L I B HA R.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 8Z3 
 B56Z6i 
 V.I
 
 IN. OPPOSITION,
 
 Tho' losses, and crosses. 
 
 Be lessons right severe. 
 There's wit there, ye'll get there, 
 
 Ye'll find nae other where. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 "But out of her griefs and cares, as will happen, I think, when 
 these trials fall upon a kindly heart and are not too unbearable, 
 grew up a number of thoughts and excellences which had never 
 come into existence had not her sorrow and misfortunes engendered 
 them." --Esmond.
 
 IN OPPOSITION 
 
 GEETEUDE M. IEELAND BLACKBUENE 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WARD AND DOWNEY 
 
 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON 
 
 1888 
 [All Rights Reserved]
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, W. C. ; 
 
 AND MIDDLE MILL, KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.
 
 8£3 
 v.l 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Book I.— MARSHALLED. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. — Her Husband ..... 1 
 
 II.— Daisy 14 
 
 III. — Light, not Leal .46 
 
 IV. — A Shallow Stream .... 68 
 
 V.— Allies ...... 90 
 
 VI.— Tables Turned . . . . . 112 
 
 VII. — Manifestoes ...... 131 
 
 >^ VIII.— Asides 153 
 
 IX. — Counter-Irritation ..... 175 
 
 X.— On the Surface ..... 190 
 
 Book II.— CONFLICT. 
 
 I. — Paul Wordsworth ..... 223 
 
 4 
 
 II.— How it Began ..... 246 
 
 III. —The Question . . . . .260
 
 Recommences toujonrs ! ni treve, ni remords. 
 Allez, recommencez, veillez, et sans relache 
 Roulez votre rocher, refaites votre tache. 
 
 Victor Hugo.
 
 TO 
 
 J. S. AND TO K. P. S. 
 
 § bis §ketcf> 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 1883-1888
 
 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Book I.— Marshalled. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HER HUSBAND. 
 
 " To pound the objects of sentiment into small dust, yet 
 keep sentiment alive and active, is something like the famous 
 recipe for making cannon — to first take a round hole and then 
 inclose it with iron; whatever you do keeping fast hold of 
 your round hole." — Daniel Deronda. 
 
 " Eemember ! I have given in to your 
 wishes long after you had any reasonable 
 excuse to make. In future, Vera, mine 
 must be consulted." 
 
 Any one who had once seen Sir Ralph 
 Carstairs in public would have called him 
 persevering ; in private, obstinate. When 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 he was not satisfied, some one would have 
 a bad time till his way was made as he 
 chose, or till his wishes were fulfilled, for 
 they were never forgotten. 
 
 His young wife only pleaded for respite 
 with her great pathetic eyes. 
 
 " Give me a short time longer. I cannot 
 bear it yet." 
 
 "This is childish. I require you; that 
 is enough. I don't ask impossibilities. I 
 simply demand that you should be civil 
 to those who have — well, all men have, 
 in fact — power to make or mar a career 
 such as mine. Have I worked and waited 
 all these years now to be balked by you? 
 Goodness knows, I made a mistake in 
 marrying you ! I wanted a woman with 
 intelligence and beauty ; you seem to take 
 a pride in disguising that you have either."
 
 A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN. 3 
 
 As usual — what does as usual not mean? 
 — Vera Carstairs met her husband's re- 
 proaches in silence ; perhaps because so far 
 as any one can be used to the disagree- 
 able she was " used to it ; " perhaps because 
 she, too, had something to say. 
 
 But — Carstairs knew that well enough — 
 the words were untruthful as well as 
 insulting. 
 
 So far he was right, that a certain air 
 of listlessness, a slight apparent indifference 
 to any special attractiveness in her plain 
 mourning frock, and traces of illness and 
 suffering, had a little taken from her good 
 looks ; but no severity of style or weari- 
 ness in her expression could disguise the 
 fact that Lady Carstairs was beautiful. 
 
 Of course, like many a beautiful woman 
 she might at first sight be overlooked in 
 
 1-2
 
 4 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 favour of one who were merely pretty. 
 Like many a thoughtful soul she did not 
 readily part with her best to the first 
 comer. She was personally shy, and few 
 knew how good and true she was. 
 
 Her husband — but let him, as others, 
 speak for himself. There are no strange 
 characters in this story, they are ail 
 people you meet in good houses, and es- 
 pecially in a set with one foot on the 
 social, the other on the political, nature of 
 things. Some of our readers may know 
 them already — may know Ealph Carstairs 
 the egotist ; Paul Wordsworth the philan- 
 thropic and philosophic litterateur and 
 statesman ; his nephew, Grey Meredith, 
 once the " favourite of the House." Perhaps 
 they have been entertained by Lady Car- 
 stairs ; and Georgie Leyton, I know, took
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONS. 5 
 
 good care to be noticed and heard every- 
 where. As for Ealph's brother, there are 
 so many similar youths of eighteen that I 
 cannot wonder if you do not remember 
 which name he goes by. Poor Charlie ! he 
 thinks he is original ! 
 
 However, if you do not yet know them 
 you can if you like make the acquaintance 
 of each and all in turn, just as they are, 
 with all their weaknesses and inconsist- 
 encies. I paint no perfect beings, for 
 those I never met. 
 
 And now let us go back to the shores 
 of the Italian lake, and hear what says 
 Ealph Carstairs to his young wife. He, for 
 one, is not perfect, unless, did we know all, 
 we chose to call him a " perfect brute." 
 But that again would scarcely be fair. 
 Some people thought a good deal of him ;
 
 6 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 none perhaps as much as he did of himself; 
 and, unfortunately, " there are worse 
 people in the world than Carstairs," as a 
 friend of his always says. 
 
