the tearful outburst have 
 full vent before he brought the soothing speech of 
 reasoning to bear upon Neil's sensitive spirit. When 
 the force of the storm was over, the chaplain linked 
 the lad's arm within his own, and led him passively 
 away, through the rustling pathways, homewards. 
 
 They stopped at the church where the clergyman 
 ministered. With its graceful spire rising from out 
 the clump of trees and shrubs, as if to guard the 
 sacred aisles from harm, the building had quite a 
 peaceful, English look. It might have stepped across 
 from some dear county of their own, the worshippers 
 often thought, as they passed within to lift up their 
 voices in gratitude for all the sheltering care vouch- 
 safed them in a foreign land. The two entered the 
 vestry. What fitter spot to seal in prayer the lesson 
 needed for this orphan boy, racked by the first throes 
 of a passionate grief ? 
 
 When later, the shadows of evening falling quickly 
 round, Neil Challoner reached the Golden Eagle, he 
 found fragile little Nora at the entrance, waiting 
 anxiously for him. 
 
 ' It is not quite dark yet, Neil, dear,' she said in a 
 low voice. ' Come into the garden. I have so much 
 to say to you.' 
 
 All was still in the autumn twilight. The broad 
 river glided swiftly past ; on the bridge and across 
 the water, in hotels and opera house, lights began to 
 twinkle ; the domes of church and palace rose clear 
 and solemn against the darkening sky ; high up a
 
 io6 love's loyalty. 
 
 faint crescent nioon each nnoment gathered bright- 
 ness as the earth beneath grew dim. 
 
 ' We have missed you so, cousin. But it was better 
 that Mr Merivale should tell you, was it not?' She 
 took her cousin's hand within her own, as the words 
 fell softly from her lips. 'You did not think it 
 unkind of us to ask a stranger to do this ? Neil, 
 when Shirley wished me to break this awful news, 
 I felt I could not.' 
 
 ' Don't cry, Nora, there's a brave girl. How could 
 I ever think you unkind ? But, dear, has the other 
 doctor been, and have you heard anything from my 
 guardian, or from Uncle Henry? Are they coming 
 over ? ' 
 
 The calmness of resignation was already taking 
 the place of that other uncontrollable emotion. Neil 
 Challoner was once more the generous-hearted, sym- 
 pathetic lad, ready with practical help for his cousins 
 in this their season of a terrible probation. 
 
 ' Dr Mosenthal is here now. Shirley will come to 
 us when he leaves ; they would not let me stop in the 
 room. We have heard from Mr Foster he is starting 
 at once. Mr Merivale advised us to telegraph to our 
 father also, but we have had no reply. Shirley thinks 
 he is away in Paris, or somewhere, looking after his 
 newspaper.' A shade passed across the girl's face. 
 * Neil, dear, you know none of us have ever spoken 
 about him of late, because of his wicked conduct to 
 our darling there. But to-day Shirley and I were 
 obliged to, from something Mrs Merivale let drop. 
 What happened has upset me very much.' 
 
 'Yes, Nora?' inquired Neil anxiously, as his cousin 
 paused, her hands before her eyes, as if to shut out 
 some dread prospect.
 
 LIFE'S LITTLE SPAN. lO/ 
 
 ' She said that if anything occurred, she supposed 
 we should go and Hve-^with him. Of course, the kind 
 soul could not have known about our trouble, and we 
 had to explain. She looked very grave, and said she 
 was so sorry to have pained us. Live with him again ! 
 The thought is too distressing. How could we ever 
 love him, after what he has done?' 
 
 ' I hate him,' Neil muttered under his breath. 
 
 But little Nora heard. 
 
 ' Hush, dear, you must not say that — ' 
 
 ' I mean it/ cried the boy, with passion. ' He is a 
 cruel, bad man. I am old enough to understand 
 enough, and I hate him. You shall never go back as 
 long as I can help it. I will work and slave for you 
 sooner than that.' 
 
 ' I am quite sure you would dear, if it were neces- 
 sary,' came the gentle reply. ' I hope we may never 
 have to ask you.' 
 
 ' There is some money when I come of age — not 
 much, but remember, whatever it is, it will be yours 
 and Shirley's also.' 
 
 ' We could never touch that, Neil, although it is very 
 noble of you to wish to aid us.' 
 
 Someone had passed quietly out into the garden, 
 and stood watching with a look of intense pity on her 
 pale, set face. 
 
 ' Poor children,' she murmured. ' I have brought 
 more sad news — it has been nothing else indeed this 
 livelong day. Nora, Cousin Neil.' The two turned 
 quickly. ' You must come in now,' came the hushed, 
 grief-laden voice. ' I have left Fraulein Schmolze 
 with our darling ; but she will have to leave soon. 
 Dr Mosenthal and Dr Klein have both gone ; they 
 will be here again early to-morrow. You must not
 
 io8 love's loyalty. 
 
 hurry me, dears,' Shirley continued, as she pressed 
 her hands against her aching temples. ' I am hardly 
 myself to-night, I fancy. I know what you want to 
 hear, and I will tell you all very soon. Only be patient 
 with me just for a little while.' 
 
 Nora was by her sister's side in a moment. 
 
 * You are tired out, Shirley dear, after all the nurs- 
 ing and anxiety of this dreadful day. Come back into 
 the hotel and rest. Neil shall fetch you something.' 
 
 * No, love, I shall be better presently. I would 
 rather stay out here in the cool. Only let me be 
 quiet — and think.' 
 
 She leant her arms on the railing which separated 
 Herr Schmolze's garden from the river pathway, and 
 gazed heedlessly at the well-favoured city, around 
 whose walls the shadow of night was quickly closing, 
 as the darkness seemed settling down upon herself. 
 There were tears upon the quivering eyelids now — 
 blinding tears, which flowed unchecked straight from 
 her torn and aching heart. After a while Nora stole 
 gently up to her sister. She placed her arm lovingly 
 upon the bowed neck. Shirley started. Passing her 
 hand quickly across her eyes, she drew the graceful 
 head towards her, and bent over the smooth, soft hair, 
 caressing it tenderly. 
 
 ' My poor love, my sweet little sister,' she mur- 
 mured. ' I am afraid we shall be left alone together 
 very soon now, you and I.' 
 
 ' Shirley, darling, do not tell me that,' cried Nora 
 in piteous tones. 
 
 ' I must do so, love ; it is my duty. Why should 
 I put you off with what is not true. It is only trifling 
 with the blow which must fall before many days are 
 over. The doctors said we must be brave, and hope.
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. IO9 
 
 What mockery, when their faces told only too plainly 
 that all hope was gone ! Ah, you have heard, cousin 
 Neil ? Think, dear, what that means — no hope, no 
 hope ! To be able to do nothing but sit helplessly 
 by — watching and praying. There is the awful misery 
 of it all ! ' 
 
 Neil was standing back, quietly. He was quite pre- 
 pared for what Shirley told him, after the ordeal he 
 had passed through in the morning. He would not 
 give way again before these poor girls, deeply affected 
 though he were. The higher qualities of his nature had 
 triumphed. The example set by the gentle woman 
 was already bearing fruit. Neil must now take her 
 place, and become the protector of these two. That 
 was what she would tell him was his duty, if he could 
 but speak with her. Before them, it was above all 
 necessary he should be strong and manly. 
 
 He put his lips to each pale cheek in turn, and 
 whispered, 'We must go in now, cousins,' and led 
 them passively indoors. 
 
 What need to tarry over the few remaining weeks, 
 during which the sand of Celia Wodehouse's life ran 
 swiftly down in its hour-glass of a relentless fate ? All 
 that earthly skill could do to ease mortal pain, every 
 offering from loving hearts, the fervour of earnest 
 prayers, were hers until the end. At peace with all, 
 her last words breathing blessings and forgiveness 
 around, the wounded soul of this sorely-tried woman 
 quietly passed away into a Safer Keeping. 
 
 But he was not there who should have knelt with 
 that sorrowing bedside group in abject contrition. 
 The husband at whose door lay in much the respon- 
 sibility for this broken heart, by reason of his neglect 
 and sin, still denied her he had sworn to love and
 
 no LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 cherish the last manly reparation of his presence at 
 the closing scene. Only a few selfish lines came in 
 reply to the urgent summons sent by the chaplain, and 
 again repeated by Edward Foster. Miserable excuses, 
 which brought the flush of shame to his daughters' 
 brows — unworthy subterfuges as to his new duties — 
 wretched evasions, from the thought of which those 
 distressed ones turned in disgust. If Henry Wode- 
 house's better nature were not quite dead, he must 
 have felt a pang of unutterable remorse when the last 
 sad message came, that his wife had passed beyond 
 reach of all worldly suffering, to that Better Land 
 where the cruel shafts of his misconduct were power- 
 less to harm. 
 
 So they laid the victim of an unhappy marriage to 
 rest, under a green hillock, outside the Saxon capital, 
 where for a while peace had not been sought in vain. 
 The flowers upon her grave would wither soon; the 
 trees so faintly stirred by autumn's breath must cast 
 their russet coverings ere long ; cold blasts of winter 
 tear and whistle through the naked boughs as surely 
 as the virgin snow would spread its pure mantle over 
 those who slept within the hallowed gates. But 
 neither storm nor howling wind can disturb the 
 dreamless sleep of those who, eased from all earthly 
 pain, rest so calmly there until the Great Awakening. 
 
 Hand clasped in hand, Nora and Shirley stood upon 
 the river-bank to take a last look at that city which 
 had given them shelter in the time of need. The broad 
 sparkling stream, as it flowed swiftly on, the tapering 
 spires and cross-topped domes, the bright pennants 
 fluttering over the little Italian village which nestled 
 beside that historical, weather-stained bridge, — all the
 
 LIFE S LITTLE SPAN. I I I 
 
 old joyful, sunlit scenes were there, yet the eyes of 
 those two motherless girls welcomed them not. Rather, 
 in their loneliness, they marvelled how their surround- 
 ings could mock them thus ; how it were possible, 
 indeed, for Nature ever to smile again upon the cruel 
 world, with this dire cloud of misery so freshly gathered 
 over their own young lives. 
 
 It wanted but a short half-hour to the time when 
 they must nerve themselves to leave the hotel where, 
 from master to humblest drudge, all had learnt to love 
 and respect the English lady and her charges. For 
 one, alas, the parting had been already rudely hastened ; 
 the patient, gentle mother summoned — all too soon for 
 those left to mourn her loss — to that Brighter Home. 
 
 Zu friih, du traurig, stiller HUgel, 
 
 Fallt der Wehmuth Thrane auf dich hin. 
 
 These were the simple, pathetic lines the hotel- 
 keeper and his sister begged might also be written 
 up in loving memory. Who could say them nay? 
 
 Only a brief farewell, then, must it be down by the 
 kindly Elbe, which has borne you so often upon its 
 proud bosom in steam or ferryboat No more than 
 a few minutes longer, bereaved children, and the frail 
 barque of your young beings must be launched upon 
 a wider and more perilous stream, to ride on still 
 waters, or be tossed on the angry turmoil of the waves, 
 as He alone can tell. 
 
 ' It is too terrible to bear, dear sister,' the elder 
 sobbed ; ' to go away like this, and leave her alone 
 with strangers. Oh that we had never come to this 
 hateful place.' 
 
 ' Hush, darling. We must try to be resigned. Did 
 she not tell us that many, many times ? If only for
 
 112 LOVE'S LOYALTY. 
 
 poor Neil's sake, who has broken down again so. 
 Think how he will look to us to comfort him.' 
 
 They sat upon that same bench where, in careless, 
 happy hours, Shirley had so often railed in playful 
 levity at her cousin's boyish freaks. Where now was 
 the joyous ring of voice, the gay, unbridled mirth? 
 The colour had faded from those rosy cheeks, and 
 tears had dimmed the lustre of the eyes. The child 
 was gone. In its stead, beautiful in strength of mind 
 and courage, outcome of a poignant sorrow all too 
 early and too cruel, shone forth the woman, earnest, 
 brave, protecting. And little Nora, always delicate, 
 how sadly she had fallen away. Her face showed 
 plainly what the misery of those past weeks had cost 
 her ; proved, as well, how she must lean for a while 
 upon that other, who was so able and willing to bear 
 the burthen of the elder's weakness. 
 
 ' Alone, alone,' she murmured wearily. ' Why not 
 leave me behind, love, to keep watch over there ? I. 
 shall only be a drag and worry in England, I am sure.' 
 Her sister smiled sadly. 
 
 ' We do not think so. Come, dry your eyes, there's 
 a dear Nollekins. It will never do to leave all these 
 kind people like this. Why,' with an effort at her 
 former gaiety, ' that funny old Frau Krone, with Otto 
 Hirsch, is coming round to say good-bye to us directly. 
 And Professor Kubler is sure to be at the railway 
 station. Don't you remember, he is quite certain I 
 shall become a great singer some day, if only I have 
 " ze appliance and ze nerve " to study properly? Of 
 course, he wants to say something encouraging to a 
 future genius like that. What a comfort it is to think 
 we can never come to want with such a treasure as 
 this wonderful voice of mine to fall back upon. To
 
 LIFES LITTLE SPAN. II3 
 
 say nothing of the fortune Neil is going to make, and 
 which he so generously offers to share with us.' 
 Nora rose with a weary sigh. 
 
 * It is like my good, kind sister to try and be cheer- 
 ful and rouse me to my duty — I will not break down 
 again if I can help it. Forgive me, too, for the wicked 
 things I have said about this dear place. We must 
 always love the beautiful city, if only for that one 
 sacred spot. I am ready now.' 
 
 The younger's head was turned away. 
 
 * Good-bye, good-bye,' came the soft, broken tones. 
 
 VOL. L H
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ASSET S — N I L. 
 
 The emblem of that worthy literary venture the 
 * Pilot ' was still displayed over the tobacconist's ' ad- 
 joining the leading west-end thoroughfare,' whence its 
 rays had first tried to pierce the dark understandings 
 of those many backsliders * throughout the length and 
 breadth of Europe.' 
 
 But alas its brilliancy had sorely faded since those 
 days when sanguine fingers affixed the journal's 
 symbol to the office windows. Limp and tattered, 
 the papers drooped dejectedly, in mute reproach to 
 an ungrateful public. 
 
 Long since, the cross upon the lamp had been ruth- 
 lessly effaced, the lessor strangely enough not enjoy- 
 ing that increase of patronage foretold as a positive 
 outcome of his arrangement. Within also, all the old 
 directorial comforts had vanished with the staff'. Only 
 one enfeebled youth now represented former glories. 
 Judging from the devices (chiefly pictorial) for self- 
 diversion to which ennui had driven him, time must 
 often have hung heavily on the hands of this last of 
 the ' Pilot's ' officers. There was quite a fancy con- 
 stellation of wafers upon the outer door, proving that 
 the lad found imperative excuse for absence not un-
 
 ASSETS — NIL. 115 
 
 frequently the penalty for a too scrupulous devotion 
 to duty. 
 
 Henry Wodehouse's visits to the ' Pilot's ' birthplace 
 were now few and far between. It was naturally pain- 
 ful to this sensitive-minded promoter to be brought 
 face to face with the wreck of his generous efforts on 
 behalf of his fellow-creatures. Had he been given to 
 tears, assuredly he would have wept bitterly over the 
 indignities to which of late his pet project had been 
 subjected. 
 
 Failing such displays of weakness, he contented 
 himself with indulging in some forcible expressions 
 concerning the want of confidence shown by sundry 
 chicken-hearted shareholders who had deserted him 
 in a most cowardly fashion when pecuniary aid was 
 most needed. That these straits had, during the short 
 period of its checkered existence, been numerous and 
 severe, a study of the journal's file amply proved. 
 Therein was the melancholy history of the pioneer 
 of Faith set forth with bluntest truth. How sad to 
 trace day by day the decadence of such an enterprise — 
 bright promise drifting through the varied stages of 
 misfortune to an impotent, undignified collapse, in- 
 stead of to the ' ripe and honoured senility ' heralded 
 in that touching May-Day address of the directorate. 
 Once, indeed, the pulse of this ill-fated journal had 
 threatened — ' owing to a regrettable accident to the 
 plant ' — to prematurely stop beating altogether. Dur- 
 ing that anxious period the paper presented a very 
 emaciated appearance. From former plump dimen- 
 sions, it lost flesh in a single v/eek by at least one-half 
 of its 'six full-sized pages.' Of news or comforting 
 matter there was none. Subscribers had to be con- 
 tent with dry extracts from contemporaries, between
 
 Il6 LOVE'S LOYALTY. 
 
 which were artfully sandwiched seductive puffs of 
 those hotels or patent medicines still gracing the 
 ' Pilot's ' advertisement columns (this was Mr Rush- 
 worth's special forte). What really clogged the wheels 
 of the paper's prosperity were the clamorous and un- 
 worthy demands of the staff for arrears of wages. It 
 required all the managing-director's bland arguments 
 to prevent immediate disaster. Happily, by super- 
 human exertions, the catastrophe was for awhile 
 averted, though it lost the services of the brilliant, 
 if exacting, MTherson during the crisis. From that 
 day, indeed, the Scotchman meanly turned traitor to 
 the columns in which his persuasions had enjoyed, 
 if not absolutely unfettered, at least qualified licence, 
 directing his talents to compassing the downfall of 
 his benefactor. Unfortunately for Mr Wodehouse's 
 peace of mind, this correspondent had with native 
 foresight secured that monetary stake in the concern 
 which, although of itself insignificant, yet proved (as 
 Mr Edward Foster's investment did) a very barbed 
 arrow in the promoter's flesh. No wonder he cursed 
 the day when the dogmatical scribe had first crossed 
 his path. 
 
 Throughout all the distressing embarrassments into 
 which the ' Pilot ' was presently plunged, its chief was 
 a martyr to the deplorable want of trust on the part 
 of the shareholders. Here was a splendid property 
 brought to the verge of ruin through lack of a few 
 miserable pounds ! A promising sapling, ready to 
 spread its sheltering branches over many a wandering 
 family, deprived of needful sustenance through the 
 neglect of its rightful supporters. It was an ungenerous 
 slight, and one before which the philanthropic Henry's 
 usually dauntless spirit was for a while crushed.
 
 ASSETS — NIL. 117 
 
 In vain did he visit that city quarter in which the 
 Crib with its customers flourished, and where many a 
 mine of speculation had been worked to his advantage. 
 That shyness evinced at the outset towards the under- 
 taking by the knowing ones of the investment world 
 had never worn off. Everywhere the same unchris- 
 tian-like mistrust ; point-blank refusals to operate, to 
 be overcome by no amount of plausible argument. 
 The affair had become food for the accountants ; it was 
 not worth bolstering up, was the verdict on all sides. 
 Nor could the icy reserve which had settled down 
 upon his trump-card, the clergy, be broken through 
 by the liberal issue of four-lined and urgent whips, 
 imploring a helping hand in time of emergency. Even 
 the reverend gentleman of Troutington Rectory, who 
 had already responded gamely to sundry calls not 
 strictly legitimate, wrote respectfully declining further 
 remittances until ' the balance-sheet he had repeatedly 
 applied for was forthcoming ' — a prosaic balance-sheet 
 at such a critical juncture as this ! 
 
 Then there was trouble with the Honourable Mont- 
 gomery, who, glass-in-eye, and with many ' look here, 
 don't-you-knows,' was sadly put out because certain 
 inspired proposals for the resuscitation of the paper 
 (notably of a sporting character, and relating to the 
 engagement of a Prophet whose tips were to lead 
 the subscribers on to fortune) met with scant cour- 
 tesy at the hands of the directorate. This happy com- 
 bination had now dwindled down to one particular 
 star — Henry Wodehouse, promoter, financier, propa- 
 gandist, who had so obligingly joined the board after 
 allotment, for the other directors had resigned in 
 hot haste when things began to look queer. Natur- 
 ally he could not allow his company's prospects to be
 
 ii8 love's loyalty. 
 
 jeopardised by any unseemly wranglings. So, in a 
 scene darkened by much mutual recrimination and 
 bitterness, it was decided that the titled director had 
 better also retire from his arduous duties. Smart- 
 ing, it would seem, under imaginary injustice in the 
 matter of fees, the Honourable Montgomery carried 
 a record of his grievances into clubland, where doubt- 
 less he met with much sympathy from the members 
 of that aristocratic set of which he himself was so 
 brilliant an ornament. 
 
 At length came the distressful day, so long staved 
 off, when the unfortunate ' Pilot's ' power to steer any 
 further craft for good or ill passed away for ever. 
 Prostrated by the blow, the promoter and his trusty 
 lieutenant met behind the curtain at Circe's Crib to 
 arrange, with bated breath, those last solemn rites 
 connected with this untimely demise. No wonder 
 their overstrained nerves required bracing up with 
 occasional draughts of that nectar served from without. 
 
 ' Well, it's been a short life, though not a particularly 
 merry one,' remarked Mr Rushworth, pocketing some 
 money handed him by his chief (Distrustful persons 
 might have inferred the two were dividing the spoil 
 before lawful hands appropriated it. As a matter of 
 fact, they merely helped themselves to such available 
 coin as the defunct paper's till presented. If they 
 were not entitled to the money, after all they had gone 
 through on its behalf, surely nobody was.) ' Don't 
 forget, my friend, I still have a claim against the estate 
 for literary services. I should be the last to press 
 unduly upon anybody, but I register the fact for what 
 it is worth.' 
 
 * I sha'n't forget for want of being reminded at any- 
 rate,' replied Henry Wodehouse in tones of not un-
 
 ASSETS — NIL. 119 
 
 natural irritation. ' Claims, indeed ! What are yours 
 compared to mine, let me ask ? I'd have staked my 
 reputation on this concern turning up trumps. And 
 where are we now after all this bother and slavery ! 
 Time, brains, money, all wasted ! It's a precious 
 ungrateful world. I'm about sick of it.' 
 
 ' Pray don't say wasted, Henry, when it's all been 
 for the benefit of society. The reflection would strike 
 us both, and I couldn't bear that you should suffer. 
 Never fear, you'll get your deserts some day. Where 
 are we now, you ask ? ' repeated the paragraphist. 
 * Well, I can't conscientiously say that you and I are 
 much worse off than when we started. We were at a 
 pretty low ebb, if you remember, what with the Wheal 
 Paradox and sundry other slight — ahem — errors of 
 judgment' 
 
 ' Won't you ever leave that confounded mine alone, 
 Rushworth? I wish the ore had choked the lot of 
 you before I ever put my name to that prospectus.' 
 
 * Possibly there wasn't enough metal extracted to 
 effect even that charitable dissolution. Considering, 
 however, you were the first to invite the public to ex- 
 ploration, it might, and not without reason, propose 
 that you should head the procession. Fancy quarrel- 
 ling with such a tried friend as the Paradox. Why, 
 you must have made a pile out of it at one time ? ' 
 
 'The game wasn't worth the candle for all that,' 
 growled Henry. 
 
 ' Not even for the pleasure of those smart encounters 
 with Mr Edward Foster? You surprise me. By-the- 
 bye, I hear the old boy is in a bad way. I hope he'll 
 pick himself up, though, for the merry gathering on 
 the 20th. He ought to be in his element there, and 
 show us some sport. I wonder what he is going to
 
 I20 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 do with that cherubic young Challoner he'll never let 
 out of his sight now. Fine opening in the city for 
 a promising youth like that, eh, Wodehouse?' Mr 
 Rushworth chuckled. 
 
 His companion did not appear to relish the turn 
 the conversation was taking, for he muttered, — 
 
 ' Hang the young prig, I hate him ! ' 
 
 ' I always thought there wasn't much love lost 
 between you two. But tell me, Henry — you don't 
 really mean to be serious ; pray pardon me if I 
 wound the feelings of an uncle — about that unfor- 
 tunate little affair you hinted at' 
 
 * It looks precious suspicious, to say the least of it. 
 Do you think the old skinflint would take up with 
 anybody in this fashion if there wasn't something be- 
 hind the scenes ? People are not so jolly charitable 
 nowadays.' 
 
 ' No, or he might have adopted you instead.' 
 
 ' He might have done worse ; yes, there's no mistake, 
 about it. Nevill Challoner indeed ! He's about as 
 much right to that name as — well, you have to the 
 editorship of the " Snarler," for want of a better simile.' 
 
 ' You're very kind, I'm sure. When Edward hops 
 the twig, no doubt the mystery will be cleared up.' 
 
 'Before then, or I'm no prophet. At this moment 
 I could name somebody — but just you wait. Perhaps 
 you'd like me to believe there's a chance of his getting 
 those Musselburgh estates his people used to be so 
 stuck-up about.' 
 
 ' Fie, Henry ; I'm afraid you're growing vindictive.' 
 
 And his companion smiled again at the absurd 
 delusion under which his friend laboured — one into 
 which a constant brooding over imaginary wrongs 
 would appear to have led him.
 
 ASSETS— NIL. 121 
 
 Mr Rushworth was itching to draw his companion 
 out in respect to certain domestic matters which had 
 obviously darkened the director's Hfe of late. In 
 particular would he have given something to learn 
 what had become of those two pretty daughters who 
 had passed out quickly from the private room one 
 morning. 
 
 From that day Nora and Shirley had made no 
 sign. They had gone their own way, leaving their 
 natural protector to speculate as best he might upon 
 their whereabouts. 
 
 ' And this is gratitude,' Henry Wodehouse had once 
 remarked to his lieutenant, when overtaken by a maud- 
 lin, communicative mood foreign to his ordinary nature. 
 * After all I've done for those dear children, they go 
 away like this, leaving their unhappy father deserted, 
 and well-nigh distraught through reverses. As if my 
 worries had not been enough already. I'm sure I 
 offered them every concession children could reason- 
 ably expect. What do you think they reproached me 
 with ? Neglect to that good woman who is no more, 
 I, who was so lenient and forbearing when she ran 
 away, and kept her hiding-place a secret. Was I not 
 even reduced to the indignity of addressing my loved 
 one through some shabby lawyer with a fist as close 
 as a receiver's ? When I proposed that we should all 
 three settle down and live happily together, my offer 
 was rejected with a scorn it prostrates a doting father 
 to recall. I shall never hold up my head again, 
 Rushworth, before such unfilial ingratitude.' 
 
 But except for this one unwonted display of confi- 
 dence, the philanthropist had never alluded to his 
 daughters. Doubtless his feelings were too sorely 
 lacerated to trust himself to speak on so painful a
 
 122 love's loyalty. 
 
 topic. Only on the subject of his nephew was he at 
 times discoursive, and then in a revengeful, impious 
 fashion, scarcely warrantable or avuncular. 
 
 After his return from abroad, Neil, as we know, had 
 found a home with his guardian. This in itself was 
 sufficient to have incurred Henry Wodehouse's dis- 
 pleasure, although he had certainly not gone out of 
 his way to offer other shelter for the lad. Presently 
 we shall find into what channels Neil had drifted. 
 But for all the effort made by his uncle to help him 
 over the shoals of life, this young craft might have 
 gone to the bottom forthwith. 
 
 What a comfort to be able to let responsibilities 
 glide off one's shoulders in the philosophic style 
 adopted by Henry Wodehouse. In his generosity he 
 would even then have made over all his worry with 
 the ' Pilot ' to others, retiring into a dignified seclu- 
 sion with the failure of his ambitions. Strange to 
 say, the shareholders were not disposed to accept this 
 renunciation in a friendly spirit. Their unromantic 
 contention was that the entanglements and losses 
 had been mainly brought about by their managing- 
 director's improvidence — some were inhuman enough 
 to hint at other shortcomings too painful to mention 
 — hence that it was his bounden duty to help them 
 out of the mess as best he could : the salvage was 
 likely to be small enough in all conscience. With 
 this object, when the news spread that the issue of 
 the paper was stopped, an extraordinary meeting had 
 been hastily summoned, when the promoter would be 
 afforded every opportunity for a personal explanation 
 — be put upon his defence, as Mr Rushworth brutally 
 hinted. 
 
 It came about in due course. That dull November
 
 ASSETS— NIL. 123 
 
 morning found a depressed following of the ' Pilot's ' 
 fortunes met in the defunct journal's office to hear 
 their managing-director's statement, and to decide, if 
 necessary, how the winding-up process could be best 
 initiated. As a proof that most of those who had a 
 stake in the concern looked upon their investment as 
 already sacrificed, no more than a dozen responded to 
 the invitation. Of those we have met there were pre- 
 sent Mr Edward Foster, the combative Scotchman 
 M'Pherson, and the reverend gentleman from Trou- 
 tington Rectory, with Henry Wodehouse and his 
 lieutenant, the needy Rushworth. As the share- 
 holders dropped in, they greeted each other with a 
 gloomy decorum worthy of a funeral. It was sad also 
 to see how those who had worked so hard for the 
 'Pilot's' success received the curtest of recognition. 
 There was ample arrangement for recording the 
 minutes, and in order to make matters quite regular 
 — and that the ' Pilot's ' obsequies might be attended 
 with all decency — the company's legal adviser was 
 present to tender advice, if needed. It became neces- 
 sary of course to elect a chairman and a pro tern. 
 secretary. On the plea of ill-health the Anglo-Indian 
 declined the responsibilities of the former post, which 
 subsequently fell to the parson, Mr Wodehouse's 
 former precis writer being summoned from an ad- 
 jacent restaurant to undertake the duties of recorder. 
 When all were seated — Henry and his friend modestly 
 in the background — the Reverend Mark rose and de- 
 livered a short but telling speech upon the situation. 
 
 He traced the history of this ill-fated journal from 
 the moment when, as he pathetically put it, he had 
 ' embarked a not inconsiderable and to him impor- 
 tant slice of his capital in a venture which appeared
 
 I 24 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 launched under the happiest conditions.' Sorrowfully 
 he must admit that his faith in the concern had led 
 him to persuade others — who were less able than even 
 he to bear the loss — to support the newspaper. He 
 felt sure that his listeners would believe him sincere 
 when he said that for this error in judgment he felt 
 unfeigned regret. By blindly accepting as true state- 
 ments, without investigation, with that reprehensible 
 simplicity he feared was often a too prevalent failing 
 amongst his profession, he had unwittingly injured 
 several esteemed friends. In this dilemma, he could 
 take but one course. Neither time nor trouble must 
 be spared to trace the causes for this deplorable result, 
 initiating such measures for an adjustment of the 
 company's affairs by which what was possible might 
 be saved from the wreck. He left himself out of the 
 question, as by his unhappy fault he had fully earned 
 his punishment. Far be it from him to prejudge any 
 man. But he must be permitted to say that facts 
 as they now appeared betrayed a negligence on 
 the part of those responsible for this undertaking 
 highly culpable. Were any satisfactory explana- 
 tion or proposal forthcoming, he would be the first 
 to welcome such. He hoped he might be favoured 
 with some of his fellow-sufferers' — he had almost said 
 victims' — views before submitting a resolution which 
 he thought might meet the difficulties in which they 
 unfortunately found themselves placed. 
 
 That arch-seceder MTherson instantly rose. With 
 unromantic logic, he reviewed the circumstances of his 
 connection with the * Pilot' Of the manner in which 
 he had been, as he averred, ' tricked ' into the concern, 
 and * plundered of well-nigh his little-all ' by gross 
 misrepresentations ; how his London letter had been
 
 ASSETS— NIL. 125 
 
 frequently mangled beyond all recognition, thereby 
 reducing his theories to the merest commonplaces, 
 he drew an affecting picture, not unrelieved by touches 
 of unconscious humour. He frankly admitted that, 
 his suspicions aroused by the glimpses obtained behind 
 the scenes, he forthwith cancelled his engagement, 
 and fell back upon his rights as a shareholder to bring 
 about an investigation into the company's affairs. 
 His efforts had, he said, been baulked by every mean 
 and paltry artifice, until this 'truncated directorate,' 
 in the person of Mr Wodehouse, had been at length 
 brought to book. Mr MTherson sincerely trusted, 
 with their reverend chairman, that the sole surviving 
 member of the triumvirate would shake off the ill- 
 timed reticence in which he had of late enwrapped 
 himself, and come to the shareholders' rescue. ' If 
 you'll only give us another taste of your energy when 
 you started the ' Pilot,' we'll be indebted to you, 
 sir,' was the concluding appeal of the Scotchman to 
 the ex-managing-director. 
 
 There was an ominous silence, relieved only by a few 
 grunts from the Anglo-Indian. 
 
 'You're cornered at last, my boy,' whispered the 
 lieutenant to his chief ' Give 'em a speech and chance 
 it, or they'll lynch you to a certainty ; ' with which 
 encouraging refresher Henry Wodehouse rose for his 
 defence. 
 
 It was obvious at once that, with all his talents, the 
 promoter was no orator. He stammered and shuffled 
 over his address in a manner surprising to those who 
 remembered with what glib persuasiveness he had in- 
 troduced the newspaper to their notice. To one line 
 of argument he was, however, steadfast ; Henry Wode- 
 house was the martyr, the shareholders positively no-
 
 126 love's loyalty. 
 
 where in respect to the scurvy trick fortune had played 
 him. What were their worries and losses compared 
 with those of one who had planned and toiled so 
 zealously on their behalf? What disappointment 
 could equal his, he would like to know? Had not 
 time, brains, he might add, health, been sacrificed 
 for them on the altar of duty ? Then, as a reward 
 for all his disinterested services, he found that a cabal 
 had been formed against him by some of those he had 
 proudly counted upon as his friends, and by whom 
 his conduct of the company's affairs was now called 
 in question. That suspicion, coupled with the cowardly 
 secession of his colleagues when the first notes were 
 sounded of a temporary embarrassment, to which the 
 most flourishing ventures are at times liable, had, he 
 confessed, unhinged his administrative powers. Even 
 now, with further confidence, and that monetary sup- 
 port which he considered himself entitled to ask for 
 at their hands, he did not despair of pulling the ' Pilot ' 
 out of the fire, or of establishing it upon a lasting basis 
 of prosperity — a proposition at which the twelve share- 
 holders laughed ironically. This, weeded of its bait- 
 ings and digressions, was the substance of Henry 
 Wodehouse's defence. It will be remarked that it 
 was one purely of sentiment, any prosaic business 
 details being carefully avoided. 
 
 The man resumed his seat amidst a silence the 
 reverse of complimentary. There was a dreary pause, 
 during which the precis writer reduced his former 
 employer's utterances to paper, for the benefit of 
 whom it might concern. 
 
 'And that's all you've got to tell us, sir?' inquired 
 a stern-looking investor, who had kept an unflinch- 
 ing eye upon the speaker throughout his harangue.
 
 ASSETS — NIL. 127 
 
 ' After trifling with us and our money, we're to get 
 no more than this dose of rubbish by way of 
 consolation ! Where's all the money gone to, man ? ' 
 
 'You've had the half-yearly statements — balance- 
 sheets,' stammered the persecuted Henry. 
 
 ' Statements — balance-sheets — stuff and nonsense ! ' 
 cried the irate shareholder. 'These things, gentle- 
 men,' he continued, with withering sarcasm, flourish- 
 ing the documents in question aloft, 'every item of 
 which we dispute ; not a single voucher forthcoming ; 
 no auditors' signatures — a lot of trumped-up rubbish ! 
 Made out in francs, too, which I'm disposed to think 
 isn't a legal way of furnishing accounts in this country. 
 Correct me, Mr Solicitor, if I am in error. They're 
 as pretty a set as I've come across for many a day — 
 and that's saying something. Why, here's the last 
 one to midsummer, showing a highly-flourishing state 
 of affairs — in writing. How do you reconcile that 
 with the hobble we're in now, pray? I've no hesita- 
 tion in saying it's a rank swindle, gentlemen.' 
 
 The hitherto silent Mr Rushworth resented that 
 inference. 
 
 'Who are you, sir?' 
 
 The shareholder with the eagle-eye for facts and 
 figures cut him short. 
 
 ' One of the staff,' returned the other blandly. 
 
 ' That position doesn't give you a voice here to-day. 
 You're only a salaried official.' 
 
 ' With arrears in plenty. I bow, however, to your 
 decision, whilst protesting, all the same, against such 
 indiscreet accusations.' 
 
 ' If you can disprove my words, we shall be de- 
 lighted to listen to you, not otherwise ' — a challenge 
 the paragraphist did not feel disposed to accept.
 
 128 love's loyalty. 
 
 During this lively passage-of-arms the Devonshire 
 parson and Ned Foster held a whispered consultation. 
 The former again spoke, — 
 
 ' With your approval, gentlemen, I will now submit 
 the resolution of which I have given notice. It runs : 
 " That in the opinion of this meeting, and having 
 regard to the unsatisfactory nature of the statement 
 made by their managing-director, the shareholders of 
 the * Pilot' Newspaper Company, Limited, consider 
 that the wisest course to pursue, in the interests of all 
 concerned, is to appoint a committee of inspection, 
 with full power to overhaul the company's affairs, and 
 report as to future action. That this meeting deeply 
 deplores the evasive explanations furnished by their 
 late servant, in whom so much trust was reposed, and 
 beg to censure, in the strongest possible terms, the 
 deplorable neglect of the shareholders' interests which 
 has prevailed at headquarters, whereby the prospects 
 of an acknowledged want have been trifled with. That 
 the solicitor be empowered to act with such committee, 
 to protect the shareholders' interests, in conformity with 
 the articles of association." I do not think,' concluded 
 the clergyman, in tones of sadness, ' I can add any- 
 thing to my former remarks, except to express a 
 fervent hope that, black as the outlook is, our worst 
 forebodings may not be realised. I submit names of 
 the following gentlemen to form the committee. May 
 I ask those in favour of my resolution to signify assent 
 by holding up their hands ? ' 
 
 ' There's no help for it, I suppose. You can't get 
 blood out of a stone,' growled the censorious investor. 
 ' You haven't put the blame half strong enough, 
 though, Mr Chairman' — a criticism promptly endorsed 
 by the ' Pilot's ' ex-London correspondent.
 
 ASSETS— NIL. 129 
 
 The motion having been formally submitted, was 
 declared to be carried. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, I have only now to thank you for 
 the courtesy and attention shown to me this morning 
 under depressing influences. I am reminded that, in 
 order to make everything orthodox, an adjournment 
 will be necessary, which I now propose for this day 
 three weeks. By that time we may expect some 
 tangible information to guide our plans in the future, 
 with a statement of the company's assets, I trust not 
 altogether visionary.' 
 
 There was the usual vote of thanks to the chairman, 
 briefly acknowledged. The meeting dispersed in the 
 same mournful fashion in which it had assembled, the 
 presence of the promoter and his officer being, 
 if anything, more studiously ignored than before. 
 Edward Foster was the last to leave. As for a 
 moment he caught Henry Wodehouse's eye (a feat 
 not easy of accomplishment), there was a look upon 
 the old Anglo-Indian's face far more reproachful than 
 words. 
 
 ' Don't come near me,' he cried as Henry, with out- 
 stretched hands, smilingly advanced. ' I have done 
 with you. How you dare look me in the face ' (as a 
 matter of fact, Mr Wodehouse had not done so) * after 
 all that has passed, fairly astounds me. I'm ill and 
 feeble, but by Jove, sir . . . .' 
 
 ' You must not excite yourself, guardian, must you ? ' 
 said a quiet voice beside him. 'The cab is at the 
 door. Are you ready ? ' 
 
 It was Neil Challoner, who had been waiting outside 
 
 watching the ceaseless din and traffic of the London 
 
 streets. But it was not the same Neil we have met 
 
 abroad. Rather, the boy had in that short interval 
 
 VOL. L I
 
 I30 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 well-nigh passed into manhood, so thoughtful and 
 earnest had he grown. The gentle manner, mingled 
 with that respect towards his elders, which was innate 
 to his nature, was a pleasing thing to look upon. As 
 he stood there, the stay and comfort of one who had 
 befriended him through life, surely the work of that 
 good woman who had gone before was already being 
 crowned ? 
 
 The old man took the proffered arm. 
 
 ' Neil, my lad, this uncle of yours is no associate for 
 you. Ned Foster isn't long for this world, but bear 
 his words in mind when you've tucked him up under 
 the sod. For the sake of her whose unhappy lot it 
 was to be this man's wife, I warn you thus to his face, 
 keep clear of him. That's old Ned Foster's advice — 
 you follow him, eh ? ' 
 
 There was no conciliating smile on Henry Wode- 
 house's lips now. 
 
 ' Yes, look after your precious Nevill,' he rejoined 
 angrily. ' I hope he'll bring you credit. Perhaps 
 presently I may have something to make him open 
 his eyes a bit wider. Can't Mr Edward Foster give 
 a pretty shrewd guess what I mean ? It's no use 
 looking so supremely innocent. Do you think 
 there are not others who know all about it as well 
 as I?' 
 