 Worse, maybe ; certainly few more 
 irritating. Listen to him in his egotistical 
 voice, the picture of a good-looking, well- 
 fed M.P. ; a man with cast-iron nerves and 
 unfailing powers. He does not care what 
 she feels ; she, with the sweet sad face, 
 and the graceful fragile form. 
 
 Looking down indifferently on the beauti- 
 ful countenance framed in its masses of 
 dark hair, and untouched by its plea, 
 Carstairs continued : 
 
 " As a matter of fact, it will suit me 
 that you don't go back now. I arrange 
 for you to stay here till after the recess. 
 You may mope as you please till then;
 
 HOTEL BELLE VUE, CADENABBIA. 7 
 
 after that I meet you in Paris, and you 
 come home with Me and exert yourself to 
 make My house habitable till we go to 
 Temple." 
 
 Using a curt business-like tone, lighting 
 a cigar meanwhile, he stood by the large 
 window of a salon in the centre of the 
 Cadenabbian hotel, shadowed by the 
 verandah-balcony. 
 
 "I can stay at Como till the middle of 
 May? You will go back to town without 
 me ? " she exclaimed, more cheerfully. 
 
 " I knew one way to please you at 
 least," he said sardonically. " In return 
 for this, remember on your return I expect 
 to be treated as your husband." 
 
 " Can I ever forget that you are my 
 husband? Do I?" 
 
 " I don't know ; how can I tell ? I have
 
 8 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 been forbearing enough. . . . That is 
 past. Of what I said yesterday " 
 
 She rose to her feet, colour in her 
 hitherto pallid face. 
 
 "Kalph, not yet. I see only Daisy." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and turned 
 away, looking over the lake. He expected, 
 perhaps, to hear her sob. There was no 
 sound. Other denizens of the place were 
 at luncheon ; all was still, and calm sun- 
 shine without glimmered on the placid lake. 
 
 " What do you require ? " he heard her 
 say in a calm tone, after the silence had 
 been prolonged. 
 
 " Common sense," he rejoined roughly, 
 turning to face her. " I only ask you for 
 what ninety-nine women out of a hundred 
 would give their eyes to do. It has looked 
 like it lately, but surely you are not a fool ?
 
 A MANIFESTO. 9 
 
 My success is now, to a great extent, not 
 dependent on myself, but on the amount 
 of social pressure I can apply in the right 
 direction. When I tell you to spend time 
 and money on your clothes, to give good 
 dinners to the men who can amuse you, 
 to make the most of an uncommonly good 
 position and a fair share of brains and 
 decent looks, is that an awful command ? " 
 
 She did not answer. He looked at her 
 curiously, then continued, as if it had been 
 spoken of before : 
 
 " I'm off in twenty minutes, I suppose, 
 by the afternoon steamer ; do you want 
 anything before I go ? " 
 
 "Off?" said the wife in surprise. 
 
 " I was able to divine your wishes and 
 thought it well to shorten the agony of 
 parting," he sneered again. M All is ar-
 
 10 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 ranged. Eustace goes with me of course 
 — that courier, Finch, remains with you. 
 When he was arranging for Charlie and his 
 tutor I told him that you would stay here, 
 and that he was not to give up my bed- 
 room ; it would be required to-morrow for 
 your guest, Miss Leyton, who would stay 
 as long as you did." 
 
 "That she shall not!" Vera exclaimed. 
 "This is too much." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Do you need to be told why ? It is 
 like you to treat me as a child — to tell 
 your servants your arrangements, ignoring 
 me. But to ask that woman, Georgina 
 Leyton, and fifteen minutes before you go to 
 tell me that you mean her to stay with me 
 a month ! You can go ; she may come ; your 
 brother Charlie can entertain her : I go too."
 
 "A SHADOWY THIRD, ' 11 
 
 " With whom ? Where ? I only ask out 
 of curiosity. I am so glad; I thought 
 Georgie's companionship would be bene- 
 ficial, and the very mention of her name 
 has acted on you like a tonic." 
 
 "Telegraph to her that I shall not stay 
 here ; I will go back with you sooner." 
 
 "I did not know that you hated her so 
 much as that" said Carstairs epigrammati- 
 cally, but in genuine surprise. "It is too 
 late. You have your wish — you remain 
 here. As for Georgie, you know you were 
 a little jealous of her because she and I 
 always pulled well together. I shall be 
 out of the way this time." 
 
 "Then why not wait to entertain her 
 till you can do so. Well ! she won't come 
 to me." 
 
 " Won't she? She's at Milan. I mean
 
 12 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 she will arrive to-morrow ; I had a wire 
 this morning. Now don't be so ridiculous ; 
 Georgie will be no trouble to you. She 
 has hard work to make ends meet 
 round all the amusement she wants in 
 life. I can't give her money, and, now my 
 mother's dead, how can I help my pretty 
 cousin except through my wife ? " 
 
 " You choose to say this," she answered 
 coldly. 
 
 "I hear the steamer. I take Finch with 
 me and leave him at Milan this evening to 
 meet Georgie to-morrow and bring her 
 here." 
 
 A few more unimportant words passed — 
 all taking for granted the arrangement 
 which suddenly gave Vera a month's re- 
 spite, but for that month forced upon her 
 the prospect of living with a woman dis-
 
 A PAINLESS PAETING. 13 
 
 liked by Vera as only a gentle nature can 
 dislike another woman whose character she 
 despises, — yet dreads. 
 
 The moment for the departure of her 
 husband came. 
 
 "Well, good-bye, Vera," he said. "I'm 
 off!" 
 
 " Good-bye," she answered, scarcely 
 moving. She was far too indignant to 
 speak any other word. 
 
 Thus they parted. 
 
 She was only four-and-twenty, and this 
 was not a quarrel, but the result of an 
 estrangement of life from life.
 
 CHAPTEE H. 
 
 DAISY. 
 
 " It is written as she thought it ; she thought in blanks, as 
 girls do, and some women. A shadow of the male egoist is in 
 the chamber of their brains, overawing them." — The Egoist, 
 G. Meredith. 
 
 Saddest of all things — unless those touched 
 by crime and some of those brought by 
 Death himself — are such farewells of relief. 
 
 A farewell is happy as it is sad. 
 
 The matted blind slowly waved back- 
 ward and forward over the square-flagged 
 balcony. Vera, left alone, went on to it, 
 and pushing it aside leant over the stone 
 balustrade. 
 
 Sir Ealph came out and stood smoking 
 calmly ; a tall figure with the irrepressible 
 trick of putting himself always in evidence ;
 
 A BALCONY VISTA. 15 
 
 all the blatant egotism possible to a suffi- 
 ciently well-bred man patent in every ges- 
 ture — at least to one who had suffered from 
 it. Her husband was watching his servant 
 and his fellow-passengers, and never even 
 by accident looked up to the front balcony 
 where the shapely head seemed to follow 
 his movements. Stung by the little extra 
 slight — though the natural consequence of 
 estrangement — Vera forgot that he was 
 there, going away; she thought only of 
 what he was to her life. 
 
 Some people came on to the next bal- 
 cony. One girl there whispered to another, 
 "That's Lady Carstairs, who lost her child 
 so sadly last autumn. The Carstairs live 
 near us, you know. I think she is so lovely." 
 
 " She looks awfully sad now." 
 
 " Her husband is going back for work,
 
 16 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 the courier told Heath. That's what makes 
 her look unhappy, perhaps.'" 
 
 From this remark it is evident that Anice 
 Bentley was very young, and moreover 
 did not know anything of the Carstairs ; 
 also that a conventional attitude gains 
 credit. 
 
 But Vera did not see her husband's figure 
 cross the gangway to the steamer below. 
 
 Nor, lover of nature as she was, did her 
 eyes then take in the beauty of the scene 
 beyond, perhaps the loveliest view of that 
 loveliest lake of Como as seen from its own 
 shore. 
 
 The lake lay before her unseeing eyes, 
 silvery grey beneath an intensely blue sky : 
 held between the depths were the steep 
 square ridges of Monte Primo and the 
 tongue of pine-crowned hill under which
 
 A VIEW ON LAKE COMO. 17 
 
 Bellagio glittered in the afternoon light : 
 above, the sharp-peaked Alps stretched 
 over the concealed shore of Lecco. 
 
 The steamer finally snorted ; the green 
 water flashed into light which seemed to 
 dissolve softly in creamy lace-like foam. 
 The "Unione" bore Sir Ealph away without 
 a backward glance on his part ; he was 
 making some remark to a man ; they turned 
 to regard Bellagio. 
 
 Vera saw this, and noted the steamer's 
 name with that strange turn for nonsense 
 in verbal sequence well known to the un- 
 happy — the amusement of a restless brain 
 neglected in obedience to the imperious 
 claim of the emotions. 
 
 "Unione" said she thus, " E Union fait 
 la force? Our union makes our weakness, 
 mine at least. What does anything matter 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 18 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 to him? I should be happier if he were 
 wretched too, I believe, as I am." 
 
 The girls on the next balcony saw that 
 Lady Carstairs suddenly ]eft her post ; but 
 no one saw her, else perhaps she had not 
 yielded, as in the darkened room within 
 she flung herself on the sofa and gave way 
 to her feelings of despair. Probably for 
 the first time since her child's death she 
 longed for any one — any one, no matter 
 who — whom she could have spoken to, or 
 even in silence, best of all, been helped by 
 with touch or caress. And she stretched 
 out her arms against the sofa — the hard 
 sofa — as if it were something pitifully press- 
 ing her form to make her feel that she 
 was not alone in life. 
 
 It so happened that for to-day she was 
 alone in the hotel ; young Carstairs and his
 
 LONELINESS. 19 
 
 tutor absent, her husband suddenly gone, 
 and Georgie Leyton arriving twenty-four 
 hours later. 
 
 She was alone ; all the better ; she would, 
 as soon as she could calm herself, put 
 away the past, think over the future, and 
 awake her ambition, if her heart must be 
 trained to keep; secret its own bitterness. 
 
 Put away the past ! Not let the memory 
 of that little child come between herself 
 and him who desired an heir next to his 
 own immediate success ; who now, as he 
 had said in the days of his love, and since, 
 with involuntary compliment, wished that 
 a woman who looked born to the woman's 
 kingdom should mount her throne. 
 
 But a woman like Vera does not care 
 
 for a crown till she has seen the subject 
 
 over whom she wishes to reign. To win 
 
 2—2
 
 20 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 her way for the sake of a husband whose 
 success was nothing to her, that was the 
 point at which she was to aim. She might 
 have done so, even willingly, if he had let 
 little Daisy live. 
 
 Once more, before she tried to put it 
 away for ever — nothing could help her to 
 bring back the past — she would allow her- 
 self to think of Daisy's death. 
 
 Ealph had never cared much for the 
 little thing ; it was only a girl. So Yera 
 perhaps loved her child the more, as she 
 felt that even in those early days of her 
 marriage and of the first child's life, her 
 husband was disappointed with them both. 
 Then she had not realized how little 
 affection he could give even had he not 
 been disappointed. During Daisy's life Vera 
 developed in many ways. Though very
 
 SOCIAL POSITION. 21 
 
 young at the time of her marriage, and of 
 a simple loving nature, she remained un- 
 affected by the surroundings natural to the 
 wife of the busy ambitious politician, who 
 poses as the independent patriot while 
 scheming in all possible ways to make to 
 himself the fetters of party-power. He was 
 still outside the Cabinet, his party at pre- 
 sent out of office. 
 