 * You're talking rubbish, man. I decline to hold 
 any more parley with you. Give me your arm, Nevill ; 
 this is no place for us.' 
 
 Leaning heavily upon his young companion, the 
 invalid hobbled downstairs. 
 
 * You've met your match there ; I told you he'd show 
 fight,' remarked Mr Rushworth. who had been an 
 amused spectator of the proceedings. * But cheer up,
 
 ASSETS — NIL. 131 
 
 Henry. The paternal nail will be driven home some- 
 where before many days are out. To your own satis- 
 faction, if to no one else's,' added Mr Rushworth to 
 himself. 'What a droll pretext for revenge. Why, 
 he'll try to find a bar-sinister in my family coat-of- 
 arms next.'
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 
 
 Let us now retrace our steps, and take up the thread 
 of the sisters' history when, distressed and lonely, they 
 found themselves cast upon the troublous sea of 
 genteel poverty in a huge and perilous city. 
 
 For the first few weeks after their arrival in England 
 they had been too much prostrated by their bitter loss 
 to give a thought to the future. As their cousin's lov- 
 ing hand had led them passively within upon that, 
 ever-present night of misery, so during this dark time, 
 when the full force of their bereavement oppressed 
 them, they had, with humble submission, allowed 
 others to guide their footsteps whither it seemed 
 them best. Happily the mission of comforting these 
 poor girls fell upon kind Christian folk to whom the 
 labour was one of love. In His Mercy He who rules 
 our destinies had willed that the lives of these three 
 should at the outset ride upon calm waters, with as 
 yet no suspicion of its hidden rocks or shoals. 
 
 Edward Foster, who accompanied the party back, 
 had wisely decided not to bring the girls, or for awhile 
 Neil Challoner, into the somewhat gloomy, if select, 
 locality where he rented his chambers. With all its 
 advantages as a residence for bachelors who may be
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 1 33 
 
 members of the Oriental, or similar haunts beloved by 
 Anglo-Indians, Cork Street is not a cheerful thorough- 
 fare any more than its neighbour Savile Row is, with 
 its range of squat emporiums sacred to the tailoring 
 fraternity. Even the welcome patch of foliage which 
 in summer enlivens its eastern side, recalled at that 
 season only painful recollections of bygone freshness, 
 as the dank leaves fell dismally to the ground from the 
 well-nigh stripped and blackened branches. Of life 
 within and adjacent to the street there was enough 
 and to spare. But it was not such as the old man 
 cared should even suggest itself to those he loved and 
 meant to guard. 
 
 So he bethought himself of a pensioner of his, one 
 Polly Pridham, who let lodgings at breezy Hamp- 
 stead. This good dame had been in his family for 
 years, and now enjoyed the enviable position of an- 
 nuitant. Indeed, ever since Edward Foster could re- 
 member, Nurse Pridham had been apparent to him in 
 some capacity or other. Many were the anecdotes 
 stored up in the worthy woman's singularly retentive 
 brain. Nor did she ever tire of reminding the younger 
 generations of Fosters what ' rare little pickles ' they 
 had been in the days when the lady's professional 
 duties had brought her into immediate and sometimes 
 corrective contact with them. Polly had evidently 
 made a highly satisfactory arrangement with Time 
 the Avenger. For notwithstanding her advanced 
 age, her health and energy were remarkable. Nor 
 had she quite lost the fresh bloom upon those cheeks 
 which in early days had proved no indifferent item in 
 her list of attractions, and which even an unrequited 
 love affair had not succeeded in altogether effacing. In 
 the course of events, Nurse Pridham would have to go
 
 134 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 over to the majority. But whenever she did so, it 
 was a foregone conclusion amongst her numerous 
 friends and acquaintances that she would retain all 
 her faculties to the last, like so many ancient ladies of 
 her class. 
 
 'Take them in, bless their hearts alive, that I will,' 
 thought the good woman, when she had mastered the 
 contents of Mr Foster's letter in which his scheme 
 was unfolded. 
 
 ' He won't have to ask his old Mary twice about 
 that. So the poor love has been took, has she ? 
 Well, I've never seen her. But from what I've heard 
 tell, she was as quiet-going, lovable a soul as ever 
 breath was put into. Her husband's a right-down 
 scamp, they say — more's the shame, with an angel 
 like that thrown in his way. If it wasn't for my 
 kind master — God bless him — these two dearies 
 wouldn't have a home above their heads, I warrant. 
 And this cousin who's coming as well ? He must be 
 pretty Rose Challoner's boy. Well I remember her 
 wedding. Rockleigh hadn't seen such a sight for 
 many a day, not excepting when the Squire married 
 the heiress from Brookland. But her happiness didn't 
 last long, poor lamb. For a couple of years after, 
 the news came that her brave captain had been struck 
 down by a black savage in some outlandish skirmish 
 or other. They buried him, with others, thousands of 
 miles from home, with no more than a wooden cross 
 over his grave (I've seen a picture of it) to show 
 where as gallant a gentleman as ever served his 
 Queen lay murdered. The spear might as well have 
 killed his wife as well. For she never looked up 
 again, but just drooped away like a broken lily, and 
 joined him in Heaven, leaving her baby behind for
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 1 35 
 
 others to look after. But there, I go a-ramblin' on 
 with the dolefuls as if there wasn't a sight of cleaning 
 to be got through before to-morrow.' 
 
 Nurse Pridham dried her eyes and adjusted her 
 horn-rimmed spectacles. Presently an epistle com- 
 mencing, ' Honoured sir,' and concluding with ' Your 
 humble, dutiful, obliged servant,' in which the old re- 
 tainer joyfully accepted the responsibilities suggested, 
 found its way to the nearest post-office. 
 
 ' Take them in, and do my best to make 'em happy, 
 bless their hearts, that I will, if I have to sleep in the 
 outhouse,' the dame said to herself many times that 
 morning as she bustled about, planning how the some- 
 what scanty dimensions of her residence could be best 
 made available to meet the impending influx of visitors. 
 ' Polly Pridham hasn't had to do with young folk 
 most of her days for nothing, let alone lodging letting 
 being her natural trade and profession. Though, 
 more's the pity, I've been a bit unlucky (always ex- 
 cepting our literary gent) since Mr Beaver the bank- 
 clerk audaciously left to go and live near the Regency 
 Park — goodness only knows what he wanted in those 
 fashionable parts. Right down rubbish it was to pre- 
 tend it was on account of the 'ill as tried him. 'Liza, 
 my girl,' called out the annuitant, through the kitchen 
 window, 'come and hear the news I've got for you. 
 I haven't been put in such a fluster for many a day ? ' 
 
 In response to the invitation, Miss Pridham's niece 
 appeared, duly pattened. 
 
 ' Lor', aunt, you don't say so ? ' was all she was equal 
 to when her not too responsive intellect — the sugges- 
 tion of gentlefolk, always struck her dumb — had 
 grasped the momentous nature of her relative's dis- 
 closures. ''Oweverwill you manage?'
 
 136 love's loyalty. 
 
 * Now, there you go, 'Liza, as usual,' was the some- 
 what testy rejoinder. * For spilling cold water over 
 things, I don't know your equal, whether it's in the 
 kitchen or out of it. You're as bad as your Aunt 
 i\Iaria; that's saying a deal. "Manage!" Bless us 
 and save us, how do you think I've done scores and 
 heaps of times before you was ever born or thought 
 of? If we can't put up three mites like these, more's 
 the pity.' 
 
 'Who says they're mites?' inquired the practical 
 Eliza. ' I take it they're grown ups, not given to make- 
 shifts either.' 
 
 * Lord love us, what's come over the girl, a-arguing 
 like that? You just leave it to me. There's the 
 dimity room for the two young ladies, and Master 
 Nevill he'll have to sleep in the attic, opposite Mr 
 Hossack. You'll have to come down lower.' 
 
 The girl shook her head, not in protest at any per- 
 sonal inconvenience as to sleeping accommodation, but 
 as a protest against relegating gentlefolk to the attics. 
 
 ' That's settled,' continued Nurse Pridham. ' Now 
 if you'll just take off those clogs of yours, we'll put 
 things ship-shape in no time. Mercy, Mr Hossack, 
 what a turn you give me ! ' 
 
 There was a pleasant face at the doorway. The 
 literary lodger called out in an equally agreeable 
 voice, — 
 
 ' I am sorry for that. Miss Pridham. The fact is, 
 I've rung the parlour bell more than once without 
 result, and ventured to intrude into your special regions 
 to say I was off to Fleet Street.' 
 
 ' I humbly ask pardon, sir. The fact is, I'm a bit 
 flurried this morning with some news I've had. 'Liza 
 and me was just a-going — '
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 1 37 
 
 * Nothing unpleasant, I hope ? ' 
 
 ' Quite the contrary ; we're let again from to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 On the strength of this interesting announcement, 
 Mr Hossack introduced himself bodily into the 
 .kitchen. 
 
 'This is news indeed. As a not altogether disin- 
 terested person, may I invite further confidence? In 
 particular, as to age, habits, dispositions of the new- 
 comers. Are they likely to object to the smell of 
 tobacco, and what may be their probable reason for 
 wishing to settle on the breezy heights of Hampstead ? 
 I ask this without prejudice on either side. As the 
 usual guarantee of good faith, I enclose my card, and 
 remain your obedient servant.' 
 
 ' I don't quite follow your funny talk, Mr Hossack. 
 But if you mean as you want to know who's coming, 
 I'll tell you. Two orphan girls — leastways so in a 
 manner of speaking, for their father's worse than 
 nothing to them — and their boy cousin, already 
 parentless. They're sent to me, the lonely lambs, by 
 kind Mr Foster, who fetched them from foreign parts, 
 where they've buried their doting mother. There's 
 to be no fuss made. They're just to keep quiet until 
 they're strong enough to mix again with this bother- 
 ing world of ours. I'm to coax them out o' doors as 
 much as possible, to prevent their brooding over their 
 loss ; besides which, they're to be petted and humoured 
 all we know. After a while the boy's to live with his 
 guardian. When they're quite up to it, the girls will 
 have to earn their own livings, I'm after thinking, from 
 what the letter says. Maybe you'll kindly read out 
 the finish to us ? My eyes isn't what they was, 
 though, at my time of life, I'm far from grumbling.'
 
 138 love's loyalty. 
 
 Mr Hossack removed his hat and deposited it, 
 with his copy, upon the kitchen-dresser. 
 
 * I hope you will understand, Miss Pridham that 
 anything I can do to make the newcomers comfort- 
 able will be a pleasure. For example, they might 
 like the common parlour to themselves for a time. 
 I'm so little indoors for meals, you know. Eliza 
 might bring me my coffee in the morning.' 
 
 ' You're a gentleman, sir, tho' we have had a word 
 now and again ; there's my hand on it. As for our 
 little upsets, if it hadn't been for that audacious Mr 
 Beaver making mischief, things would have gone as 
 smooth as a rolling-pin.' 
 
 The literary gent looked up with a smile. 
 
 * An original simile, Miss Pridham. Rolling-pins 
 have been so often associated with results opposed to 
 the peaceful. This is the close of your correspon- 
 dent's letter : " These bereaved little people I am 
 bringing to your care, nurse, will be entitled (when 
 affairs are settled) to a small income. I fear, 
 however, it will be insufficient for their mainten- 
 ance ; I also feel sure their pride will not permit 
 them to accept of help from strangers. For the 
 present, therefore, you will look to me for a dis- 
 charge of accounts. Avoid all reference to money 
 matters, or to their past lives in England. A word 
 of caution. It may happen that "[^y protegees' father 
 will force his presence upon them. I imagine we can- 
 not forbid him the house. But we can, in common 
 humanity, protect these children — in worldly experi- 
 ence they are little more — from persecution. Keep 
 me well informed of any trouble. He is a bad, 
 dangerous man, therefore I put you on your guard. 
 Expect me with my charges to-morrow evening
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 1 39 
 
 about seven. I know I can trust you to have every- 
 thing arranged for a loving, cheerful welcome." That 
 is the end of the letter,' handing it across to his land- 
 lady. ' Whoever wrote it is a good fellow.' 
 
 ' There's no two opinions about that,' rejoined Nurse 
 Pridham. 
 
 Then Mr Robert Hossack took up his manuscript, 
 and set forth down the hill to his work. As he strode 
 along, a feeling crept over him that the somewhat 
 humdrum current of events was about to receive a 
 check. He smiled as, in his mind's eye, he saw him- 
 self the hero of one of his own romances, with Nurse 
 Pridham's cottage as the locale, and Hampstead 
 Heath for background. 
 
 Cold and dismal the November night was fast 
 closing round city and suburb, as Nora and Shirley 
 Wodehouse drove through the lamp-lit streets to the 
 cottage where a new home awaited them. 
 
 Long before seven o'clock, the old nurse, arrayed in 
 the faded satin gown, which only came out on grand 
 occasions, and with a cap upon her head which would 
 have stirred up envy in the breast of a Brittany 
 peasant woman, trotted about in a state of nervous 
 excitement. A dozen times did she visit the dimity 
 room to assure herself that Eliza had carried out her 
 instructions. How cosy it looked. The white cur- 
 tains were closely drawn to keep out the cheerless 
 prospect of the arid, wind-swept Heath. Gaily the fire 
 danced in the grate, producing all sorts of weird effects 
 on the ornaments it had been the landlady's pride 
 to deck the mantel and every available bracket with. 
 The cupboard doors stood invitingly open, plenty of 
 lavender strewn on the shelves, with that fine chintz- 
 covered basket at foot of the bed, ready to receive quite
 
 I40 love's loyalty. 
 
 a wardrobe of dresses. Below in the common parlour 
 a meat-tea was spread on the snow-white tablecloth, 
 which would have satisfied the voracious hunter of 
 tradition. In the fender stood the much prized 
 brown teapot, beloved by a generation of Pridhams. 
 Mary possessed a show of china, unique if varied in 
 pattern, of which she was justly proud. The entire 
 collection graced the table that evening. Mistrusting 
 the powers of a highly-glazed ham, with other con- 
 tributions, to stay the appetites of the travellers, there 
 were two of those wondrous pots, with picturesque 
 though somewhat delusive views of Pegwell Bay upon 
 their lids. (These had been the parting gift of the 
 backsliding Mr Beaver.) In the centre was a noble 
 pile of bread and butter. 
 
 Eliza was posted in the hall, with strict injunctions 
 to summon her aunt directly the sound of wheels was 
 heard. Nurse Pridham was quite sure a cab-runner 
 would accompany the party northwards. Having a 
 housewife's dread of such followers, her niece was duly 
 warned to send any to the right-about. But she 
 might have been easy in her mind. For the terrors 
 of that climb kept even the enterprising class in 
 question at bay. 
 
 When the landlady looked back upon that memor- 
 able evening, it seemed like a dream, and one which 
 always brought tears into her eyes as she thought of it. 
 
 There was old Mr Foster, without whose bounty 
 her declining years would have been spent in the parish 
 workhouse, clad in that inelegant livery of which she 
 had such a morbid dread. She hardly knew her 
 benefactor as he stepped out : his kindly face was so 
 marked with lines of grief and suffering. Few words 
 passed between them. Then two black-robed figures,
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. I4I 
 
 their faces hidden by thick veils, passed slowly into 
 the house. Lastly, a finely-built lad, who seemed to 
 take the lead, giving directions about the luggage, 
 and paying the cabman. Almost before the good 
 woman had finished curtseying, her visitors were in 
 their rooms, marshalled by the watchful Eliza, who 
 came out strong on the occasion, and did not 'lose 
 her head ' as her aunt had predicted. It was all very 
 sudden and wonderful. Nurse Pridham thought a good 
 cry would be the only relief possible under the cir- 
 cumstances. But she conquered her emotions, find- 
 ing congenial occupation in the kitchen. To her 
 great disappointment, the repast on which she had 
 bestowed so much care received but scanty patronage. 
 Mr Foster and Neil Challoner sat down to the table. 
 But it was more to avoid hurting their hostess's feel- 
 ings than from any desire to taste the delicacies pro- 
 vided. Nora and Shirley sent a message of excuse 
 for non-attendance, begging only that some tea might 
 be sent up to them. 
 
 * The young ladies are fatigued,' explained Mr 
 Foster. ' They will retire early to-night, to be fresh 
 for to-morrow.' 
 
 * Bless their hearts, I hope they will be. Ah me, 
 well I remember the time I did a deal of foreign 
 travel myself, when I was lady's-maid to your aunt 
 Susan, Mr Edward. Travelling wasn't what it is in 
 these days, with their express trains whirling you 
 along. Then there was only diligencies — tumble- 
 down coaches you may have heard of, young gentle- 
 man. Many's the mile my good mistress and me got 
 jolted over, and a'most dead we was at the finish. In 
 particular I recollect,' Nurse Pridham continued, now 
 fairly launched upon a gossiping cruise of uncertain
 
 142 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 duration, ' getting one evening to some outlandish 
 place in Normandy that done up you might have 
 knocked us down with a couple of feathers. Says 
 Mrs Fuller to me, before I'd undone a cord of the 
 boxes, " Mary," she says, " I feel regular sinking through 
 the floor I do for want of something. You must get 
 me a cup of tea, or I sha'n't see through the night." 
 Well I goes down and hunts up the landlord, and 
 tries to make him understand what we want, but he 
 was that dense over it I could have banged his stupid 
 old head. Just as I was giving it up as a bad job, I 
 caught sight of some necks of bottles which looked 
 uncommon like beer. Will you believe me, they 
 was ? Half-a-dozen of pale ale, in prime order, 
 though how they got there's a puzzle. You may be 
 sure I wasn't long before I'd whipped up a couple, 
 and made off with them. To this day Mrs Fuller — 
 she's still alive, though she do suffer dreadful from 
 rheumatics — declares that glass of ale saved her life. 
 And I believe her.' 
 
 Miss Pridham paused for breath, and Mr Foster 
 took the opportunity to rise. 
 
 ' I shall be out betimes in the morning, my boy,' he 
 said to Neil Challoner. ' Take your cousins for a walk 
 on the Heath if it's fine. Good-night, nurse.' 
 
 Before the old lady could even manage the usual 
 respectful obeisance, Ned Foster was gone. 
 
 When Shirley drew back the curtains of their room, 
 on the first morning after her return to England, and 
 let in a faint early light, how different was the scene to 
 that which had so often greeted her from the windows 
 of the Golden Eagle. Instead of Herr Schmolze's 
 courtyard, busy with noisy preparations, she had 
 a bleak outlook of sandy heath, the scantily clad
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. I43 
 
 furze bushes with which it was dotted shivering before 
 a cruel northerly wind, which tore across the open space 
 with boisterous rudeness. From a hillock not far off 
 rose a clump of gaunt prim-looking trees, reminding 
 Shirley of the farmyard specimens of her nursery days. 
 In the distance was a brickfield ; to the left, a curious 
 viaduct, which looked sadly out of place, and over 
 which the girl, in her simplicity, imagined trains must 
 run — she did not then know the history of that un- 
 fortunate structure. No living thing was visible, not 
 even the proverbial donkey associated in her mind 
 with the place. Altogether, whatever might have 
 been its attraction in summer time, a more dreary spot 
 could not at that moment be well imagined. Shirley 
 felt sorely tempted to get into bed again after making 
 its acquaintance. But when she remembered that 
 their kind friend had chosen that suburb of London 
 for its airy, healthy situation, she felt she ought to be 
 reconciled to it. ' It would be very ungrateful to begin 
 grumbling yet,' she said to herself ' I am sure the 
 view must be very pretty on a fine day. We were 
 told also that those suffocating November fogs rarely 
 came up as far as this, which is a great comfort. How 
 soundly my dear sister is sleeping. I would not wake 
 her for worlds.' 
 
 When her toilette was completed, Shirley made a 
 tour of inspection. Over the slumbering Nora's head 
 was suspended a slipper in fancy crotchet-work, which 
 was no doubt a watchpocket when one had a watch 
 to put into it. Then there was a gay coverlet, in three 
 shades of wool, besides sundry antimacassars, with 
 other ornaments. But the greatest triumph was a 
 framed production, in the same material, of a well- 
 known rustic scene of courtship, in which the fortunate
 
 144 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 swain's blue pantaloons stood out with startling- 
 obtrusiveness. Over the fireplace was a dull water- 
 colour flower piece, though it may be mentioned the 
 space was usually occupied by a memorial card to 
 the memory of Nurse Pridham's great-aunt, who had 
 died at Beccles, in Suffolk, at an exceptional age. The 
 landlady had, however, substituted this livelier produc- 
 tion. Besides the brackets with their rare specimens 
 of china, there was ranged along the mantelpiece quite 
 a gallery of profile likenesses of the Pridham family, 
 cut out in black paper on white mounts, relieved with 
 streaks of gold to denote hair and trinkets. 
 
 As the sisters were offering up their simple prayers 
 for support, under the great sorrow which had fallen 
 upon them, Neil Challoner knocked gently at their 
 door to inquire if they were refreshed. 
 
 ' Wq are so much better, cousin,' Shirley answered, 
 * and shall join you directly. Are you well, Neil ? ' 
 
 He told hei' that he was. 
 
 She knelt again beside little Nora. The two joined 
 their voices together in those verses without a repeti- 
 tion of which no day or night was ever entered upon 
 by them. Another knock at the door and Nurse 
 Pridham's head appeared. 
 
 ' I thought I heard you stirring, young ladies, 
 though I never did think you could be dressed so 
 quick. I took the liberty of bringing up the tea my- 
 self. I hope you're well rested, and find things cosy? 
 It's a marrow-freezing day in all conscience. So, if 
 I may make so bold, come along down as soon as 
 possible, my dearies. There's a bonny fire in the 
 parlour.' 
 
 Nora and Shirley thanked their hostess, and said 
 everything was most comfortable. They would be
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. I45 
 
 down as soon as they had finished unpacking a few 
 necessaries. . 
 
 ' Mercy on us, how pale they look, poor dears. 
 They'll never be able to work for their livings like 
 that, though we mustn't dream of telling them so. 
 There's a letter on the table sent back from foreign 
 parts, with a border it gives one the dismals to look 
 at. For two pins I'd put it by in the dresser till 
 they've plucked up spirit. But letters, like tea-caddies, 
 are dangerous things to meddle with, as my late maid 
 Ann found to her cost. I wonder what's become of 
 Mr Hossack ? He hasn't shown up this morning.' 
 
 Nor could Eliza, who was toasting the bread and 
 herself in front of the fire, throw any light on the 
 literary gentleman's movements. She had taken up 
 his coffee, as he had wished, at the usual hour, and as 
 his boots were not outside the door when she called 
 the younger lodger, she presumed he had gone for 
 a walk before breakfast. 
 
 * I know better than that,' said her aunt. ' He's off 
 to his writing, full two hours before the time, for a 
 make-believe, so as not to upset those young ladies 
 with the sight of strange faces yet awhile, though his 
 is a pleasing one enough, as everyone knows. That's 
 what I call behaving genteel. I admire him for it.' 
 
 In reality, although he had acted on the gener- 
 ous impulses with which his landlady credited him, 
 Robert was at that moment correcting the proof-sheet 
 of a poem at the office of a local weekly paper, pub- 
 lished up an unattractive alley not far distant. For 
 his contribution, he received the handsome douceur of 
 half-a-guinea, which, as it filled nearly a column, and 
 Robert composed scarcely less slowly than did a certain 
 poet, against whom a reverend wit levelled his not 
 VOL. I. K
 
 14^ love's loyalty. 
 
 very kindly quip, could not be said to err on the side 
 of liberality. As these effusions were the outcome of 
 leisure, Mr Hossack did not at all begrudge the time 
 spent over them. They appeared, by-the-way, under 
 a variety of pseudonyms. That sundry ladies of the 
 parish, old and young, looked forward with eagerness 
 to their appearance, goes therefore without saying. 
 
 Nurse Pridham was quite under the impression that 
 her lodger's daily occupation was in Fleet Street. 
 That literature, whatever its nature, could emanate 
 from any other locality never entered her head. She 
 probably pictured this bright thoroughfare as made 
 up of one gigantic printing-press, supplied by innumer- 
 able writers, who produced their articles offhand upon 
 the premises. That the great engines of journalism 
 or fiction could be fed from outside sources, or through 
 the medium of the penny post, did not occur to her, 
 any more than the possibility of a man turning out a 
 novel from his own fireside. No doubt Robert felt 
 the task of disabusing her mind of this idea too for- 
 midable to encounter, for he always encouraged the 
 illusion that when he set off down the hill, Fleet Street 
 was his unfailing destination. As a matter of fact, in 
 those days the story-teller spent the greater part of his 
 day in the British Museum reading-room, where, be- 
 sides getting quill pens, warmth and quiet, for nothing, 
 he could refresh his brain with many dictionaries and 
 books of reference. Nor were these all the advantages 
 afforded. For if that domed storehouse of knowledge 
 did not offer him a gratuitous study of humanity, surely 
 no place could. At first Robert felt sundry qualms of 
 conscience as to whether he was justified in helping 
 himself thus freely to the generous repast the mere 
 guarantee of the two responsible householders, given
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. I47 
 
 as references, placed within his reach. He was over- 
 come by the meanness of occupying a comfortable 
 chair on castors, with a liberal supply of necessaries, 
 at the national expense, solely for the purposes of 
 fiction, to the possible exclusion of others anxious to 
 improve their minds at the more solid founts of learn- 
 ing. As he deposited his wideawake opposite the 
 number to which later in his career he established by 
 tacit consent a prescriptive right — like the old lady in 
 ringlets, at desk B, with the nervous cough which went 
 off with such distressing regularity — the novelist very 
 nearly fled before the apparent learnedness of his sur- 
 roundings. But this excessive modesty wore off as 
 he got more used to the ways of the room and its 
 frequenters. To walk into that noiseless book-lined 
 chamber after the bewildering bustle of the streets 
 seemed like passing into another world, where life 
 one might almost say, glided about in goloshes, every 
 sound was so carefully muffled for the visitor's comfort. 
 To Robert, in those early days of struggle in a difficult 
 and disappointing profession, the place was indeed 
 a godsend. Without it, the attic at Nurse Prid- 
 ham's must have served him as workshop; his ideas 
 in consequence have become cramped by force of 
 circumstances. Hampstead Heath was all very well, 
 but at best offered only a restricted field for fancy 
 and incident. Even the supply of heroes and heroines 
 to be found amongst its donkey-boys and holiday- 
 folk might in time fail in attractiveness. 
 
 But at the Museum Library was the richest soil for 
 operations. Many of these researchers, Robert was 
 sure, possessed no mean history of their own. At any- 
 rate he was at liberty to weave one for them, or 
 profit by their eccentricities in a friendly way, as cir-
 
 148 love's loyalty. 
 
 cumstances required. As he wrote with a courteous 
 pen, which was never dipped in gall, those unconsci- 
 ous lay-figures need not have feared the robes with 
 which his imagination occasionally draped them. 
 
 There was a smile upon the poet's face as he left 
 the offices of the * Comet ' on that autumn morning. 
 Perhaps it was one of gratification at seeing his verses 
 in print, heralding as it did a welcome addition to his 
 exchequer. 
 
 * It's early yet,' he said to himself when he had got 
 as far as Camden Town. ' I'll take a turn in the Park ; 
 it may help to blow away the cobwebs.' 
 
 The biting wind met him full, as he passed in at the 
 nearest gate, and showed a sample of its havoc dur- 
 ing the night in the pathways littered with many 
 snapped twigs and broken boughs. Through the 
 branches left, it moaned in a most dismal fashion. 
 Nor did the beasts caged up hard-by appear to relish 
 the cold any more than mortals did. P'or now and 
 again sundry sullen roars and fretful snarls fell upon 
 the keen air in angry remonstrance. The writer 
 turned up his coat-collar — everybody knows what a 
 comfort that is, especially when one's overcoat is of 
 the thinnest. Then he trudged briskly along the 
 broad-walk. ' Wonderful soother, tobacco, when the 
 elements are boisterous,' he thought. 'Abstainers 
 can't conceive the blessingthey're depriving themselves 
 of. What a morning it is ! I am afraid our fresh 
 arrivals will form a sorry opinion of our English 
 climate. However, good Mrs Pridham can be trusted 
 to make amends by the warmth of her attentions. 
 Curious thing I've done nothing but think about 
 these young ladies ever since I heard their story. 
 How it mocks one's feeble efforts at invention, when
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. I49 
 
 SO sad and true a tale enters thus haphazard at our 
 doors.' 
 
 By this time Robert had reached the lodge, where 
 juvenile tastes might be gratified with much whole- 
 some fare, such as gingerbread, jumbles and almond- 
 rock. The shopwoman, looking very nipped and cross, 
 was baiting her trap outside with a fine show of hoops, 
 skipping-ropes, and balls enclosed in a netted bag. 
 There were also a few withered oranges and apples 
 set out upon a bench, in company with a bottle of 
 acidulated droos and one of bull's-eyes. It required 
 a tempting display to lure the public on to purchase 
 on such a day as this, she evidently thought. So did 
 the ex-guardsman and park-keeper, who eyed her 
 movements superciliously from his more commodious 
 shelter opposite. 
 
 * I wonder whether anybody has ever yet solved the 
 problem satisfactorily of the charm which lies hidden 
 in the human voice,' mused Robert, as he entered 
 that portion of the Park so artistically laid out with 
 flower-beds. They were now tucked up for the winter 
 under a rich brown blanket of fibre, the few delicate 
 shrubs left being swaddled in matting. ' That is 
 an idea opening up the widest field for operations. 
 The fact remains that ever since I heard sundry 
 sweet tones in our cottage last night, I have been 
 filled with a great longing to behold the owner of 
 them. And why did they haunt my dreams so 
 persistently, presenting the speaker in all sorts of 
 fantastic guises ? ' 
 
 Whatever may have been the cause, our friend could 
 not settle to work that morning with his wonted energy. 
 Whether the old lady's cough at desk B happened to 
 be exceptionally irritating, or his methodical habits
 
 150 love's loyalty. 
 
 had been ruffled by the changes at Prospect Cottage, 
 certain it is that noon found him well-nigh a blank 
 both as to ideas and manuscript. It was the more 
 strange as the room was unusually empty, and the 
 quiet reigning there suggestive, one would have 
 fancied, of inspirations of no common brilliancy. 
 
 * I must knock off for to-day, that's evident,' Robert 
 decided about ten o'clock, when he had taken up his 
 pen more than once in vain. * My ideas are fairly un- 
 hinged. It's lucky I'm not writing against time, or 
 I should certainly bring disgrace upon the profession. 
 I'll try an hour with the newspapers.' 
 
 So he put up his sheets, nodded to a fellow-worker 
 who was almost as regular an attendant as himself, and 
 passed from the home of study, toil and dreamland, 
 into the prosaic world without. 
 
 The Universal News Rooms, whither he hurried, 
 stood in the busiest quarter of journalistic enterprise, 
 occupying three storeys of a building of inelegant 
 frontage. As in the case of that other place further 
 eastward, the ground floor of the house was given over 
 to the sale of wines and spirits, professedly on the 
 wholesale plan, but not disdaining a single bottle trade. 
 These rooms had seen many changes. Even Robert 
 could remember the days when they had been 
 occupied by a succession of tenants unique in their 
 capabilities for shooting the moon. Any number of 
 periodicals had been started upon their, alas transi- 
 ent, careers from behind their plate-glass windows. 
 Patents of many kinds had made their first bows 
 through them to an unappreciative public. A restaur- 
 ant on vegetarian lines had at one time struggled 
 hard for patronage without success. Possibly the 
 present venture stood a better chance, as it appealed
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 15I 
 
 to a thirsty set of brain-workers near who required 
 a good deal of liquid sustenance. It might even hope 
 to secure a footing for home consumption, that is, if 
 they had any homes, amongst the betting fraternity 
 frequenting the northern — and shady — side of Fleet 
 Street, if only the potency of the spirits could be 
 kept up to their present standard. The ground floor 
 once left behind by means of a precipitous staircase, 
 the transition to absolute temperance was quite start- 
 ling : ' No intoxicants sold ' being the announcement, 
 neatly framed, which greeted the visitor before pay- 
 ing his by no means ruinous entrance fee of a 
 penny. 
 
 If anybody wanted to make an exhaustive study of 
 the magnitude and variety of the newspaper trade, 
 the Universal News Rooms was the place for him. 
 No journal, daily or weekly, with any claim to public 
 support, ever appeared without finding a welcome — 
 possibly short-lived, but that was not the fault of the 
 proprietor — under this hospitable roof. How the space 
 available contrived to shelter them all was a mystery. 
 Presumably those not honoured by being filed — the 
 poor * Pilot ' once enjoyed that privilege — were carted 
 away in the dead of night to make room for fresh- 
 comers in the morning, the only supposition tenable. 
 As it was, it required no ordinary stratagem in busy 
 times for the visitor to find what he required, although 
 Mr Hossack's training at the Museum stood him 
 in good stead in this respect. Most of the papers, 
 after the first hour or so of opening the place, got 
 littered about on tables and benches. There were, 
 however, many more in the racks overhead, or looped 
 with string to innumerable nails, thus forming an 
 appropriate literary festoon to the apartment. Down
 
 152 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 the centre the great daihes, stretched out on their 
 frames, held their own proudly amongst the lesser fry. 
 There were plenty of well-thumbed directories and 
 guides on the counter, and the pigeon-holes behind 
 the money-taker probably held as varied a collection 
 of correspondence — business, and even amatory — as 
 any similar nest in London. Up another flight was the 
 smoking-room, where refreshments were also served. 
 Here the supply of literature was of a lighter class 
 (perhaps to aid digestion) magazines illustrated 
 papers, comic and otherwise, serials, and a host of 
 society or personal productions, which our civilisation 
 has called up for the enlightenment of those not ad- 
 mitted within the edifying circle of fashion. The dado 
 was also repeated round the walls, chiefly with organs 
 of ecclesiastical or temperance tendencies. Unless 
 gifted with a strong stomach, it were wise not to visit 
 the second floor of The Universal at post-prandial 
 hours. For the aroma from tobacco and coffee was 
 quite unique. Robert, on a walking tour in the Tyrol, 
 had once come across a cottage the interior of which 
 fairly overpowered him with the strength of some native 
 mixture substituted for the genuine article. He found 
 the only smell within measurable distance of it in this 
 news-room. To ensure a free passage, readers were re- 
 quested not to sit or stand at the principal table, which 
 was a very pertinent injunction. Chess and draughts 
 seemed the games most popular, and a few of the 
 regular customers were having an animated discussion, 
 over their pipes, upon some engrossing social topic of 
 the day. It was pleasant to see a section of the public, 
 poor and out-at-elbows though it might be, engaged 
 in this rational manner. The Universal might well 
 feel proud that it tilted with success against the evil
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 1 53 
 
 influence of the too numerous ginshops in its vicinity. 
 A few steps higher and you reached the writing-room. 
 This was also full. Some of its occupants, busy with 
 their note-books ; others penning sanguine replies to 
 advertisements they fondly hoped would bring them 
 the work so sorely needed ; whilst many concocted 
 cleverly-worded appeals of their own. 
 
 It will thus be seen how the visitor could, besides 
 going through awide rangeof contemporaryjournalism, 
 from grave to gay, at a single sitting, make quite a 
 little club of The Universal, without any formalities of 
 election, and for the really modest outlay of a penny. 
 That the company to be met there was mixed, eccen- 
 tric and instructive enough even for Mr Hossack's 
 line of business, goes with saying. Had he been a 
 vain man, he might have become uplifted at seeing 
 the result of his work displayed there in sundry news- 
 papers of whose very existence he had till then been 
 ignorant. This was the result of the farming-out 
 system, invented by a firm of fiction-mongers round 
 the corner, and who then held the writer in bondage 
 for a couple of stories. When these had duly appeared 
 in the provinces, he would be at liberty to offer them 
 to some London publisher for reproduction in volume 
 form. But there was, of course, always the chance of 
 refusal ; a glorious uncertainty, which added much to 
 the delights of his calling. 
 
 Let us leave our literary friend for a while deep in 
 his favourite Quarterly, and mount the hill again 
 northwards to breezy Hampstead. 
 
 * What did she not tell us, dear, " Remember always 
 he is your father," those were her very words,' Shirley 
 was saying to little Nora. The letter which had 
 tempted Miss Pridham in the morning lay open be-
 
 154 LOVE'S LOYALTY. 
 
 tween the two. Neil Challoner gazed absently upon 
 the dreary, darkening prospect without. ' There is 
 only one answer we can make, that we are back, and 
 will see him. That is our duty ; what our darling 
 would have wished, I am sure. Will you write that, 
 or shall I ? ' 
 
 Neil crossed from the window. 
 
 * Cousins,' he said earnestly, ' I was hasty and 
 unkind just now. Will you forgive me ? ' 
 
 * We have nothing to forgive,' the girls answered. 
 'Yes. I ought to have known that my guardian 
 
 was right when he said you must decide quite for 
 yourselves about Uncle Henry.' 
 
 ' It is all for the best, Neil, dear,' said Nora. ' At 
 first I agreed with you that, after his conduct, and the 
 unjust things he has written here about our kind 
 friend, we could never meet him again. But I was 
 wrong, and had forgotten who it was who said, " Re- 
 member always he is your father " — always, Neil. 
 For her dear sake, therefore, we must see him.' 
 
 This, amongst other things, was what Henry Wode- 
 house had written to his daughters : — 
 
 'Now, my children, you must decide as to the 
 future. Whether you will return to England, and the 
 shelter of my humble roof (your poor father has had 
 sad reverses of late, and has to put up with much to 
 which he has never been accustomed), or continue to 
 accept charity at the hands of one who should be the 
 last to stand between us, and has already meddled far 
 too long in affairs that do not concern him. I need 
 not remind you that I have the power to enforce my 
 claim if need be. But do not drive me to such harsh 
 measures. When I call to mind your loving, obedient 
 natures in the happy days, alas, no more, I feel that
 
 A NORTHERN HOME. 155 
 
 duty will point out the only proper path for you to 
 follow. Come, then, my children, and let us forget, 
 in a brighter future, the unhappy estrangement which 
 has existed far too long. There is, unless my memory 
 deceives me, a trifling income bequeathed in trust by 
 your great-aunt Sophia, and enjoyed by your blessed 
 mother during her lifetime, to which you will now be 
 entitled. The sum, small though it is, will not be un- 
 acceptable. Indeed, I have already several invest- 
 ments in view, where a liberal interest would be 
 secured at the minimum of risk. I do not say we 
 shall continue to live in this unappreciative capital, 
 or even in this country. My mission in life calls me 
 abroad. I am, indeed, not without hopes of ultimately 
 benefiting my fellow-creatures there through the 
 wholesome channels of journalism. But more of this 
 when we meet. Meanwhile, return without delay. 
 My heart yearns to embrace once more my own Nora 
 and Shirley. Write me, as above, very soon, telling 
 me of your plans.' 
 
 It was decided that her father's letter, being ad- 
 dressed to her as the eldest, must be answered by 
 Nora. This she did at once, informing him of their 
 arrival in England ; that they would call upon him on 
 a certain day. She begged he would excuse them 
 until then, for they were still far from strong, and 
 hardly as yet equal to so necessarily painful an inter- 
 view. This reply gave, according to Mr Foster's wish, 
 no clue as to the girls' whereabouts. As a further 
 precaution, Eliza took the omnibus into town, and 
 posted the note in the district of Bloomsbury. 
 
 We know already that whatever may have occurred 
 at the meeting which had excited Mr Rushworth's 
 curiosity so much, no reconciliation resulted between
 
 156 love's loyalty. 
 
 father and daughters. They had chosen their separate 
 ways. The one to pursue that unworthy course of 
 dishonesty which could only lead to degradation. 
 The two motherless girls, left well-nigh alone in their 
 poverty and pride, to battle with the world. Yet 
 ready to guard this very weakness was there not a 
 splendid bulwark of strength — the priceless legacy of 
 courage, virtue and abiding Faith, which must carry 
 them triumphantly through all ?
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 
 
 Three months of friendly shelter under Nurse Prid- 
 ham's roof soon passed away. Winter still lagged 
 drearily. Spring must surely come ere long, Nora 
 and Shirley thought each morning as they looked out 
 upon the cheerless landscape, when snow and ice- 
 bound lake would yield to a gentler touch, the wind- 
 swept Heath gladden their eyes with first green shoots 
 on shrub and hedgerow. But the gaunt trees stood 
 as yet upon their mound, gloomy and barren. Now 
 moaning, as the angry gusts swept through their 
 skeleton branches ; now standing sentry, dumb and 
 leafless, over the powdered fields, as if frozen at their 
 posts. This dreadful English weather could not last 
 for ever, the girls felt sure. So they waited patiently 
 for Nature's curtain to rise upon a brighter scene. 
 