 He observed, with some pleasure and 
 
 wonder, that Vera attracted men of mark, 
 though, as he said, she had no more idea 
 of flirting than of flying. It irritated him 
 that she seemed unconscious of this : it was 
 waste of power. As a practical man he 
 hated that : "in these days when bribery 
 pure and simple — advisedly I use these 
 epithets — is not considered quite decent, 
 we must have women's influence. It is the
 
 22 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 only thing which you can generally rely 
 on for a few days together ; and, with all 
 due deference to the sex, it is only a few 
 women who do attract men." So Sir Balph 
 Carstairs had said; and he looked upon his 
 wife's beautiful eyes, and restful simple in- 
 terest in the hopes of workers, as part of 
 his political stock-in-trade. He was scarcely 
 capable of feeling jealousy about her ; he 
 thought her too safe, and, if not, up to 
 the present those whom the world would 
 also count safe men had been her friends. 
 
 And Vera had real friends, but she was 
 not popular. No one is by force of merit ; 
 popularity is a reward earned by exertion 
 though exertion may never earn it. 
 
 Meanwhile, at home, Vera was not 
 happy ; how could she be with this hus- 
 band? He had been accepted because he
 
 WHY SHE MARRIED HIM. 23 
 
 was good-looking, and had seemed passion- 
 ately in love with her ; because every one 
 thought it was " such a good thing for 
 her ; " and because — as only the poor child 
 knew, and was afraid to own to herself — 
 because Grey Winter had gone away and 
 evidently did not care for her! 
 
 Three years of Daisy's life passed ; she 
 was so quaint and so pretty. Already, 
 however, it was remarked that if she had 
 inherited her mother's beauty she also had 
 some share of her father's obstinacy. 
 
 One little anecdote was long remembered 
 of her. 
 
 She used to dine at her mother's lunch- 
 eon that last summer, when the Carstairs 
 had gone to their country house, Temple. 
 
 One day she was left to the care of the 
 old-fashioned housekeeper ; every one was
 
 24 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 out, and the old woman was devoted to 
 the child. 
 
 The luncheon provided for the twain 
 was of a wholesome character and of 
 simple appearance. Daisy was not at all 
 greedy, nor used to expect to eat what- 
 ever luxuries she saw, but evidently she 
 quietly resented the want of state. 
 
 " Say grace, Miss Daisy, dear," said the 
 old housekeeper. 
 
 Daisy refused silently. Pauses, entreaties 
 and commands had failed. 
 
 Suddenly — like an older person willing, 
 though sure of being right, to make some 
 compromise to meet another's unreason — 
 Daisy turned round to Mrs. Blake : 
 
 "I'se 'ay grace," she said. 
 
 "There's a good child ; not keep poor 
 Blakie waiting any longer, will she ? "
 
 LITTLE DAISY. 25 
 
 A pause of deliberate consideration. 
 
 Then, rapidly and firmly, " Amen — that's- 
 quite-enough-for-to-day."* 
 
 The old servant was scandalized at such 
 an adjustment of payment to result ; but 
 Daisy got her simplified dinner for her 
 shorn grace. " She has a way with her 
 for all the world like her father," argued 
 the old servant. 
 
 She was a wonderfully knowing child — 
 no doubt of that ! Her mischief had in 
 it real childish wit. Once or twice even 
 Sir Ealph noticed her, but this was not 
 to be desired, as he provoked her to 
 naughtiness and then blamed Vera for the 
 consequences. 
 
 Daisy did not care much for her father, 
 which want of affection was not Vera's 
 
 * A fact.
 
 26 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 fault ; she hoped Daisy might win his 
 heart, but the child resented his uncertain 
 treatment of herself, or her instinct pene- 
 trated to the harshness of his character, 
 as children's spirits can ; and so the father 
 and child were mutually unsympathetic. 
 
 But on Daisy's birthday he had a sudden 
 impulse of domesticity. He brought home 
 an expensive and ugly Paris doll, with 
 various mechanical arrangements, as un- 
 couth or artificial as the donor's attempts 
 at parental playfulness. However, to do 
 him justice, this was a step in the right 
 direction. Vera was cheered, and Daisy 
 received this overture graciously ; but the 
 bairn did not like the toy, and laid it 
 aside for that which she did like. 
 
 That afternoon Carstairs expected the 
 visit of an important constituent about an
 
 SIR RALPH'S DOLL. 27 
 
 annoying piece of business. By his own 
 desire the interview was arranged at his 
 home. However the matter should end, 
 Carstairs wished his opponent to be im- 
 pressed w T ith his member's house, and, either 
 to cover annoyance or to cement a bargain, 
 an introduction to Lady Carstairs had 
 often proved desirable. 
 
 The man did not arrive. Sir Ealph was 
 annoyed. Bored at home, yet unwilling to 
 go out in case the client might come in late, 
 Carstairs went up to the drawing-room and 
 found Daisy with her mother, alone. 
 Irritated already, Sir Ealph bethought him 
 of the neglected doll, and made another 
 attempt on behalf of it and himself. 
 He thought the toy clever, and I am 
 not sure whether he did not believe 
 himself a better judge of a doll than
 
 28 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Daisy could possibly be. What Sir 
 
 Kalph thought suitable for another must 
 be suitable. 
 
 Presently Daisy slipped off his knee 
 with one shoulder up ; by this she 
 signified that if her father was bored she 
 was also. 
 
 Sir Kalph turned on his wife : 
 
 44 How extraordinary it is, Vera, that 
 with all your pretence of devotion to the 
 child you do not teach her to behave 
 properly when she is with Me ! " 
 
 (The capital letter always should be ex- 
 pressed in the language of Carstairs : his 
 Me was superb.) 
 
 Daisy was not supposed to understand ; 
 but she knew quite well a good deal 
 more than many would think possible. In- 
 tellect and language develop much earlier
 
 WHAT DAISY THOUGHT. 29 
 
 with some people's children than with those 
 of others. 
 
 So Daisy had not only felt but (checked 
 yet admired by her mother) had remarked 
 that papa was so often cross. "She did not 
 like him to be at home when she was 
 with mammy. Would not mammy like him 
 to go away too ? " 
 
 And now Dais} r sat on the floor and 
 solemnly gazed at her parents, while Vera 
 answered gently, " Daisy is not much used 
 to notice from you, and for the moment 
 she scarcely cares for the doll. One can't 
 expect a child to hide its feelings." 
 
 " I suppose she leaves that to her mother." 
 
 Vera saw that Sir Ealph was in one of 
 his sullen moods to day. He chiefly re- 
 served them for his wife. Some people 
 called him " occasionally a little brusque ; "
 
 30 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 but many have an idea that abruptness 
 implies frankness ; besides, outsiders can 
 avoid each other till things are smooth 
 once more. Sir Ealph was sensible enough 
 to his own interests ; and if an extra- 
 ordinary amount of boorishness was work- 
 ing in him he became domestic. Not only 
 merriest when away from home, he de- 
 liberately stayed there to be surly at 
 ease. 
 
 " Daisy," he said in a minute or two, 
 " come here, you brat." 
 
 Daisy came. 
 
 " Look here ; you're to play with the doll 
 I brought you." 
 
 " Don't like bwack dollie ; old white 
 dollie pwetty." 
 
 If the humorous side of the struggle 
 struck him — that of a man for his own
 
 WHITE DOLL OR BLACK ? 31 
 
 childish obstinacy pitting himself against 
 a toddling and determined child on the 
 question of white doll or black — it only 
 more greatly irritated him. Conceit kills 
 the sense of humour — perhaps he had none ; 
 and, as a sense of humour is an admirable 
 preservative of dignity, in the undignified 
 wrangle in which he practically lowered 
 himself to the level of his three-year-old 
 child the politician had no advantage. He 
 could doubtless conquer the child and take 
 away " white dollie," but could he make 
 Daisy smile on the blackamoor? Force re- 
 prehensible, sneers incomprehensible — what 
 could he do but wrangle? The word seems 
 absurd, but so was the position of the 
 parent with regard to this strife. 
 
 Daisy ran to her mother after a few 
 minutes' altercation. " I love mammy," she
 
 32 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 asserted, a propos of some wonderful process 
 in her own mind which showed a latent 
 feminine instinct of defensive arousing of 
 jealousy as a means of revenge. 
 
 Sir Ealph followed and roughly caught 
 her away. 
 
 Vera thought the child would cry ; but 
 in this conflict of will hers was the dig- 
 nity. In baby fashion she was well able 
 to take care of herself. As Sir Ealph 
 dragged her across the room she passively 
 resisted ; her curly head down on the 
 shoulder towards her mother, and dragging 
 at the full length of her tiny arm from 
 him. He released her so suddenly that she 
 nearly fell ; but Daisy's temper was roused. 
 " I like mammy's dollie too," was her un- 
 daunted assertion as she recovered. 
 
 This was said with baby insolence.
 
 FATHER OR MOTHER ? 33 
 
 Seeing the reproduction of character in the 
 child, looking so lovely in her white frock, 
 innocent as yet, but already capable of 
 meeting her father after his own fashion ; 
 with an awful sudden fear of such develop- 
 ment as the years might bring ; Vera inter- 
 fered. It was strange then, but she remem- 
 bered it later, for the moment she thought 
 with swift sympathy that it was her hus- 
 band's nature so to be — that it was her 
 part to modify such transmitted influences 
 in her child. 
 
 So her "Daisy, don't be naughty," fell 
 simultaneously with Carstairs' cs You little 
 devil!" 
 
 However, in another moment — perhaps 
 realizing that a child repeats all it learns in 
 the way of new words, and more cross for 
 his approach to shame — her husband con- 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 tinued to her, " I'll ask you to interfere 
 
 when I need your assistance." 
 
 Yera steadily regarded her husband for 
 
 a moment ; rather a look of contempt than 
 
 of resentment — a young woman's contempt 
 
 for the petty domestic tyrant. And the child 
 
 already began to understand ! Perhaps it 
 
 were better that she should go out of the 
 
 room since Daisy appealed to her. Besides, 
 
 sneers at herself were being intermixed. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 " To fetch a book." 
 
 " Can't you ring for what you want, or 
 is early education too strong in you ? " 
 He rang. " Ask for what you require." 
 
 Vera quietly passed him, and meeting the 
 man, who entered looking subserviently in- 
 terrogative, she observed : 
 
 "Your master wanted you."
 
 PETTY TYKANNY. 35 
 
 Of course this was for the benefit of her 
 husband. The servant waited silently. "Did 
 you ring, sir?" he ventured to say at length. 
 
 " No," answered Sir Ealph. 
 
 Vera went ; because she, like many quiet 
 people, had a warm temper steadily kept 
 under control on most occasions ; she could 
 not bear much more. Also, to remain was to 
 yield. None but herself knew how needful it 
 was to make some stand against the abso- 
 lutism which was being woven round her 
 trivial liberties of personal life. 
 
 She had scarcely reached her own room on 
 the floor above before the thought occurred 
 to her that he might ill-treat the child. So 
 she returned. 
 
 The staircase of that house is very hand- 
 some, and on ordinary occasions a cabinet 
 and a pedestal, with thereon a large vase and 
 
 3-2
 
 36 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 a quantity of frequently-renewed flowers, 
 stand near the drawing-room doors. 
 
 One door of the drawing-room was now 
 open. Hearing a cry from Daisy, Vera 
 hastened on, and the child at her entrance 
 ran to her as if it had been terrified. 
 
 Vera — so angry — tried to lift Daisy. But, 
 not being strong, Daisy was too heavy for 
 her, and now it suited Sir Ealph to remember 
 that this scene was not good for his wife. 
 
 "Put her down at once." 
 