 Yet there were some days when the whole country 
 round, wrapped in a dazzling mantle of hoar frost, was 
 lovely to look upon ; when the sun, during its brief 
 circuit, loomed forth in obscured splendour, to con- 
 jure up a myriad sparkling hues from the crisp and 
 glittering layer. In particular, across at Highgate was 
 a lane the sisters loved to visit. The wintry rime had 
 touched that spot as with fairy wand, turning road-
 
 158 love's loyalty. 
 
 way, hedges and interlacing boughs into a crystal- 
 lised beauty which even the imaginative Nora could 
 scarcely have conceived. As they passed along that 
 whitened avenue, there rose upon the air a confused 
 babel — the muffled din from hundreds of skaters as 
 they skimmed heedlessly over the treacherous ice. 
 Only one short year before, in another land, those two 
 had glided on as merrily as the rest. Now the sport 
 possessed no charm, for their hearts ached with the 
 burthen of an early sorrow. 
 
 It was during one of these morning walks, after 
 Neil had said good-bye to Prospect Cottage, though 
 he came up almost daily from Cork Street to see his 
 cousins, that Nora and Shirley talked over their plans. 
 All the formalities necessary to secure their modest 
 income unreservedly to themselves had now been 
 settled. It remained only for them to consider how 
 such sum could be increased by their own exertions 
 to enable them to live decently as gentlewomen. One 
 thing they were both agreed upon. They must accept 
 no further aid from Edward Foster. 
 
 ' What do we not already owe him ? ' exclaimed 
 Shirley. 'The dear old gentleman, he has indeed 
 been a kind friend to us. Now that you are so much 
 stronger, and we are both able to work, it would be 
 wrong to accept another penny. I feel as if we had 
 taken too much as it is. We know he is not rich, and 
 has little more than his pension to live upon, besides 
 all the expenses his delicate health must bring with it. 
 No ; something must now be found, though where to 
 begin to look certainly puzzles me. Of course there 
 must be plenty of work to spare in this big city ; all 
 it wants is the finding. Perhaps Mr Hossack could 
 help us. He seems to know so many likely people.'
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 1 59 
 
 * I am afraid, from what he says, it will be no easy 
 matter, dear,' said Nora, with a sigh. ' Though I feel 
 sure he will do so if he can. Indeed, I asked him only 
 yesterday whether copying or translations were not 
 to be obtained. He told me there was but a poor 
 chance for outsiders, everything being snapped up so 
 quickly ; the publishers have always their own friends 
 only too anxious for employment. But he readily 
 took some specimens of my work to show to some 
 of them.' 
 
 ' Yes ? That was very good of him. I suppose it 
 will be the same thing with me, when I try to find 
 pupils. Of course they'll say I am too young : I'm 
 quite prepared for that objection. But it will be 
 unfortunate if I lose anybody for want of a diploma.' 
 
 * Surely they have only to hear you sing to know 
 at once you are competent. Still, I daresay, Herr 
 Kiibler would give you a certificate as to capabilities 
 if necessary.' 
 
 ' Perhaps he might. One thing I am determined 
 upon. The very first money I earn shall go towards 
 paying Neil back for the hire of our piano. It was 
 truly sweet of him to think of that for us.' 
 
 ' Indeed it was,' agreed little Nora. 
 
 It will be gathered from this conversation that, not- 
 withstanding Mr Hossack's modesty, an acquaintance 
 had sprung up with his fellow-lodgers, opportunity 
 being thus afforded of meeting the owner of that voice 
 which had made such an impression upon him. Nor 
 was it possible that the garrulous Miss Pridham could 
 long remain silent concerning her favourite. 
 
 'You know, we've got a writing gentleman here, 
 young ladies?' she had inquired one morning after 
 taking the sisters' frugal orders for the day. (She
 
 i6o love's loyalty. 
 
 generally cheered them up with a friendly chat on 
 these occasions.) ' For giving next to no trouble, and 
 considering of other folk, I've never yet come across 
 his equal.' 
 
 * Our cousin has told us there is a gentleman such 
 as you describe. The two have had several walks 
 together, I believe ? ' Nora asked. 
 
 ' Bless you, yes, miss ; they're fast friends already, in 
 a manner of speaking. I couldn't wish a better for 
 Master Neil ; there's small enough harm in Mr Hossack, 
 which his books will tell you. You might like to read 
 them some day, when you feel more up to it. I've a 
 tidy show he's given me from time to time. Pretty 
 wholesome stories they are, which is more than can 
 be said of some of the kitchen stuff one comes across 
 nowadays. I have to put them out of reach of my 
 Eliza on busy mornings, they upset her so. The girl's 
 tears are very near her eyes for all her easy-going ways. 
 In particular, there's a tale about a poor foundling, on 
 the top shelf of the dresser, as would melt the heart of 
 a tax-gatherer. As for his poetry — well, there now, 
 heavenly isn't too strong a word for it. Yes,' con- 
 tinued the landlady, seating herself, ' that young man's 
 had his fair allowance of trouble, or Mary Pridham has 
 let lodgings all these years for nothing. Why, when 
 he first came to us, he was that down-at-heel the very 
 soles of his only pair of boots weren't civil enough to 
 lend themselves to more patching. Many's the time 
 the poor fellow's gone without his Sunday's dinner or 
 I'm much mistaken, though he did always pretend he 
 hoped to meet somebody at the " Holly Bush" for the 
 two o'clock ordinary — only " hoped," miss, being too 
 much the gentleman to tell a downright fib about it. 
 But people who dine at ordinaries don't come back
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELL) ITS OWN.' l6l 
 
 looking like he did, or glad to sit down to their 
 teas quite ravenous, try all they may to hide their 
 feelings. At times, too, I've noticed a look as if 
 he'd been crying, and I shouldn't be surprised if 
 he had. When a man takes that way, my dears, 
 you may be sure things are at a pretty low ebb 
 with him ; they're so different to us weak women, 
 ready to take on at any trifle. But through it all, to 
 outsiders, Mr Hossack was that cheerful and uncom- 
 plaining, as though his life was quite a bed of lavender. 
 More than once, when I've pressed him to share a bit 
 with me and 'Liza, he's said in his winning fashion, 
 " Miss Pridham, you try to spoil me, you do indeed." 
 Then he'd go on to tell how the hero he had on hand 
 just then was regular down on his luck. As he wanted 
 to make a natural character of him, he thought a little 
 fasting would be good practice. Did anybody ever 
 hear such a way of getting over his hunger as that ? 
 You may be sure such a reason didn't take me in, for 
 I only shook my head and said, " You're a-fretting 
 yourself over that book-writing of yours, Mr Hossack." 
 If things hadn't mended soon, he would have knocked 
 up to a certainty. I'll give Mr Beaver his due, with all 
 his uppishness, he'd often invite his fellow-lodger 
 into the parlour for supper. But his pride would 
 never let him accept favours, making no exceptions 
 with bank-clerks ; and this one had a knack of remind- 
 ing you afterwards how generous he'd been, which 
 quite took the gilt off the gingerbread of his invitations. 
 Poor as he was, Mr Hossack was never for once back- 
 ward with his rent, by so much as a sixpence, though 
 the pinchin' he must have gone through to raise the 
 money, it makes one sorry to think of Now that's 
 being real honest, to my way of thinking, and a quality 
 VOL. I. L
 
 l62 
 
 worth praying for. You'd say the same if you'd been 
 taken in as often as I have.' 
 
 Miss Pridham pausing for breath, Shirley re- 
 marked, — 
 
 * Your lodger's life must have been quite a romance. 
 I suppose, however, after all his misfortunes, he has 
 met with the success he deserves } ' 
 
 ' At best it's uphill work, miss. But things is a deal 
 brighter. I believe he's getting a footing at last, and 
 not before he's earned it. He couldn't afford the 
 parlour else.' 
 
 'Have you another sitting-room then, Miss Prid- 
 ham ? ' inquired Nora. 
 
 ' Lord love you, no, my dear. This is the only one, 
 and as cheerful a room as anybody could wish to sit 
 in — leastways in summer.' 
 
 The girls were naturally much troubled when it was 
 explained how the lawful sharer of the apartment had 
 relinquished his rights in their favour. They begged 
 their landlady would express their gratitude for his 
 thoughtfulness, hoping, however, he would no longer 
 deprive himself on their account. 
 
 ' He doesn't give a thought to that, you take my 
 word for it. Still there'll be a pleasure in seeing you 
 all together ; he'll help to cheer you up, though it's 
 few meals he takes at home ; and just now he's un- 
 common busy, judging from the rolls of papers he 
 carries about with him.' 
 
 ' It must be very difficult to succeed in literature,' 
 said Nora dreamily. 
 
 ' My sister is very clever with her pen, you must 
 know,' Shirley explained. ' She has written several 
 remarkable stories. They are all to appear some 
 day, and make a great stir.'
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 1 63 
 
 Miss Pridham held up her hands in amazement. 
 
 *Did anyone ever hear the hkes of that!' ('And 
 she so delicate-looking,' she added to herself.) ' But 
 there now, I must be trottin', or 'Liza'll say I've been 
 a-gossipin', which is a thing I abominates myself and 
 in other people.' 
 
 Soon after this interview the introduction had 
 taken place. 
 
 The two were hurrying home across the Heath in the 
 dusk, when they came suddenly upon Neil Challoner 
 walking with a gentleman. 
 
 'This is Mr Hossack, and these are my cousins, 
 Nora and Shirley Wodehouse/ was the boy's simple 
 introduction. 
 
 The girls held out their hands with winning frank- 
 ness. 
 
 ' You must have thought us very impolite, keeping 
 you out of your room so long,' said Nora. * But it 
 was only the other day Miss Pridham said it was yours 
 as well ; until then, we had no idea. We are so glad 
 to find an opportunity of apologising.' 
 
 * I am sorry the good lady should have mentioned 
 the subject. It was really not worth while. I beg you 
 will think no more about it. From to-night, at any- 
 rate,' he added pleasantly, ' I hope we shall be no longer 
 strangers. Your cousin had already invited me in, so 
 this meeting, you see, has only hastened our acquaint- 
 ance by a little.' 
 
 Then they turned and walked back to Prospect 
 Cottage, Nora and Neil Challoner in front, Shirley, 
 with Robert, behind. 
 
 ' It is very kind of you to have taken Neil about so 
 often,' were Shirley's first words. * I hope you have 
 not found him a tie ? '
 
 164 love's loyalty. 
 
 * On the contrary, Miss Wodehouse, he is most 
 intelligent and companionable. I am only sorry to 
 have been so much engaged of late. Still we have 
 not lost time, and are already fast friends.' 
 
 ' I am so glad of that,' the girl continued heartily. 
 ' My sister and I both feared he was beginning to feel 
 dull, that perhaps we were hardly doing our duty by 
 him, though he never complains. Soon he is to go 
 and live with his guardian in London. Of course we 
 shall miss him dreadfully ; but he has promised to 
 come up every day, if Mr Foster (who is unfortun- 
 ately an invalid) can spare him.' 
 
 ' He tells me he is destined shortly for the city, and 
 with all my heart I wish him well there.' 
 
 ' Is that so ? ' inquired Shirley in surprise. ' We had 
 not heard.' 
 
 * Nothing is definitely settled, that is probably 
 why he has not told you. I hope I am not abusing 
 confidence thus far? I quite thought that you 
 knew.' 
 
 ' We always understood our cousin would have to 
 take a — a — situation somewhere/ said Shirley slowly. 
 
 She looked quickly up at the man with her sweet 
 open face. 
 
 ' Do you know, Mr Hossack, I am most sorry for this. 
 You have no idea what a curious boy Neil is — I mean, 
 how dreadfully proud and sensitive. He could not 
 stand boarding-school life; that is why our dear mother 
 had charge of him abroad. From what I hear, the 
 city is such a rough place.' The story-teller's thoughts 
 went back to the time when an ungenerous fate had 
 kept him chained to an office stool until the yoke 
 had become intolerable. He agreed with this young 
 lady that the city was ' rough ' to people of refined
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 165 
 
 tastes. ' I do wish something nicer could be found. 
 But beggars must not be choosers, must they ? ' 
 
 * No, indeed. Of one thing I feel sure. Your 
 cousin will do credit to any employer.' 
 
 * I am quite certain of that also,' said Shirley Wode- 
 house. 
 
 These two had scarcely known each other five 
 minutes, yet they seemed already to agree in many 
 things. Neil was telling Nora how his day had been 
 spent. It had been such a pleasant one. Neil's 
 manner was quite eager as he narrated the various 
 novel experiences. 
 
 There had been an early visit to the Museum, where 
 his newly-made friend worked. Little had escaped 
 the boy's notice. The imposing entrance gates, with 
 their liveried custodians always watchful against in- 
 truders ; the trim grass-plots on either side, so tempt- 
 ing for a game, cruelly forbidden by the authorities; 
 the pigeons strutting about before those walls of 
 learning, in the proud consciousness of respect and 
 security from harm. All came in for a share of Neil's 
 admiration. Then there had been a privileged peep 
 into that domed hive, where the silence was so im- 
 pressive, and where every busy bee was promoted by 
 the young visitor to a niche in the Temple of Fame, 
 not in all cases quite ready for them. After that, 
 deprived of his umbrella (an estrangement which 
 made a great impression upon him), he had wandered 
 at will through the many splendid galleries, bewildered 
 by the vastness of their treasures. His cicerone, taking 
 a well-earned half-holiday, had afterwards led him into 
 that wonderful literary quarter we have been told of 
 
 * What do you think, Nora ? Mr Hossack took me 
 to a printer's, where we saw part of one of his own
 
 i66 love's lovalty. 
 
 stories being set up : I think that was the process they 
 called it. Fancy, the very tale he wrote in his room 
 upstairs actually coming out printed before our very 
 eyes ! If there hadn't been such a dreadful noise in 
 the place, I could have stopped a long while. It 
 seemed like another world altogether — an underground 
 one ; besides, some of the boys employed there were 
 called (don't be shocked) devils, Nora.' 
 
 ' I have heard they are, although I do not under- 
 stand why.' 
 
 ' It's a name they've been known by for ages — 
 errand boys who run about with slips of paper, fresh 
 from the press, for the authors to correct if necessary. 
 Isn't it a funny name ? How I should like to be a 
 writer.' 
 
 ' Most things are to be accomplished with hard work, 
 courage, patience, and above all, self-denial, cousin.' 
 
 ' I wonder if that is really true,' the boy said slowly.. 
 
 ' Neil, dear, I am sure of it ; do not ever doubt its 
 truth. I should feel so unhappy if you did.' 
 
 ' Then, of course, I never will, Nora.' 
 
 ' That is right. You must remember, also, success 
 very often does not come for a long while. Are we not 
 told it is built upon failure ? People find this delay diffi- 
 cult to understand at first, but it is so much better that 
 it should be so. If a person can be tried by disappoint- 
 ment, and still hold bravely on without giving way, 
 or, above all, losing faith, think what a glorious thing 
 it must be to win. It is so wrong to look at success 
 only from its selfish, worldly point, as if that was all 
 there is worth having. A far more ennobling quality 
 attaches to it, I am convinced. For instance, if I felt 
 I had so earned God's blessing for Him to say to me, 
 '' Well done, thou good and faithful servant," whatever
 
 * WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' \6j 
 
 the apparent result here had been, I should ask no 
 more ; that would be enough reward indeed. I should 
 know that I had won. I could die happily then.' 
 
 * Nora, dear, do not talk like that.' 
 
 ' It is because I am so anxious about you, cousin, 
 now you are soon going out alone into the world, that 
 I speak so seriously. Try to bear in mind and act 
 upon what I have said. I should like to hear you 
 promise me you will try before we reach home.' 
 
 ' I do promise you, dear,' Neil repeated earnestly. 
 
 ' You make me very happy,' said the girl. 
 
 Joined by the others, they passed into Prospect 
 Cottage. 
 
 Later, the four met again. How the memory of 
 that evening lingered with them in the days to come ; 
 those brief hours when a sense of mutual respect and 
 trust had been so readily awakened. What is that in- 
 scrutable power which makes some particular incident 
 of our lots stand out for always so boldly from the 
 rest ? Can it be that Providence is in person especially 
 tender and nearer to us then ? 
 
 Tea cleared away, and a cheerful log set upon the 
 fire, a feeling of restful peace stole over those whom 
 Fate had thus brought together. 
 
 Nora and Shirley sat down to their work, whilst 
 Neil produced his album to amuse Mr Hossack. All 
 the portraits of his former schoolfellows — not for- 
 getting that of the ill-favoured Master Shorter — were 
 duly passed in review, with graphic descriptions of 
 their many accomplishments and eccentricities. A 
 varied collection they certainly presented. 
 
 ' Some day you shall see mine,' said the man, when 
 the book had been reluctantly laid down. ' I promise 
 you, there are some original characters.'
 
 i68 
 
 ' Now Shirley shall sing to us,' exclaimed Neil. 
 
 * I will do so willingly, if Nora is not too tired to 
 accompany me.' 
 
 Had she trusted herself, the girl would have sung 
 ' There is a green hill far away,' which, with its touching 
 pathos, seemed now so often to bring them nearer to 
 another sacred spot. But she dared not do so as yet 
 before a stranger. Instead she chose the ballad which 
 had roused Herr Kiibler's cautious nature to approval. 
 If only the professor could have stepped across and 
 beard how his advice as to * ze appliance and ze nerve ' 
 had been respected, he must then and there have 
 indulged in further favourable prophecy. For, with 
 remarkable command of resource in one so young, the 
 rich notes rose and fell with enchanting melody and 
 feeling ; the heart spoke there, as well, so truly. Grati- 
 tude was eloquent in Robert's face, rather than in the 
 volume of his praise, as the final notes sank slowly 
 away and the song was ended. Nor was he the only 
 appreciative listener. For, in the kitchen, Nurse 
 Pridham rocked herself backwards and forwards in 
 unchecked emotion, whilst the impressionable Eliza 
 followed her aunt's lead from the stairs outside. 
 
 ' Does not our dear Shirley do justice to her foreign 
 training?' asked Nora of Mr Hossack. * It is quite 
 decided that her voice is to be the bread-winner 
 presently.' 
 
 * It is indeed delightful,' the man replied. 
 
 ' My singing would be nothing without this little 
 sister's playing, though. Without Neil's generosity, 
 we should have neither. As for bread-winning, with 
 a budding authoress on the premises, loaves should 
 not be scarce.' 
 
 Then Nora was asked for a contribution. She gave
 
 * WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 1 69 
 
 them what Shirley in the brighter days had always 
 called her special ' morsel ' — a plaintive, rippling Ger- 
 man air, which seemed an echo, set to music, of the 
 elder's own sweet nature. 
 
 Robert thanked her warmly. 
 
 ' It is very beautiful, and very sad,' he added to 
 himself. 
 
 * Do you not play ? ' Shirley inquired of their fellow- 
 lodger. 
 
 ' Unhappily, no. It is a great loss to me, for I love 
 music dearly. Now it is, I fear, too late to begin. 
 That is an additional regret' 
 
 * I expect you are very critical, all the same,' with 
 a twinkle in her eye. ' Because, in this passage,' 
 Shirley pointed to a difficult one in her song, ' I gave 
 a false note up here, and you discovered it' 
 
 ' Then it was the height of ill-breeding to betray 
 myself. I assure you the slip, if any, was scarcely 
 perceptible.' 
 
 ' There, now. That proves all the more you are 
 a critic' 
 
 Afterwards the conversation flowed quietly on into 
 many pleasant channels ; travel, domestic incidents, 
 and the books they loved so well, all receiving a due 
 share of attention The evening had passed so 
 quickly that they were surprised when Miss Prid- 
 ham's coffin-clock in the hall, after sundry preliminary 
 gurglings, gave out the hour of ten in its usual noisy 
 fashion, and with a jerky delivery which rudely sug- 
 gested the donor's (Mr Foster's) peculiarities. Robert 
 begged for one more song before they parted. With 
 admirable expression Shirley gave another, where the 
 appropriate refrain ' Good-night ' was at its finish 
 emphasised by the singer with real expressiveness.
 
 170 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 ' That must indeed be the last/ Nora said as she 
 closed the piano against further temptation. 
 
 Miss Pridham was at the door with the candlesticks, 
 the traces of recent tears still upon her cheeks. 
 
 ' If I may make so bold, you've given us a rare 
 treat, young ladies ; 'Liza's too much upset, or she'd 
 come in and thank you herself. I'm only sorry m}' 
 habits of shutting up early won't allow of more. Well 
 I remember — but, there, I go trying to break my own 
 rules. What next, I wonder? ' She beckoned Shirley 
 aside when the others had passed up the stairs. ' It 
 does one's heart good to see you all together like 
 that, miss, and your sister beginning to take an in- 
 terest in things again. Isn't he nice, now? ' 
 
 The girl's colour rose at this abrupt question. 
 
 ' Do you mean Mr Hossack ? He seems very 
 agreeable and clever.' 
 
 ' That he is, my dear. He's the right sort ; a prime 
 favourite of mine, as I fancy I've told you. If there 
 was more like him, the world would run a deal 
 smoother.' 
 
 ' I am afraid, from some words he let drop, that his 
 life has not been a very happy one ? ' 
 
 'There can't be two opinions about that,' replied 
 Miss Pridham. ' But never a word of complaint falls 
 from his lips, whatever he's gone through. It's only 
 by putting this and that together I've found out what 
 I do know. One thing there's no mistake about, he's 
 a gentleman. As such I'm right glad to have him as 
 lodger.' 
 
 * Has Mr Hossack been with you long ? ' 
 
 * A matter of three years come next Christmas. 
 Where he came from's a mystery, though I've got my 
 notions. For certain he's country bred, as I am.'
 
 ' WPIERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' I/I 
 
 ' You, Miss Pridham ? We quite thought you were 
 a Londoner.' 
 
 ' So do most folks, miss, more's the pity ; tho' 
 maybe I've Hved here long enough to be mistook for 
 one, besides in much catching their ways of talking. 
 I've been called a Cockney before now. You'd hardly 
 think it, but once I was that broad of speech you 
 could scarce follow me. Londoner? Oh, dear, no. 
 I'm from Applecombe, in Devonshire.' 
 
 ' Why, that's not far from Budleigh - Tarleton,' 
 Shirley exclaimed in astonishment. ' We lived there, 
 you know. It was also our dear mother's birthplace.' 
 
 'That's true enough, and it ought to feel proud. 
 For if ever there was an angel on earth, she was that 
 one. But I mustn't keep you standing there in the 
 cold,' suddenly remembering Mr Foster's injunctions 
 with regard to the past. ' Good-night, and sweet rest 
 to both of you. Please to mind the candle.' 
 
 The good woman had a morbid dread of fire, always, 
 from force of habit no doubt, protecting a naked light 
 with her hand, after the manner of cautious nurses 
 when shielding babies' delicate craniums from harm. 
 
 ' Good-night, Miss Pridham,' repeated Shirley. 
 
 At midnight, when all was silent within and around 
 the cottage, Robert sat at his desk to make up for 
 those delicious hours stolen from his work. There 
 was an instalment due next day to his enterprising 
 principals, the finishing touches to which were not 
 complete. Never had the writer found his task 
 harder. With almost a groan, the pen was at length 
 laid aside, the result approved. At other times, tired 
 out with the day's mental and bodily strain, refreshing 
 sleep would then have opened her arms wide to him, 
 as a reward for honest endeavour. That night she
 
 172 love's loyalty. 
 
 was in fitful, tantalising mood, bringing no relief to 
 the tired senses. At length Robert rose in despair. 
 
 ' It's no use,' he thought. ' Perhaps a little reading 
 will do me good.' 
 
 From his scanty library he reached down a famous 
 essay. Relighting his lamp, he tried the effect of the 
 volume as an opiate. But his ideas refused to be cap- 
 tured, the book being presently closed with a sigh. He 
 drew back the curtain of his latticed window, letting in 
 a first struggling glimmer of the dawn. Then, as man's 
 breath fades from a glass, he watched the darkness of 
 night steal slowly off the face of God's earth before 
 the power of day. His arm upon the ledge, Robert 
 fell into a reverie. 
 
 Once more he was a happy youth, amid the favoured 
 dales of Derbyshire. His father's vicarage, the strong 
 ivy ever faithful to its aged walls, gay at proper 
 seasons with plant and creeper, nestled in snuggest 
 shelter beneath the giant hills, smiling down proudly 
 upon, in truth, one of the fairest spots in England. 
 There was the meandering stream, which tempted the 
 expectant angler from far and near, winding serenely 
 on, as if it guarded no secrets of speckled beauties 
 within its lucid pools ; or, forming some miniature 
 lasher, sent up a soothing murmur on the drowsy even- 
 ing stillness. There, high above, the jagged, weather- 
 beaten tors frowned against the sky, throwing their 
 lengthened shadows across in grotesque variety. Those 
 queer * fox-holes,' too, whither he had scrambled so 
 often to look out, as if through a fairy peephole, upon 
 the rare picture of fertile mead and woodland spread 
 on Nature's generous canvas, where all the summer 
 colours were as yet undimmed. Robert sat up aloft 
 and beheld the picture once again.
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 1 73 
 
 There was his father whipping the waters in gentlest 
 chiding at an empty basket, as his helpmate sat 
 hard-by and sewed — a peaceful playhour after the 
 Christian labours of the day; whilst bending over 
 the banks, in search of much-prized fern or root, 
 the girl who lent so loved a presence to their 
 home. 
 
 A flight of years, and he was saying good-bye to 
 the spot, around which memories soft if sad must ever 
 linger. Inexorable Death had passed its scythe along 
 the valley, mowing down, first, the ripened plant 
 which had flourished there so long to the exceeding 
 comfort and example of others ; next, the floweret 
 opening with rare promise for a blessed future, which 
 Robert had vainly hoped to share. Then the rude 
 wakening, the hard world to be faced by mother and 
 son so untutored for the struggle. Dreamland must be 
 left behind, the stern realities of existence grappled 
 with. For except a precious legacy of good deeds, 
 the poor pastor had left little behind. Whilst opening 
 wide his hand to all men, he had in his improvidence 
 neglected that first duty of putting by for his own. 
 Bitterest blow of all, the vicarage must pass to strangers. 
 So one evening the bereaved ones stood there to take 
 a last look at the old walls, brown with the tints of 
 autumn. They were going no further than to a village 
 near, where kindly charity had been offered them. 
 But what a galling help for these proud natures, this 
 almshouse of the Church, where every moment brought 
 a shadow of the past with it. 
 
 ' It will not be for long, my child,' the mother whis- 
 pered, as she turned from the door which she scarcely 
 thought would ever in life close upon her thus. In the 
 loneliness of his heart, Robert felt tempted also to pra}'
 
 174 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 for release. In those days the feeling of weariness and 
 desolation sat sore upon him. 
 
 As if but yesterday, the new house into which 
 mother and son had passed, again stood before Robert 
 in bold relief. The Whitaker Charity was its name, 
 and it dated back to the days when those who slept 
 under the very walls of their grand old mansion across 
 the rustic bridge rode forth in nodding plumes, with 
 hawk and hound, down yonder broad avenue to join 
 the chase. In the chapel close by was the chipped, 
 recumbent effigy of Dame Isoline Whitaker, her stony 
 fingers for ever linked in prayer, the quaint inscription 
 recording her many virtues, how she had founded that 
 House of God, with its noble refuge for the needy 
 widows of its servants, carved upon her tomb. On 
 a tablet let into the now crumbling masonry above 
 might be deciphered details of sundry curious bequests 
 of the family, still enjoyed by the poor of the district 
 — doles in money or kind for which at given seasons 
 the privileged recipients, summoned by the well-born 
 almoners, bent their tottering footsteps towards the 
 Hall. 
 
 ' It will not be for long.' How that dire suspicion, 
 which Robert had tried in vain to dispel with reassur- 
 ing words, stood solemnly out in this retrospect of the 
 past. Alas ! its fulfilment had not been many days 
 delayed. Yet time enough to experience to the full 
 the bitter trial of poverty. It is true the man recalled 
 with gratitude how the kindly dalesfolk had offered 
 them succour in their affliction. Gladly would a dozen 
 doors have opened wide to one who with untiring zeal 
 had laboured under the shadow of their beloved hills, 
 amongst lowly and rich, nor held back when sickness 
 and death came upon them. Assuredly she should be
 
 'WHERE POVERTY HELD ITS OWN.' 1 75 
 
 the last to want whilst they had aught to give. This 
 dear lady, who had gone down before a grievous 
 double-stroke of bereavement, must, by God's will, 
 after His own good method, be brought through their 
 agency back to her former Christian spirit of submis- 
 sion. That was the decision around many a hearth, 
 as the chill autumn winds moaned and whistled 
 through the valley. 
 
 But when the several proposals were made, with 
 every delicacy and consideration for her position, the 
 widow had refused them all. Her pride must fall no 
 lower, was her constant reason. With such support 
 as he could give, the remainder of her days must be 
 spent where this needful shelter had been prescribed. 
 Her strength regained, she too would work. 
 
 No, that at least had been spared her whilst willing 
 hearts and brains were near. And though, as she 
 prophesied, it had not been 'for long,' those last few 
 months were smoothed for the sick, grief-stricken 
 woman by all that loving tenderness could suggest. 
 
 Another lapse of time, and Robert was one of 
 thousands more struggling for a livelihood in the great 
 whirlpool of London need — fighting bravely too, 
 spurred on by that grand incentive of a laudable ambi- 
 tion, than which there is scarcely a more potent, if 
 exacting, charmer. Now, after years of failure and 
 privation, the worst seemed overcome. How the battle 
 had left him sorely tried, those could tell who knew 
 the dalesidc lad before he had been called into the 
 grinding strife of cities. But Robert felt that all this 
 suffering had been for the best. Little Nora Wode- 
 house might indeed have found a living example for 
 her cousin to follow in this good fellow, who had passed 
 so often through the fire and still come forth unharmed,
 
 1/6 love's loyalty. 
 
 sheltered by that Unseen Hand, whose blows in reality 
 are never cruel. Had not rich comfort now been sent 
 him in the persons of these mourning girls ? They 
 came as sunshine to brighten his lonely way, for the 
 presence of what is pure and beautiful in mind and 
 body must ever do so. They awoke within him 
 thoughts of other days, which, with all their pain, he 
 so constantly dwelt upon ; of that communion with 
 one who had all too soon been taken from him, whose 
 treasured words throughout his younger trials, now in 
 his manhood burnt as beacons of encouragement and 
 hope. She was gone, but in his heart those words and 
 memories must always live. 
 
 This first evening Robert had spent with Nora and 
 Shirley Wodehouse, and the cousin he had already 
 made his friend, had brought this great blessing of a 
 refined companionship and sympathy to which he had 
 long been a stranger to bear upon him. It must mark 
 a bright spot upon his road, an oasis green and fruitful, 
 from which he, even as the tired traveller, should rise 
 vigorous and refreshed.
 
 CHAPTER XI I. 
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 
 
 Those who know Paris intimately need not be told 
 of certain fashionable quarters to which the English 
 governess, bent upon that delusive errand of ' perfect- 
 ing' herself in French in exchange for her own market- 
 able talents, is instinctively drawn. Pupils must of 
 course abound there, so the desired proficiency cannot 
 be far distant. As a result of this advantage, the some- 
 what tattered fringe of streets bordering the top of 
 the Elysian Fields house many such aspirants. But 
 how disappointing are the actual experiences of these 
 young preceptresses. What a stern acquaintance with 
 the actual drudgery of teaching, when all was pictured 
 so pleasant and prosperous. Without doubt, many a 
 dreamer is rudely awakened to the struggle for exist- 
 ence in aforeign country which might have been, at least, 
 softened in her own. At anyrate, one we have heard 
 of by description at an earlier stage of this story, Mary 
 Grace Ivimey, who as schoolgirl had written that char- 
 acteristic letter to Shirley Wodehouse, found this to 
 be the case. With her there was scanty choice left 
 in the selection of occupation. A succession of no or- 
 dinary misfortunes made work of some kind impera- 
 tive. She chose the path which so many in a similar 
 VOL. L M
 
 178 love's loyalty. 
 
 position had trodden. At the outset, to make her lot 
 more bearable, a Christian-spirited world of censors, 
 ever ready to condemn the frailties of others, whilst 
 placidly ignoring its own, had promptly closed both 
 door and compassion against one so wilful as to have 
 rushed into a union where love had contributed so 
 much, prudence nothing. In its opinion, no punish- 
 ment could be too severe for a person guilty of such a 
 neglect of conventionalities ; it was no more than a 
 fitting judgment for such misconduct. So that when 
 this same censorious world heard that ill-luck had 
 befallen Mary Grace Stapleton in her matrimonial 
 venture, it sagely shook its head, with the usual ' now 
 what did we tell you ? ' judgment, and left her to shift 
 for herself. When certain generous-minded kinsfolk, 
 who apparently considered it a crime for anybody to 
 be left penniless, discovered how a trusting girl's 
 affection had been misplaced, they thought it well to 
 consider themselves greviously scandalised ; such a 
 reflection on their own respectability could not be 
 tolerated for an instant. Whom had this headstrong 
 girl, who never would take advice from anybody, to 
 thank but herself? 
 
 But these charitable relations need not have feared, 
 for the offender relieved them of her obnoxious pre- 
 sence with all possible speed, not even encroaching 
 on their generosity to the extent of her passage 
 money — a display of ridiculous pride scarcely cal- 
 culated to increase her popularity. 
 
 Thus it came about that, on the very day Nora and 
 Shirley reached England, this poor wife set forth to 
 earn her bread in that city the ill-fated ' Pilot ' had 
 tried so valiantly to reform. As she stood upon the 
 steamer's deck, and saw the white cliffs of England
 
 MADAME TRAILL. I79 
 
 slipping back, back, back, as if they too had cast her 
 off, she. thought, in her loneHness. that all joys of love 
 and life were fled ; and her heart rebelled at this com- 
 pletion of the misery which had chilled the brightness 
 of her youth within a few short months. 
 
 When, therefore, she stepped upon another shore, 
 chosen for an exile the baseness of her husband had 
 forced upon her, this once light-hearted girl proposed to 
 carry out instantly the programme of self-effacement 
 she had decided upon. From that hour, Mary Grace 
 Stapleton was to exist no more. Those marriage ties, 
 broken by every moral obligation, though in law they 
 still bound two people so tightly together, could never 
 be rejoined. Why not, then, be spared the humilia- 
 tion of being surrounded by prying eyes and spite- 
 ful tongues, likely enough to busy themselves with 
 her affairs if she retained her name or continued in 
 England. Few would have given her credit for the 
 promptitude with which she acted. But these might 
 not know how, once fully abused, a woman's spirit 
 can rise, any more than how wounded pride so often 
 helps her to show a brave front, be the inner self ever 
 so great a coward. Instead, therefore, of Mrs Staple- 
 ton, quite a different person was to take her place. 
 
 As this love had gone forth in blindest faith to 
 one who had thought fit to trample the precious 
 gift under foot, so must its blotting out be equally 
 absolute. A trusting woman had been vilely deceived. 
 Those similarly tried — Heaven knows they are not 
 few — can tell how such a slight may provoke a terrible 
 revulsion of feeling towards the wrong-doer. Some- 
 times, in this same crushed pride, all Christian forbear- 
 ance is driven out — the rest of our days spoilt with the 
 feeding of a bitter hatred. Maybe the blow has been
 
 i8o love's loyalty. 
 
 too cruel for human heart to bear, when the only true 
 release is found in that summons from Above, which 
 comes in time alike to sinned against and sinning. 
 Happiest result of all, when the probation takes root 
 within us, as a lesson for our better strengthening after 
 resignation and patience. So it was with Mary Staple- 
 ton. A splendid scorn had lifted her above the petty 
 longings for revenge ; hers must not be the mission to 
 mete out punishment to the evil-doer. All she de- 
 sired was, that by altering her whole life, she might be 
 helped to conquer this wretched trouble, which in her 
 own land was so ever-present. She yearned to throw 
 herself into a new field of thought and study, where 
 at least there was the chance of forgetting ; where, be- 
 yond all, she might be alone to battle with her sorrow. 
 Surely there is no place like a great city for carry- 
 ing out that purpose. 
 
 Fortunately for this young lady, the Misses Holle- 
 bones' system of tuition, when they were not stinted 
 in respect to extras, was a liberal one. It had been 
 more generous toward the girl for whom Ephraim 
 House became home, not school, and whose education 
 became a labour of love to its principals. Moreover, 
 there was quite a halo of romance surrounding her 
 first appearance at Budleigh-Tarleton, and the subse- 
 quent payments for her maintenance, which gave an 
 additional interest to her presence there. When the 
 time for parting came, and Mary left to join her 
 relatives, real tears of regret were shed on both sides. 
 Amongst many accomplishments, she carried away 
 one which was now of great service, for being an apt 
 scholar, she had taken full advantage of the resident 
 French governess's companionship to almost perfect 
 herself in a difficult language.
 
 MADAME TRAILL. l8l 
 
 When, therefore, it became necessary for her to apply 
 to the worthy spinsters for advice in the strait she 
 found herself, through no fault of her own, they 
 readily gave it, for which she afterwards found many 
 occasions to bless them. As to actual capabilities for 
 teaching, of course they could say nothing. But the 
 veriest stickler could not deny that Mary was clever, 
 or by disposition suited to the trying duties she was 
 about to undertake. Moreover, these old maids, with 
 all their so-called primness and respect for the pro- 
 prieties, sincerely loved this merry pupil — loved her 
 the more when they heard of this miserable thing 
 which had blighted her happiness. They took her 
 to their hearts again at once, without one word of 
 reproach, or even a lecture, which was a kindly act, 
 shaming that other narrow-minded circle which had 
 thrown her off so readily. This proved that the 
 decorum for which their seminary was noted was no 
 mere pretence : assuredly such vices as uncharitable- 
 ness and hypocrisy found no place within its walls. 
 
 So Phoebe and Susan Hollebone took counsel to- 
 gether how they could best serve this almost daughter 
 of theirs, who had come back to them in such pitiful 
 distress. 
 
 The placid Susan was, of course, sadly alarmed at 
 the notion of their favourite seeking employment in 
 such a terrible place as Paris. But when the more 
 practical Phoebe pointed out that their old friend 
 Madame Heath would, in case of need, at once receive 
 the visitor into her unexceptionable Home in the Rue 
 Damas, the outlook was less appalling. This philan- 
 thropic lady was known far and wide as the guide and 
 foster-mother of numerous aspiring teachers. With 
 her Mary would be safe. Thus, as invariably happened
 
 1 82 love's loyalty. 
 
 when the two discussed a weighty topic, Phoebe got 
 lier way, although the opposing force had high value 
 as a corrective. 
 
 So to Paris Mary Stapleton went, though not to 
 Madame Heath's. That was only to be a refuge if 
 wanted, much as her friends had urged her to go 
 straight there on her arrival. She decided otherwise, 
 because the isolation was to be complete ; the new 
 life commenced at the very beginning. It was a com- 
 fort truly to know of this retreat, where, in whatever 
 plight she found herself, the door would open wide to 
 receive her. But as yet she would not knock : the 
 mere sight of the kind lady might unnerve and turn 
 her from her purpose. Time enough when she had 
 failed to the point of owning defeat, which, with all her 
 present strength of will and energy, she felt must be 
 a day far distant. Those who looked at that pale, 
 resolute face would be inclined to think so too. 
 