 " What are you doing to my child ? " 
 
 "Teaching her obedience." 
 
 "Tell me what you wish her to do." 
 
 Vera spoke quietly ; she would send Daisy 
 away whatever happened. She rang the 
 bell twice to signify that the nurse was 
 required, as Sir Ealph answered: "She 
 knows what I want ; leave her to me."
 
 VERA IS ROUSED. 37 
 
 " Daisy has not been good ; I shall send 
 her to the nursery," said Vera, speaking 
 firmly to the child, but with a look at her 
 husband which warned him that it was not 
 for his sake she was quiet; her blood was 
 up and she was not sorry that the time 
 had come when, Daisy safe, she would 
 measure her force against his. 
 
 He came to lead the child away. With 
 another cry Daisy ran from both. A 
 moment later, a footman, coming upstairs 
 to announce the presence of the belated 
 client saw the end of the scene ; so he was 
 able to say it was all accident. 
 
 Daisy ran away. 
 
 " She'll fall downstairs, Balph," cried 
 Vera. 
 
 But, as the man said afterwards, " Sir 
 Balph got between the child and the stairs,
 
 58 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 so Miss Daisy turned back like, and how it 
 was he could not say; the vause, he should 
 have said was as sure as the Aark ; but 
 somehow the whole thing came down as 
 she fell asnn it." 
 
 Yes ; it was Daisy herself who pulled the 
 pedestal over. It had been carelessly re- 
 placed, perhaps, and in her fright she threw 
 her weight on it ; so the accident occurred. 
 
 A crash, as cabinet and pedestal fell ; an 
 oath from Sir Ealph, as, too late, he turned 
 and saw the danger ; the man pausing in the 
 message ; just one cry from little Daisy as 
 she was struck. 
 
 It was only a terrible misfortune. But it 
 had so occurred that life was no longer 
 able to stay in the delicate wee body. 
 
 For Daisy lived a few hours after concus- 
 sion had set in: in her fever she was ter-
 
 THE EMPTY WOKLD. 39 
 
 rifled ; and when the calm came, and Vera 
 looked up to whisper : " She is smiling like 
 herself once more," it was because the child 
 would never fear again. 
 
 When nothing more was to be done, Vera 
 was very ill. 
 
 She was too ill to realize a double loss for 
 a time ; but every one in town during the 
 autumn session pitied Carstairs for losing 
 bis child by that horrid accident ; then, that 
 the little heir lived no more than a few 
 hours ; and that for so long his wife's life 
 was despaired of. How unfortunate some 
 men are! 
 
 However, Vera was young and had a good 
 constitution, though so fragile -looking: she 
 could not help returning to the empty 
 world. 
 
 It had happened in October ; in February
 
 40 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 it was decided that they had better go to 
 the south to complete her recovery. 
 
 " Monte Carlo is about the only place I 
 can stand,'' said Sir Ealph. 
 
 Vera, consulted, said : " I don't care ; yes, 
 let it be Monte Carlo — there I shall see no 
 children," she added, half to herself. 
 
 Car stairs enjoyed himself, and delicious air 
 and bright sunshine almost restored his wife, 
 who, with another woman, like herself unable 
 to care for society, used to spend silent hours 
 in the woods or in the gardens of Monaco far 
 from the motley throng of pleasure-seekers. 
 
 By-and-by they moved to Milan. Vera, 
 though well in health, dreaded the return ; 
 she pleaded for respite, but the manner of 
 that respite one April morning has already 
 been told. 
 
 She was left to put away the past, to
 
 ESTRANGED WIFE, BEREAVED MOTHER. 41 
 
 face the future, for this day alone. 
 Estranged as a wife, bereaved as a mother 
 — that was her past ; and so young, so 
 fettered, so lonely — what would be her 
 future? She re-lived the past; she broke 
 down ; she recovered ; still struggling with 
 herself, she was conscious of a sweet odour 
 near her — a presence with her who 
 thought herself alone. 
 
 The intruder — embarrassed yet sympa- 
 thetic — was a young girl ; a pretty fair 
 face with pitying eyes, a slight figure in a 
 dark dress, the background to a mass of 
 azaleas, with exquisite colour and delicious 
 scent lightening and freshening the dreary 
 salon. 
 
 The girl spoke first, in one of those 
 voices which are full of the music of 
 speech ; quite different from, but in their
 
 42 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 own way as beautiful as, voices fitted for 
 
 song. 
 
 " Please forgive me. Mother — I am 
 Anice Bentley— sent me to ask for you. 
 I thought you would like some flowers 
 from the Carlotta, and so I knocked. 
 No one answered, so I thought I might 
 leave them. I found after all } t ou were 
 here, and you are all alone. Please " 
 
 Vera interrupted her by holding out 
 her hand. The sweet face, the kindly 
 deed, the evident sympathy must not be 
 treated as intrusion. Vera saw that the 
 girl's sensitive shyness was struggling with- 
 in her. 
 
 " How good of you ! No ; stay with me 
 if you have nothing to do. I am not 
 quite strong yet, as I daresay Mrs. Bentley 
 may have told you, so you must forgive
 
 A VERY YOUNG GIRL. 43 
 
 my being foolish. I know all the rest of 
 your family ; not you, do I ? " 
 
 " I am so much the youngest, and 
 though I was presented this spring, just 
 before the workmen turned us out of our 
 house, I have not been out to anything." 
 
 " I thought that I had not seen you." 
 
 " But I have thought about you ever 
 since you called on us last June," said 
 the girl very quickly. " I was going out, 
 and I saw you ; you were all in white 
 with some yellow roses ; and — I beg your 
 pardon " 
 
 "For what?" Then she noticed that, 
 colouring at the betrayal of her heroine- 
 worship — the " first-love " of such girls is 
 almost always a woman — Anice had turned 
 away, and that in so doing her eye had 
 caught sight of the photograph of Daisy.
 