 The Rue Hebert is not a street much known to the 
 ordinary visitor to the French capital, although it lies 
 close to the many splendid avenues which branch out 
 from the Arc de I'Etoile. Nor is it specially attractive 
 to the eye, being narrow and dingy. The houses, too, 
 are unusually tall, and, except in their uppermost 
 storeys, strangers to the sun, which is a want only too 
 often keenly felt by streets otherwise well favoured. 
 Then, this one is on an incline, and in addition to the 
 usual unsavoury rills running down its gutters, is 
 villainously paved. Under these depressing con- 
 ditions, it is scarcely surprising that the concierges 
 (never remarkable for sweetness of temper) are if any- 
 thing: more churlish than usual. It cannot be from 
 overwork, for few callers disturb the watch-dogs in 
 their kennels ; and the chief occupants of the rooms
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 83 
 
 above are, when they do get home, far too tired for 
 gossip or more than a passing word. Who, then, are 
 these dwellers, who leave early, returning so late? 
 With few exceptions, members of that patient band 
 whose most recent recruit was Madame Traill. 
 Indeed, the street might not inappropriately have 
 been rechristened the Rue des Gouvernantes, as 
 a guide to employers of this class of labour. There 
 were other lodgers, but they gave no more trouble 
 than the governesses. Many, indeed, rarely stirred 
 abroad. Their out-of-doors battle of life was over, 
 what little fight was still left in them carried on quite 
 satisfactorily in their own dream-chambers. Mostly 
 learned old men these, who lived in the past, and 
 whose only pleasures were their books. Some were 
 full-blown professors, others lower down in the 
 academic scale ; but one and all had seen better days, 
 any allusion to which gave them infinite pleasure. 
 A few were decorated with that coveted piece of red 
 ribbon it seems the aim of every Frenchman to secure, 
 for the possession of which he would sacrifice most 
 other earthly ambitions. 
 
 In this street the exile found an apartment, form- 
 ing practical acquaintance with the hardships of her 
 calling, which in after years stood boldly out in a 
 career of checkered fortune. Yet was there a certain 
 happiness in the retrospect. For in time the much- 
 prized boon of forgetfulness came to soothe her, when 
 sweet intercourse with the children she loved atoned 
 for many a weary tramp through the streets of Paris : 
 those little ones, at anyrate, were as yet pure-minded 
 and above deceit. 
 
 It took but a short while to prove — as most of her 
 neighbours had already found to their cost — that
 
 1 84 love's loyalty. 
 
 Mary would not gain her end or her scholars In the 
 quarter of fine mansions adjacent to the Rue Hebert 
 Indeed, during the first few weeks she despaired of 
 finding any at all. As the stock of money grew less, 
 she got worried lest she should have to give in and 
 apply thus early for aid at Madame Heath's. But 
 the idea of failure roused her to fresh exertions, which 
 happily met with reward. By dint of great exertions 
 she secured engagements for three days in the week. 
 A morning one near the Luxembourg, where two little 
 girls were desirous of acquiring the English language 
 with all dispatch ; on the same afternoons Mary was 
 invited to complete the education of the middle-aged 
 wife of a tradesman in the Rue Tronchet, whose abode 
 was at Passy. The fees were certainly low compared 
 with the services required, but Mary was poor, and 
 could not afford to wait. Besides, this beginning 
 might lead to brilliant results. Her spirits rose in 
 consequence, and she closed the bargain, arranging 
 with her usual energy to commence her duties at once. 
 That the engagements were so wide apart did not 
 affect her decision, though it was a drawback which 
 made itself fully apparent afterwards. 
 
 Then began a probation she would never forget, 
 when the realities of a teacher's life became an actual 
 experience : to raise in her breast feelings of tenderest 
 pity for a class whose trials so few can depict, because 
 the sufferers themselves are, for the most part, so 
 bravely silent over them. 
 
 Think what it must mean for one of gentle birth 
 to have to face a constant routine of toil, often ill- 
 clad, always ill-nurtured, in winter and summer, fair 
 weather or foul ; too poor to ride, too proud to 
 ask for one jot in abatement in the burthen in tuition
 
 MADAME TRAILL. I 85 
 
 exacted ; when, already exhausted with hurrying to 
 her lessons, work begins with all its dreary accompani- 
 ments of monotony and need for self-restraint. (Surely 
 the wisdom of Solomon, and patience of Job, should 
 be united in those whose lot it is to teach the young.) 
 For Mary Stapleton at first it was doubly hard, for 
 all the while there was this miserable sorrow to bear, 
 with the constant gnawing reflection of what might 
 have been. Not that her strong will gave way ; but 
 she was only human, and during those dull hours 
 when, step by step, with the assistance of Dr Ahn, 
 she coaxed her little pig-tailed pupils up the ladder 
 their parents expected them to mount almost at a 
 bound, rebellious thoughts would intrude. Presum- 
 ably these small foreigners were not more dense 
 than the generality of French children attacking the 
 English language. But to clever, quick-witted Mary 
 their ighorance was magnified to a distressing pitch ; 
 nor could she help now and then deploring her own 
 waste of talents over this rudimentary penance. In 
 justice to those children, however, in other respects 
 their precocity was unbounded. For, released from 
 the tedium of lessons, they broke out into high-pitched 
 cacklings on all sorts of frivolous topics quite beyond 
 their years, outbursts which jarred sadly upon the 
 sensitive nerves of their teacher. 
 
 Of an extensive class of French society, this family 
 in the Rue de Caen offered about as good an example 
 as could well have been found in the capital. The 
 head of the establishment — at least the nominal 
 head — was bald, fat, loquacious, and of course decorc. 
 The governess generally met him waddling up the 
 street before taking a cab to his place of business, 
 which was ostensibly something to do with silk and
 
 1 86 love's loyalty. 
 
 fringes, and was situated near the Bourse. The man 
 always grinned when Mary came within sight, for he 
 was about to revel in his few sentences of English, 
 delivered bareheaded, with bent body, heels well 
 together, toes turned outward, in quite the accepted 
 style of obeisance. 
 
 ' Ze little rosy-buds,' the merchant would say (why 
 monsieur compared his children to rosebuds, Mary 
 could never imagine ; the buttercup or jonquil would 
 have offered a far more appropriate simile), ' ze little 
 rosy-buds await ze arrival of madame with a grand 
 impatience. Ah, but it is of a truth a beautiful zing 
 dis deaching of small ones what they cannot deach 
 themselves, more in particular when it is that noble 
 language, ze English ! ' 
 
 Mary naturally felt flattered, hoping her services 
 were giving satisfaction, and so forth, always in a neat, 
 respectful speech. 
 
 * Admirable, excellent. Marthe accords, if we the 
 whole of Paris seek, we find no madame more cleverer 
 than this one — this charming, pretty lady — you must 
 leave me say also, but I tell not zat to my vife.' 
 After which open admission Mary would bow coldly, 
 and hurry on to frustrate any more attempts at 
 gallantry. 
 
 Of altogether different a stamp to the plethoric 
 Edouard was this * vife ' of his. Tall, thin and angular, 
 with an eager, restless manner, which silenced repose 
 of mind or body in herself and in others. Mary 
 could never get over the idea that at some time she 
 had sat behind the desk at a restaurant. For, with 
 her steel grey eyes, she seemed to be always reckoning 
 up someboby or something, her long fingers itching 
 to seize the pen, and commit the result of her scrutiny
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 8/ 
 
 to paper. And her tongue, mercy how it wagged 
 nineteen to the dozen ! Happily for the governess, 
 during her two hours of infliction, this shrill-voiced 
 female generally took herself off to the Luxembourg 
 Gardens with the luckless bon7ie of the family, v/hose 
 gorgeous streamers fluttered from the equally mar- 
 vellous cap. But neither these impressive distinctions, 
 nor the responsible position she held towards the 
 youthful son and heir to the fringe business, called 
 forth that respect which was due. Rather, she had 
 often to bear the concentrated force of her mistress's 
 sharp tirades, though the good nurse from Picardy 
 certainly knew how to hold her own with becoming 
 dignity, and when occasion required, emphatic elo- 
 quence. 
 
 Altogether this first engagement was of value, as 
 it gave the stranger an insight into certain French 
 characters and customs she might not have found so 
 readily elsewhere. But, beyond that, the acquaintance 
 could not be called edifying. For no member of the 
 family was in the least degree lovable, and the atmo- 
 sphere of worldliness ruling the household distressed 
 Mary sorely. That she did all in her power to counter- 
 act this, by a firm though kindly system, goes without 
 saying. But she dreaded the day when her pupils 
 should cease to be children, and become exposed to 
 a mother's influence, where an inordinate inquisitive- 
 ness, combined with love of scandal and gossip, seemed 
 the only earthly pleasures worth living for. Nor 
 could much good be expected from a father whose 
 chief occupation was the ennobling art of gambling 
 on the Bourse when not gratifying the promptings of 
 his appetite. Mary had not then learnt that, however 
 lax French parents may be themselves, the morals of
 
 1 88 love's loyalty. 
 
 their offspring are guarded with a careful and affec- 
 tionate solicitude beyond all praise. 
 
 From the Rue de Caen to Passy is a long step. 
 Her lesson finished, Mary had only just time to 
 snatch a hasty breakfast at some creinei'ie before 
 taking a tramcar for the pretty suburb where her 
 grown-up scholar resided. 
 
 There are still some obstinate persons who doubt 
 the existence of a thoroughly domesticated French 
 couple. This is a mistake, as Monsieur Jean Joubert 
 and his wife Amelie conclusively proved. Whether 
 in their younger days they had gone their separate 
 ways, after the accepted fashion of their countrymen, 
 cannot of course be told. But novv', in the autumn o{ 
 life, they had at anyrate come together, affording 
 about as admirable specimens of the elderly love-bird 
 as could well be encountered in France or out of it. 
 With praiseworthy persistence, madame each evening 
 put on her old brown hat, wrapped a fleecy shawl 
 round her shoulders, and went forth to meet her 
 spouse. With a punctuality which would have done 
 credit to a Clapham Common merchant, monsieur 
 came round the corner near which his accustomed 
 omnibus deposited him. This in itself does not prove 
 much. But when it is added that after he got home, 
 he rarely stirred out again, unless madame kept him 
 company, the fact is as exceptional as refreshing. 
 The Villa Sunnyside, where this singular couple lived, 
 was supposed to have been built upon the lines of an 
 English suburban residence, and as Monsieur Joubert 
 had been his own architect, it may be imagined how 
 faithful the imitation was. The occupants were sadly 
 upset when anybody ventured to find fault with the 
 result, because in their opinion the house was correct
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 89 
 
 in every detail. Unique it might surely claim to be ; 
 and when in summer its walls were clothed with 
 creepers, the parterres brightened up with fuchsias, 
 picotees and geraniums, the effect must have been 
 quite charming. But to the captious there was too 
 much of the cardboard, filigree element about the 
 villa, more particularly in its balcony work, to bring 
 it within any known style of British architecture. 
 One feature the two were especially proud of, viz., 
 the large iron entrance gates, which for grandeur and 
 ornamentation might have done honour to a mansion. 
 Looking through to find, instead of some noble avenue 
 only a mild gravel walk and a few prim flower-beds, 
 the effect was disappointing. 
 
 Monsieur Jean Joubert was a well-known cJiarattier 
 (pork butcher is far too inelegant an equivalent for so 
 picturesque a trade) in the Rue Tronchet. Having 
 made his money out of the many excellent dainties 
 furnished for the benefit of man by the unfortunate 
 pig's carcase, he thought it but common fairness to 
 annex his benefactor as a family crest. Hence, in the 
 centre of each of those fine gates was inserted an 
 ^^gy of his faithful ally, with snout and curly tail 
 especially prominent. In the shop window the same 
 likeness in china had stood for many years guarding 
 the trotters, sausages and trufifled cutlets. Here, in 
 the home of his master, he was glorified with gilt, 
 besides having a neat appropriate motto all to him- 
 self. A very healthy plan it would be if other success- 
 ful tradesmen followed Monsieur Joubert's example, 
 instead of adopting all sorts of inappropriate emblems. 
 Some people are only too prone to try and shake off 
 those surroundings which have helped on to fortune. 
 
 In proportion to the conviction that their home
 
 190 love's loyalty. 
 
 was a marvel of correctness, so this worthy couple's 
 admiration for England, its people and institutions, 
 knew no bounds. Fired by the glowing accounts 
 brought back by her Jean, after his periodical busi- 
 ness trips to London, Madame Joubert had resolved to 
 forthwith improve the smattering of English she pos- 
 sessed. Thus chance and the advertisement columns 
 of * Galignani ' (to which lively journal monsieur of 
 course loyally subscribed) brought Mary Stapleton 
 within the walls of the Villa Sunnyside. From the 
 first the cJiarciitiere^ for she also had served for many 
 a day in the shop where everything was so scrupu- 
 lously clean and appetising, took to her young in- 
 structress. Nor could it well have been otherwise. 
 For Madame joubert was the soul of good nature 
 and kindness, qualities doubly acceptable to Mary 
 after the atmosphere she breathed in the morning. 
 Although the governess, in those early days of her 
 trouble, rarely unbent to strangers, there was that in 
 her face which fascinated strongly. To many this was 
 sufficient passport to affection. Mary always found 
 her grown-up pupil seated, eager to begin her lesson, 
 with the several weapons of attack — grammars,diction- 
 aries and the like, ready to hand. First there was the 
 writing-exercise to be gone through together, when 
 the task of inducing madame to abandon her spiky 
 style of caligraphy in favour of more rounded char- 
 acters was no enviable task. Then came the trans- 
 lations, the lady to be helped out of sundry literary 
 quagmires into which the wily Monsieur Ollendorff 
 so often lures his students. After that, reading and 
 conversation, specially trying ordeals, because the 
 P>ench\voman was not of that age when our dreadful 
 * th ' was free from terrors quite justifying her many
 
 MADAME TRAILL. I9I 
 
 interlarded, comments of ' Mon Dieu, inoji Dieu, 
 but your tongue is a difficult one to catch.' 
 
 Amongst the novelties recently introduced into the 
 Sunnyside residence was five o'clock tea, which the 
 hostess flattered herself was produced in quite the 
 correct style of Le Hig' Life in England. So it was ; 
 the serving process leaving nothing to desire: little 
 round table, teapot, cosy, all complete. Unfortunately 
 the tea itself was but a weakly concoction, because 
 madame's bonne could never be induced to make the 
 water boil. Still, though lukewarm, it was refreshing, 
 and appreciated accordingly by Mary on those occa- 
 sions, and they grew to be frequent, when she stayed 
 on in deference to her kind-hearted friend's entreaties. 
 
 During this dissipation the two enjoyed a pleasant 
 chat, always in French, which enabled the younger to 
 advance materially towards that goal of proficiency 
 after which she strove so earnestly. The conversation 
 usually took a descriptive turn, madame enlarging 
 with great volubility upon the annual summer outing 
 with her Jean to Brittany, concerning which delightful 
 country the lady never tired of talking. The couple 
 had discovered a seaside nook where untold resources 
 for quiet enjoyment, allied with prices of ludicrous 
 cheapness, combined to furnish quite the ideal water- 
 ing-place. So graphic, indeed, was the picture, that 
 in her mind's eye Mary already saw her patrons 
 disporting themselves in a very free and easy fashion 
 at the bathing resort of their choice. Madame was 
 not long in inviting her newly-made friend to spend 
 a part, if not the whole of her vacation, with them, 
 and judge for herself whether the attractions of Roscoff 
 were overcoloured or not. But Mary only smiled 
 sadly, saying that she feared holidays and herself
 
 192 love's loyalty. 
 
 must long remain strangers, which remark had much 
 puzzled Madame Joubert, who considered that, of all 
 hard -worked classes, governesses deserved a treat 
 before anybody. 
 
 *We will not talk more about it, if you please, 
 though, believe me, I appreciate your kind thought 
 none the less. Some day, perhaps, I shall visit this 
 wonderful place, which from your description must be 
 charming. But for the present you must not tempt me.' 
 That is how the worthy cJiarciitiere was put off, 
 though she often repeated the invitation, without 
 shaking the other's decision. 
 
 It was during the long evening walks back to the 
 Rue Hebert that the full force of her strange and 
 lonely position came home to the exile. Although 
 a longer route, she kept the way by the quays, for at 
 that hour they were comparatively deserted, and 
 seemed to fit in better with her mood ; the brightness 
 and bustle of the streets no longer charmed her. 
 Drawing her thin wrap closer to her spare figure, Mary 
 could rest there without fear of molestation, as she 
 reviewed the past or planned the future. One reflec- 
 tion stood out grimly over all ; the shadow of that 
 shameful, unmanly wrong, of which she was the victim. 
 One livelong terror also, the dread of meeting again 
 the author of her misery, from whose presence she 
 prayed night and day she might be spared. 
 
 Now it was too late, she asked herself why she had 
 chosen this particular city to settle in. For it was the 
 place where the first few weeks of that blind trust had 
 been spent ; where, with the foolish eyes opened, every 
 street, every noted building, brought back the recollec- 
 tion of days once so dear, now rendered hateful by- 
 events.
 
 MADAME TRAILL. < 1 93 
 
 ' Only a few short months, yet what a Hfetime of 
 wretchedness has been already crowded into them,' 
 mused Mary one dreary evening as she stopped beside 
 the Pont de I'Alma. Through its arches the murky 
 Seine flowed on with unsympathetic heed. In the 
 nipping air, and light flakes of snow, which now and 
 again were whirled about, a winter storm was boded. 
 * Yes,' as she turned with a sigh and walked rapidly 
 on, * my fortunes have indeed changed from gay to 
 grave of late. Where, I wonder, will it end Little 
 did I dream, in the happy Budleigh-Tarleton days, 
 what Fate had in store. It would have been far better 
 had those kind old maids never taken me in, good 
 Samaritans though they are. Better still if I had 
 never been born. What am I, after all, that I should 
 be spared, when I have prayed so often for release ? ' 
 In her more troubled moods she often asked herself 
 that question, answering always in the same mourn- 
 ful key. Bear with her for giving way thus, because 
 her trials had been sore ; the temptation to break 
 down overtook her only when she was worn and 
 weary. 
 
 But once in the Rue Hebert, free from the haunting 
 dread of meeting her husband, she was herself again, 
 repentant for her unruly thoughts, eager for that 
 study in which she sought a new and worthier love. 
 The chamber was poor, yet was there wealth abund- 
 ant in the unfaltering purpose with which she strove 
 to live down her sorrow, as those who have suffered 
 as Mary Stapleton had, know it can, in much, be 
 mastered. Besides, this patient teacher wanted to win 
 back her independence, which is a thing worth striving 
 for, better by far than spending our time in useless 
 lamentations over the past, or in nursing the unholy 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 passion o^ hate. The brightness of youth, the care- 
 less abandonment of happier days, were gone ; but 
 a woman's spirit, roused by injury, is more difficult 
 to kill. 
 
 Thus did Mary shut the door against the outside 
 world, grappling bravely with the task she had set 
 herself. It was not a light one, nor did she wish it 
 to be. She wanted some absorbing occupation, which 
 should help her to forget, possibly to forgive, though 
 that would not be easy ; something to bring her relief, 
 if only transitory ; an object, an ambition, which should 
 draw her away from herself and the past. Where so 
 fine a chance as in the fascinating paths she had 
 chosen ? 
 
 It happened that about the time the governess 
 sought a distraction many of us have longed for but 
 never found, a book appeared in Paris which made 
 a great stir. It was the result of much labour on the 
 part of some learned professor, whose dissertations in 
 print and on platform had won him, if not unqualified 
 respect, at least a widespread notoriety, which is con- 
 sidered by some a satisfactory equivalent. In his 
 latest volume, the sage was said to have quite sur- 
 passed himself in the particular line he affected. 
 Already numerous disciples had been won over to 
 a new, and certainly attractiv^c, belief — ' religion ' 
 (Heaven help us !) the great man's followers called it. 
 A school for the better development of its truths was 
 in course of formation ; in streets, ca/cs and salons^ the 
 name of this fresh doctrine and its propagandist was 
 on many lips. 
 
 Small wonder that Mary heard of them also. First, 
 from her garrulous employer of the Rue de Caen, who 
 seemed fearful lest she should smuggle the book
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 95 
 
 surreptitiously into her household, to the moral dis- 
 comfort of her offspring ; later, when enjoying the 
 novel luxury of an omnibus-ride, to which indul- 
 gence she had been driven by an unusually drenching 
 downpour, there in the hands of a fellow-passenger 
 was the much-talked-of treatise, in its jaundice-hued 
 cover. 
 
 From that moment Mary was seized with a great 
 longing to possess a copy of a work which already 
 fascinated her strangely. When hurrying to her duties, 
 she saw the volumes laid out in tempting rows upon 
 the riverside stalls, the desire for ownership increased 
 to quite morbid proportions. Once she plucked up 
 courage to peep between the leaves ; the forbidden fruit 
 thus tasted only whetting the appetite for more. In an 
 ordinary case, she would have passed by with only a sigh 
 of resignation, waiting until the book found its way into 
 the troughs with the collection of bethumbed and less 
 notorious fry accessible to the lowliest ; where even the 
 enterprising student might, by judicious dips, mentally 
 filch much knowledge without any pecuniary outlay. 
 But, unless immediate, the acquisition would be useless 
 to the Engliswoman ; for she had persuaded herself 
 that here was a vehicle for that occupation she sought 
 so eagerly. Mary had, in fact, resolved to try her hand 
 at a translation of this new departure in ' religion.' To 
 manage that, however, she must be early in the field ; 
 and there day after day that horrid prohibitory price 
 met her gaze, with the significant warning of ' vient 
 de paraitre.' Still she was determined to have the 
 book, and at last got enough money together, though 
 not before she had denied herself many necessaries 
 whilst putting by the sum from her scanty earnings. 
 Fortunately at that time she enjoyed the blessings of
 
 196 love's loyalty. 
 
 health and a fine constitution, or the purchase of her 
 treasure might have cost her dearly. 
 
 Could Shirley Wodehouse, struggling hard in Eng- 
 land for herself and for her sister, have looked in upon 
 that lonely woman as, in the stillness of the night, she 
 plodded on so perseveringly, her tender heart would 
 assuredly have been moved to pity and wonderment. 
 Was that in truth her same loved Mary — she who had 
 been the life of many a careless group — the gay, 
 joyful girl with whom, arm linked in arm, almost 
 soul to soul, she had wandered so often through 
 glen and over gorse-clothed moor in the old happy 
 days ? Was it possible that pale set face had ever 
 brightened with warmth and beauty as Shirley knew 
 it had ? 
 
 It would have pained her sorely to find that this 
 was indeed the same sweet confidante who was so 
 often in her thoughts, but who had been so strangely 
 silent of late. That, however, she persuaded herself^ 
 was owing to the claims of a married life, which she 
 felt sure must be full of happiness. Had she not 
 Mary's last letter to prove it, written from Paris in 
 such a joyous key, giving an account of all the won- 
 derful places husband and wife had visited ? Shirley 
 never imagined that a rupture could have occurred, 
 much less that the two were actually parted under 
 such distressful conditions. She knew that, held by 
 her promise, Mary would at once tell of any trouble, 
 as unhappily the younger had already on her part 
 found occasion for, receiving in answer an outpouring 
 of love and sympathy for Nora and herself, which, 
 coming as it did from the heart, had proved a real 
 solace to them in their affliction. It was impossible 
 for Mary to forget a bond entered into with no girlish
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 97 
 
 or irresponsible rashness. Nor, in fact, had the gover- 
 ness by any means forgotten the obHgation she was 
 under. Through her silence, the promise had of course 
 been broken, but she reasoned herself into the belief 
 that her course of action was excusable, if not for the 
 best. A dozen times, in the first days of her loneli- 
 ness, she had taken up her pen to write to those 
 dear girls ; but the impulse had never been acted 
 upon. 
 
 What right, Mary argued, had she to intrude her 
 own wretched, material trouble into that holier grief 
 of theirs ? In her eyes the wrong of which she was 
 the victim, rose up as a dark barrier between her 
 and their purity. They would be shocked beyond 
 measure were that ugly tale unfolded to them. Mary 
 was a bad hand at deception. If she spoke, it must 
 be the whole truth, be it ever so painful or humiliat- 
 ing. To have merely written that she had left her 
 husband would be useless. She was certain neither 
 Shirley nor little Nora would have been satisfied with 
 only that bare statement. They would never have 
 rested until she had told them all ; that she could not 
 bring herself to do. No, the more she considered, it 
 all came back to that first resolve, she must, for the 
 present at anyrate, cut herself adrift from past associa- 
 tions, however keenly she might feel the wrench. The 
 memory of the bitter misery of those hours when, 
 brought face to face with the evidence of man's faith- 
 lessness, she had flown for shelter to her old home, 
 was ever present. How much more miserable would 
 it be to reopen the whole loathsome story to these 
 others she also loved so dearly ? Even at the risk of 
 losing their confidence for a while, she must put off tell- 
 ing them until, mayhap, things looked brighter. Thus,
 
 198 love's loyalty. 
 
 with her morbid sensitiveness, Mary imagined that 
 she bore with the sorrow, also the stigma of another's 
 guilt. 
 
 But whatever pain Shirley might have felt that 
 her friend had gone past her promise, it would 
 have been nothing compared with finding the means 
 she had chosen for this self-abstraction — the un- 
 worthy object which, whilst degrading her talents, 
 stole the hours of well-earned rest, soon her peace of 
 mind. 
 
 Alas that any man's brains should have been turned 
 to such purpose as this. Better by far had the hand 
 which essayed to pen such heresies been palsied, as a 
 warning that there are certain sacred subjects it dare 
 not touch. 
 
 Be it said, to Mary's credit, that when she first 
 entered upon her task, it was with the fullest intention 
 of being in no way influenced by anything she might 
 read. It was to be a matter of business only, in which, 
 irrespective of the boon she craved for, she expected 
 an intellectual, possibly a moral treat, which could not 
 result otherwise than to her benefit. What, thought 
 she, if she could render these new doctrines so accept- 
 ably into her own language as to gain a success, at 
 one stroke secure freedom from a vocation she knew 
 in her innermost self could never be accepted with 
 contentment ? It did not enter into her head to con- 
 ceive that between those yellow covers might lurk 
 the poison of much seductive argument, against the 
 insidious influence of which even the strongest will 
 might fail ; or that the author of this so-called 're- 
 ligion ' wielded a pen of such subtle and persuasive 
 power. Unhappily it was so, as the daily increasing 
 roll of converts had amply proved.
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 1 99 
 
 It certainly seemed that if this gifted exponent, 
 who preached with such eloquence in so bad a cause, 
 could have chosen from his congregation one human 
 being more likely than the rest to embrace his teach- 
 ings with enthusiasm, it would have been this care- 
 laden governess. For here was a young wife who had, 
 one would think, in all conscience, reason enough to 
 waver in whatever faith she professed, which had 
 brought her thus early to such straits as the sole 
 reward for a life of probity. It was hardly probable 
 that any poor creature existed, much less a weak 
 woman, who could go on for ever suffering, yet trust- 
 ing in a belief so obviously unreliable. It was not 
 in human nature to expect such devotion. Nobody 
 in their senses could look round the world without 
 seeing that the scales of justice, in certain respects, 
 were most unevenly adjusted. To turn no further for 
 an instance, did not this deserted Mary Stapleton, in 
 in her own person, illustrate the fact conclusively ? 
 What likelier subject, then, than she could any reformer 
 desire ? Where a , mind more greedy for the im- 
 mediate acceptance of his heresies? Surely there 
 could be little doubt of the result, when the odds 
 were viewed dispassionately. A ripened scholar, with 
 a vast wealth of learning at command, combating 
 the frail convictions of an unenlightened girl. The 
 wisdom of years pitted against the inexperience of 
 youth. Of course it was a foregone conclusion how 
 such an unequal contest must end. But to infer that 
 Mary would at once lay down her arms and acknow- 
 ledge defeat, would have been to do her moral courage 
 grave injustice. The first impressions aroused by the 
 book, when she read it steadily through, preparatory 
 to commencing her work in detail, were those of pro-
 
 200 love's loyalty. 
 
 found contempt, mingled with an intense pity that any 
 clever man could degrade his intellect to so unworthy a 
 level. It seemed quite a wretched thing to her that 
 brains should have been wasted in this attempt to up- 
 root existing creeds of belief and Christianity, and all 
 for what? The glorification of an individual, by the 
 aid of certain new heretical doctrines. For no rational 
 being, Mary felt convinced, could ever seriously believe 
 in the disinterestedness of a writer whose theme from 
 first to last was Self; how all things should be subju- 
 gated thereto for its own convenience. No, it was 
 quite impossible that anybody would put himself to 
 all this trouble for the sake of improving the re- 
 ligious state of his fellow-creatures. Such a notion, 
 as being altogether opposed to the very arguments 
 put forward by the theorist himself, was quite un- 
 tenable. Champions of that class were unfortunately 
 rare indeed. 
 
 Why then, it may be asked, did not Mary instantly 
 put this mischievous purchase aside, and turn to 
 healthier literature for an occupation ? We know that 
 her will was strong ; her sense of right most sharply 
 defined. Already, during her short acquaintance with 
 this perilous capital, temptation had assailed her with 
 no common force, yet happily in vain. The circum- 
 stances of her lot exposed her to many persecutions, 
 to which those not reduced to earning their own liv- 
 ings are, by fortune's favour, strangers : an exemption 
 which should make such fortunate mortals — would it 
 were so — doubly tolerant towards an erring sister. 
 Her very position, which at the hands of the chival- 
 rous should have shielded a woman from insult, 
 proved only another weapon for the dissolute and the 
 godless. Surely she, who had withstood so much,
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 201 
 
 would not hesitate for long over so obvious a duty as 
 the one before her ? 
 
 Let us be charitable in our blame of Mary Stapleton, 
 if, whilst cordially disapproving of the subject, she 
 still allowed the fascination and subtlety of the writer's 
 style to blind, in much, her better reason ; if, in her 
 eagerness, she saw only the fancied prize, forgetting 
 the harm she might be planning for herself and others. 
 Remember, also, that there was no soft influence about 
 her then, no loved ones to divert her thoughts into 
 happier channels, or suggest the danger of her own 
 possible perversion if she dived too deeply into those 
 pernicious pages. Think, also, what her bringing-up 
 had been. From the time she left the island of her 
 birth, until she came under the guidance of Phcebe and 
 Susan Hollebone, mind and body had been neglected. 
 The spiritual welfare of others was absolutely indif- 
 ferent to those who had no religion of their own. The 
 grave responsibility of watching over an impression- 
 able child — misunderstood from the first — had been 
 cowardly shirked ; the only attention she received 
 coming from the nurse, an illiterate, cross-grained 
 woman, who made no attempt to conciliate the little 
 stranger. This female appeared to think that, if 
 her charge were well dratted and cuffed for trifling 
 offences, her duty was conscientiously discharged. It 
 is true Mary was taken to church on Sundays with 
 great regularity. But unfortunately the service there 
 was the reverse of impressive, appealing only to her 
 strongly-developed sense of the ludicrous. Her re- 
 flections chiefly took the turn that the rector was ' a 
 very funny old gentleman ' in the pulpit, suggesting 
 by his antics and jerky style a certain favourite toy 
 which was worked by a string. As a matter of fact,
 
 202 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 the mode of worship fell little short of a scandal, and 
 as such was held up to ridicule in the village. How- 
 ever worthy a man this pastor may have been in 
 private life, he was totally unfitted for conducting the 
 interpretation of God's word. Impelled by extreme 
 nervousness or affliction, he gabbled through prayers 
 and lessons with such indecent haste that, when ser- 
 mon time came, he was exhausted, and well-nigh 
 unintelligible. As a result, his discourse was a dis- 
 connected mass of incoherence, without thread, reason 
 or moral. How could a young intellect be expected 
 to thrive on such unwholesome fare as that ? With 
 the best intentions in the world, it was impossible for 
 even the elders to be devout under such conditions, 
 much less a child. The worst of it was, this clergy- 
 man had, to all intents and purposes, become a fixture 
 in his parish. Unless he were guilty of something 
 so especially flagrant as to incur the wrath of his 
 bishop, or some blessed inspiration prompted him to 
 remove himself, no lay community could dislodge him. 
 What wonder, then, that under such circumstances 
 Mary in her bewilderment had turned elsewhere for 
 guidance. Happily the deeply-rooted characteristics 
 of refinement, and a firm yet gentle will, were proof 
 against every adverse home influence. Affection 
 denied her in its proper place — only perplexity beneath 
 that sacred roof, where all should be so simple, but 
 convincing — Mary found her religion where God 
 speaks to us with such unerring truth, in the inscrut- 
 able workings of Nature, whose face can never lie. 
 Happily her Maker's softest touch had been laid upon 
 the riverside spot where her early youth was spent. 
 The broad, sparkling stream, that noble slope of wood, 
 with its purple haze, where close-knit boughs marked
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 203 
 
 every season's change, from spring's emerald shoot 
 to the russet brown of autumn ; the mead so richly 
 carpeted with poppy, buttercup and daisy ; the great 
 clusters of laburnum and wistaria, all too transient in 
 their glories ; the ever-murmuring weir, the sighing 
 reed, the trilling birds — all these things spoke with 
 unfailing truth to the neglected girl of a Great Un- 
 seen. In those signs she found her joy, her dream- 
 land, and her constant help. 
 
 That;.was the lovely summer voice in which God 
 spoke to her. In winter she was awed by His Power 
 to change everything. For at His Will all this 
 glorious beauty was stripped off the face of the earth 
 as if it had never brightened it : to leave fields, trees, 
 hedges, desolate and barren. As the great river 
 rushed down swollen and turbid, changing weir and 
 lasher from miniature cascades to tumbling, roaring 
 cataracts, Mary thought how ill it must have fared 
 with most of that frail, pretty craft which was wont to 
 float upon its surface. There were no gay launches, 
 punts or wherries now, with their human freights ; no 
 more sailing-boats wooing the breeze with their white 
 outspread wings as they tacked about the reach above 
 the village. Where luxuriant creepers had richly 
 fringed the latticed windows of the cottages, only bare 
 branches clung to the walls, like so many skeletons. 
 Where Mary had wandered amidst masses of brilliant 
 colour, and perfume born of the sweet flowers she loved 
 to gather, only frozen, unlovely meadows met her eye. 
 The rushes were there still, it is true, but they had 
 lost all their proud bearing, drooping sad and dejected 
 beside the river-bank, as the rough wind moaned 
 through them and often laid them low. As for the 
 graceful swans which had glided about so majestic-
 
 204 love's loyalty. 
 
 ally, their necks arched, their constant investigations 
 amongst the sedge, they had gone as well, whither 
 Mary knew not, unless some people took pity and 
 housed them, or they had returned to the city for the 
 winter, for they seemed, oddly enough, to have owners 
 in that unlikely part. 
 
 It was all most wonderful and mysterious, putting 
 to unutterable shame the contention which those 
 wicked people had advanced in her hearing, that all 
 these marvellous changes went on of themselves, with 
 no controlling hand to guide them ; that perhaps 
 some day things had been different, but now this 
 beautiful earth was left to look after itself, and the 
 dwellers in it also. Mary wept to think of the state 
 these unbelievers must be in : to her they seemed 
 worse than heathens, for all the religion they possessed 
 was centred in themselves, and the silencing of their 
 own inclinations, whereas those poor creatures, though 
 misguided, were consistent in their worship, and only 
 erred through ignorance. 
 
 As she grew older, Mary was filled with greater 
 pain because of this atmosphere of worldliness into 
 which an ungenerous fate had forced her. With all 
 her might she tried to wean these people from the 
 dreadful heresies they professed. Alas, it was all to 
 no purpose ; she met only with rebuffs and ridicule. 
 They would point mockingly at the square ivy-clad 
 tower, and ask if that were not a fine example of 
 the girl's convictions ? In vain she reasoned with 
 their irreverence and callousness. She would not 
 even ask them to enter the church. Rather let them 
 step out with her, and pray in those other places 
 where, under trial, her own anxious yearning heart 
 had found such great relief; let them but humour her
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 20$ 
 
 in this, and all the malice and neglect of years should 
 be forgotten and forgiven. But they would not listen. 
 Soon the objects of her solicitude had grown weary of 
 the girl's importunities. She was hastily sent off to 
 the care of other relatives, who disgusted her with the 
 hypocritical extremes into which their professions 
 carried them. 
 
 Then there came the happy break at Ephraim 
 House, with all its store of love and happiness. Later, 
 the mad, fateful step which had as Mary Stapleton 
 landed a persecuted woman in this her present slough 
 of misery. 
 
 When she began, Mary would have scorned the 
 possibility of being led astray by a mere volume 
 of writings. In the book she then saw only the 
 means towards a much desired end, one upon 
 which all her energies must be centred. It is 
 true she feared lest she might allow the distraction 
 to interfere with her regular duties. For, morning, 
 noon and night, the subject occupied her, giving 
 no peace until she was back again in the Rue 
 Hebert, with pen and brain once more busy. How- 
 ever, she tried hard to keep her thoughts from stray- 
 ing during lesson time, and it may be assumed that 
 she succeeded, or the lynx-eyed madame of the Rue 
 de Caen w^ould have detected her. Besides, Mary's 
 connection had increased, and her daily round of 
 somewhat exacting pupils would very soon have 
 resented any wool-gathering on the part of their 
 teacher. 
 
 What excuse can therefore be advanced for one 
 whose vocation, it might have been fancied, would 
 alone have prompted her to hold aloof from such 
 writings ? Let those answer who have ever set their
 
 2o6 love's loyalty. 
 
 minds upon reaching, by translation, the very core of 
 a clever man's arguments, when each line of cunningly 
 advanced reasoning is conned over — the well plumbed 
 to its very depths — for a suitable equivalent in the 
 worker's brain. If they can say that such an ordeal 
 must be passed through uninfluenced, then Mary 
 Stapleton had earned to the full all the tortures of 
 doubt and mental unrest into w^hich she was presenth' 
 plunged. 
 
 Let it be remembered, also, in this lonely lady's 
 favour, that hers was a sympathetic, impressionable 
 nature, keenly alive to all things passing, more par- 
 ticularly in the field of literature. This novel de- 
 parture had excited her in no ordinary degree. Even 
 in her school days she had developed a tendency to- 
 wards theological discussions ; her views, though re- 
 spected for their breadth, being often too startlingly 
 unorthodox for acceptance in so strict an academy, 
 therefore firmly but kindly discountenanced. It must 
 not be inferred that Mary was an unbeliever, or even 
 irreverent. Very far indeed from it, for she had that 
 best of all religions — one of the heart — without which 
 all others are of no avail. 
 
 But what she held in great contempt was that mere 
 rote of worship which, as she contended, many people 
 accepted in a spirit of conventionalism, for the sake of 
 appearances, the heart only too often having little or 
 no voice in the matter. Amongst other things, she 
 firmly believed in free and open places of worship, 
 where those who sought relief in prayer could kneel 
 at will, untrammelled by observances or mere rules of 
 service. What mattered the method when the real 
 faith was there? Here in this city of her exile she 
 found ample opportunity for indulgence in her view^s.
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 20/ 
 
 In many an hour of temptation and bitterness she had 
 entered some temple of another creed, and poured out 
 her soul, to rise refreshed with firmer strength of will 
 and body. For she knew that, stripped of all its un- 
 necessary show, it was yet the House of God, as there 
 is but One Saviour, plead to Him where or in what- 
 ever form we may. 
 
 Unquestionably, if any of those immaculate relatives 
 of hers could have seen Mary Stapleton thus engaged, 
 they would have held up their hands in pious horror 
 at the spectacle of one of their own flesh and blood 
 kneeling under the same roof with infidels. What if 
 they could have known that it was the very recollec- 
 tion of their uncharitable conduct which had in much 
 brought their kinswoman into her present state of dis- 
 trust ? The knowledge of this would probably have 
 been even a greater shock to their feelings. It was, 
 nevertheless, the actual truth. If the only result of 
 all this church-going and outward austerity on their 
 part had been to develop dozens of petty vices quite 
 inconsistent with their various professions, how could 
 Mary feel otherwise than bewildered when she con- 
 sidered which was really the right path to choose? 
 That her relations appeared to enjoy in so much the 
 world's esteem, only made the choice more puzzling. 
 No wonder, then, that she found herself tossed help- 
 lessly upon a sea of doubt, which the constant presence 
 of the book she was emploj'cd upon only helped 
 to aggravate. 
 
 One more excuse for the generous to consider when 
 judging Mary's backsliding. She was so young to 
 have to sit still and accept passively the wrong which 
 had gone far towards blighting her life. Old age 
 must bear its heritage of suffering with patience, but
 
 2o8 love's loyalty. 
 
 who shall graft the calm submission of years upon the 
 eager, restless mind of youth ? 
 
 Think, too, in how attractive a dress this would-be 
 reformer clothed his inspiration ; how absolutely pleas- 
 ant was the programme drawn up for the guidance 
 of his disciples. It was the easiest doctrine in the 
 world, silencing every other 'ism' by its very sim- 
 plicity. All one was asked to do was to float calmly 
 down the great stream of Fate, in absolute abandon- 
 ment to Self, and its immediate dictates ; to live for 
 the passing pleasure of the hour, with no heed for the 
 morrow — placing no check upon evil passions, en- 
 couraging no generous promptings. This learned 
 propagandist proved beyond the possibility of con- 
 tradiction how utterly useless it was for us frail 
 mortals to attempt to wrestle with destiny. The 
 prospect also of receiving reward for virtuous actions 
 in that future beyond the grave, the existence even of 
 which, many of the deepest thinkers of the age had 
 agreed, was at best a speculation, was equally remote. 
 What, then, was the use of trying to be good on earth, 
 with so slender a chance of recognition either now or 
 hereafter? That was the line of argument in a nut- 
 shell, the substance of the gifted professor's theory, 
 which he generously presented to humanity. Of course 
 he had found the only solution to the burning question 
 of the hour. So his followers opened their arms wide 
 in welcome to a discovery which coincided with their 
 inclinations so perfectly. It were worse than folly 
 not to accept at once a departure so convenient. Nor 
 was there any hint at barter between this good man 
 and his readers, no grim shadow to stand between 
 them and their consciences, like another Mephisto. 
 On the contrary, all was so frank, polished and
 
 MADAME TRAILL. 209 
 
 kindly ; in truth, this outcome of a great writer's 
 labours was a life's work to be proud of. Poor, per- 
 plexed Mary Stapleton, you who were once so brave 
 and strong in practice and in faith, will you likewise 
 be trapped into crying, ' I am thine ' to this most 
 detestable philosophy ? 
 
 VOL. L O
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 
 
 Old Edward Foster was fast breaking up. The trying 
 climate of the dependency where the best of his years 
 had been spent, in adjusting its finances to the satis- 
 faction of the mother country, had, as he tersely put 
 it, at last ' struck his own balance ' for him. Ever 
 since his return from that sad visit to Germany, he 
 had, slowly but surely, been going downhill. Now 
 there was nothing for it but to put his house in order, 
 and await the end with resignation. 
 
 One great comfort remained in this time of 
 broken health. Neil Challoner was there to cheer 
 him with his bright, manly ways, attending him with 
 that instinctive gentleness which is so charming in the 
 young, the sure index to a refined and generous nature. 
 To the ex-Civil servant the lad was also an ever- 
 present reflection of a revered memory. He could 
 scarcely bear him out of his sight, so morbidly anxious 
 was he lest contact with the world should spoil so fair 
 an example of a noble woman's training. 
 
 It must not, however, be supposed that because the 
 old man kept his ward so constantly near him, that 
 he neglected those important duties his position to- 
 wards Neil Challoner demanded ; that would have
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 211 
 
 been a sorry fulfilment of the trust he had taken upon 
 himself. To have appropriated the youth outright 
 was altogether contrary to Mr Foster's notions of 
 rightful stewardship. So he had taken the responsi- 
 bility of instruction into his own hands, fearing to 
 entrust the same to strangers. As far as his health 
 permitted, he carried on a course at once liberal and 
 salutary. 
 
 It had further been arranged, as Robert Hossack 
 told Shirley on the occasion of their introduc- 
 tion, that Neil was to enter some city office as soon 
 as a desirable opening offered. His guardian could 
 never too often impress upon him that his career de- 
 pended on his own exertions, his patrimony being 
 quite insufficient to warrant any hope of ultimate in- 
 dependence. Indeed, the invalid, in his anxiety to 
 dispel any rose-coloured views Neil might have formed 
 on this subject, reduced his own post of husbandry to 
 the merest sinecure, continued out of purely philan- 
 thropic motives. He was also careful to emphasise 
 the fact that he himself had hardly any money to leave 
 behind him, what blessings he enjoyed being derived 
 from governmental sources not to be willed away or 
 even commuted : such was the arbitrariness of that de- 
 partment of the State he hobbled down to draw upon 
 every quarter. He would have been greatly upset to 
 find anybody speculating as to the bestowal of his 
 effects, considering such an unpardonable liberty 
 for which he found scant excuse. To suggest, within 
 Ned Foster's hearing, that so-and-so was likely to ' cut 
 up well,' was to indulge in an offensive prophecy which 
 nearly sent the old gentleman into a frenzy. 
 
 But when the opportunity for placing Neil in an 
 office actually arrived, the boy begged so earnestly for
 
 212 love's loyalty. 
 
 further respite, and an extended acquaintance with 
 those delightful books which filled the shelves of the 
 Cork Street library, that the elder hesitated. After 
 all, his charge was barely seventeen. Perhaps it would 
 be better to devote a year or so more to finishing an 
 education which such unhappy circumstances had 
 interrupted. 
 
 Possibly the old pensioner's notions on this head 
 differed considerably from those of most people — one 
 could hardly expect otherwise when his own eccentric 
 individuality was considered. If he did somewhat 
 hastily underrate the value of some of the ' ologies,' 
 his own system was, it could not be denied, sound 
 and practical. Nor did he set much store upon dead 
 languages. 
 
 ' Get a firm grip of English, I'll forgive you your 
 Latin and Greek,' was a favourite remark of his. 
 ' Stick to your German, too — you've mastered that 
 well, I'm told — if only for the sake of that best of all 
 women who lies at peace yonder. As for figures .... 
 well, it wouldn't do to cry them down after being 
 pretty well steeped in them all my days, eh? But 
 there's one thing better worth educating than all the 
 rest put together ; that's our own heart, my lad. It 
 can be done without any outside help. The way to 
 begin is, to be honest and true to others and ourselves 
 in everything ; always to have the courage to say 
 " No " to what is bad, " Yes " to all that is good. There 
 is not the least difficulty about it. You'll be astonished 
 to find what a ready pupil you've got ; one which will 
 pay you back ten thousand times for any little trouble 
 taken over its education — remain a fast friend through 
 life. Besides, it will grow up in time to be far wiser 
 than its master, never playing him false, in whatever
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 21 3 
 
 State of anxiety he may be placed. Reflect and ask, 
 then the only proper path will be instantly shown you. 
 I wouldn't give a fig for any system which hadn't 
 heart in it. To my notion, there's a deal too much 
 neglected in this way nowadays. That's why I've kept 
 all the tag-rag and bobtail of teachers from getting 
 hold of you. They'd have taught you lots, and to 
 spare, though I'm old-fashioned enough to think, no- 
 thing because that one good subject would have been 
 left out. You follow me, my boy, I hope, eh ? ' 
 
 Perhaps Neil Challoner did not quite grasp the 
 entire justice of what his guardian told him. From 
 one whose conversation for the most erred on the side 
 of brevity, with a liberal admixture of expletives, so 
 lengthy a speech came as a novelty. 
 
 ' I think so, sir ; at anyrate I will try,' he answered 
 slowly, in thoughtful tones. 
 
 ' H'm, that's well ; old Ned won't have much in the 
 way of legacies for anybody when he's tucked up 
 finally. So they must make the most of what he's 
 got to give in the way of advice instead, now, mustn't 
 they ? ' 
 
 Then, probably for days together, the poor invalid's 
 limbs would be racked with pain, existence burthened 
 by the torments of ill-health ; all the exercise he could 
 obtain limited to the four walls of his chamber, his 
 only comfort the presence and practical support of 
 the youth he so fondly clung to. 
 
 It may thus seem hard that duty should have called 
 for even a partial interruption to so congenial a com- 
 panionship. It was so evident that any leaning to- 
 wards inclination — call it selfishness, if you will — 
 would be for such a short time, that for once one was 
 tempted to hope aged whims might be gratified.
 
 214 love's lovaltv. 
 
 But although the dreaded entry into city life was 
 postponed, Edward Foster had firmly resolved that the 
 training on those lines he considered best for a youth 
 of Neil's peculiar disposition and susceptibilities should 
 be continued. The plan adopted hitherto had been 
 of a most indulgent description, entailing little more 
 than a strict censorship over those books and studies 
 selected. With these exceptions, he was allowed to 
 choose pretty well at will. Who can say that the 
 course had not been a wise one ? For, as proof, there 
 had sprung up between man and boy an enviable 
 state of openness and confidence from which the terror 
 of preceptorship was altogether absent. Of course the 
 system could not be universally commended. Here, 
 however, it plainly showed what pains had been taken 
 to probe the depths of a character by no means so 
 accessible as might at first sight appear ; one which 
 would in its sensitiveness have retreated from all but 
 the tenderest methods. The golden key opening the 
 door to affection had been found. 
 
 Now that it was however clear disease had inexor- 
 ably marked him down as its prey, the invalid saw that 
 he would be no longer able to supervise the boy's 
 studies satisfactorily, even on the lenient basis hitherto 
 adopted. Hence, that he must find without delay 
 some trustworthy person to relieve him of the responsi- 
 bility — a circumstance which, needless to say, caused 
 him much mental concern. In his dilemma he re- 
 solved to consult the object of his solicitude himself. 
 
 He chose a bright summer morning when, at ease 
 for a while from the paroxysms which tried him so 
 sorely, he sat propped up at his window, which looked 
 out upon the only patch of foliage Cork Street can 
 boast.
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 215 
 
 * Neil, lad,' he said, taking the other's hand between 
 his own thin palms, and plunging into the subject with 
 characteristic directness, 'would you like a new teacher 
 instead of this old fogey? I'm afraid he's played 
 out' 
 
 * Oh, no. The other day you said, if you remember, 
 that—' 
 
 ' Yes, but things have changed. Don't be troubled. 
 I'll leave the choice to you, if you know anybody ; if 
 not, we'll total Dr Syntax well up before we have 
 anything to say to him. The fact is, with my queer 
 health and fads, I'm not fit for a bonny boy like you 
 — not up to teaching, I mean. Besides — it's no use 
 mincing matters — I'm bespoke.' 
 
 ' Pray do not say that, dear guardian. You are much 
 better to-day. To-morrow, I feel sure, we shall get 
 out again if this sunny weather lasts.' 
 
 * Maybe ; let's hope so. But I want an answer to 
 my question. Suppose you sit down here and think 
 it out, eh ? He'll have to be a good bit younger than 
 this cripple ; with the best of tempers, not too clever, 
 but with something under the left side of his waistcoat 
 to make up for it ; engagement for a few hours daily 
 only; unexceptionable references. Sounds like an 
 advertisement, doesn't it? You see I can still crack 
 a joke sometimes.' 
 
 Neil was seated at the old man's feet, gazing 
 thoughtfully out upon that solitary tree whose leaves 
 stirred softly in the hot noontide air. 
 
 * No, I cannot think of anybody,' he answered 
 dreamily ; ' I am quite content and happy as I am. 
 Stop,' as a flush of excitement overspread his face, 
 * there's Mr Hossack. He might come, only he's 
 something else, and always so busy.'
 
 21 6 love's loyalty. 
 
 ' Who the deuce — who's Mr Hossack ? ' 
 
 ' The gentleman lodging up at Hampstead, in Miss 
 Pridham's cottage, where Nora and Shirley are. I've 
 seen him several times ; we've had long walks to- 
 gether/ explained Neil eagerly. ' He is very nice, 
 besides being an author. Nora's shown him some of 
 her stories, which he's going to try and get into a 
 magazine. Only they'll want careful looking through, 
 perhaps cutting down first, with a horrid thing called 
 a pruning-knife. Yes, I recollect, he said once he 
 should like to teach, as book-writing is such hard 
 work and bad pay. May I ask Mr Hossack, 
 sir?' 
 
 ' H'm, I don't think we'll be in quite such a hurry. 
 Suppose you bring him round for inspection ? From 
 your account, he seems likely enough. As he's a 
 friend of yours already, that's half the battle.' 
 
 ' Thank you so much. When may I fetch him ?' 
 
 ' When you like — sooner the better. Wheel me up 
 a bit nearer the window ; give me my nippers and the 
 last number of the 'United '; tell Ranger to be within 
 call, then be off with you. My love to the little ladies. 
 Tell 'em I'm as brisk as a bee.' 
 
 Neil shook up the invalid's pillows ; resettled his 
 poor gouty leg tenderly on its rest, gave him his 
 favourite magazine, where paper-cutter and glasses 
 marked respectively the pages of two attractive 
 articles, ' Indian Curries for the Million ' and ' How not 
 to Govern our Possessions.' 
 
 * God bless you, my lad,' said Edward Foster, as the 
 warm lips touched his forehead when the boy stooped 
 over him. 
 
 Neil Challoncr was fortunate enough to catch the 
 'writin' gentleman' at home. His usual haunt hap-
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 21/ 
 
 pened to be closed for its half-yearly overhauling, in 
 consequence of which arrangement many of those 
 readers, to whom even pens and ink were a con- 
 sideration, found themselves involuntarily saddled 
 with a fortnight's vacation. 
 
 Full of his errand, the envoy ran past Eliza into 
 the common sitting-room, thereby causing that not 
 very strong-nerved Miss Nora to jump up in alarm. 
 
 * How you startled me, Neil. You really ought 
 not to enter so suddenly as that, dear ; there might 
 be visitors here, you know,' was the mild remonstrance. 
 
 * I'm so sorry, cousin,' cried the intruder, embracing 
 the young lady with effusion. ' I've got such news. 
 What do you think, there's a chance of my having 
 Mr Hossack for a teacher — if he can find the time, 
 and guardian likes him, that is. Isn't it jolly ?' 
 
 ' I think he cannot fail to be approved,' was the 
 sedate reply. ' Whether he will be able to manage 
 an engagement, or you, is another thing.' 
 
 ' That's what old-fashioned Miss Prudence thinks ; 
 I don't. Where's Shirley ? ' 
 
 'This is her busy day, if you remember. She will 
 not be back till quite seven o'clock, if then. Dear 
 Shirley, how hard she works, for both of us. I am so 
 slow, and can never earn a penny.' She glanced sadly 
 down at a pile of manuscript, with which she was 
 innocently building up a fine case for that dreaded 
 literary scalpel whose heartless slashes filled her with 
 such acute torture. * If I could only be terse and 
 graphic, like Mr Hossack ! I am sure some of his 
 stories are perfect specimens of construction — plot, 
 characters and scenes, all fitting in so neatly to make 
 the whole one exquisite piece of workmanship. I 
 wonder how, or where, such an art is to be acquired.'
 
 2i8 love's loyalty. 
 
 * Never mind ; you'll manage it some day, never 
 fear. Can't you find some translations? You're 
 clever at those. Recollect how you used to help me 
 abroad.' 
 
 ' Unfortunately not. Indeed I have given up seek- 
 ing for them any longer. The market is overstocked, 
 it seems. I was warned of that before I began 
 to try.' 
 
 ' I'm awfully sorry. But tell me, Nora, about 
 Shirley. How is she getting on ? No, on second 
 thoughts, when I come down will do.' 
 
 ' Pray let Eliza inquire first if Mr Hossack can 
 receive you, Neil. I am sure he dreads interruption 
 when writing, though he is too good-natured to let 
 us think so.' 
 
 ' Oh, you've discovered that, have you, miss ? Don't 
 be frightened. He'll soon forgive me when he finds 
 out what I've come about' 
 
 Passing quickly upstairs, Neil rapped lightly at his 
 friend's door, but receiving no reply, ventured to enter. 
 Robert's back was towards him ; he was evidently very 
 busy. The boy had already learnt the value of silence 
 under certain conditions, of which this was obviously 
 one. So he sat down, awaiting an opportunity to 
 deliver the important message of which he was the 
 bearer. 
 
 At first sight Robert Hossack appeared engaged 
 upon quite a childish pastime. For on the desk in 
 front of him were ranged a dozen corks or more of 
 various sizes, from a champagne one, which by right 
 held the place of honour in the centre, to others as 
 low in the social scale as to have done duty in medi- 
 cine bottles. These playthings were duly clustered 
 round the centrepiece at uncertain distances. The
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 219 
 
 man was regarding his set of corks with an amount 
 of attention hardly, one would have fancied, warranted 
 by circumstances. From time to time he selected an 
 object, moving it forwards with the deliberation of a 
 chess-player, after which he would rapidly — and ap- 
 parently in fear lest some fugitive inspiration should 
 escape him — commit the result of his strategy to paper. 
 Three of the stoppers were ornamented with pins, the 
 one acting as pivot being further distinguished by 
 a metal top. 
 
 Neil watched the performance with intense interest. 
 After due consideration, he could only conclude that 
 his friend really was engaged in the solution of some 
 intricate chess problem. Had he but known that 
 he was assisting at a display of that method of con- 
 struction, the achievement of which exercised his 
 cousin downstairs so much, the chance for an insight 
 into so valuable a treasure-land should not have been 
 neglected. 
 
 At length the writer, after a considerable amount 
 of scribbling, threw down his pen, stretching out his 
 arms with an exclamation as of bodily relief Then 
 he caught a reflection of Neil's eager face in his 
 shaving-glass. 
 
 ' My dear fellow, why did you not say you were 
 here .? ' as he shook hands, adding with a smile, ' you 
 must have been not a little astonished at my conduct. 
 It is a habit I took to early in life, and have never 
 quite shaken off. Odd as it may appear, the plan 
 has its merits. Shall I explain my puppets to you "i ' 
 
 ' I should be so much obliged,' answered Neil, 
 drawing closer to the table. ' I've been so puzzled.' 
 
 ' No doubt you have. Yet the device is extremely 
 simple. Sit down, and let me initiate you into its
 
 220 love's loyalty. 
 
 mysteries. I see your eye wandering naturally to- 
 wards the most prominent object. If I may be allowed 
 the simile, that is the Queen Bee of the hive ; in other 
 words, the heroine of my present tale, to whom the 
 other characters are, of course, subordinate.' 
 
 ' Some have pins stuck into them — what is that for ? ' 
 
 *To indicate the females — white pins for the good 
 ones, black for the bad. You will see that here the 
 fair sex is in a minority, though, as a rule, my 
 gallantry prompts me to overcrowd my canvas with 
 them — at least, those who should know better than 
 I tell me so.' 
 
 ' But is there no hero ? ' 
 
 * Certainly there is ; this gentleman drawing up to 
 the middle piece, which means that the climax, and 
 with it a union, is fast approaching. By-the-way, 
 Master Neil, let me give you a hint, should you ever 
 take to this sort of thing. Always let your stories 
 end happily, for the chief personages at anyrate. 
 Neither critics nor public will ever forgive you for 
 finishing up with the dolefuls. I have known much 
 admirable work fall flat through a neglect of this rule. 
 Why, you would ask ? Because the authors would 
 let their own feelings influence them, instead of re- 
 collecting that they write for other eyes and intelli- 
 gences. This is by no means so easy an art to 
 cultivate as you might imagine : hence my timely 
 caution. I find your cousin, Miss Nora, an uncon- 
 scious offender in this respect. That is to be regretted, 
 for, with all her plodding industry, she assuredly 
 deserves success. There is a thread of melancholy 
 running through her stories, which, in a business sense, 
 will, I fear, prove fatal to their acceptance. We must 
 try and cure her of this failing.'
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 221 
 
 * What a pity. I will tell her all you say.' 
 Robert looked quite distressed. 
 
 * No, I beg you will not do that. We have already 
 had several chats on the subject, I hope not without 
 mutual profit. After all, I may be wrong. I suppose 
 there is a market for sad stories as well as cheerful 
 ones. To continue : you will notice that my corks 
 are duly numbered. That is merely an index to their 
 various qualities, as jotted down roughly in this book 
 beside me. Where you see a cross as well, denotes 
 a subordinate character, and therewith a warning 
 against over-elaboration, lest an undue prominence 
 should metaphorically strangle the main incidents. 
 Though people have written novels professedly with- 
 out heroes or heroines, the departure is not desirable. 
 When you saw me moving my proxies, I flattered 
 myself I had, by dialogue or otherwise, advanced the 
 interest through their medium. When they have 
 all crept up to the Queen Bee — which ought to be 
 by to-morrow evening at the latest — the story will 
 be finished.' 
 
 Neil was much impressed. 
 
 ' I suppose, when one tale is done, you throw all 
 the corks away, and start with a fresh lot?' 
 
 ' Certainly not,' laughed Robert. ' That would be 
 far too extravagant in these dull times. I should 
 be sorry to have to say, for instance, how often this 
 black little man has done duty vicariously for me, 
 or the number of rascals he has not personated in his 
 career. Of course, they drop out sometimes, it being 
 the enviable privilege of story-tellers, as you may 
 know, to kill off as many objectionable people as 
 they like when they find them getting troublesome. 
 But the pieces are only put aside for a while, to be
 
 222 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 resuscitated under very different attributes. The 
 trouble is, if they get shifted when I am absent, or 
 thrown out of window (which happened once) by 
 some unsympathetic slavey — servant-girl, I should 
 say.' 
 
 'You haven't told me what this is meant for,' said 
 Neil, pointing to a bronze figure of unprepossessing 
 appearance, which stood sentry over the puppets. 
 ' It looks like a scarecrow.' 
 
 * Hush, in pity's name,' replied the writer, placing his 
 hand over the lad's mouth in mock remonstrance. ' If 
 you only knew the power possessed by the class there 
 represented. It is a whim of mine to keep him facing 
 me thus, as a constant danger-signal against certain 
 literary pitfalls, from which, once entrapped, there is no 
 quarter or escape. That, Master Neil, signifies no less 
 a personage than the modern critic, at whose verdict 
 we poor scribblers tremble ; one of that anonymous 
 band who hold the fate of so many within their grasp. 
 I always like to verify my statements with facts, so, as 
 an example of my meaning, I will tell you that there 
 was once a certain sensitive-minded acquaintance of 
 mine who was so twitted for a too lavish use of capitals, 
 that when his next effort appeared, it looked more 
 like a grotesque edition of the Law List than a work 
 of fiction. This is but one instance, in hundreds I 
 might mention, of the terror in which our invisible 
 censors are held by timid members of the profession. 
 For my part, I am thankful to say, dread is now fre- 
 quently turned into joy and gratitude. But whether 
 good or bad, I prize the opinions as so many jewels ; 
 if favourable, as guides for encouragement to better 
 things ; if adverse, that I may profit by the strictures, 
 always fully deserved, for my future benefit. It is
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 223 
 
 only when their ill-natured shafts are winged with 
 ignorance or spite, that, being no more than human, 
 my love is sometimes turned, not to hate but to — pity, 
 Though sad to chronicle, it is shrewdly suspected how 
 the most envenomed of these proceed from women, 
 whom one might have expected to be more merciful. 
 After all, there are only a certain number of words in 
 the English language to ring the changes upon. It is 
 difficult not to shake the kaleidoscope out of harmony 
 sometimes. Not less difficult is it to alter one's 
 literary style with, as some would have us think, the 
 ease of a snake shedding its skin.' 
 
 Neil was still eyeing the collection of corks intently, 
 as if expecting them to suddenly assume the characters 
 they personified. 
 
 'You have certainly invented an original way of 
 writing,' Mr Hossack, he said. ' I suppose, though, 
 most authors have their own plans ? ' 
 
 ' Doubtless. I have read of a French genius who 
 had several manuscripts open together in different 
 parts of his study. As his fancy stirred him, so he 
 would pass from one to another and keep them going, 
 as if he were playing on the kettledrums, or whipping 
 up a succession of peg-tops on the pavement. Most 
 people require absolute quiet, whilst others can turn 
 out honest work, even poetry, amid the din and prattle 
 of the nursery : a gift assuredly denied to me, fond as 
 I am of children. As critics, their ingenious reflec- 
 tions are priceless. In my own early days, for ex- 
 ample, I used to try the effect of my efforts upon a 
 favourite little niece, with results to myself, from her 
 keen judgment, which in later life have proved in- 
 valuable. But in their more hilarious moods, the 
 presence of children is scarcely conducive to inspira-
 
 224 love's loyalty. 
 
 tion. After all this gossip, let me ask after kind Mr 
 Foster. I trust he is better this morning ? ' 
 
 The inquiry at once brought Neil back to the object 
 of his visit. 
 
 * I am afraid not. He has been very ill for the last 
 week. It is for that reason I have come up to see 
 you.' 
 
 ' I am indeed sorry.' 
 
 ' He has decided to give up teaching me any more, 
 because of his health,' continued the boy, with quiver- 
 ing voice. ' He asked me if I knew of anybody who 
 could do so for him. At first I said no. Then I sud- 
 denly thought of you, remembering you had said once 
 how much you would like to find someone. Could 
 you manage it, Mr Hossack ? ' 
 
 Surprise and pleasure both answered on the writer's 
 face at this unexpected proposal. 
 
 ' There is nothing in this world I should like 
 more — if I can spare the time, that is, and am found 
 competent.' 
 
 ' It would only be for a few hours every day. 
 Guardian does not want too clever a person. I am 
 quite sure you will do. Oh, I don't mean that,' Neil 
 cried, colouring deeply as he perceived how equivocal 
 a compliment he had paid his friend. 
 
 * That is indeed fortunate,' Robert laughed. ' I 
 begin to feel as if I had a fair chance for the post 
 already.' 
 
 * I am so sorry to have said that,' continued 
 the contrite Nevill ; 'as to suiting, I'm certain you 
 will. Do say yes. How soon can you call on 
 us ?' 
 
 ' I could come this evening at five o'clock.' 
 
 ' That will be capital. Now I must say good-
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 225 
 
 bye, as I want to talk to Nora before she has her 
 dinner.' 
 
 The lad was gone in a trice. 
 
 A bunch of flowers stood in a mug upon the table. 
 Only a few homely blooms. A wild rose or two, 
 some pinks and heart's-ease from Miss Pridham's 
 strip of a garden, with a sprig of yellow gorse from 
 the Heath. Shirley Wodehouse had put them 
 hurriedly together before starting off on her rounds 
 that morning, begging her fellow-lodger's acceptance 
 of them. It must have been a breath of that romance 
 running through the story he was engaged upon 
 which prompted him to raise the posy to his lips, and to 
 whisper how its presence there had brought him hope 
 and courage ; now, it would even seem, good-fortune. 
 A foolish fancy, perhaps, to kiss a few inanimate buds, 
 but not many joys crossed his work-a-day path. 
 
 ' If she could only know how this little gift from 
 her own hands ^has cheered me. Yet, except for the 
 usual conventional words of thanks, I must be dumb. 
 God, what is this ungenerous fate which keeps so 
 many of us for ever tongue-tied — slaves in the merci- 
 less grip of poverty ? But this is unmanly, now, of 
 all times, when the clouds seem really lifting.' 
 
 Then this foolish fellow set to work again upon 
 another chapter. 
 
 'Well, Neil, and what did Mr Hossack say?' was 
 Nora's inquiry, when her cousin reappeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 Miss Pridham, active as usual, was laying the 
 table, whilst her maid tidied herself up before dinner, 
 an indispensable clause in the articles of agreement, 
 which had provoked many a battle-royal between 
 mistress and servant. 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 226 love's loyalty. 
 
 * Mercy on us, how the young gentleman does 
 grow ! ' was the landlady's exclamation. ' I declare 
 he'll be as tall as his dear dead-and-gone father if he 
 goes on at this rate. I'm upset to hear as how good 
 Mr Foster is but sadly to-day, Master Neil ? It don't 
 seem right, somehow, why those who is most kind to 
 others should be always suffering. Look at that Mrs 
 Fuller, now, you may have heard me tell of having 
 travelled into foreign parts with. Of all mistresses. 
 she was the best. Yet this dratted rheumatism — 
 begging your humble pardon. Miss Nora — has made 
 her life of late a perfect plague to her. I can't make 
 it out, when so many bad ones is left without a pain 
 or a ache among 'em.' 
 
 Nurse Pridham seemed about to furnish a list of 
 those persons she considered were enjoying this ill- 
 deserved immunity from sickness. But she apparent!}' 
 thought better of it, for, after smoothing out a few 
 creases from the tablecloth and setting the cruet-stand 
 straight, she retired with the customary respectful 
 courtesy. Presently the two heard the daily in- 
 junction issue from the kitchen : ' Now then, 'Liza, 
 my girl, bustle up, please. That finery of yours must 
 be about slipped on by this time, I'm thinking.' 
 
 Nora repeated her question. 
 
 ' It'll be all right ; he's coming down this afternoon 
 to arrange.' 
 
 * That is very satisfactory ; I am so pleased. Mind 
 you profit very much by your new tutor, Neil, and 
 do him great credit. You wished me to tell you 
 about my sister's doings ? ' 
 
 * Please. It is so seldom I catch you alone now, 
 and Shir, never seems to care to talk about herself 
 before other people.'
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 22/ 
 
 ' She is so modest about her own accomplishments ; 
 that is the sole reason. Well, I daresay you can 
 guess what a hard strui^gle it was at first. We had 
 always feared, being so young, and looking even 
 more so than she really is, would stand in her way. 
 So it turned out. I am sure everybody must admire 
 the pluck with which she met repeated failures. 
 These could not have been through lack of certificates. 
 For, besides the one received from Herr Kubler, 
 there was dear Mrs Merivale's, who led the church 
 choir at Dresden, you know. She was also, of course, 
 furnished with " unexceptionable references," as they 
 say, to Mr Foster and godpapa Baskerville. No, it 
 was always that one fatal drawback of not being old 
 enough, which it seemed so cruel to insist upon. 
 Those mothers who had grown-up sons at home 
 were, for some foolish reason or other I cannot 
 understand, particularly obstinate ; some of them 
 even venturing on inquiries about our position and 
 circumstances here, most painful and uncalled-for. 
 These frequent rebuffs went on so long, with all the 
 while expenses just the same, and no money coming 
 in, that we got quite frightened. I was terribly 
 down-hearted, I must confess. Then happily we 
 made the acquaintance of those delightful old maids 
 who have lived in the parish so long. The meeting 
 was quite by accident, when we were resting, tired 
 out after a long day's search, on the seat at the corner 
 of the walk named after that dear unappreciated 
 poet Keats. I remember every word which passeci 
 on that memorable evening. We had often noticed 
 the ladies walking on the Heath, and they had more 
 than once appeared anxious to speak to us. I 
 suppose they thought the opportunity had now come.
 
 228 love's loyalty. 
 
 Only one of them came up at first. (She is the 
 youngest, though there can be Httle difference in 
 their ages.) " I hope you will excuse this hberty 
 from a stranger," she said in a sweet, gentle voice, 
 which invited confidence at once; "but my sister 
 and I think we may claim the right of long residence 
 here to speak without an introduction. Indeed, we 
 have almost persuaded ourselves that we know you, 
 as we take such an interest in all Miss Pridham's 
 visitors : old maids are so proverbially inquisitive, 
 you know." She took a card from her case as she 
 spoke. I handed it to Shirley, after reading on it, 
 '•' Miss Cordelia Turnbull, Miss Felinda TurnbuU, 
 The Sycamores, Hampstead Heath. At home on 
 Tuesdays after 3.30." Dear Shirley is always more 
 ready in an emergency than I am. She at once 
 thanked the stranger, telling her briefly who we were, 
 and what we wanted to find, to which Miss Cordelia 
 listened with sympathetic interest. Then the elder 
 joined us, introducing herself also with a few graceful 
 words, and the sweetest smile I think I ever saw on 
 any human face, except darling mother's. " What do 
 you think of that, Cordy, in a civilised country?" our 
 first friend turned and asked. " Here have these two 
 young ladies been our neighbours for months, seeking 
 employment under our very noses, and we have had 
 the ungraciousness to look on without lending a 
 helping hand. It does not say much for the boasted 
 hospitality of these northern heights certainly. Whilst 
 we were inventing all sorts of histories, ludicrously 
 wide of the mark, here have they been trudging about 
 in all weathers, up hill and down dale, on many fruit- 
 less errands. For my part, I feel heartily ashamed 
 of myself." " We have both reason to be," agreed
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 229 
 
 Miss Cordelia. " What makes it worse," Miss Felinda 
 continued, " is that I really believe we might have 
 helped, at anyrate with the singing and music. 
 Would you believe it, these silly people up here 
 have actually declined this young lady's services on 
 the score of her age." (She said something also 
 under her breath to her sister which I did not catch.) 
 " Was ever anything more ridiculous ! What next 
 do they want, I wonder — some old woman with a 
 voice like a corncrake to instruct their children per- 
 haps ? Excuse me for breaking out, my dears, but I do 
 feel strongly about this. I am sorry to say we have 
 quite a colony of such strait-laced folk round us, mak- 
 ing their own lives and a good many other people's a 
 burthen to them with their absurd prejudices. I have 
 no patience with it all. However, this isn't helping 
 you to get lucrative pupils. Suppose we did ourselves 
 the pleasure of calling to-morrow to talk matters 
 over ? We might put our heads together for mutual 
 advantage." Of course we thanked them warmly for 
 their disinterested kindness, and said how delighted 
 we should be to welcome them at any time at Prospect 
 Cottage. When they had gone, with friendly nods 
 and smiles as they turned the corner, we both sat 
 quite still, too much astonished to say anything ; it 
 had all passed like a pleasant dream, with the dif- 
 ference that the dream was likely to be continued 
 into reality. I am sorry to say that presently I was, 
 foolish enough to cry ; I suppose I was overwrought 
 and tired. Besides, this sympathy with our fortunes 
 coming from such total strangers, had touched me 
 me deeply. I told you there was good luck in 
 store for us, dear,' Shirley exclaimed, cheerfully. 
 * More than once lately I've seen those two black
 
 230 love's loyalty. 
 
 crows flying across the fields towards Highgate; 
 that's a sure sign of mirth, as everyone knows, 
 and they are probably showing me the way to 
 my lessons. So we shall, of course, be laugh- 
 ing over our troubles soon. Come along, sister. 
 The next day, true to their word, the Misses 
 Turnbull called. We had a long chat over our 
 affairs and ambitions. Miss Felinda did most of the 
 talking, the other being content with agreeing to 
 w^hat the livelier one said, or throwing in an oc- 
 casional observation. I mention this because it 
 shows how happy they are in each other's company, 
 although, as we found out afterwards, they have 
 lived together at Hampstead for a great many 
 years. Shirley and I both hope we shall make as 
 amiable a couple of old maids as they. Well, I must 
 tell you, that theirs were no empty promises, for soon 
 after they had left, sister had a note from a lady, 
 which led to her first engagement, and from that (in 
 consequence of the satisfaction she gave) to others, 
 until now she has quite a small and select Musical 
 Academy of her own scattered about the Heath and 
 along the lane past the Holly Bush. Our patroness 
 assured us it should be so, making us laugh very much 
 by saying that, rather than Shirley should remain 
 idle, she would take lessons in singing herself, though 
 she had not a note in her voice.' 
 
 ' And what did they do for you, Nora ? ' inquired 
 Master Neil. 
 
 * They were most kind, giving me letters of intro- 
 duction to many publishers. But as far as I can 
 gather, things are not only exceptionally dull, but 
 what is to be had in the way of translations is 
 snapped up before poor little me can even so much
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 23 1 
 
 as get down the hill to apply. Those dreadful Lon- 
 don streets, too, bewilder me, so that I fear I hardly 
 do myself justice in any interview which is granted : 
 I get ^o sadly flustered. When I have been kept 
 in suspense for a long while, questioned as to ex- 
 perience, capabilities, and so forth, the same remark is 
 invariably made, that my application shall be borne 
 in mind ; that I shall be written to at once should 
 any opening present itself. Unfortunately I have 
 not as yet heard from any of those people I have 
 called upon, so I suppose I am either forgotten, or 
 that somebody else has got the work. Meanwhile, I 
 sit here all day ready, with my bonnet on, so as 
 not to lose a moment in case I am wanted in a 
 hurry.' 
 
 * Polishing up your stories at the same time, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 * I fear what is necessary is more difficult than 
 that,' answered Miss Nora, glancing ruefully at her 
 manuscripts. ' It is the cutting down I find so dis- 
 tressing when I have learnt to love my — may I 
 say, creations ? None but those who write know 
 the misery of that, Neil. What troubles me so is 
 that I, the elder, who should be the mainstay of 
 the household, am earning nothing. There is 
 something else also which I think I should tell 
 you, if you will promise not to mention it to Mr 
 Foster.' 
 
 ' I promise faithfully,' answered her cousin. 
 
 ' Father has been writing to us lately from Paris,, 
 where he went to live soon after the failure of that 
 unfortunate newspaper, asking for money, threaten- 
 ing to come back to England again in case of our 
 refusal. Shirley has already several times sent
 
 232 love's loyalty. 
 
 him what she could afford. These letters of his 
 have worried me dreadfully.' 
 
 ' Then you're a silly little choose to let them worry 
 you, Nollekins. I wish you'd let me settle him,' 
 cried Neil, with risin^r colour. 
 
 ' Hush, dear, I beg, or Miss Pridham will hear.' 
 
 * I don't care if she does ; there's nothing to be 
 ashamed of. Tell Shirley I think she is wrong in 
 sending out her money. What a mean, horrid 
 trick, when he gave his word never to molest you 
 any more. I heard him do so in the last talk he 
 had with Mr Foster.' 
 
 ' I know his conduct is unkind, almost wicked,' 
 Nora continued sadly. ' But when I am disposed to 
 feel angry, what our darling said to us so often 
 comes back to me, " Remember always, he is your 
 father." Think, Neil dear, always. That includes 
 every state of misfortune or poverty he may be 
 in. \^'e have been trying so hard to shape our 
 lives of late as she would wish. Must we not, 
 therefore, through all, respect those words, and en- 
 deavour to read them rightly?' 
 
 ' Aunt Celia would never have wished you to do 
 this, I am certain. If he's poor, it's his own fault, 
 though I don't believe he is. Most people think 
 he looked pretty well after himself when the paper 
 smashed up — feathered his own nest, they call it. 
 Don't be afraid, he'll never show his nose in 
 England again, he's cheated too many — ' 
 
 ' Oh, Neil, what are you saying? You quite forget.' 
 
 The girl covered her face with her hands. Neil 
 drew them within his own, kissing his cousin 
 affectionately. 
 
 * Forgive me, little Nora, I am always saying
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 233 
 
 something stupid. You know I love you much too 
 dearly to be really unkind. Make it up, there's 
 a pretty Nollekins.' 
 
 Miss Wodehouse obediently dried her tears. 
 
 'You will endeavour to be more careful, please, 
 dear, in the future, will you not? I am not very 
 strong, and so easily upset' 
 
 At that moment Eliza came in with the chop 
 which was prescribed as the midday meal until 
 further notice. Nora turned quickly, and looked 
 out of the window. 
 
 * Here's your dinner, miss,' cried Neil, ' so I must 
 be off. Mr Hossack's coming at five, and I've lots 
 to do before then. He'll tell you all about it when 
 he comes back. Good-bye, Nora ; love to Shirley. 
 I shall be up again to-morrow, to make amends for 
 my neglect.' 
 
 The visitor was off in a great hurry. 
 
 Ranger, who was Mr Foster's bath-chairman, as 
 well as more immediate attendant, opened the hall- 
 door to Neil when he reached Cork Street. The 
 monotony of his profession, allied with certain 
 domestic cares, gave the man an habitually dismal 
 look. But his face was so solemn then that there 
 might have been a death in the house. 
 
 'The master's been that restless and fidgety this 
 afternoon, I've scarce known how to humour him. 
 He's a bit light-headed, too , but don't you go for to 
 contradict him on no account. If I hadn't have 
 known you was gone right up to Hampstead, I 
 should have sent after you. 'Cos why, you see, 
 young gentleman, I've been fearing another stroke, 
 and that's the truth. There's no mistake, he's all 
 to pieces to-day, with such fits of excitedness at
 
 234 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 times, there's no reasonin' with him. So just be care- 
 ful, if you please, young sir.' 
 
 Neil passed quickly into the old man's room. In- 
 experienced as he was, it startled him to see the 
 change which had come over the invalid during even 
 those {ew hours. He looked so shrunken and help- 
 less now. His eyes were closed, and as he leant 
 back, he was muttering to himself in a disjointed,, 
 querulous fashion. 
 