 44 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Something in the blushing face told 
 Vera that she had here a friend. After- 
 wards she said to Anice : 
 
 4i It seems as if I always had known 
 you." 
 
 So then Vera asked on sudden impulse : 
 
 "Did you ever see her?" 
 
 " Every day last year 1 met her in the 
 park. I always spoke to her." 
 
 Suddenly — from which side the initiative 
 had come neither ever knew — Vera felt a 
 human clasp of sympathy, a kiss of affec- 
 tion, and the tear of another touching her 
 own fevered cheeks. 
 
 4 * Thank you, dear," said Vera. " If you 
 must go, come and see me again ; come 
 tc-morrow, if you can, in the morning." 
 
 So unlike Vera to thus take to a 
 stranger ; but though so little had been
 
 FROM THE VILLA CARLOTTA. 45 
 
 said, intuition had taught either of the 
 other. Very sudden was the friendship 
 of Jonathan and David ! And when 
 Anice had gone, the rich scent of the 
 glorious golden flowers remained to gladden 
 Vera's heart with reminder that after each 
 winter there are new blossoms on the 
 earth, and after each season of desolation 
 some new growth of perhaps unexpected 
 sympathy. 
 
 ^—
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 LIGHT, BUT NOT LEAL. 
 
 " We oft by lightning read in darkest nights ; 
 And by your passions I read all your nature 
 Though you at other times can keep it dark." 
 
 Care we. 
 
 The party with whom Georgina Leyton was 
 travelling was dining that evening at a table 
 in the restaurant of the Hotel Continental, 
 Milan. It had lost its interest to her since 
 two younger men had gone on to Venice. 
 Georgie never wasted her time on women ; 
 nor was Mrs. Pellew interesting in herself, 
 and elderly Mr. Pellew was of that staid 
 type of husband-courier who did not count 
 as a man. 
 
 So when her temporary chaperon ob- 
 served : " We shall be sorry to lose you,"
 
 BORED. 47 
 
 Georgina Leyton scarcely answered, but con- 
 tinued to gaze out on the square wherein 
 the omnibus might be expected to rattle in 
 a few minutes, bringing Sir Ralph Carstairs. 
 Had Georgie wished to talk, or had there 
 been any one near whom she would have 
 liked to pose before as an amusing woman 
 even at a distance, she would have practised 
 her wiles albeit only on her elderly fellow- 
 travellers. But as the diners near were 
 quite " impossible," Georgie remained pas- 
 sive ; and when the omnibus came in and 
 did not bring her cousin she was too 
 dispirited to make any cutting remarks 
 on live load or dead luggage. Why had he 
 not come ? Had he gone straight through ? 
 
 coo 
 
 Dinner over, she followed Mrs. Pellew 
 indifferently into the passage, where marble 
 statuettes and casts for sale simper and grin
 
 18 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 on the curious folk who stroll round their 
 domain. Facing the door of the restaurant 
 a mysterious direction confronts the travel- 
 ler : a hand points to nowhere, apparently, 
 but to a glass case beneath advertisements, 
 and bids the passer-by know that there is 
 the English Church! While Mrs. Pellew 
 solved the problem thereby presented, 
 Georgie, who cared for none of these 
 things, disconsolately threw herself into 
 an American chair, wondering how she 
 was to get through the evening alone 
 with the elder Pellews, and " not a decent- 
 looking '"' man even in sight. 
 
 But somehow she had missed seeing the 
 arrival of Sir Ealph, who had not come 
 by the omnibus, and whose voice now 
 raised her dormant energies. 
 
 As he came up to her Georgie Leyton
 
 BEIGHTENED. 49 
 
 changed from discontented languor to self- 
 possessed vivacity. Except lie were a quick 
 observer, previously, any stranger would 
 have pronounced her uninteresting. Now, 
 she had a little colour under the skin, 
 smooth but not fair, suiting the dark hair ; 
 her eyes became bright and her smile 
 gave a piquancy which passed for pleasant- 
 ness to her face. She was certainly what 
 is called a good-looking girl, with the added 
 stamp of that distinction which impresses 
 itself on one who has had some experience 
 of being thought attractive. 
 
 " So you're there, Pussy cat ! " said Sir 
 Ealph by way of greeting; "looking fit 
 enough too. You're not afraid of a month 
 of Vera, more or less diluted by any 
 amusement you can pick up for yourself? 
 Eemember, I guarantee you nothing but 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 50 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 what the servants call your ' keep,' not 
 even a welcome from your hostess." 
 
 This speech was blended into Georgie's 
 greeting of him, and he continued : " In- 
 troduce me to those people and get it over ; 
 I hope you've shaken them off for to- 
 morrow morning ? " 
 
 " Did you arrange it ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Yera does not know that I stay 
 here the night, or that you get to Milan 
 before to-morrow ; I did not trouble her 
 with superfluous explanations." 
 
 Sir Ealph was a different man when, he 
 was amusing himself, as was Georgie when 
 amused. They laughed together ; the pleas- 
 ant laugh of intimates with a private joke 
 against a mutual friend, and on excellent 
 terms — perhaps too excellent — with each 
 other.
 
 COUSINLY OR CONFIDENTIAL ? 51 
 
 " Mrs. Pellew wants to know whom I've 
 picked up," said Georgie. "I told her you 
 might be coming and hadn't got here." 
 
 "Won't she go to bed, and leave you 
 with your cousin? Have you dined, Puss? 
 Come and eat with me." 
 
 " I can't eat two dinners in an hour ; 
 but if you're good and have some cham- 
 pagne I'll take it, and watch you eat on 
 condition that you open that window ; we 
 shall have the hotel-restaurant to ourselves 
 at this hour. Oh, Mrs. Pellew, let me 
 introduce my cousin, Sir Ealph Carstairs," 
 she continued, as that lady drawing nearer 
 showed symptoms of impatience. 
 