 * What's Barnacle Ned done to be treated in this 
 way, eh ? But they're all alike. I might have 
 known there was no gratitude in this world from that 
 beastly Government downwards — leaving a grum- 
 bling, dyspeptic fogey all alone for weeks, to die 
 like a dog in a ditch. He's deserved it, though, 
 blessed if he hasn't. Why didn't you marry, you 
 stupid old fool, instead of crying after what you 
 knew you could never get, like a baby for the moon ? 
 You'd have had a wife then, at anyrate, to plague 
 with your crotchets — children, perhaps. No, you 
 wouldn't — you don't deserve 'em. There's this long- 
 legged chap, I've tried to make believe was one 
 to grow to be fond of me. What's it ended in ? 
 He's run away, now, with the rest. Forgive him ? 
 Of course I'd forgive him — a bright, clever lad such 
 as he is — who said I wouldn't ? Ranger, you're a 
 ninny — about as lively as a mute at a funeral. I 
 wonder what's become of those pretty little lasses . . . 
 what's their names ? Wood — Wood something or 
 other. I knew their mother best. But she's gone 
 long ago. Celia she was called, Celia ; that was her 
 name. We were to have made a match of it, only 
 there was a hitch. Now I'm left all alone, all 
 alone. . , . What's that — eh ? '
 
 NED FOSTER.S LEGACY. 235 
 
 It was only Neil Challoner standing beside him. 
 He was frightened at this wandering talk, but showed 
 commendable tact by ignoring altogether what he had 
 heard. 
 
 ' I've got back, guardian, you see ; I'm sorry to be 
 late, but Nora had so much to tell me. It's all right 
 about Mr Hossack. If you feel well enough, you 
 can see him this afternoon.' 
 
 The Anglo-Indian lay back upon his pillows, 
 stroking the boy's sleeve feebly. There was a 
 dazed, vacant look in his eyes, which threatened 
 mischief. The drawn, yellow face, with its grizzly 
 beard, set off by the night-cap so like an extinguisher, 
 gave him a grim, fantastic appearance, which under 
 less sad conditions would have been ludicrous. 
 
 ' Well enough, of course I'm well enough. I didn't 
 quite catch all you said though, my boy. Tell mc 
 over again, quite quietly and distinctly.' 
 
 Neil repeated his communication as bidden, with 
 the addition : ' Don't you recollect, dear guardian ? 
 We settled it all before I went up to Hampstead.' 
 
 Then the truth dawned upon Edward Foster. 
 With returning faculties, a tear trickled down his 
 wrinkled cheeks — no generous flow, for of late, with 
 the once strong intellect, that great well of relief 
 seemed also to be running dry. 
 
 ' I'll see him, I'll see him, after a snooze,' the 
 old man murmured. ' Somehow I'm a bit tired 
 to-day. But don't let him go till we've had a chat. 
 He shan't have anything to do with my bonny lad 
 unless I like him.' 
 
 When he saw that his guardian had fallen asleep, 
 Neil stole gently out, summoning the lugubrious 
 Ranger. He went straight to the library, a small
 
 236 love's loyalty. 
 
 room just off the landing, richly lined with old and 
 new world lore. For a couple of hours he busied 
 himself with the work which his morning's excursion 
 had interrupted. That finished to his satisfaction, 
 he sat down and fell to thinking. It wanted an 
 hour to the time Robert was due, but already Neil 
 felt in quite a flutter of excitement over the im- 
 pending interview. He weighed in his young mind 
 the chances of what sort of a reception was likely 
 to be accorded to his fresh instructor, with (be it 
 said to the boy's credit) certain qualms of conscience 
 for having thrust the subject into undue prominence 
 when Mr Foster was still so feeble. Although it 
 was true the elder had broached the matter, Neil, 
 in these his calmer moments, knew he had seized 
 upon the proposal for a change with avidity. Not 
 from any selfish motives of further freedom in the 
 choice of his studies, but at the hope of having his 
 newly-made friend in closer companionship ; that 
 writer around whom the halo of distinction, as a 
 real live novelist, shone out in those days with a 
 charm at once fascinating and mysterious. As he 
 sat there in meditation, the feeling stole ov^er Neil 
 Challenor that an important turning point in his 
 career was about to be reached. Ever since he had 
 made the acquaintance of this gentleman, who 
 earned his living in a vocation which, until recently, 
 the boy had believed closed to all save the most 
 gifted, his mind had dwelt fondly upon the subject 
 of books and their manufacture. He had discovered 
 that there was no royal road to success, in this or 
 any other branch of life ; they lay open to man 
 and woman alike, without choice or favour. It was 
 an absolute revelation to find the many different
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 237 
 
 modes employed for 'getting at' the public, and 
 how the most unlikely persons were constantly en- 
 gaged in the attempt. He was equally awed 
 when told that he might be rubbing elbows with 
 celebrities in journalistic and fiction circles upon the 
 knife-boards of the omnibuses which so frequently 
 conveyed him northwards. Nurse Pridham, we 
 know, was fully convinced that the neighbourhood 
 of Fleet Street enjoyed the exclusive privilege of 
 turning out the literature of the period. Allowing 
 for a wider range of knowledge, Master Neil had 
 probably pictured the abodes of writers made up of 
 every conceivable luxury. Imagine the shock when 
 he actually found genius poorly clad, hard at work 
 in an attic ! What wonder if, after that, his own 
 ambition in that direction assumed forcible shape, 
 filling him with an intense desire to emulate the 
 achievements of others. There was already a good 
 deal of the dreamer about this young enthusiast. It 
 is scarcely surprising that he should have been 
 early tempted to try a flight into the alluring regions 
 of poetry. Nor was the inevitable tumble exception- 
 ally humiliating. After much hesitation, he had 
 plucked up courage to show his first effort to the 
 more seasoned rhymster, who dissected his effusion 
 with much humanity. Crude, inartistic though it 
 was, it yet showed enough merit to warrant the 
 elder in bestowing judicious praise upon the lines, 
 with the refreshing incentive, ' You have begun well. 
 Go on and prosper.' As might have been expected, 
 when Neil's good qualities were considered, the 
 poem was absolutely healthy, even elevating, in tone, 
 being moreover distinguished by a welcome air of 
 refinement. Robert was far too wise to raise false
 
 238 
 
 hopes by undue flattery. But he could not withhold 
 that meed of encouragement which he considered 
 justly due to this young beginner in a profoundly 
 difficult art. 
 
 * You don't think it very bad, after all ? ' Neil had 
 inquired eagerly. 
 
 * Nothing can be bad that touches a lofty subject 
 so tenderly as you have done,' was the quiet reply. 
 * From a critic's standpoint, it has sundry faults, which 
 we must try to remedy.' Then the man proceeded 
 to pick the lines to pieces with great candour, and 
 a skill which showed that he was no novice in apprais- 
 ing the work of others, however reluctant he might 
 be to value his own. * You have begun well ; go on 
 and prosper.' 
 
 But Neil was not thinking of his poetry just then, 
 rather his thoughts took the more practical turn of 
 reviewing his present position and future. He could 
 not disguise from himself that his protector was in 
 a critical state. He felt truly grieved, sharing Miss 
 Pridham's perplexity as to why those who were good 
 and charitable should be so often singled out in this 
 world as the special butts of suffering, whilst so 
 many bad people escaped Scot-free. It seemed to 
 Neil an altogether unfair arrangement. It was a 
 cruel one also, as all would grant who had known 
 Mr Foster a year before, and now saw the wreck he 
 was of his former self. It was sad to think how this 
 scourge of sickness had killed both strength of body 
 and mind. Humanity seemed quite powerless to 
 resist its attacks ; everything must go down before 
 the dire visitation. A wider, healthier range of feel- 
 ing was opened up for the boy as he thought of 
 these things. How thankful he should be that his
 
 ^ED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 239 
 
 own health had improved so much of late, for the 
 many blessings vouchsafed to him. 
 
 But what if he now^ suddenly found himself left 
 alone in the world ? With the exception of his 
 cousins, he had no other relatives, although he fan- 
 cied there were a few connections somewhere in the 
 country, distant both as to locality and kinship. 
 His Uncle Henry he left out of his calculations, 
 for his conduct, in Neil's eyes, had been thoroughly 
 contemptible ; proved by this desertion of his daugh- 
 ters when they most needed his protection. Like 
 a coward, he only noticed their existence when 
 he was in need of money. Any father who could 
 behave thus, was quite unworthy of the name. It 
 increased the meanness of his conduct when it was 
 remembered how he had allowed an old friend of 
 the family, against whom there was no possible 
 claim, to help his daughters in their poverty, caused 
 by his unmanly neglect. Neil might have gone 
 even further, and recalled the fact that this bad 
 man had permitted a mere boy to assist the two 
 out of his pocket-money, notably in that act of 
 kindly forethought, which Shirley would never for- 
 get, the loan of an instrument, without which her 
 talents would have been seriously hampered. If 
 such a recollection had intruded itself, it would 
 have been instantly set aside, for Neil was far too 
 generous to take credit for an action which he 
 considered to be no more than a duty. He was 
 fully convinced that some day he would marry 
 little Nora. What, then, more natural than that 
 he should try to keep his hand in by contributing, 
 in ever so small a degree, to the requirements of 
 the household ? Hazy and undeveloped as they
 
 240 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 were, he had already formed plans for the future, 
 when they should all be happy and prosperous 
 together. He would be a man in a few years — 
 he felt like one already very often. Were it not 
 for this unpleasant prospect of having to go into 
 the city, he would have rested quite content, secure 
 of his position. How was he to study composition 
 in such a vulgar spot as that, where everything 
 was commonplace and monotonous — the only ideas, 
 about money, and how to make it by hook or by 
 crook? No, he had quite decided he was destined 
 for something better than this. He had only to 
 reach out his hand and take down a dozen ex- 
 amples from those richly-stored shelves, showing 
 how many great men had acquired fame from far 
 less likely opportunities than he enjoyed. Poets, as 
 everyone knew, w^ere born, not made. Neil felt the 
 absolute embodiment of that truism in his own 
 person. There must be some truth in the conviction, 
 when morning, noon and night, he lived in a dream- 
 land of imagination, which never wearied of whisper- 
 ing to him of encouragement and success. That 
 could only be for one ultimate purpose — the eventual 
 concentration within him of a career of no ordinary 
 brilliancy. If he had been a little older, and tried to 
 spring his achievements upon a public often too prone 
 for resentment, he would have been set down as a 
 prig, to be snubbed and crushed accordingly. As he 
 was no more than a bright, lovable youth, treating 
 only his immediate circle to a perusal of his effusions, 
 surely no great harm was done. Happy, ignorant 
 Neil ! Who would be so brutal as to wittingly 
 thrust you from so sweet a paradise ? If a budding 
 intellect thought fit to perch you thus early upon
 
 NED FOSTER'S LEGACY. 24I 
 
 this attractive pedestal, let the ripened years brino", 
 with all their bitterness of failure, also the strength 
 to manfully bear the fall. 
 
 What, however, troubled the lad, more particularly 
 in those hours, was not the possibility of his entry 
 into the city being hastened if anything should 
 happen to his guardian, as that the happy time in 
 Cork Street would come to an end. Above all, he 
 might be deprived of the aid of those priceless 
 volumes. Suppose, and the fa.ncy struck him with 
 painful force, the library were sold, its treasures 
 scattered abroad, to fall into irreverent, unloving 
 hands ? That was a possible catastrophe which 
 might have filled wiser heads than Neil Challoner's 
 with concern. 
 
 Well, he supposed he would have to return to 
 Prospect Cottage. Somehow Neil felt that his aims 
 might be cramped up there. How were even his 
 cousins, with all their kindness and interest, to com- 
 prehend his grand ambitions? Besides, much as he 
 admired Mr Hossack, perhaps it was scarcely desir- 
 able to be always under the watchful eye of his 
 tutor. Then there was the all-important question 
 of his maintenance. He supposed somebody would 
 have to look after that, and him, until he came of 
 age. He might prove to be a very different person 
 to the lenient Mr Foster. Neil had the vaguest 
 notion as to what these responsibilities of husbandry 
 were, although (notwithstanding the old gentleman's 
 assertions to the contrary) he knew the post to be 
 no sinecure — indeed more than one investment gave 
 cause for considerable anxiety. He might fall into 
 the hands of some gross-minded creature, who would 
 insist upon his going to school again — a contingency 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 fraught with tenfold more terror than any city office 
 could present. 
 
 When a modest knock at the street door announced 
 the arrival of Mr Hossack, the youth found himself 
 in a perplexed, speculative state, far from tranquillity. 
 In short, circumstances favoured the prophecy that 
 this happy dream-time was about to be broken in 
 upon, Neil brought rudely face to face with the 
 practical side of human nature. 
 
 The boy's nimble legs carried him quickly down- 
 stairs. Robert was in the study before Mrs Medli- 
 cott, their landlady, who was ' a bit shaky on her 
 pins,' had hobbled up from the basement. 
 
 ' I am so glad you have come. I will ask if 
 guardian is well enough to see you now.' 
 
 ' Do not disturb him. I shall be quite at home,' 
 Robert said, with a glance round the library. ' Your 
 mind should certainly be well nourished here. Master 
 Neil. It is quite a paradise of knowledge.' 
 
 * Yes, is it not delightful .'' ' The boy's face was 
 aglow. * This is my favourite shelf — *' the poet's 
 corner," Shirley calls it. I have read everyone of 
 the volumes through and through, besides learning 
 many of the pieces by heart.' 
 
 ' You are quite an enthusiast.' 
 
 What would Robert not have given, in the first 
 days of his struggles, for such a chance as this ardent 
 young disciple enjoyed? Here was the richest mine. 
 The labourer had but to dig ; what a prize might not 
 be his. 
 
 ' I was only thinking this afternoon what a shame 
 it would be to sell such a library. Do you think they 
 ever will ?' 
 
 * It would be a thousand pities. We must hope the
 
 NED FOSTERS LEGACY. 243 
 
 collection will fall into reverent hands, whatever be its 
 fate.' Robert ran his admiring eyes along the rows 
 of titles before him. ' It would be difficult, for 
 example, to replace these tomes — ' 
 
 ' My master can see you now, sir,' interrupted the 
 matter-of-fact Ranger. ' Master Neil, you're to wait 
 here till I fetches you.' 
 
 It seemed an age to the boy as he sat there and. 
 wondered what was happening a few yards off him. 
 In reality, the interview was short, Robert's return 
 being delayed by his having to read through the 
 proposed agreement between the invalid and him- 
 self In this he undertook to train Neil Challoner on 
 those lines which the old man considered the only 
 right ones. The preparation of this document had 
 caused him much anxious thought. With his usual 
 methodical habits, it had been drawn up in blank, 
 docketed, and put by soon after his guardianship 
 commenced, in anticipation of a time when he could 
 no longer himself do justice to the trust imposed 
 upon him. It was indeed an echo, on paper, of the 
 broad, yet sensible, views the Anglo-Indian entertained 
 on the subject of education. It certainly embraced 
 many generous previsions for Neil's future guidance. 
 
 Robert, sitting by the sufferer's bedside, could not 
 but recognise the wisdom of what was written. 
 
 ' It is a programme after my own heart, sir,' he 
 said. ' I will do my best to carry it out to the 
 letter.' 
 
 ' Um, that's well. I like your face. I don't be- 
 lieve you'll play me false. I'm a crotchety old 
 chap. You don't mind all this being put in writing 
 — a kind of legacy, eh ? ' 
 
 ' It is only right. I shall consider it also a sacred
 
 244 love's loyalty. 
 
 one. Pardon my inquiry, I see a gentleman named 
 here incidentally in connection with other matters?' 
 
 * Yes, my old crony, Hoskyns. He'll look after 
 the boy's money for a year or two, after I'm tucked 
 up, which won't be long now. Look to him for 
 your remuneration. Fine fellow, Hoskyns. He'll 
 help you out in any bother.' 
 
 ' I do not anticipate any. Still, it is as well to 
 be prepared. Mr Foster, I thank you sincerely 
 for the confidence you have placed in me. It will 
 be a labour of love, which, I will endeavour, shall 
 not be abused.' 
 
 The old man looked keenly upon the novelist 
 from his sunken eyes, and repeated faintly, — 
 
 ' I'll trust you ; you'll do, I fancy ' — the same 
 words he had used to Neil, under happier circum- 
 stances, abroad. ' Take the lad in hand when you 
 like — sooner the better. Good-bye. Send him to 
 me presently.' 
 
 Soon Ned Foster turned his face to the wall and 
 slept. Not many days afterwards he passed peace- 
 fully away, honoured, mourned, beloved by all who 
 knew him.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IS IT PEACE? 
 
 The sultry month of August had come round again. 
 According to the newspapers, Paris was empty. Read- 
 ing between the Hnes, this meant that those who could 
 afford an outing had gone off for a month or so to the 
 sea or elsewhere — some for rest and relaxation, the 
 majority because the Casino afforded the best substi- 
 tute for diversions denied to them in the metropolis 
 of Pleasure. Fashion was responsible for the migra- 
 tion of many, as later autumn would make the usual 
 conversational demands concerning holiday experi- 
 ences. But it may be fairly surmised that the true 
 happy time for the Parisians would be when they re- 
 turned to their festive city ; the annual tribute to con- 
 ventionalism duly paid, free to show themselves once 
 more becomingly in Bois or on Boulevard, with no 
 need to leave until another summer. 
 
 Of the tens of thousands compelled by a stern 
 necessity to remain behind, bearing as best they 
 might the glare and heat, the papers chronicled 
 nothing. Why should they ? All Paris was absent 
 — dandies^ viveurs, copurc/ncs, decaves, Jidneu7's, with 
 the rest. The varied strata of Society, and of 
 that other wretched, flaunting world, were properly
 
 246 love's loyalty. 
 
 (and improperly) represented along the coast, from 
 Pas-de-Calais to Finistcre, bathing, dancing, racing, 
 gambling — the same gay, frivolous set, as if such 
 things as hunger, sickness, or sorrow existed not. 
 
 Of those who felt the need for change — a longing 
 for health-giving breezes beyond their reach — surely 
 was that class whose duties called it so constantly 
 into the trying atmosphere of instruction. It is true 
 many resident governesses — the upper crust, so to 
 speak, of the section — had left to continue their 
 supervision under other conditions than those of the 
 capital. But that larger army of toilers, whose en- 
 gagements, with young and old, were precarious, 
 who did not enjoy the shelter from want or harm 
 offered to their luckier sisters of the exercise book 
 and grammar, had to remain — face without complaint 
 these dull, unremunerative months of leisure. Un- 
 happily rent, with the necessity to keep body and 
 soul together, enforced their claims as usual. Nor 
 was the grip of poverty relaxed one jot in sympathy 
 with events. Rather, did not peril and temptation 
 stalk with even noisier tread behind the scanty 
 purse, the threadbare dress ? 
 
 Mary Stapleton was one of those whom force of 
 circumstances kept chained to the sweltering city, and 
 the unsavouriness of the Rue Hebert. She had 
 been true to her resolution of allowing nothing to 
 entice her from her object. Under the hand and 
 brain of this diligent worker great difficulties had 
 been overcome, the result shown in a mass of notes, 
 extracts and memoranda, finally merged into the 
 pages of closely-covered foolscap piled upon the 
 student's table. 
 
 To Mary, the vacation was in one way a god-
 
 IS IT PEACE? 247 
 
 send. For it enabled her to keep close to her 
 desk during more rational hours, the tax on health 
 being thereby lessened. By this means, when the 
 sun went down, she was free to walk out into the 
 evening stillness, breathing such fresh air as stirred 
 in the Elysian Fields hard-by. 
 
 Now, what was the real result of all this applica- 
 tion and self-denial ? Had the experiment answered 
 expectations, filling the void which had crept into 
 her life with peace and contentment ? As a literary 
 achievement, the translation might safely be called 
 a success. The great propagandist himself would 
 certainly have smiled fresh approval upon his style, 
 which Mary had contrived to catch so happily, when 
 he read his doctrines served up in another tongue. 
 The specious reasonings, which had subjugated so 
 many of his countrymen, were conveyed with marked 
 ability ; the senses of the inquirers after truth so 
 artfully tickled, that doubt must, after perusal of 
 the book, surely give way to conviction. There 
 are perverse people who cling to their opinions 
 with doltish persistency, until their vanity is flattered, 
 when they are at once won over. To reach these, 
 this writer had studied to perfection the art of 
 suggesting to his readers at once his own humility 
 and unworthiness. He was simply pointing out to 
 their higher intelligences something for their benefit 
 they had unaccountably overlooked, for which he 
 was no more than the humble remembrancer. He 
 never presumed to dictate or terrorise ; that would 
 have been the surest method for detaching his 
 followers. In the infinite modesty running through 
 those pages, one seemed to detect a noble nature, 
 which drew wavering humanity instinctively to it;
 
 248 love's LOYxVLTY. 
 
 striving to accomplish all the good that was pos- 
 sible, without the faintest suspicion of egotism or 
 desire for reward. It spoke well for Mary's critical 
 acumen that she had, at the outset, probed the craft 
 of the professor in bidding for popularity. Nor was 
 it a mean compliment to her talents that she had 
 managed to reproduce all his wiles so faithfully. 
 Without doubt, the governess had succeeded ; her 
 efforts might even produce a stir in England, if 
 those sheets appeared in all the dignity of book form. 
 So far, then, Mary had reason to be satisfied that 
 all her application had not been wasted. As to 
 finding peace of mind or pride in her performance, 
 was another matter. Now that the last lines had 
 been reached, the final touches given to the full, 
 graceful phrases, the feeling of consolation was 
 altogether wanting. Rather, a restlessness and cynical 
 defiance sprang up within her. Inwardly despis- 
 ing as she did the whole drift of the man's theme, 
 his contentions had nevertheless, as stated, revived 
 many a vexed point on which her thoughts had 
 dwelt for years with unhappy persistency. The lone- 
 liness of her position naturally stirred up fancies 
 which a healthy companionship might soon have 
 dispersed. If only Nora and Shirley, who talked 
 and wondered so much about their friend's silence, 
 could have stepped in with their pure, unassailable 
 Faith, what comfort might they not have brought 
 to a restless, anxious soul ! Had Mary found that 
 other blessing she sought — the privilege to forget ? 
 For the time being, yes. But now her task was 
 done, the memory of her wrongs came back with 
 redoubled force. 
 
 To add to her distress, the suspicion of disaster
 
 IS IT PEACE? 249 
 
 which had long haunted her, assumed only too terri- 
 ble a reality. For, as one night, with weary steps, 
 she was slowly returning homewards, she came sud- 
 denly upon a once familiar figure. His back was 
 turned, the street almost in darkness. But, walking 
 on with unsteady gait, the man stumbled against 
 the low door of a wine-shop, which, flying open, 
 threw a flood of light across his face. 
 
 Oh, the sickening rush of mingled disgust and fear 
 which blanched the woman's cheek, and made her 
 heart stand still ! Bitterest insult of all, he was not 
 alone. By his side went, step with step, the devil's 
 proxy, luring the dulled perceptions on to excess 
 with all the glib cajolery of her sex — some shame- 
 less harpy of besotted fools. 
 
 As Mary shrunk back, overcome by this rude shock, 
 the pair turned, finding the attractions of the cabaret 
 irresistible. God, if those lack-lustre eyes met hers 
 once more, the fuddled brain awoke to claim the dis- 
 carded wife, still bound by every legal tie to subject 
 herself to his degraded will ; to whom she was, more- 
 over, enjoined by Scripture to cling through all. 
 What if he were to drag her forth from the angle where 
 she stooped — there under the very shadow of his sin t 
 Surely, as there was clemency in Heaven, she would 
 be spared so hideous a shame. This was the thought 
 which, swift as light, flashed across Mary Stapleton. 
 And He who guards the oppressed ruled that she 
 should be covered by His Hand in that supreme 
 moment of her trial. 
 
 Of what followed ere, overstrained and exhausted, 
 she reached her apartment, Mary remembered little, 
 except that she obeyed the first impulse to fly, back- 
 ward, forward, anywhere, if only from that hated
 
 250 love's loyalty. 
 
 presence. Once safe, she flung herself down, moan- 
 ing, and asking that she might die. After, when the 
 same sheltering Power had sent her the great relief 
 of tears, she rose from her knees, her old courage and 
 self-resource returned. She set herself to consider 
 what should be done for the best, now that the terror 
 had actually come so near. 
 
 One thing was certain — she must quit her present 
 abode. She must find some spot where, in peace and 
 quiet, she could decide upon her future course. She 
 would go mad if she stayed longer in a place where 
 every street corner might again bring her face to face 
 with danger. It was indeed providential this miser- 
 able thing had happened in the dusk. As it was, she 
 must lie perdu until night threw its welcome shadows 
 about. In that hour she blessed the foresight which 
 had prompted her to appear to the world merely as 
 ' Madame Traill, teacher of English.' Few, she fancied, 
 were likely to recognise either Mary Stapleton, or her 
 profession, under that familiar announcement. Where, 
 then, should she go? It must not be far off, her supply 
 of money being naturally at its lowest, and later on 
 she would have to get to her lessons somehow. 
 Luckily, that very day she had settled for her room. 
 As she owed nothing besides, the small stock was avail- 
 able in her emergency. There were two napoleons, 
 some silver, a few coppers, with which Mary had, 
 under existing circumstances, considered herself quite 
 prosperous. The middle of September would bring 
 back most of her pupils, and with them grist to 
 her mill. It was true this was only the first week 
 in August, but as she had managed many a time 
 on less, the governess was not anxious on this 
 point. At the worst, she would have to pa}- a visit
 
 IS IT PEACE? 251 
 
 to the Mont de Piete, to whose well-trodden ascent 
 she had as yet mercifully been a stranger. But now 
 things looked very different ; the ready-money outlay 
 required for the change must absorb nearly all her 
 capital, besides which there was the risk of not being 
 suited in the suburbs at once, which meant more 
 expenses. Her trunk, which was not of the smallest, 
 seemed of itself a mighty obstacle. How was that to 
 be got away without a cab .? This would involve 
 plenty of incidental payments in the way of pour- 
 boires, and Mary knew from experience that it was 
 just these small items of travel which totalled up 
 so. She did not anticipate any difficulty with her 
 landlord. He might, she thought, even be dis- 
 posed to forego any rent legally due, instead of 
 notice to quit, as a sort of premium for vacating the 
 place before the time — lodgings were snapped up 
 readily in that quarter. Delusive hope to expect 
 to catch a French landlord, with all his outward 
 suavity, so neglectful of his own interests as that. 
 When Mary, therefore, considered the absolutely 
 necessary payments, her heart sank. What if her 
 courage failed outright when the time came, and 
 she dared not return to her old vocation to earn 
 her bread? That might spell, not alone loss of 
 prestige, with the chances of falling under the lash 
 of unmerited suspicion through her strange conduct, 
 but ruin, with starvation in the background. 
 
 As these cruel possibilities forced themselves 
 upon her, Mary fell to catechising herself as to what 
 she had done to deserve all this punishment ? With 
 truth, she might say that she had striven, as far as 
 mortal could, to lead an upright life. Was the 
 sole reward to be, that just as she thought she had
 
 252 love's loyalty. 
 
 shaken off the tangible causes for distress, she was 
 to be confronted with them afresh ? Had she been 
 so especially wicked before the rest of humanity 
 in making this hasty marriage, its folly (if prayers 
 and tears of repentance could atone) expiated a 
 thousand times over, that she should be singled 
 out for this endless oppression ? If that were to be 
 her lot, it became a question whether, after all, this 
 professor, who had been dinning his theories into 
 her ears for so many weeks, with such persistency, 
 were not really right in what he expressed with such 
 marvellous force. Perhaps it would be better for 
 the weary woman to give in, and become his convert, 
 without further struggle. Much that he said was un- 
 deniably cogent, and there could be no two opinions 
 about the ease with which the new faith could be 
 accepted — a baby might understand it. Mary was 
 not even sure that, as she had taken upon herself 
 the responsibility of being its pioneer into her own 
 country, at was not her bounden duty to become a 
 follower, thus escaping any charge of hypocrisy 
 which might with seeming justice be levelled against 
 her. Should she give the ' religion ' a trial ? It was 
 obvious there must be something radically wrong 
 with her own plan, for it brought nothing but 
 wretchedness and misfortune. 
 
 Mary took up her manuscript and turned its pages 
 over carelessly. Here was a chapter over which she 
 remembered having spent many hours of labour and 
 exhaustive analysis. Its chief motive was a confuta- 
 tion of the popular belief that there was anything so 
 dreadful, when dispassionately considered, in the act 
 of suicide — a mode of escaping from the worries of 
 life which most people consider cowardly in the ex-
 
 IS IT PEACE? 253 
 
 treme. This would-be regenerator took an opposite 
 view, giving his reasons in most fluent, plausible 
 fashion. He went so far as to affirm that, under 
 certain circumstances, which he enumerated — when, 
 for example, a man was what is vulgarly know as 
 ' cornered ' by a succession of disasters — it would be 
 a positive relief to Society at large, and himself in 
 particular, to exchange his present, with its only too 
 palpable drawbacks, for a future of, at anyrate, pos- 
 sible immunity from ill. Or disease might have made 
 existence such a curse to himself and others, that any 
 fresh state was to be greedily welcomed. Provided 
 always that such self-extinction were accomplished 
 without any needless surroundings of horror, with as 
 small an after-crop of annoyance to one's survivors 
 as possible. Mary had almost decided to expunge 
 that chapter, which she regarded as wicked, besides 
 being dangerous for the weak-minded. With that end, 
 its heading was already queried. Now, however, she 
 thought she would let it stand. The ideas, after all, 
 did not seem so very shocking or outrageous. She 
 herself had often looked down upon the river, as it 
 lay there calmly rippling in the moonlight, and 
 felt how easy an escape from suffering it offered — 
 how one resolute plunge might bring her rest If 
 those were to be credited who had been baulked of 
 the contemplated exchange at the last moment, such 
 a death was by no means unpleasant. Ruder at- 
 tempts were of course to be deprecated, as offend- 
 ing against decency. But, on consideration, certain 
 modes of self-destruction had elements of romance 
 and picturesqueness about them not to be lightly set 
 aside. She would therefore leave this chapter as it 
 stood, for it was one of the finest in the book, and
 
 2 54 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 had cost her more trouble to convey artistically, with- 
 out giving- offence, than all the rest put together. 
 Why should she be robbed of any meed of praise 
 through a foolish delicacy ? 
 
 Poor soul, the poison was beginning its work. 
 
 ' I wonder, by the way,' mused Mary, idly turning 
 over her leaves, ' if there will be difficulty about 
 any of my other passages ? Some people profess 
 to be so uncommonly sensitive. I am afraid here 
 and there my expressions are a trifle risque. Well, 
 it cannot be helped if they are shocked. I've toned 
 everything down as much as I can to the level 
 of English prudery. It does seem strange, though, 
 that now it is all done, I never feel satisfied. 
 Perhaps I have overworked myself. I suppose 
 one can go on touching even a picture up too 
 much, until the loveliest fancies lose their charm 
 through constant acquaintance, like the melodies 
 of a song. Granted all this individual's originality 
 and power, there does seem something offensive in 
 meddling with subjects beyond mortal reach. Yet 
 how convincing he is in much.' 
 
 With a sigh, Mary pushed the familiar volume 
 from her. She turned to her shelf of treasures. 
 It held a small though varied stock — well-thumbed 
 dictionaries, a few novels, a guide book or two. 
 There was also an edition of Longfellow, greatly 
 prized. As she reached that down, the woman 
 recalled the circumstances and conditions of the 
 gift. How Shirley Wodehouse had put it into 
 her hands one bright birthday morning, which 
 now seemed so long ago, begging she would never 
 part with the poems, but keep them always for 
 her sake. On the fly-leaf was written : ' The Angels
 
 IS IT PEACE? 255 
 
 of Heaven are on thy side, and God is over all,' — 
 lines from one of her friend's songs, which she 
 had sung with such feeling at the half-yearly 
 school concert. The two had taken the book 
 down later into Rockleigh Glen, reading out, by 
 turns, many a touching passage, as they sat on 
 the mossy bank, with only the worn old boulders, the 
 clear, purling stream, and ferns around them, the 
 twittering birds for their audience. Shirley had 
 grown quite serious that afternoon, entreating Mar}' 
 to keep what she had written there always in her 
 mind, for the sentence w^as so beautiful and true. 
 
 ' Who knows, dear,' Mary remembered she had 
 said, ' but some day you may find great comfort 
 from it. We cannot expect to be always so 
 happy as now. You might have to go away 
 thousands of miles, even to that island where you 
 were born ; be ill-treated, poor again, as you were 
 afterwards. I hope it may never, never be — yet 
 who can tell ? Then you must believe those lines, 
 and think of Shirley too, dear Mary, who wrote 
 them there.' 
 
 'Ill-treated and poor!' Yes, she had been both 
 long before her friend could have thought it 
 possible. Alas, that she should often have asked 
 herself in her bitterness, if those Angels were 
 really on her side, or had not rather deserted her 
 altogether? Such conjectures had intruded many 
 a time, wdth that other sinful misgiving, that 
 perhaps He who was the Angels' Ruler had also 
 withdrawn His Presence from her. 
 
 The sight of Shirley's gift touched Mary deeply. 
 It recalled vividly those happy school-days, followed 
 so closely by the brief married life, then by the rude
 
 256 love's loyalty. 
 
 awakening. Had she been right, after all, in passing 
 over the almost sacred promise she had made those 
 sisters? As she sat there, overcome by recent emo- 
 tion, Mary found it more difficult to persuade herself 
 that she had acted either well or wisely in nursing 
 her sorrows thus alone, until she sometimes thought 
 she must break down under them, unless their burthen 
 were eased. The book, too, she had been so busily 
 engaged upon had failed in its main object ; there 
 was no soothing influence, no new love — or even an 
 aftermath of it — to be found within those pages. It 
 had fascinated, mystified, excited by turns. She had 
 even been convinced in much, but any real bond of 
 sympathy between scholar and student was altogether 
 wanting. It seemed even as if the constant poring 
 over its pages had made a cold, calculating woman of 
 her. That one touch of the volume in her hand pro- 
 duced a thrill of comfort which the other could never 
 have stirred — never, never, never, with fifty times its 
 writer's skill and cunning. 
 
 As Mary dallied thus with her freshly roused inten- 
 tion, an envelope (which must have fallen out, as she 
 reached the keepsake down from its shelf) caught her 
 eye. She stooped and picked it from the floor. 
 Inside was a letter received a month previously from 
 Madame Joubert, bearing the postmark of her accepted 
 watering-place, addressed in the neat, pointed cali- 
 graphy from which the instructress had in vain tried 
 to wean her. Mary had quite forgotten the existence 
 of this letter, which must have been put in as a 
 marker. Nor, she further told herself reproachfully, 
 had it ever been answered. This was really unpardon- 
 able ; she would rectify the omission that very night. 
 
 With many an excitable ejaculation did the kindly
 
 IS IT PEACE? 257 
 
 charaitiere sing the praises, on paper (as she had 
 done a hundred times by word of mouth), of this 
 charming resort, of which the old lady firmly 
 persuaded herself she, like a female Columbus, 
 had been the discoverer. Selfish people might have 
 been disposed to keep the whereabouts of so ex- 
 ceptional a spot secret. Not so Madame Joubert, 
 who lost no opportunity of extolling its attractions 
 to her acquaintances, thereby doubtless increasing 
 the prosperity of Roussoff considerably. At the 
 end of her description, madame tacked on the usual 
 entreaty, couched in more pressing terms than 
 ever, that Mary should pay them a visit. It 
 would be an act of kindness, the good woman 
 added, as she was fast forgetting her limited stock 
 of English. She would thus become the young 
 lady's debtor, so that no considerations of pride 
 need stand in the way of an immediate accept- 
 ance of the offer ; the weather just then was perfect, 
 Roussoff at its best, and so on. 
 
 As Mary re-read the lines, her cheeks flushed. 
 
 * Yes, I will go this time,' she cried. ' I need 
 have no scruples, when the kind old soul puts 
 things so delicately. Why did I not accept at 
 once.? How much might I not have been spared. 
 How I long for the country and the sea ! ' 
 
 It did not take her long to compose a grateful 
 answer, apologetic and affirmative, to this invita- 
 tion. She decided to leave on the morrow ; to put 
 off departure was needless, when she was assured 
 of such a welcome. Besides, another day in Paris 
 meant one more of a suspense and tension well- 
 nigh unbearable. Here was a happy chance of 
 escape. To think, that very evening, she had been 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 love's loyalty. 
 
 wicked and hasty enough not to see God's care 
 of her, or recognise His wisdom in all that had 
 happened of late. It was with a far lighter tread 
 than usual, her face closely veiled, that Mary 
 hurried down the stairs to the tobacconist's to 
 post her letter. 
 
 On the floor below the governess lodged an 
 American lady, also attempting the — to one of her 
 nationality — apparently hopeless feat of perfecting 
 herself in the French language. Mary had struck up 
 an acquaintance with this ambitious 'cousin,' whose 
 pluck she could not too greatly admire. Like her- 
 self, the American lived alone, which increased the 
 Englishwoman's interest in her enterprise. Until 
 lately, beyond the few sentences incidental to negoti- 
 ations for the mutual loan of sundry articles of utility, 
 ]\Iary had not succeeded far in her endeavour to 
 penetrate the somewhat unusual crust of reserve 
 encircling her neighbour. But the last few days of 
 comparative leisure had advanced matters materially. 
 The two had enjoyed several friendly chats ; the 
 younger's charm of manner — with perhaps the un- 
 usual heat of the weather — going far towards thaw- 
 ing the ice between them. This lady was evidently 
 a character, with considerable knowledge of the 
 world, therefore worth cultivating. Mary wondered 
 whether she could tell her anything about this place 
 she was going to, or how to get there. She would 
 try to kill two birds with one stone — cement a friend- 
 ship, and prime herself with some useful information 
 into the bargain. She rang the bell gently, bringing 
 the tall sallow-faced aspirant promptly to the door. 
 A candle, held above her head, increased the weird 
 impressiveness of her appearance. The severe features
 
 IS IT PEACE ? 259 
 
 relaxed into a half-smile as she recognised her 
 visitor. 
 
 ' Madame Traill, oh my ! You seem as if you had 
 been wandering. That surly feller downstairs told 
 me you were walking around somewhere.' 
 
 * So I was, miss, but I have returned more than 
 an hour. Now, I have only been across the street 
 to the post. Tenez ! I had forgotten my veil. I 
 wonder you recognised me.' 
 
 *Take it off, please. Now, just you sit down. I'm 
 glad of your company, and want cheering.' 
 
 * Why not take a holiday, then ? Everybody ought 
 to sometimes.' 
 
 ' Well, I guess you and I are about the only two 
 fe-males worth looking at left in Paris anyway. I've 
 a mind to trot off to the coast presently. But I shall 
 have to fix myself up a bit first ; my gowns are all in 
 tatters. You mightn't believe me,' Miss Cone con- 
 tinued, with a very comical glance, ' but I was a real 
 spry, smart gal once.' 
 
 Strict veracity would have compelled Mary to own 
 that she could hardly have thought that. She 
 managed, however, to qualify her answer with such 
 tact that it sounded quite like a pretty compliment. 
 
 'You Britishers are certainly neat at a civility, 
 though I'm not to be wheedled so easily. Well, how 
 do you find things — brisk ? ' 
 
 * No, indeed ; so I have made up my mind to go 
 away on a visit. I came to ask if you could kindly 
 lend me a Harper or Appleton. Have you ever 
 heard of a place called Roussoff, or how to reach it ? ' 
 
 'You're never off to Russia, Madame Traill?' the 
 American inquired. 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no. This place is in Brittany, in one of
 
 26o love's loyalty. 
 
 the western departments. My friends write me it is 
 lovely.' 
 
 ' Don't know it. There's nothing in Harper/ 
 strapping up that voluminous guide. * Here's the 
 French Indicator. I've found it. You get there, it 
 seems, by car on the western rail.' 
 
 Mary took the time-table eagerly, and found to 
 her dismay that the third-class fare was francs 39.15. 
 It was dreadfully expensive, and she would have 
 to get back again. But it must be managed some- 
 how, even if she had to work her passage home by 
 giving lessons en route. She sat quite still, with 
 so preoccupied a face that Miss Cone rallied her 
 pleasantly. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon. I was just thinking over 
 my plans.' The American gave a characteristic 
 twitch to her features, but said nothing. ' Yes,' 
 Mary continued quickly, ' a French lady and her 
 husband have invited me so often that I must no 
 longer refuse. I am ashamed to say I put the last 
 invitation aside — forgot all about it. I am so busy 
 always, though that is only a poor excuse.' 
 
 * You'll come back here, I fancy?' Miss Cone 
 inquired, her eyes full upon her companion. 
 
 * I am not quite sure ; it depends upon circum- 
 stances. I thought afterwards of taking an apart- 
 ment a little way out of Paris. At anyrate, I shall 
 give my room up. Perhaps Monsieur Richard might 
 let me off without the customary notice, as I have 
 always paid him so regularly. If I were not sure 
 he is at his cafe, I would go and ask him at once. 
 I wonder what the custom is in such matters. I 
 am so dreadfully unbusinesslike.' 
 
 ' Anyway, I reckon there's precious little letting
 
 ' IS IT PEACE? 261 
 
 off about that party, with all his bows and sniggers,' 
 replied the American. * You were never so simple 
 as to expect it, Madame Traill ? But you leave him 
 to me ; I'll pay him what's proper.' 
 
 The colour mounted to Mary's pale face. 
 
 * I could not dream of allowing that, although it 
 is extremely good of you to offer. But if you would 
 really be so obliging as to explain my hurried de- 
 parture, in order to prevent any misunderstanding, 
 I should be very grateful. I might then take the 
 early train to-morrow, reaching my destination the 
 same night. Monsieur could send on his note, and 
 I would pay it as soon as possible.' 
 
 Miss Cone was still drilling Mary through with 
 those penetrating eyes of hers. 
 
 'You'll excuse me for being so free. I've been 
 a bit of a globe-trotter in my time, and seen a deal. 
 Frankly, now, haven't you been walking around 
 the truth with that brass-plate of j^ours upstairs ? 
 You needn't be afraid. I'm harmless ; though I 
 mayn't look it.' 
 
 So this outspoken stranger, the last in the whole 
 world she would have suspected, had found Mary 
 out in her deception. She felt, however, little as 
 she knew about the lady, that she might be trusted. 
 The governess lifted her head, and answered proudly. 
 
 'You are perfectly right. The precaution was 
 forced upon me very reluctantly, for urgent reasons. 
 But I have never wilfully deceived anybody out- 
 side of this house, and, when necessary, have 
 always explained my position. I am ashamed of 
 nothing I have done.' 
 
 ' I'm not extra cute, but isn't there a husband 
 in the business ? '
 
 262 love's loyalty. 
 
 Mary started to her feet, with a terrified look, 
 as if she were about to endure a second visitation 
 that evening. 
 
 * I am sure you do not wish to be cruel, but if 
 you only knew how you pain me. Oh, how hard 
 I have tried to forget, and now twice within a few 
 hours — ' 
 
 She covered her face with her hands. 
 
 * I'm real sorry to worry you,' the American 
 said kindly, taking a seat beside her ; ' I wouldn't 
 have dreamt of being so mean, but for something 
 which happened this afternoon. Now, just you 
 pick up and listen, my dear, and you'll find I'm 
 your friend, if you'll let me. I've taken a real 
 kind of liking for you.' 
 
 Then, in her own dry fashion, Miss Cone detailed 
 what a lucky escape Mary had had from an unwel- 
 come visitor. How somebody had evidently mis- 
 taken the American's door for the one above it, 
 ringing the lady up when she was engaged upon the 
 delicate task of perfection she had taken upon her- 
 self She candidly acknowledged the person could 
 not have chosen a more inappropriate moment for 
 his visit, and that, feeling ' riled,' his reception had 
 not been the most cordial. From what Miss Cone 
 could gather, the man was looking for his wife, who, 
 he asserted, was in hiding from him somewhere in 
 that quarter of Paris. He swore he would find her, 
 if he ransacked every house in Paris, with a good 
 deal more, which the narrator put down as mere 
 tipsy bluster. The strong-minded lady had, however, 
 been equal to the occasion. After closing her door, 
 she continued the interview on the landing. Then 
 it was that she felt certain the pretty Englishwoman 
 
 1
 
 IS IT PEACE? 263 
 
 above must be the wife sought after. She had long 
 entertained suspicions as to the genuineness of that 
 ' Madame Traill's ' announcement. At anyrate, who- 
 ever she was, she had taken a fancy to her, and did 
 not feel called upon to assist so ill-looking a husband 
 in his search. As the intruder persistently asked for 
 a Mrs Stapleton, she could conscientiously assert 
 that there was no such person on the premises. 
 After which assertion, the man, with some strong 
 expressions, had stumbled down the stairs again. 
 
 'You're not obliged to say even now who you 
 are,' Miss Cone resumed. ' I guess that stranger 
 won't come hunting around here again in a hurry.' 
 
 With what breathless attention Mary listened may 
 be easily imagined. 
 
 ' You can never know what a service you have 
 done me,' she said in low tones. ' God bless you, and 
 forgive me if I have been wrong in my conduct.' 
 
 * I'm inclined to think you're more right than 
 wrong.' 
 
 ' I cannot always persuade myself so. I have racked 
 my brains morning, noon and night. Think of those 
 vows of obedience in all things made at the altar, 
 promises even unto death. I have run away from 
 him : that I cannot deny. But why ? What did I 
 not suffer before I was forced to that ? Was ever 
 poor woman so tried as I ? ' 
 
 * Plenty, my dear. I've known a few down South, 
 and over P^urope generally, though I didn't always 
 believe their stories.' 
 
 * Perhaps it is only fair I should tell you mine. I 
 will do so willingly, if you wish it, distressing though 
 it is. Then you shall judge me.' 
 
 * No, I won't trouble you. I'll take yours in trust
 
 264 love's loyalty. 
 
 from that pretty face. Just you listen now to a 
 bargain. You say certain you'll come back here 
 after your tour, then perhaps I'll extract that history 
 out of you. You'll be safer a long way in the Rue 
 Hebert than outside, where, I reckon, you'll about 
 fret yourself into a skeleton. You can't afford to 
 lose your connection anyway. Your programme is, 
 a stay in " Russia " to fix yourself up, then re-turn 
 quite spry for lessons.' 
 
 * And my apartment ? You would not have me keep 
 two establishments going, would you, Miss Cone ? ' 
 
 ' Why, certainly not. You leave that to me. 
 Perhaps I'll be able to talk old monsieur over ; it 
 wouldn't be the first time. If I can't, well it'll only 
 be for a month. Look you here, I'm not near so 
 bad off as people conjecture. It's my whim settling 
 down like this, to acquire the French language neatly. 
 I'll do it, too. I've lots of friends in Paris, though 
 they don't come to see me, under orders, till I tell 
 them. They'll never pick up the real thing around 
 the Grand or Binda, or frolicking on the Boulevards 
 in de-tachments. We had a friendly eruption, so 
 parted company for a year. When we come to com- 
 pare notes, if I don't beat 'em out-and-out in ac-cent 
 and style, I don't hail from Virginia State. I don't 
 mind telling you I get stuck a bit at times. Still, on 
 the whole, I sail along pretty gaily. I do envy you 
 Britishers the way you catch up the phrases.' 
 
 Mary had not the heart to tell this ambitious 
 Southerner that, on the hermit-like system she was 
 pursuing, she might stay there until doomsday 
 without effecting her purpose. But she did venture 
 to suggest that the end might have been accom- 
 plished more readily by living in a family.
 
 IS IT PEACE? 265 
 
 * Couldn't stand it, my dear. Their ways and 
 mine don't assim-i-late.' 
 
 ' I am afraid,' Mary urged, * it is absolutely 
 necessary to mix with the French in their homes 
 before you can either thoroughly understand them 
 or catch their indescribable peculiarities of speech. 
 All the lexicons in Christendom cannot help us 
 there.' 
 
 ' " Homes ? " Didn't know they had any. I thought 
 they lived about in cafes and restaurants, when 
 they weren't at the drama.' 
 
 *A mistake many of us make,' Mary rejoined. 
 ' There are plenty of quiet-going, domesticated 
 Parisians, though I grant they want finding. Dear 
 me, if people would only look a little beyond their 
 noses ! Oh, I beg your pardon,' remarking that her 
 friend was especially well favoured in that respect. 
 
 The Amercian laughed. 
 
 ' I said you Britishers were neat at turning a 
 compliment. But you're quite right, my dear. 
 We make a precious poor show about foreigners 
 and their ways, though we do brag a deal at 
 times.' 
 
 ' I did not mean your nation only. My own 
 countrymen are just as bad. I am sure I often 
 blush at their absurd insular prejudices. What 
 guys, for example, those flights of rooks make 
 of themselves, with their loud cawings, the men's 
 hideous checks, the women's sprawling feet. They 
 appear to think any plumage good enough for 
 Paris. And that dreadful boarding-school French. 
 Where can they pick it up ? If they only knew 
 how the inhabitants ridiculed them behind their 
 backs, they would shrink into the very earth
 
 266 love's loyalty. 
 
 through shame, if they have any. I am sure half 
 the people one sees here in August would be far 
 happier at Margate, instead of being driven about 
 to see the sights by waggonnette-loads, in charge 
 of a keeper, like a lot of imbeciles. Heigh-ho, 
 taking us all round, I fear we are a vulgar, narrow- 
 minded set. Thank Heaven, all being well, I 
 shall be off to-morrow. Good-night, Miss Cone, 
 and a thousand thanks for all your kindness. I 
 must begin my packing, and then to bed. I leave 
 betimes in the morning.' 
 
 'You're absolute welcome. I wish you a down- 
 right good time. Don't forget to write me from 
 "Russia" how you're getting along' — that joke 
 seemed to have tickled her. 
 
 * You may be sure I will.' 
 
 After a hearty pressure of the hand, Mary hurried 
 to her room. Quick and practical under all circum- 
 stances, it took the governess but a short while to 
 put up the necessaries for her journey. It was an 
 intense relief to know that this newly-made friend 
 downstairs would protect her interests and character 
 with the neighbours. Mary detested doing anything 
 which might bear the least semblance of shabbiness. 
 Now her apparent eccentricity of conduct would be 
 fully explained. She would be left to such enjoy- 
 ment of her holiday as a blighted woman might 
 hope for. She carefully locked the big trunk after 
 packing therein the few things she prized. The 
 more portable bag easily held her scanty wardrobe. 
 She could carry that, thereby effecting a great saving 
 of expenses. Every sou was of importance then, and 
 her reticule contained the only meal she meant to 
 allow herself during the day. 
 
 (
 
 IS IT PEACE? 267 
 
 Thus, having arranged everything satisfactorily, 
 Mary set her alarum for six o'clock, and sought 
 a well-earned rest after that harassing, eventful day. 
 Her last waking thoughts were of this American 
 lady below who was undergoing that singular pen- 
 ance with so laudable if fruitless a persistence. 
 
 The first thing which caught Mary's eye when 
 she woke next morning, was a note lying on the 
 carpet. It must have been pushed in under the 
 door during the night. Surely nothing was going 
 to happen now to prevent her leaving on this trip 
 she longed for so ardently ? A closer inspection 
 dispelled her fears. It was from Miss Cone, ad- 
 dressed in the same bold hand which Mary had 
 seen once or twice attached to the lady's bell-pull, 
 on those rare occasions when she intimated her 
 absence from home to any chance caller. How 
 thoughtful and kind this was of her. No doubt she 
 had written a few lines to wish the traveller bon 
 voyage, with possibly some further practical hints. 
 Mary slipped the note into her pocket. It would 
 be so nice to read the parting words in the train. 
 Then she had not a moment to spare. When all 
 was ready, she glanced round the little room she 
 might never see again, and crept downstairs. The 
 place was very quiet. Luckily the concierge, after 
 drawing the bolts of the big entrance door, had 
 gone to bed again, or he might have made himself 
 unpleasant. Mary laid her key softly upon the 
 table of his den, and passed out into the Rue 
 Hebert. 
 
 How her heart beat as she hurried along, heedless 
 of everything save the one desire to get safely off 
 unobserved, away to the bright sea, anywhere, so long
 
 268 love's loyalty. 
 
 as this dreadful phantom were left behind. What 
 mattered it that her arm ached under its unaccustomed 
 burthen, or before she had traversed many streets the 
 gathering heat began to tell upon her. Fatigue must 
 be conquered, as it had so often been ; no bodily 
 distress allowed to intrude, when the lifting of that 
 greater mental weight was to be considered. It was 
 a lovely morning. The splendid thoroughfares of Paris, 
 hemmed with leafy trees, and in comparative repose, 
 in the first blush of the day, looked at their best. 
 Mary pictured that obtrusive crowd of tourists pre- 
 sently descending upon them to spoil their beauty. 
 Now they were almost deserted, with close-shut staring 
 houses standing out against the clear blue sky, from 
 which, as the sun crept up, a thin haze was rolling. 
 Occasionally she met some poor creature on her way 
 to the stuffy workroom where, except for the leisure 
 of midday, she would be cooped up indoors, over her 
 needle, until that summer sunshine was gone. How 
 such a girl must pine for ever so brief a spell of the 
 freedom to which Mary was hastening, even if she 
 longed for nothing more than some Sunday jaunt to 
 Vincennes or Asnieres with her sweetheart. 
 
 Once Mary stopped, at the instance of some weep- 
 ing beggar woman with a baby. Could she refuse 
 the mute appeal which spoke in the half-starved faces 
 of mother and child ? Wary people might preach 
 how it was harmful to give thus indiscriminately in 
 the streets ; that it was forbidden to beg ; in her case 
 charity assuredly began at home, or she might herself 
 become a tax upon society, and so forth. Well, let 
 them lecture. To her tried, tender heart it was 
 enough that suffering humanity called for help; as 
 long as she had aught to give, she could not stop her
 
 IS IT PEACE? 269 
 
 ears. As with her religion, so she held that no rule 
 or rote should fetter charity. She despised the 
 cautious, organising giver as fully as he who gave 
 grudgingly. If there were sin in the giving, it would 
 surely recoil upon the heads of those who deceived, 
 or misapplied the gift. When these cautious persons 
 sought to argue the subject with her, Mary would 
 meet their tirades with one inquiry, namely, as to 
 when they felt happiest, after they had refused or 
 after they had given ? Before that simple question 
 most were dumb. These Pharisees would try to 
 shake her faith in the joy of forgiving next. What 
 did they, slumbering at their ease behind those 
 shutters, know of the shifts and straits to which the 
 poor were driven in their efforts to preserve to them- 
 selves that heaven-born blessing of liberty. Mary 
 knew, because she had thrown herself into their midst, 
 studying habits and haunts, tried by the same 
 temptations. As a result, her heart bled for them 
 with womanly tenderness. 
 
 Those who have sought to flee from some domi- 
 nant oppression will understand Mary's relief as the 
 train drew her quickly away from the scene and 
 cause of so much of her misery. Had not the com- 
 partment in which she travelled been full, she would 
 probably have lost control over herself, giving way 
 under the strain which she had been put to. As 
 it was, these careless, chattering folk acted as a 
 wholesome check upon her emotions. That she was 
 an object of interest to them, Mary could not fail 
 to perceive. With all her want, she knew how to 
 put on such clothes as she had acceptably, winning 
 thereby approval from an ultra-critical nation. The 
 woman had not lived amongst and studied these
 
 270 LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 people without seeing that for 'taking- in ' a foreigner, 
 with a swift, seemingly unconscious glance, the 
 French have not their equals amongst civilised 
 humanity. Suddenly Mary thought of the Ameri- 
 can's note, which she had hastily put by. There 
 were enclosures in it — two twenty-franc notes, the 
 sight of which at first filled the governess with re- 
 sentment. How dare this stranger insult her poverty 
 and pride thus? But as she read the outspoken 
 lines which accompanied the gift, Mary's heart 
 softened towards the donor. Characteristic the 
 letter certainly was, but so obviously genuine and 
 sincere, that it would be wrong to take offence. 
 There was much quiet humour in it also. 'You 
 see, my dear, I'm kind o' cunning over this,' wrote 
 Miss Cone. ' You've decided to go to " Russia." 
 Well, I've got a notion, from your manner, that you 
 want to cheat me of the pleasure of seeing you 
 again this fall in Paris. Now, that don't strike me 
 as being particular friendly. When I've fixed my 
 mind on a thing, I'm real stubborn till it's carried 
 through. I'm that way inclined to-night. You 
 won't make me mad by refusing, will you Madame 
 Traill ? ' 
 
 That was quite a novel way of appealing to her 
 feelings, Mary thought, with a smile. It would be 
 very ungracious not to accept an advance made 
 with such courtesy. That she would pay the money 
 back some day, Mary determined. Her pride re- 
 sented the acceptance of any favours. It was a 
 fault of character she fully recognised, and had 
 tried hard to correct. 
 
 That was a long day of travel, because, as some 
 people may know, Roussoff is not to be reached
 
 IS IT PEACE? 271 
 
 without many embarrassing changes. Indeed, it 
 almost seemed to Mary as if the railway company 
 were charging her by time instead of distance. 
 Once, at a junction, a whole hour had to be got 
 through ; but as the town was picturesque, and 
 the travellers were allowed liberty to roam about as 
 they chose, the halt was welcome. Mary availed 
 herself of the opportunity to eat her breakfast, 
 sitting on the river-bank, under one of the arches 
 which supported the ancient bridge of Merlans. 
 The meal being a frugal and solitary one, she spent 
 the remainder of her hour leaning upon the parapet, 
 watching a group of stalwart washerwomen, who 
 were busy, in a kind of pound, rinsing, scrubbing 
 and whacking the clothes, though they found time 
 for a little gossip and a good deal of chatter as 
 well. 
 
 Soon the travellers strolled back in groups, and 
 the train resumed its leisurely progress coastwards. 
 
 What a treat it was for Mary, to be able to gaze 
 once more upon the fresh green of the country. All 
 Nature was smiling at her across the sunlit fields as 
 they glided through the fertile land of Brittany. 
 Past richly-laden orchards, which reminded the exile 
 of her Devonshire home, waving fields of maize, 
 great patches of emerald pasture, where the sleek 
 cattle feasted. Presently she got her first peep of 
 the sea, flecked here and there with white, a foretaste 
 of that glorious ocean to which the hand of Peace 
 must be surely beckoning. Mary thought she even 
 detected a smile of greeting upon the bronzed faces 
 of the women who carried out the railway com- 
 pany's substitute for the block system with those 
 all-important staves of theirs. She was certain that
 
 2/2 love's loyalty. 
 
 the nearer she got to Roussoff, the more bright and 
 cheerful everything looked. How absolutely happy 
 she would have felt but for the grevious load which 
 pressed so heavily upon her soul. Must its curse 
 follow her for ever thus, checking her heart's joy 
 at the very threshold of relief? Why was she still 
 racked with doubts and mistrust as to the course 
 she had taken in regard to her husband } Mary 
 closed her eyes, and calmly reviewed all the events 
 of her married life. 
 
 Yes, she was justified in what she had done, be- 
 cause his baseness had cancelled all vows. Love, 
 honour and obey ! The mockery of such a promise 
 to one who had forfeited all claim to those obliga- 
 tions. Even the boundless capacity of woman's 
 affection must stop there. . . . No, not at pardon. 
 Had he asked for that, Mary would have freely 
 given it. She held that it was not for sinful 
 mortals to dictate the limit of so divine an indul- 
 gence. But there all must end. One whose man- 
 hood had so deserted him that he must needs fall 
 into the swinish habits of the drunkard and evil- 
 doer, could not expect a virtuous woman to condone 
 everything. Mary would pray for that further for- 
 giveness which it was beyond her power to bestow ; 
 that he might no longer wallow in the mire of his 
 sin. But she would never take him back, though 
 until the remainder of her days this cruel yoke 
 bound her neck as a burthen which seemed to have 
 for ever broken her trust in man's fidelity. Faith- 
 lessness : there lay the deepest sting. 
 
 Why, then, in the face of the conviction that she 
 had acted becomingly, were the consolations of 
 peace and contentment denied her ? Could the 
 
 i
 
 IS IT PEACE? 273 
 
 devil she had kept successfully at bay through so 
 much temptation have at length gained the mastery? 
 or was she in reality so infected by the old French- 
 man's doctrines that escape from them was impos- 
 sible? It seemed to be eternally dinned into her 
 ears how disobedient she had been in leaving that 
 man, when she was bound by so solemn a vow to 
 cling to him through all. Her defence that she had 
 been forced into flight because of his misconduct, 
 failed, apparently, to satisfy this exacting demon. 
 It was whilst undergoing such torture that she had 
 looked down so often upon the Seine in so unruly 
 and speculative a spirit. You see, Mary Stapleton 
 was only human, and there are limits to our endur- 
 ance. Perhaps, thought she, her present uneasiness 
 was a judgment upon her for giving way to such 
 weakness in the past. What if this taunting voice 
 were never silenced ? if it went on tormenting her 
 until her reason failed, or, worse still, she had to give 
 in, and herself seek out the guilty cause of all her 
 misery? She would die sooner than that. There 
 was nothing to live for now. One lonely woman in 
 the world, more or less, could make little difference. 
 She would first gratify her ambition by letting her 
 book appear. It was certain to take, because the 
 ideas were so thoroughly new and spicy ; besides, all 
 that application and devotion could not pass un- 
 recompensed. It might possibly bring her in some 
 money. Well, she would give all she made by the 
 venture to Nora and Shirley Wodehouse and the 
 sisters Hollebone, after that eccentric American's 
 loan had been paid. Mary's relations would pro- 
 bably be very much disgusted at getting nothing. 
 But as they had left her in the lurch at a critical 
 VOL. I. S
 
 274 
 
 time, and altogether behaved in a very shabby and 
 puritanical fashion, they must, when they viewed 
 the matter dispassionately, fully recognise the justice 
 of their kinswoman's act. The religion they paraded 
 so would console them in their disappointment. 
 Failing the chance of Roussoff restoring her to a 
 proper frame of mind, this was what Mary decided 
 to do. Of course it was extremely wicked of her, 
 and no well-disciplined person will detect a single 
 redeeming feature in such a guilty decision. If one 
 may venture to advance an excuse, this poor gover- 
 ness had been tried beyond her bent. Constant 
 worry and suspense had preyed upon her so long, 
 that it was scarcely fair to judge her actions by the 
 world's strictest canons of propriety. Let the pallia- 
 tion stand for what it is worth. Possibly some may 
 have suffered and endured as Mary Stapleton had : 
 God grant they may be few. They, at anyrate, will 
 be merciful in their verdict. Most things are relative 
 here below. What credit is there in virtue when our 
 lines are cast only in smooth, untroubled waters ? 
 
 When Mary opened her eyes again, the train was 
 gliding into a station called Dol, which struck her as 
 a very frivolous name for a place. She would have 
 been more impressed with its unfitness had she 
 known that the chief attraction there was the his- 
 toric cathedral, with its superb stained glass windows. 
 There was another long wait and change of carriage. 
 Mary hoped it would be the last, having quite lost 
 count of the number already accomplished. This 
 station wore a lively, animated look. Standing by 
 itself, in quite a pretty garden on her right, was 
 a picturesque little dining-room (not unlike a covered 
 bandstand), with the usual complement of round
 
 IS IT PEACE? 275 
 
 tables and chairs outside. This building must have 
 been an offshoot from a neighbouring restaurant, 
 which stood in friendly proximity to the railway, 
 and evidently catered for its requirements. 
 
 Dol seemed to be a busy junction, however sleepy 
 the town beyond might be. Mary was amused at 
 the excitement pervading the various groups of 
 travellers — not an insignificant portion were English 
 — and with what unruffled composure the officials 
 treated their inquiries. She, being independent of 
 the cares of luggage, could afford to smile at much 
 needless anxiety concerning the fate of trunks and 
 portmanteaus ; indeed, as most people know, it is 
 usually the fault of the owners themselves when 
 anything does go wrong. Judging from the number 
 of trains passing in and out, and the constant arrivals 
 of tourists, there seemed some justice in a remark 
 Mary had overheard, that it was impossible to visit 
 Brittany without sooner or later finding oneself at 
 Dol railway station, whichever itinerary was patron- 
 ised. Somebody had, indeed, flippantly said that it 
 was as imperative as having the measles — the sooner 
 the visitation was got over the better. 
 
 Presently they went on again through the rich 
 country. The sight of all this lavish display of pro- 
 duce soothed the woman's spirit. There must be 
 good in the world somewhere, or God would not let 
 Nature smile thus upon us sinful creatures. Whereas 
 she had rebelled of late — wondered how this could 
 be when she herself felt so utterly wretched and 
 desolate — now her thoughts took a worthier turn. 
 
 * It seems almost selfish to be enjoying all this 
 loveliness without sharing it with those work-a-day 
 thousands left behind in Paris,' she mused. ' How
 
 2/6 love's loyalty. 
 
 many must there not be whose souls are absolutely 
 dead to the influences of land and sea? After all, 
 but for this one crushing trouble, how far brighter 
 is my lot compared with those toilers. This reflection 
 must help me to be brave.' 
 
 Twilight set in soon. As it crept almost gradually 
 over the distant hills, the day slipped silently away. 
 Mary knew then that she must be getting near her 
 destination, feeling a strange emotion as she wondered 
 what sort of a place Roussoff really was ; whether 
 Madame Joubert would meet her at the station ; if 
 the hotel was full, with a hundred other speculations 
 such as go far to make up the enjoyment, or its 
 reverse, of travel. 
 
 A person sat in the corner of the carriage who did 
 his best to damp the pleasure of his fellow-passengers 
 by asserting that there would be no room for anybody 
 when they reached their journey's end. The accom- 
 modation was very limited ; what lodgings there 
 were, snapped up early in the season ; the only decent 
 inn was sure to be crowded to excess, with many 
 equally cheering prophecies. The only satisfactory 
 point about this pessimistic individual was that he 
 possessed a reliable guide book, which, although it 
 said little about Roussoff, was full of information con- 
 cerning the coast and environs. When this well- 
 informed person read out a description of Saint-Pol- 
 de-Leon, Mary wished it had not been dark, so that 
 she might have seen the steeple of Creizker rising 
 upward. About this, it seemed, a pious man had 
 written that if an angel came from Heaven, it would, 
 before touching the earth, first set a foot upon so 
 lovely an object. What a charming fancy ! If this 
 poet had told the truth — why should he not have
 
 IS IT PEACE? 277 
 
 done so ? — and there were other sights equally beauti- 
 ful, then her journey would have been indeed worth 
 taking. 
 
 Before she had time to listen to more details 
 about Saint-Pol-de-Leon, the terminus of Roussoff 
 was reached. Then Mary became aware of the 
 smiling face of Madame Joubert at the window, 
 treating her countrymen to a unique display of 
 her mastery over the English tongue. A sprink- 
 ling of errors, it is true, crept into the elliptical, 
 and at times polyglot sentences, with which the 
 excitable enthusiast welcomed her favourite. But, 
 under the circumstances, it would have been heart- 
 less to crush the obvious delight with which she 
 showed off her learning before an awe-struck circle. 
 Most of us have our harmless little weaknesses. 
 We know that in the case of this genial cJiarcutiere 
 it took the form of quite a slavish admiration of 
 everything British, the mother tongue included. In 
 the background stood the pork-butcher, the inevit- 
 able cigar in his mouth, his hat raised by the crown 
 in respectful salute. He was unable to electrify 
 his acquaintances with such a flow as his wife 
 produced. But he need not be behind her in 
 either the warmth or sincerity of his * shake hand,' 
 nor was he, as his visitor's fingers could testify. 
 Almost before Mary could collect her thoughts, 
 she was hustled into the small hearse-like omnibus 
 which plies so regularly between the Hotel des 
 Bains and the station, and whose windows rattle 
 in such a maddening fashion. As, at a great 
 pace, they were jolted in the darkness over the 
 country roads, the governess, by the light of the 
 feeble lantern inside the vehicle, could just discern
 
 278 love's loyaltv. 
 
 Madame Joubert's blue veil opposite. At times 
 also she caught a few disjointed sentences, in the 
 well-known shrill accents. But it was quite im- 
 possible to carry on any connected conversation 
 amid such a din, Mary's replies having therefore 
 to be given in dumb-show. As a matter of fact, 
 madame was on her old tack, eulogising the excep- 
 tional attractions of this watering-place, whose claims 
 to popularity seemed rather to increase in her eyes 
 than diminish. She was also telling Mary that 
 she had engaged a ' ravishing ' apartment in the 
 town, close to their hotel. She sincerely hoped 
 her visitor would find everything there to her 
 satisfaction. She could hardly doubt it, as with 
 her own hands she had arranged the bedroom a 
 rAnglaise, an attention Mary would have infinitely 
 preferred omitted, for in this respect her tastes 
 were directly opposite to those of her pupil. 
 
 Presently the omnibus rumbled in under the arch- 
 way of the hotel ; the landlord emerged from his 
 kitchen, with an obsequious greeting highly creditable 
 considering the number of times during the day it 
 had to be repeated ; an aggressive bell clanged out 
 its announcement of fresh arrivals, and Mary was 
 ushered into the salle-a-manger^ where the first im- 
 pressions were of a magnificent oak cabinet, a fine 
 display of china plates hung round the walls, and 
 a stuffed puffin, suspended from the centre of the 
 ceiling, producing a very creepy effect in that un- 
 certain light. 
 
 ' And now I give you good shake hand, and wish 
 you se best of zleeps,' were Madame Joubert's parting 
 words after she had escorted Mary to her chamber, 
 some doors off.
 
 IS IT PEACE ? 279 
 
 * You are extremely kind. What a sweet room ! 
 At what time do we take early breakfast, did you 
 say ? I am a sad stay-a-bed during the holidays.' 
 
 The cJiarcutiere smiled, pointing in the direction of 
 the bell over the entrance to the hotel, with whose 
 iron tongue Mary had already formed acquaintance. 
 
 * Sat sing will tell you, my dear. Once begin, it 
 stop not for long vile. All se town hear it at se eat- 
 ing times, and they be many and long. Tiens ! ' and 
 madame treated her friend to one of her choicest 
 pleasantries to retire upon, ' but sat bell is Roussoff, 
 It says se news to everybody.' 
 
 Then the old lady hurried down the worm-eaten 
 staircase, across the cobbles of the street, now lying 
 absolutely quiet and deserted in the pale moonlight. 
 
 To Mary this seemed like peace at last.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 
 
 Nora Wodehouse was sitting busy with one of her 
 pretty stories which charmed the home circle at 
 Prospect Cottage when read aloud to it during the 
 restful evening hours. As usual, she had her bonnet 
 on, ready to lose no moment in case the anxiously 
 awaited summons came to hurry in to town and reap 
 reward for her labours. That the numerous firms of 
 publishers she had waited upon should have been so 
 blind to their own interests (to say nothing of the 
 duty they owed to Society) as to decline her manu- 
 scripts so persistently, was most inexplicable. But 
 Nora felt sure this slight could not last for ever ; 
 that sooner or later the post would bring a remittance, 
 if ever so small, instead of those courteous, studiously 
 worded notes which — turn and twist the sentences as 
 she might — only spelt one thing, the unpleasant fact 
 of rejection. Had she persuaded herself to accept the 
 assistance so modestly proffered by the practised hand 
 upstairs, who by persistept endeavours had acquired 
 proficiency in those very arts Nora lacked, the result 
 might have been otherwise. A few powerful touches 
 here and there upon scenes, characters or dialogue, 
 will, as everybody knows, work wonder?. But this little
 
 ' HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 28 I 
 
 woman held stubbornly on to her resolution to stand 
 or fall by her own unaided efforts. In her eyes, any 
 attempt at collaboration would spoil everything ; her 
 tales lose all merit, as far as she were concerned, 
 directly another's brains were called in to strengthen 
 her fabric — very commendable principles, no doubt, 
 though scarcely remunerative. Owing, therefore, to 
 this lack of appreciation, she could never contribute 
 anything to household expenses, a circumstance 
 which distressed her greatly. Shirley made now 
 quite a tidy income by her exertions ; she, the elder, 
 did not earn a penny. There was no resentment 
 or jealousy, because such were foreign to Nora's 
 nature. Still the disappointment was none the 
 less keen. In vain the younger lovingly contested 
 that the arrangement was quite right and proper. 
 Why should delicate little Nollekins bother herself 
 about such a vulgar thing as money, when her 
 robust junior (whose worst ailment had been a 
 whitlow, produced entirely by her own careless- 
 ness) was there to warble about the neighbourhood 
 to any extent for their joint benefit? Of course 
 it was disgraceful that the narratives and trans- 
 lations were never accepted ; no one was more 
 sorry than Miss Shirley. It only proved what 
 she had said all along, that average readers of 
 fiction did not know what was good for them, 
 trotting after any sensational rubbish, as a pack 
 of those ill-used, brainless donkeys on the Heath 
 followed a bunch of carrots. Nora must be con- 
 soled with the thought that she had never allowed 
 herself to be tempted into writing a single un- 
 worthy tale, or any of Miss Pridham's harmful 
 kitchen stuff, as that dreadful person who edited
 
 282 love's loyalty. 
 
 the ' Scullery Chronicle ' more than hinted she must 
 do, if she wished to succeed. Sooner than that, 
 Shirley would prefer her sister never put pen to 
 paper again. It was all very fine for Nora to 
 compliment her on her singing. She was quite 
 willing to allow that she had a fine voice, and used 
 it to the best of her ability. What credit was there 
 in that? Otherwise, she was a great noodle, not 
 being able even to spell properly, which was a 
 standing reproach ; her ideas of economy also left 
 much to be desired. Putting one thing against 
 the other, there was a decided balance of accom- 
 plishments in Nora's favour. Therefore, to adjust 
 matters, the younger must of course be the bread- 
 winner. 
 
 ' So you see, miss, none of your arguments are 
 worth consideration,' Shirley remarked. * We are 
 going to put our papers away presently, are we 
 not, and take a nice little stroll ? Do you know, 
 it is very odd, but I am getting quite tired of my 
 holidays already, before they are half over. I have 
 come to the conclusion that, if we can't afford to 
 go out of town, it is much better to be at work 
 all the year round. I am afraid that is a very un- 
 grateful speech, but it is the truth. Why, even Miss 
 Pridham and Eliza have had their jaunts to Broad- 
 stairs and Gravesend — that sounds a cheerful spot, — 
 respectively. We are so unfashionable as to have 
 been nowhere. I cannot conceive what all my 
 future Jenny Linds will say when I have to make 
 that humiliating confession.' 
 
 ' They will say that you are the dearest, most un- 
 selfish darling that ever breathed — at least they 
 would, if they only knew how you had stinted
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 283 
 
 yourself in order that Neil might take this walking 
 tour, upon which he had so set his mind, with Mr 
 Hossack.' 
 
 ' Then I am afraid they would be beginning very 
 early in life to tell fibs. I am surprised at particular 
 Miss Nora approving such a course. Until she 
 told me, I always thought it was dishonourable 
 not to pay one's debts.' She struck a few chords 
 upon the piano to show where the liability existed. 
 * For the future, I shall know that I have been 
 mistaken.' 
 
 * It's evidently no use attempting to reason with 
 you when you are in one of your giddy moods, 
 sister. But I still maintain it was a noble, self- 
 sacrificing deed.' 
 
 ' Of course it was. But you must keep your 
 promise, all the same, never to let that lanky cousin 
 of ours think we stayed here except of our own 
 free wills, because we consider the air more bracing 
 than anywhere else, and love the Heath so — especi- 
 ally on bank holidays.' 
 
 'A promise with me, as you know, is always 
 sacred,' replied little Nora. ' Is it binding, though, 
 in respect to Mr Hossack ? ' 
 
 ' Most certainly. Oh, I would not have you tell 
 him for worlds.' 
 
 Shirley stooped suddenly to pick up a pin from 
 the carpet — an act of thrift she rarely indulged in. 
 As she rose from her knees, her cheeks were more 
 rosy than the exertion seemed to warrant. Nora 
 had noticed once or twice of late that when their 
 fellow-lodger's name was mentioned, her sister looked 
 overcome, not unfrequently turning the conversation 
 abruptly into other channels. She could not under-
 
 284 love's loyalty. 
 
 stand why, for at one time she never tired of talking 
 about him. 
 
 With their usual kindness and forethought — 
 though they were constantly accusing themselves 
 of all sorts of uncharitableness — the Misses Turn- 
 bull had, before leaving England on their annual 
 tour, left the key of their garden gate with their 
 young friends. They were urgently entreated to 
 avail themselves of the seclusion and coolness to be 
 found there. They were also begged to gather 
 freely any flowers or produce which might take 
 their fancy. It would be a real charity, the old 
 maids protested, as otherwise there w^ould be shame- 
 ful waste going on during their absence. But Nora 
 and Shirley were not told that a harmless con- 
 spiracy existed with the cook in charge of The 
 Sycamores, who was enjoined to watch for the 
 arrival of the two, and never to let them leave 
 without a stock of fruit, vegetables and other good 
 things, packed into that large red-riding-hood basket 
 with the double lid, which was almost as well known 
 in the lanes and cottages of Hampstead as were the 
 Misses Turnbull themselves. This generosity quite 
 embarrassed Nurse Pridham, whose pantry became 
 so constantly replenished with luxuries that she 
 began to fear the tradespeople would * turn crusty * 
 through want of patronage. Moreover that w^eekly 
 custom of going round on Friday nights to pay 
 the bills — often only an excuse for a gossip — 
 became a mere empty observance. 
 
 Although so near to the Heath, noisy at most 
 times of this season with much fun, the garden of 
 The Sycamores was delightfully quiet and rural. 
 That tall, green gate, w^hich opened out of the
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 285 
 
 narrow lane, once closed, one seemed to pass sud- 
 denly into a nook where solitude reigned, guarded 
 by high walls, to which creepers and ivy clung 
 affectionately. Roots and tendrils had indeed so 
 insinuated themselves into the crumbling brickwork, 
 that there could be no parting from it without 
 mutual dissolution. This was as it should be. For 
 the bond of friendship had existed for — who shall 
 say how many ? — years. If severed, it were only 
 right the two should pass away together. 
 
 Into this delightful old-world garden Nora and 
 Shirley passed after they had walked for a while 
 beneath the shade of the great trees, which now 
 stood in all their leafy splendour on the knoll, 
 whence the two got such a fine view Harrow-wards. 
 It was difficult to believe how those branches, shelter- 
 ing them at that moment from the fierce afternoon 
 sun, could be the same that had stood out month 
 after month, so bare and ghostlike, in full view of 
 Prospect Cottage. They were the same, though, 
 for had not these orphans with their own eyes seen 
 the emerald shoots breaking out as if by magic, 
 until they formed this rustling emerald canopy 
 above their heads ? So surely as that marvellous 
 change had come about, would autumn's finger pre- 
 sently lay its darkening hand upon these boughs, to 
 turn them, chameleon-like, into many lovely shades of 
 brown and gold. Finally, the pitiless winds would 
 strip the trees altogether of their yearly covering, 
 rending them cruelly, until no more than a mockery 
 of former glory fluttered aloft in dank and tattered 
 remnants. When they also fell to earth, only the 
 grim skeletons would remain to bend and creak, 
 sighing for the gentle touch of another spring.
 
 286 love's loyalty. 
 
 * Yet there are people who contend that Nature is 
 not ruled by the hand of God,' little Nora said, as the 
 sisters made their way through the winding walks 
 to their favourite tumbledown summer-house, where 
 the cook in charge must have been clever to detect 
 them, so hidden was it by foliage. There, working 
 busily, the two enjoyed many loving chats, their deft 
 fingers producing the while sundry worsted wraps, 
 in prudent prevision for the wants of the poor at 
 Christmas time. 
 
 That afternoon, however, Shirley could not settle 
 comfortably to anything. She was perpetually jump- 
 ing up to visit the kitchen garden in the rear, return- 
 ing empty handed. 
 
 After one of these purposeless errands, she sud- 
 denly sat down on a low wicker seat by her sister's 
 side, and much to the elder's concern, burst into 
 tears. 
 
 'My darling! It must be the weather?' Miss 
 Nora promptly produced her smelling-salts. ' I 
 ought to have remembered how the heat tries you, 
 and have kept you quiet until the cool of the even- 
 ing, after all your fagging about this morning. It 
 was very thoughtless of me.' 
 
 ' No, it is not that. I am very foolish. Leave me 
 a few minutes quite to myself Then I shall be all 
 right again.' 
 
 She hid her face in the folds of her sister's dress. 
 Nora did as she was bidden, stroking the bowed 
 head tenderly. 
 