 A few conventional words passed ; then 
 Georgie announced : " I am going to watch 
 him feed ; he says he isn't shy." 
 
 Mrs. Pellew looked a little doubtful ; she 
 
 4—2
 
 52 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 had only had temporary charge of the 
 younger lady, but even in that time had 
 learnt that chaperons were made for Georgie's 
 neglect. So in a few minutes more the 
 cousins found themselves in the restaurant 
 Georgie had lately left in silence. This time 
 her tongue did not rest. No one else was 
 there— only the polyglot waiter came in at 
 intervals, till a-wearied he too departed, and, 
 seeing a lady and gentleman well occupied 
 together, even left the most junior of waiters 
 to sell the hotel cigars if he could. 
 
 Inflicting on this personage disappointment 
 by producing cigarettes, Sir Ralph talked 
 over his dessert in a contented, good- 
 humoured fashion. 
 
 " Now, T don't say, Georgie, that you're 
 going to enjoy Cadenabbia ; it is rather likely 
 that you won't," he said with his slower
 
 EGOTISM AT EASE. 53 
 
 manner and air of egotism at ease after a 
 good dinner. 
 
 " Well," she replied, pulling at a bangle on 
 her wrist, " on the whole I prefer being your 
 guest when you are there ! No, thanks ; not 
 in a public place like this," as he offered her 
 the cigarettes ; it's awfully tempting, so don't 
 do it again ! But, you see, after Vera was so 
 stupid last year, it was, as you said, a capital 
 thing to go to her alone ; of course, I appre- 
 ciate your part of the business ; and it just 
 suited me." 
 
 '•Well, it ought to," he rejoined; "I've 
 had enough worry between the two of 
 
 you." 
 
 " Tell me, did Vera ask me as a sort of 
 test to see if I'd go to her when you weren't 
 there, or because she thought she'd do the 
 civil here to get it done with ? " inquired
 
 54 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Georgie, with curiosity, but quite compla- 
 cently. 
 
 " You're always rather brutal, Georgie," 
 he said, with a laugh. " I reply in the same 
 spirit of candour, that till to-day Vera had no 
 idea you were coming to her, or that she was 
 to stay in Italy ; otherwise you'd never have 
 had that sweet little note of let bygones be 
 bygones that I wrung out of her the other 
 day. Vera's weak enough to be governed by 
 an appeal to what she calls her conscience ; 
 that's how you got that letter, my dear ! She 
 doesn't do things by halves either, though ; 
 planning this, I only wanted her to write; 
 I didn't want her to apologize." 
 
 " Little she knew of the other letter that 
 came with hers ; would you like to compare 
 them now ? I've got it here." 
 
 '•For goodness' sake, child! don't keep my
 
 KEPAETEE. 55 
 
 letters," exclaimed Sir Balph with some haste. 
 " I declare I'll not write unless you remember 
 your promise." 
 
 " It will be your loss," said Georgie with a 
 flash in her dark eyes. " Your letters are 
 amusing certainly at times, but I can live 
 without them ! " 
 
 " Yours lately have been dull enough in all 
 conscience — certainly not worth postage to 
 me. But, repartee and joking apart, give me 
 that letter or destroy it yourself at once. 
 Just think, if you dropped it by chance ! " 
 
 " Isn't it the correct thing for a young lady 
 to show her correspondence to her chape- 
 ron ? " said Georgie mischievously. 
 
 " What do you know about the correct 
 thing, pray ? " replied Carstairs laughing, a 
 little uneasily however. That particular 
 letter was candid — too candid for publication
 
 56 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 — and perhaps Georgie might retain sufficient 
 elements of young ladyhood to leave her 
 letters about in a casual fashion. 
 
 " I have thoughts of trying the correct 
 thing for a change. I met rather a prig of a 
 man the other day, who took me for a proper 
 young lady and discoursed platitudes. Do 
 you know what he said to me ? " 
 
 " What the man said to you ? What a 
 man might say to you is a large order ; I 
 rather limit the field of speculation and 
 wonder what any man would not say to 
 you," he replied airily. 
 
 " If you have not self-respect enough to 
 draw the line in the right place," said 
 Georgie, with a sudden tightening of the 
 curves round her firm chin, " I'll thank you 
 not to suppose that others do not — that 
 others do as you do."
 
 THE WK0NG VEIN. 57 
 
 Here she lost herself a little, and appeared 
 annoyed ; she had betrayed herself by taking 
 him au grand serieux. 
 
 " Don't be ridiculous, Pussy ! Have 
 another glass of champagne — just a little 
 more. If I can't say what I like to you, 
 who should ? " 
 
 He forced her to look at him, and with 
 some lingering unwillingness she smiled a 
 little. But once in the wrong vein a man 
 goes on saying the unpleasant, even when he 
 means to please, and so Carstairs, only wish- 
 ing to be complimentary, got on to the 
 dubious ground of approval of that of which 
 perhaps even Greorgie Leyton was consciously 
 ashamed. 
 
 " Why, we are relations and friends, and it 
 was just a chance we weren't more after all! 
 How sensible you were! So many girls
 
 58 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 would have never seen that there was no 
 earthly reason why we should not return to 
 our old relationships when we found that 
 other things had fitted in somewhat unex- 
 pectedly. I don't think we should have got 
 on together if we couldn't have got away 
 from each other, you know ; so it's all for 
 the best." 
 
 Georgie suddenly moved a little and looked 
 behind her. " Is that Mr. Pellew coming ? 
 No. Go on. What were we talking of? 
 Oh ! I remember," she said suddenly, delib- 
 erately forgetting two or three links of the 
 chain ; " I was telling you about my prig. 
 He discoursed for an hour — he was rather 
 
 good-looking " 
 
 " Oh, I see why you listened." 
 " I very often have to listen to men 
 who don't know their defects in that way,
 
 