 What could it mean ? Only once had she seen 
 Shirley overcome like this — on that awful night she 
 would never forget. Had she been startled ? The no- 
 tion was dismissed at once— dauntless, strong-minded
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 28/ 
 
 Shirley, so self-controlled and plucky. It could 
 hardly be an outburst of grief at the loss of their 
 kind friend and benefactor, Mr Foster. How deeply 
 she had felt his recent death, as indeed they all had 
 done, Nora well knew. But they had been expect- 
 ing the news for some days, and were quite prepared 
 when the sad truth was broken to them with such 
 delicacy by Mr Hossack. No one, acquainted with 
 the state he was in, could wish for a prolongation of 
 his life, or say that his end had not been a merciful 
 release from suffering. Neil had been the only one 
 to thoroughly break down, giving way to one of those 
 uncontrollable attacks of emotion which they all 
 hoped he had outgrown. It was chiefly to prevent 
 a recurrence of these — which were so trying to one 
 of his highly-strung, imaginative temperament — that 
 he had gone on this walking tour into the novelist's 
 native country, to see what a complete change of 
 scene, with healthy exercise, would do for him. Of 
 course Shirley could not be worrying about him ; 
 indeed she had been the first to suggest his going. 
 She might as well be fretting after Mr Hossack's 
 absence as that. It was impossible she could have 
 anything on her mind. Her life was as open as the 
 day, any small worries in its daily routine being 
 shared unreservedly between the two. Although 
 they were by no means well off, the first sting of 
 poverty had been mercifully extracted. So she 
 could not be troubled about money matters ; nor did 
 they owe a sixpence to anybody. 
 
 Nora quickly reviewed the occurrences of the past 
 few weeks. They had been almost uneventful ; she 
 could think of nothing at all to account for this 
 singular outbreak. The exception to the even flow
 
 288 love's loyalty. 
 
 of events had been the receipt, at length, of news from 
 their former school-fellow, whose long silence had 
 puzzled and pained them so much. But that letter had 
 surely been a relief rather than a cause for tears. It 
 is true the communication was on the whole a sad one, 
 for Mary's married experiences appeared not to have 
 been quite satisfactory. Then, however, she was well, 
 she said, and apparently reconciled, sending a really 
 beautiful description of some out-of-the-way place 
 she was spending her holiday at, oddly enough near 
 to where the Misses TurnbuU were staying, engaged 
 in their favourite study of Druidical remains. After 
 much reflection, Nora came back to her original 
 theory that it was the heat of the weather. Accord- 
 ingly, she again proffered her smelling-bottle to her 
 distressed sister, who presently began to unburthen 
 herself 
 
 ' It is all too dreadful,' Shirley murmured, her face 
 still hidden. ' To think that I should have been so 
 wicked as to deceive you.' 
 
 'What is it, darling? It distresses me sorely to 
 see you thus.' 
 
 ' About dear Mary. I have kept back so much of 
 what she says — a postscript longer than the letter itself. 
 Poor, cruelly treated Mary ! How could she have 
 gone through all this, and not even have told us 
 one word ? We ought to have guessed there was 
 something wrong.' 
 
 ' Indeed, if you remember, we were afraid, from 
 her protracted silence, that her union was not alto- 
 gether what she had anticipated. Before marriage, 
 she was always such a regular, amusing correspondent. 
 But I never dreamt things were as bad as you imply. 
 Come, tell me all you know, sister ; it will be a relief
 
 ' HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 289 
 
 to you. Dear, dear, why was she in such a hurry to 
 get married? It is never wise ; indeed, I have heard 
 some people call such unions a lottery.' 
 
 It was quite a touching picture to see the fragile 
 Nora consoling and coaxing ' great, hulking Shirley,' 
 as she was pleased to call herself, though only by 
 reason of the elder's extreme frailty was the com- 
 parison at all applicable. 
 
 * Yes, you are right, Nora. It is weak and foolish 
 of me to behave like this,' she cried, as she sprang 
 to her feet and shook back the unruly locks from 
 her temples. Her face was aglow 'with scorn and 
 passion. * I cannot trust myself to speak of it. If 
 you feel strong enough, you must read for yourself 
 how utterly bad a man can be. A drunkard — oh, it 
 is too horrible ! ' 
 
 Nora looked greatly pained. 
 
 ' 1 am afraid some people are very wicked,' she 
 said quietly. She took the pages Shirley held out, 
 and found those burning words in which, under the 
 healing influence of the spot she visited, Mary 
 Stapleton had poured out her heart and soul to 
 her former playmate. ' I am truly grieved. We 
 must consider how we can best aid her,' was Nora's 
 decision. 
 
 ' How, indeed?' Shirley echoed with a sigh. ' It is 
 as much as we can do to manage ourselves without — * 
 
 * I did not so much mean with money, dear, as with 
 counsel. We might, it is true, perhaps eventually 
 contrive some plan for all living together — keeping 
 up a joint-establishment.' 
 
 ' If that were only possible, how happy I should 
 be ! I have thought of it too, but there seem endless 
 difficulties in the way. Foremost of all, this shame- 
 VOL. I. T
 
 290 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 less husband, who, I suppose, can compel my Mary 
 to return to him, if he can find her. She will never 
 let us share any risk or worry for her sake, I am 
 certain, joyfully as I — and you also, I know — would 
 do so.' 
 
 * Yes, indeed. When you are a little calmer, we 
 will go into the matter thoroughly, and decide what 
 is best to be done. I wish those good Miss Turnbulls 
 were at home. They are so clever and practical in 
 their advice always. Though I am not sure we 
 ought to consult them on so delicate a point' 
 
 ' Nor am I. Mary is so proud and sensitive. 
 Think how long it has taken her to confide in us, 
 where she must have known she was sure of sym- 
 pathy. Can you guess, I wonder, what distresses me 
 more than anything else ? ' 
 
 Miss Nora reflected well before replying. She 
 read the letter through again carefully. 
 
 'There is a certain bitterness, a spirit of resentment 
 at times, in some of her' arguments which it is painful 
 to find. Could it be this you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Clever little Nora, that is precisely what I do 
 mean. She who was so gentle to everybody. What 
 if he has spoilt her nature as well as her life, together 
 with this trust in man, which she says has gone from 
 her — for ever. Surely no punishment can be bad 
 enough for one like that.' 
 
 'We must not draw hasty conclusions, dear. After 
 all, things may not be so dark as they seem. Perhaps 
 he may reform — a reconciliation take place.' 
 
 ' That can never be, after the way he has behaved. 
 This must be a brute, without feeling, probably 
 incapable of repentance.' 
 
 'No, we must not say that of any fellow-creature,
 
 ' HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR ? ' 29 1 
 
 Shirley. We must also remember that the marriage 
 tie is a very solemn and binding one. Grieved as 
 I feel for poor Mary, I am afraid, by her own act, she 
 has put herself in the wrong — in the eyes of the law, 
 of course. I do not say, morally ; that is a different 
 matter.' 
 
 The same thought flashed across the minds of both. 
 In much their mother's case was identical with that 
 of their friend. She had been the victim of an 
 unworthy husband ; existence with him becoming 
 intolerable, she had fled elsewhere in search of peace ; 
 she also had been neglected. There the comparison 
 ended. The drama of their parent's life was finished 
 with the rest the grave had brought ; Mary's still ran 
 on. Who could predict its close ? 
 
 ' Our darling always felt how the world condemned 
 her — at least that unfeeling portion so prone to 
 censure at all times. If they had but known the 
 truth, and what she endured before being obliged to 
 act as she did ! Ah me, it was a dreadful time. Do 
 not let us speak of it.' 
 
 Little Nora was right. Nothing but pain could 
 result from any reference to their dead mother's trials, 
 or the responsibility for them which she had, without 
 cause, taken upon herself The same sentiment, how- 
 ever, found an echo in her daughters' hearts. They 
 knew that even now they suffered at the hands of 
 this same censorious world because the presence and 
 protection of their father was denied to them ; that 
 they were the butt of much foolish gossip and 
 conjecture. Possibly, in their refinement, they 
 exaggerated the facts. But that there was some 
 ground for their conclusions, was obvious from the 
 covert remarks which reached them, particularly
 
 292 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 Shirley, for she was about more, and, being a vocalist,. 
 perhaps her ears were a bit sharper. They never 
 spoke of these painful things. Still there was the 
 tacit feeling that the shadow rested on them, the 
 knowledge of which caused them many a bitter 
 pang. These sympathetic Miss Turnbulls had shown 
 from the first how they despised such petty uncharit- 
 ableness. That is why the girls trusted them so 
 implicitly ; why Nora was prompted to consult them 
 about Mary Stapleton's dilemma. How strange, 
 thought she, it would be if they met by accident, 
 and the influence of these amiable ladies spread 
 itself over this woman's fortunes also. That was 
 a fanciful prospect worthy of the brain which had 
 now taken up the game of ' Plots ' in real earnest as 
 distinct from a mere pastime. 
 
 Shirley sat for a long while in deep thought 
 'We must do something now, but I cannot decide 
 what. I could never go back to my work happily 
 without having tried, at anyrate. If we were only 
 rich ! Then 1 would go to her at once.' 
 
 It was the first word of discontent Shirley had ever 
 uttered, showing how keenly she felt her friend's 
 trouble that one so sweet should have been tempted 
 to complain. 
 
 * You will help me, with that wonderful little noddle 
 of yours, won't you, dearie ? ' 
 
 * Indeed, I will, with all my heart, although I am 
 far from being clever. You see, what hampers us is 
 our inability to seek the advice of others ; we are so 
 unskilled in the ways of the world. If dear Mr 
 Foster were alive, he would at once have told us how 
 to act. We are scarcely intimate enough with this 
 other gentleman. Colonel Hoskyns, to ask a favour
 
 *HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 293 
 
 of him, though if we may judge from his letters, he is 
 very nice. Our cousin is of course quite out of the 
 question, as much as Miss Pridham or Eliza would 
 be. Of those available, I can think of no one else, 
 except, perhaps, Mr Hossack, if we might venture. 
 But we are already indebted to him in so much.' 
 
 Again Shirley's cheeks flushed crimson. As there 
 was no friendly pin to pick up this time, she turned 
 her head hastily away. 
 
 ' That is absolutely impossible. What could have 
 suggested such a thing to my foolish sister?' 
 
 * I should never have thought of him, either,' 
 answered Nora simply, 'had he not shown so great 
 an interest in our affairs, and everything that affects 
 our welfare.' 
 
 Shirley, somewhat recovered from her shock, sat 
 •down again. 
 
 *I am sure I could never bring myself to tell any- 
 body about it without sinking into the ground for 
 shame, even if we had permission to speak, which we 
 have not. Poor Mary ! To think that she should 
 ever have come to this.' 
 
 It proved, as anticipated, no easy matter to hit 
 upon a plan for aiding Mary Stapleton in her dis- 
 tress. On closer reflection, Nora decided that it 
 would be injudicious to mention the painful sub- 
 ject to outsiders. Such mishaps were best kept 
 secret. The longer she thought over the revelations 
 made, the more unaccountable they seemed. It is 
 true her intimacy with Mary had not been so great 
 as Shirley's. She knew enough of her character, 
 however, to be quite certain that no fault of hers 
 could possibly have led to so deplorable a rupture. 
 There mi^ht have been some show of temper, but
 
 294 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 repentance would have followed speedily. The most 
 extraordinary thing was how this misguided hus- 
 band had not betrayed symptoms of his intemperance 
 before matrimony. Mary could never have given 
 herself to any but a gentleman, one whose ante- 
 cedents were unexceptionable : she was so high- 
 minded and refined. She could only conclude that 
 people who gave way to such vicious habits were 
 extremely cunning in their movements, with periods 
 of abstemiousness which deceived even their most 
 intimate acquaintances. That Mary could have 
 married this man from any philanthropic motives 
 of conversion from evil ways, seemed improbable, 
 although she had heard of such bold undertakings — 
 in books. Ultimately Nora could only fall back 
 upon her original opinion as to the imprudence 
 of entering the married state without extreme 
 caution. When Shirley looked up, therefore, in- 
 quiring, 'Well, dear?' she could only reply with 
 a shake of her head, repeating that it was all 
 very sad, and that she feared the world was very 
 wicked. 
 
 The younger's cogitations had taken a more 
 practical turn. She saw only one fact, namely,, 
 that the friend she loved was in urgent need of 
 mental, and, as she presumed, pecuniary assistance. 
 She did not, as Nora had done, trouble herself 
 with retrospection, or the sentimental aspect of 
 the affair. It was enough that this catastrophe 
 had occurred ; present circumstances were those 
 to be grappled with. Mary must clearly be in 
 want of money ; Shirley's, therefore, was the mis- 
 sion to supply her with some. It seemed absolutely 
 hopeless to attempt to coax her back into a calmer
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 295 
 
 frame of mind when she was so harassed. One 
 might as well expect those poor little Board-School 
 children she passed every morning, on the road 
 to her lessons, to estimate the advantages of thrift 
 when their stomachs were empty. 
 
 ' Well, for once I have been sharper than my 
 talented sister,' she announced. ' But you mustn't 
 ask me what I have decided to do.' 
 
 ' Whatever can it be ? For my part, I am quite 
 bewildered. These experiences are so entirely 
 novel to me.' 
 
 * Never mind bothering about that ; all will come 
 right, you see if it doesn't. This is the first 
 secret we have ever had ; you must humour me 
 accordingly.' 
 
 With her usual energy, Shirley began the pre- 
 parations for her plan of assistance at once. Very 
 mysterious and elaborate they were. First of all, 
 she paid a visit to the kitchen, without, however, 
 any satisfactory result. When she had induced 
 Nora to take her customary nap upstairs, she 
 called Eliza into the parlour, and held a long and 
 exhaustive conversation with that faithful domestic. 
 Into the nature of this it would be premature to 
 enter. But it may be mentioned, that whatever hap- 
 pened, Eliza was stirred to unwonted enthusiasm, 
 leaving the room with a heightened colour — if 
 that were possible to one of her ruddy hue — 
 and the exclamation, 'There, now, did anybody 
 ever hear the likes of that ! ' 
 
 Having thus enlisted the services of an accom- 
 plice in her scheme, Shirley hastened down to a 
 music-shop in the High Street, where she had deal- 
 ing's. Prominent in the window stood an instru-
 
 296 love's loyalty. 
 
 ment provoking much curiosity to the passers-by. 
 It was a squat, short-noted harmonium, pedals and 
 triangular legs tucking up, when not in use, ingeni- 
 ously under the keyboard. When closed, the machine, 
 though rather heavy, was compact enough, a strap 
 attached to its back assisting portability. Shirley 
 had often wondered how Mr Vassie became possessed 
 of this musical curiosity, which had a worn, second- 
 hand appearance, in striking contrast to the rest 
 of his wares. The fact is, it had been the property 
 of some perigrinating psalm-singer, who accompanied 
 himself therewith on many a beach, from Ramsgate 
 to Bournemouth. In some pliable, if uncommercial, 
 mood, the music-seller had been cajoled into accept- 
 ing this interesting example of the miiltuin in parvo 
 as security for a loan, which had never been 
 liquidated. In consequence, the pianette had be- 
 come the white elephant of his stock for many 
 months. As it happened, however, this was the 
 exact article Shirley wanted. She arrived almost 
 breathless at the shop, in anxiety lest the coveted 
 treasure should have been snapped up since her 
 last visit. Fortunately it had not found a pur- 
 chaser. 
 
 The shop-assistant, like a good many other young 
 men in the village, was desperately in love with 
 Shirley, blushing furiously when she made the very 
 natural inquiry if she could see Mr Vassie for a 
 few minutes on business. No, he was away on his 
 annual holiday at Yarmouth. 
 
 * Oh dear, I am sorry to hear that — I mean I am 
 very glad, and hope he is enjoying himself I had 
 a favour to ask him. Do you think he would 
 allow me to hire this article ' — the girl could not
 
 ' HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR ? ' 297 
 
 quite find the appropriate name — ' for a few 
 evenings ? I would take every care of it, and 
 buy it with pleasure, only — well, you see, just now 
 is such a dull time for lessons.' 
 
 The youth managed to stammer out something 
 polite. He was quite sure his employer would be 
 only too delighted to be of any service to the young 
 lady, and so on. Might his representative have the 
 honour of sending the instrument up to Prospect 
 Cottage on approval ? 
 
 ' Thank you very much, but that would scarcely 
 answer my purpose. The fact is,' as she turned her 
 eager face towards the assistant, with a gesture of 
 entreaty which nearly made him forget his position 
 and throw himself and his fortunes at her feet forth- 
 with, ' I wanted you to allow me to leave it here 
 when not in use, calling myself for it in the evening. 
 I would give as little trouble as possible, and willingly 
 pay what is right.' 
 
 How bewitching she looked as she made that 
 proposition, thought the assistant. If Shirley had 
 asked him to let her walk off bodily with their finest 
 Erard, he would have unhesitatingly consented. As 
 it was, she only wanted to borrow this ugly old 
 machine, which looked altogether unworthy for her 
 dainty fingers to touch. His gallantry almost 
 prompted him to offer it outright for nothing, 
 though what Miss Wodehouse could want with such 
 a thing was a puzzle. Shirley misinterpreted the 
 look with which the youth favoured her as a sign 
 of wavering. 
 
 ' You would have it on view just the same all day, 
 you know. It will be nearly dark before I can fetch 
 it,' she urged. * If I might only tell you my reason,
 
 298 love's loyalty. 
 
 I am sure you would oblige me at once ; but I 
 cannot do that.' 
 
 Had it been winter, the shopman might have 
 concluded Shirley contemplated some musical sur- 
 prise at the penny readings held in the school- 
 rooms, where indeed he had first heard her thrilling 
 voice. But being the height of summer, without 
 even a lecture advertised, the intentions of his 
 customer were quite inexplicable. Still, who could 
 doubt the good-faith of those clear blue eyes ? Yes, 
 she might borrow the whole stock-in-trade, if it 
 afforded her a moment's pleasure, even if his situa- 
 tion were imperilled by the transaction. So he 
 lifted the coveted object out of the window, and 
 after dusting, placed it carefully on a chair. Shirley 
 at once tried the keys. 
 
 ' I fear we shall have some difficulty in tuning 
 this up to concert pitch,' she exclaimed, smiling. 
 ' It will answer my purpose, though, famously. I 
 am so much indebted to you. What do you con- 
 sider would be a fair charge for its hire?' 
 
 The youth, after scratching his head for inspira- 
 tion, named quite a nominal sum, engaging, into 
 the bargain, to try and cure the notes of a certain 
 wheeziness, the result, no doubt, of long disuse. 
 The harmonium should be ready at whatever time 
 Miss Wodehouse cared to call. 
 
 'That will be this evening, at about eight o'clock. 
 If you would kindly stand it in that corner ready, 
 Eliza — I mean our lady's-maid — or myself will then 
 know where to find it always without disturbing 
 you. Good afternoon. I hope the accounts from 
 Yarmouth are satisfactory ? ' 
 
 Before the smitten one could reply, or even get
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 299 
 
 to the door to bow his enslaver out, Shirley was 
 gone. She hurried on her next errand, which proved 
 to be the purchase of a thick veil at a neighbouring 
 haberdasher's. 
 
 To collect herself after recent excitement, she 
 presently sat down and rested under the wall of a 
 seasoned old mansion which stands next to Jack 
 Straw's Castle. 
 
 Shirley decided she had never seen the Heath 
 look so quiet. There was the pond, with its tall 
 white flagstaff, to the top of which the Union Jack 
 hung listlessly ; the usual half-dozen donkeys, in 
 their summer trappings of white and red, huddled 
 together near the palings, waiting for hire, the poor 
 beasts so worried by the flies that even their suffer- 
 ings, when whacked and goaded by the unsparing 
 hands of their riders, must have been a pleasurable 
 experience by comparison. The road along which 
 the young lady trudged so valiantly in all weathers 
 seemed longer, straighter, and more glaring than 
 ever. Rising above the trees, on the right, was the 
 castellated roof of that extremely ugly refectory 
 with which some inspired builder had graced the 
 Vale of Health, seemingly, however, not so healthy 
 a spot that people could abstain altogether from 
 stimulants there. Down in the valley was that 
 queer old pound, outside which a pony was at that 
 moment rubbing his back gingerly, doubtless grate- 
 ful that he was not one of the stray quadrupeds 
 as to whose incarceration the notice posted up 
 gave such exhaustive instructions. Amongst the 
 furze bushes were several groups of photographers, 
 for whom the Heath seemed to have endless attrac- 
 tions, and who were so persevering in their en-
 
 300 love's loyalty. 
 
 deavours to persuade Shirley to grant them a 
 sitting. She would have made a pretty picture 
 just then, for instance. Amidst the green, a glimpse 
 could be caught of a set of red chimney-pots, from 
 one of which a thin line of smoke curled upwards, 
 proving that Miss Pridham's kitchen fire was alight : 
 therefore tea-time approaching. 
 
 Involuntarily, as she sat there in the early even- 
 ing stillness, Shirley recalled the commencement of 
 a poem of Goethe's, turned by the reverent hand of 
 their pastor at Dresden into graceful hexameters. 
 ' Never before have I seen our market and streets 
 so deserted ' : that was how it began. Neil could 
 repeat the lines from beginning to end, in both 
 languages, without a slip ; her sister had made quite 
 a commendable translation of it. If she had not 
 been so stupid at versification, here was a chance 
 for distinguishing herself, surrounded as she was by 
 so many poetical associations. But she knew it was 
 hopeless to try anything of that sort in her then 
 unsettled state. How could she lead her thoughts 
 into the proper vein, when her heart was overflow- 
 ing with anxiety about her friend, distracted with 
 doubts as to the best means of assisting her? It 
 must be dreadful for Mary at this lonely place, brood- 
 ing over her trouble ; in constant suspense about 
 what was going to happen next ; this wretched 
 man, no doubt, dogging her steps wherever she 
 went. Shirley knew so well how she was sure to 
 be worried at being obliged to accept the hospit- 
 ality of strangers — she who was so independent 
 and averse to taking favours from anybody. It 
 was extremely unlikely that they would know 
 her sad history. They might be perpetually tor-
 
 *HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 30I 
 
 turing her with allusions to the very subjects she 
 wished to avoid. Shirley had also seen enough to 
 feel in how embarrassing, equivocal a position Mar)* 
 must be placed. Clearly the course she had de- 
 cided upon in the summer-house was the only 
 right one. Money must be got together by some 
 means for Mary's relief, that she might come to 
 them, as it was impossible for Shirley to go abroad 
 again. It would be cruel to let her return to Paris 
 after all she had gone through there. Although, as 
 she said, her health had been much improved by 
 the holiday, she might fall ill directly with further 
 worry. What was to prevent a residence in Eng- 
 land ? With all her talents, the perfect knowledge 
 of French she must now have acquired, surely a 
 living could be easily made? They might all three 
 club together — with thrift-encouraging Nora, at their 
 head, to check any extravagances of management — 
 and get along famously. Once let Shirley feel the 
 fond embrace of her darling, and she was certain 
 she could persuade her to fall in with this proposal. 
 
 ' I never longed so much to be rich as I do this 
 afternoon,' the girl murmured, as she looked out 
 sadly across the sunlit landscape. ' I suppose it 
 is very ungrateful to be envious of the better fortune 
 of others, but I am sure there must be lots of 
 people who have a great deal more money than 
 is good for them. Still, it is no use crying after 
 the moon. Not having any money, I must try 
 to make some as best I can. I do not think my 
 plan a bad one either. Surely there can be nothing 
 wrong in using this voice of mine, which God has 
 given me, as a means to help somebody I love 
 very dearly? What if I am obliged to go out at
 
 302 love's loyalty. 
 
 night and sing in the streets? I suppose Society 
 would be horribly scandalised if it heard of a 
 young lady doing such a thing. Well, I cannot 
 help if Society is. Nor is it quite the same as 
 begging, because listeners will get value for their 
 contributions, in notes. I am sorry to be obliged 
 to deceive Nora, but it would never do to tell her 
 beforehand ; the little pet is so dreadfully proper. 
 She would imagine all sorts of desperate things 
 were happening to us ; not unlikely fret herself 
 into another illness. Eliza will be there to give 
 the alarm in case anybody tries to murder me. 
 I hate deception, but I do think just this once it 
 is excusable. If the experiment fails, as of course 
 it may, nobody will be harmed, though perhaps I 
 may feel a trifle disappointed. Never mind, it is no 
 use anticipating evils in that gloomy fashion. This 
 shall bring me luck.' She drew a packet from her 
 breast, putting it to her lips. Within was one of 
 those rare shells Mary had picked up on the 
 beach at Roussoff As Shirley turned the delicate 
 gift in her hand, its pearly lining caught many a 
 shimmering reflection from the light * Plow lovely 
 it looks ! With such a talisman, surely no harm 
 can come to me. There is something else, also, 
 which gives me courage — why should I deceive 
 myself if I am obliged to deceive others ? I feel 
 sure he would be pleased with what I have decided 
 to do ; dear Robert, who is always so kind and 
 thoughtful. May I not even tell myself how I love 
 him ? I believe I did so really from the first 
 moment I ever saw him, over there on the Heath. 
 Heigh-ho, I suppose I am different to other girls. 
 But it is terribly hard to be silent like this, when
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 303 
 
 all the while my heart is in his keeping. How I 
 wish I had been born a man. Well, now I have 
 longed for two impossible things in one afternoon, 
 perhaps I had better go home to tea. There is 
 a deal yet to be done before eight o'clock. Miss 
 Shirley Wodehouse, I am afraid you are a very silly, 
 sentimental young person, for all your apparent 
 strong-mindedness.' 
 
 It was refreshing to see with what zest Eliza lent 
 herself to her young mistress's plans. Not that she 
 allowed the interest provoked to visibly affect her 
 stoical demeanour, for outwardly she remained the 
 same unimpressionable handmaid. But when tea was 
 over, and she found herself alone in the parlour with 
 Shirley, she broke out into no end of inquiries as to 
 the programme decided upon. 
 
 * To think that we two should ever be going out 
 begging like that ! ' she exclaimed, when Shirley's 
 final instructions as to behaviour and deportment 
 had been taken. ' It sounds a'most like play-acting.' 
 
 * Perhaps ; but I have told you, Eliza, we are not 
 going out to beg; everybody will get his or her 
 money's worth, perhaps more. It is quite a serious 
 piece we are going to perform, with very much de- 
 pending upon the two actresses, let me tell you. 
 You must remember that your part is quite as re- 
 sponsible a one as mine ; more so, indeed, because 
 I am only a sort of singing chambermaid. You'll 
 do your best, won't you, for my sake ? ' 
 
 The girl, who would have followed Shirley to the 
 end of the globe on the smallest provocation, hoped 
 she had already proved her fidelity. 
 
 *If it wasn't for thinking of how aunt'll take it, 
 I should feel downright chirpy.'
 
 304 LOVE S LOYALTY. 
 
 The young lady smiled. 
 
 'That would save my voice considerably. Don't 
 be afraid, though ; I would not ask you to do any 
 thing underhand. If Miss Pridham knew our object, 
 I know she would consent. Just for a while, I have 
 reasons for not telling either her or Miss Wodehouse. 
 So, you see, we are both conspirators, Eliza. Can 
 you be ready in half-an-hour, dressed as I told you 
 — mind, without any finery ? ' 
 
 ' I've only to tidy up a bit, miss, which won't take 
 ten minutes. Well then, now, to think I should be 
 off gallivantin' like this,' as she lifted the tray and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Who would have recognised in those two soberly- 
 clad figures, hurrying quickly down the hill in the 
 gathering darkness, energetic Shirley Wodehouse and 
 her bodyguard, bent upon this plucky errand ? How 
 fast the songstress's heart beat when Eliza went into Mr 
 Vassie's to fetch the harmonium, without which their 
 efforts would be useless. It seemed an age before the 
 servant reappeared with the diminutive instrument. 
 What if the young man had repented of his bargain ? 
 
 ' That is famous. Did he say anything ? ' 
 
 ' No, he only turned as red as a turkey-cock, and 
 pointed to the corner. What he could see about me 
 to make him go that colour, I'm puzzled for to know. 
 This thing's a bit heavy ; is it the pianner ? ' 
 
 ' Of course ; what else should it be ? Give me one 
 end of the strap — that's right. Now it feels quite 
 light, does it not? ' 
 
 Shirley had evidently laid her plans with much 
 deliberation. For she marched her companion along, 
 looking neither to right nor left, until they came to 
 a great staring public-house, which the potman was
 
 'HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 305 
 
 just illuminating for the evening's business. There 
 she wheeled Eliza round into the comparative 
 seclusion of a yard whence the yellow omnibuses 
 Nora patronised so freely were dispatched on their 
 journeys. At that time the place was very empty. 
 Shirley had no difficulty in selecting an angle of the 
 wall near enough to the public-house, without any 
 appearance of aggressiveness, for the trial of her 
 enterprise. With fingers which, although they 
 trembled a little, were deft and workman-like, she 
 soon put the instrument together. Then she seated 
 herself on her camp-stool behind it. 
 
 ' We only want a small dog, with a tin mug in 
 its mouth, to complete the picture, do we ? ' Then 
 she struck a few chords to try the effect. The notes 
 were certainly a little croaky, but that defect would 
 soon be cured after use. Fortunately she could 
 command her voice under even more depressing 
 influences, as experience on some of her pupils' 
 pianos had shown. Eliza, standing bolt upright as 
 bidden, without moving a muscle, held out the shell 
 for contributions. Then Shirley Wodehouse began 
 to sing. 
 
 She gave the simplest ballad she knew, one whose 
 charm was rather in its interpretation than in any 
 florid display. An instant impression was made 
 upon the 'bus ostler, who emerged from his stable, 
 curry-comb in hand, and stood open-mouthed in the 
 entrance. When the song was ended, the man crept 
 up, and with one eye on the portals of the gin palace, 
 said in a stage whisper, — 
 
 * It's beautiful, missy ; but just you take an old 'un's 
 advice and clear out afore nobody else hears you. 
 This ain't the place for the likes o' you. Whatever 
 VOL. I. U
 
 3o6 love's loyalty. 
 
 made you chose this 'ere lay? The guv'nor's dead 
 agin your perfession ; it spoils his own pretty often, 
 don't you see ? Many's the poor gal, with a baby in 
 her arms too, I've seen chucked out o' them doors. 
 Why not try the "Wheatsheaf" up yonder? They 
 ain't so particular there. No offence, missy, only 
 that's my advice, don't you see ? ' 
 
 * It is very kind of you, I am sure ; but I could not 
 possibly think of going away until I have tried again. 
 We will move a little nearer, Eliza. They make such 
 a dreadful noise inside there, it is enough to drown 
 the strongest voice.' 
 
 This time Shirley chose a popular air, with a 
 taking 'refrain and some telling upper notes. The 
 effect was immediate, as the tones forced them- 
 selves above the din of the tipplers and clatter of 
 their pewter-pots. Shirley put all the fervour of 
 a strong will into her effort. She sang for that 
 dear friend who was in distress, whom she was 
 determined to assist, in the only way which seemed 
 possible. What did she care for appearances, or 
 even insult, if her object were only attained? All 
 the primmy families in Hampstead and Highgate 
 might come and listen to her, if they liked, for 
 nothing. She had a fine contempt for the world's 
 opinion, when she knew her purpose was honest. 
 As long as conscience — was not that God's medium 
 for whispering approval of her conduct i' — told her 
 she was right, nothing could turn her. That is 
 why she was able to express herself from her very 
 soul — forgetting conditions, the be-fuddled audience, 
 everything, except the face of her Mary, which 
 was present to her. Not, it is true, as she had 
 known it in the bright, Devonshire school-days,
 
 *HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 307 
 
 but sorrowful and clouded with a great trouble. 
 It was to help clear away those tears, call back the 
 old, happy smile, that Shirley sang her best and 
 sweetest. Nor did her efforts pass unrewarded. 
 It was something to have got at the hearts of 
 that reeking crowd, coaxed it from the drams 
 which maddened and stole away its brains. Better 
 still, to have turned this stream of money, humble 
 though the offerings were, straight from the greedy 
 maw of the publican, into this worthier river of 
 charity. Shirley had shown a knowledge of 
 humanity beyond her years, when she chose the 
 surroundings for her trial. She knew that with 
 the poor there is an innate, tender love for their 
 own class in life. Did she not, therefore, appeal to 
 them in her proper garb of poverty? Whilst she 
 might have lifted up her voice in vain elsewhere, 
 with them she was safe, as those who take the 
 trouble to study their fellow-creatures can tell. 
 Should you doubt that, reader, stand by your- 
 self, and note the worldly circumstances of those 
 who give to the afflicted in the streets. 
 
 Yes, it was no use for the landlord of the house 
 to come out in a rage and use coarse threats towards 
 the two. Shirley had gained the ear of his patrons, 
 and meant to keep it. They had never heard such 
 singing as that anywhere, much less outside the 
 ' Load o' Hay.' The nigger minstrels, with their 
 loud slap-bang choruses, were well enough, but this 
 
 * pretty little beggar ' was worth ' the whole bag of 
 tricks ' compared to them. As to that weak-lunged, 
 pale-faced widow who came on most evenings and 
 piped out her ditties in a plaintive treble, she wasn't 
 
 * in it ' with this new-comer. So the half-tipsy throng
 
 3o8 love's loyalty. 
 
 lounged about, and were treated with song after 
 song, until the receipts from the concert were 
 swollen far beyond Shirley's wildest anticipations. 
 She could have cried with joy at her success. It is 
 true there were drawbacks to this suddenly acquired 
 popularity. More than once she felt the hot breath 
 of some inebriate so close to her cheek that it 
 made her blood run cold. After one particularly 
 attractive melody, another noisy enthusiast, em- 
 boldened by the dutch-courage to be purchased 
 inside, was for dragging the singer bodily in 
 (harmonium and all), as a practical protest against 
 Mr Rubicund's exclusiveness. But he had reckoned 
 without his host ; for Eliza, ever on the alert to 
 shield her mistress — remembering also, no doubt, the 
 ostler's friendly warning — promptly made it clear 
 to this too obtrusive gallant that he had better 
 ' keep his distance,' as she was disposed ' to stand 
 no nonsense from nobody,' which forcible, if some- 
 what ungrammatical statement, was greeted with 
 loud applause by the bystanders. 
 
 It was ten o'clock — quite a dissipated hour in the 
 Prospect Cottage household — when Shirley with her 
 bodyguard reached home again, safe and sound, after 
 their adventures. 
 
 ' Not gone to bed yet, miss } Now that is 
 naughty,' was the sisterly rebuke. 
 
 'I could not, dear; we have been so anxious. It 
 has seemed such a long, long evening, although Miss 
 Pridham has been kind enough to enliven me with 
 her company.' 
 
 * Whilst you have been playing your own pet tunes 
 to her, and — let me peep — yes, crying over them, 
 which is more naughty still. Fie ! cannot Shirley
 
 *HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 309 
 
 have her evening out, as other people do, without 
 these acts of disobedience ? It is quite distressing.' 
 
 ' I am glad to find you in such spirits, sister. But 
 you do not tell me what has occurred to provoke 
 them ? We presume you have been attending a 
 lecture.' 
 
 ' How can I talk. Miss Inquisitive, with my mouth 
 full, and when I am simply ravenous? Wait till I 
 have fed, then you shall hear as much as it is good 
 for you to know. So the story-spinner has been 
 anxious, has she ? Did she think Eliza and the 
 bouncing one had been captured by highwaymen ? 
 Let me tell you, it is dreadfully lonely crossing the 
 Heath at this hour. They would never have so 
 many mounted policemen about unless there really 
 was danger. Yes, it's quite true, and you mustn't 
 look startled. Think what a comfort it is that wc 
 are so well looked after. Let me just put away the 
 remains of the feast, then you shall hear such a 
 thrilling story of hairbreadth escapes, you will never 
 have to rack that little noddle of yours for plots any 
 more. Won't you get your note-book out ? What 
 do you think of this to begin with ? ' as she emptied 
 the contents of her pocket on the table. ' Contribu- 
 tion from Miss Shirley Wodehouse. Total, thirteen 
 shillings and ninepence farthing, with a trouser button 
 thrown in — let us be charitable and say — by accident. 
 Ought not somebody to be grateful ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, indeed, although I do not know who that 
 somebody may be. I am not clever at guessing 
 riddles.' 
 
 * Yes you are. But as this is a difficult one, and 
 you look so peaky, I will not keep you in suspense 
 any longer. If I had failed, I should have said
 
 3IO LOVES LOYALTY. 
 
 nothing. This dark night's work would have re- 
 mained a mystery for ever. But I have not failed. 
 Do you know, I verily believe this is the first secret 
 we have ever had.' 
 
 ' I am sure of it,' sighed little Nora. 
 
 * Well, perhaps it will be the last, if you are very 
 good.' Then, with many a characteristic illustra- 
 tion, Shirley gave an account of her exertions. With 
 what interest and wonder Nora listened may well 
 be imagined. * Wasn't it a brilliant idea ? I should 
 never have carried it out, though, but for that Eliza 
 of ours. Her face was a perfect study all the while. 
 She was so faithful, too, and seemed to know 
 exactly what to say to keep those rough fellows 
 quiet, perhaps from breaking the harmonium as well, 
 which would have meant the workhouse until the 
 end of my days, to say nothing of disgracing me 
 for ever in the eyes of that exceedingly nervous 
 young man at Mr Vassie's. You see there is good 
 in everybody, if one only has the patience to get 
 at it properly. Do you know, when I gave them 
 ** Purple Heather," you might have heard a pin 
 drop. We collected quite eighteenpence after that 
 ballad.' 
 
 Nora was very wide-awake now. 
 
 ' It is wonderful ; indeed highly creditable to you. 
 Where you can have found the courage, I cannot 
 conceive. Oh, why am I always so weak and ail- 
 ing — such a drag upon you all ? I, as elder, should 
 have taken the lead in this charitable object. At 
 anyrate, I ought to have gone with you. Instead 
 of that, I sit helpless at home, doing nothing. Not 
 even allowed to share your confidence, which is 
 given instead to a poor drudge of a servant-girl.'
 
 *HERZ, MEIN HERZ, WAS WILLST DU MIT MIR?' 3II 
 
 Shirley's face clouded as she heard Nora giving- 
 way to these self-reproaches. 
 
 ' No, no,' she interrupted, placing her hand over 
 her sister's mouth; 'little Nora is not herself when 
 she talks so. Dear Mary was always my own 
 particular friend. I should have felt wretched if 
 I had let even you relieve me of this duty. As 
 to your inquiry,' she concluded gaily, ' it would 
 never do to have two such painfully healthy people 
 in one family. That reflection must console you. 
 Now to bed,- or we shall have Miss Pridham 
 after us with the flat candlestick. Here she is, I 
 declare.' 
 
 Long after Nora was asleep, Shirley lay awake 
 thinking over that eventful concert, and arranging 
 further programmes of action. She had a deep- 
 rooted conviction that if only Mary Stapleton could 
 be persuaded to join them, a new and happier life 
 would be hers. It could not cost so very much to 
 get from this Roussoff to England, although the 
 place sounded somehow such a great way off. If 
 she could only daily collect half the magnificent 
 sum this one performance had realised, she might 
 fairly reckon on raising enough for her purpose 
 long before the holidays were over. Unfortunately 
 there was this disinclination to take assistance from 
 anyone, as had been shown over and over again 
 at Ephraim House. It was an obstacle which, no 
 doubt, her present unfortunate circumstances would 
 aggravate. If Shirley could only break down this 
 barrier, the battle would be half won. But she 
 anticipated a severe struggle first. Well, she must 
 not be disheartened. It was not to be expected 
 that everything would go smoothly : how grateful
 
 312 love's loyalty. 
 
 she ought to be for this early good-fortune. If 
 the worst came to the worst, she must brave the 
 perils of the sea, and visit Brittany herself, though 
 she was such an indifferent sailor. She had sufficient 
 confidence in her own powers of persuasion to 
 believe that in the end she would contrive to gain 
 her point. Mary must be got to England, if not 
 actually as a resident at Prospect Cottage, before 
 work began again, or Shirley must get to her : 
 one of those two things it was absolutely necessary 
 to manage. 
 
 After having settled that to her own satisfaction, 
 Shirley's thoughts roamed into the Midland counties. 
 She fell to wondering how her cousin and his com- 
 panion were enjoying themselves. Last accounts 
 had been one long ecstatic compliment — in prose 
 and poetry — to the lovely spots the two were visiting. 
 Now you must be honest to yourself. Miss Shirley, 
 as you are so true to others, and tell us about 
 which of those tourists you were thinking most 
 that night. Fond as you are of Master Neil, would 
 you have dwelt so lovingly over the graphic pictures 
 of hill and dale had not someone else helped to 
 raise up the familiar scenes to your great delight and 
 satisfaction ? Only a few hours ago, and your inner 
 heart spoke out. Let it speak again, as you would 
 have it do. See ! there is the answer in that tell- 
 tale smile, as you pass into the happy land of dreams. 
 
 END OF VOL. L 
 
 COLSTON AM) COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINPURCH.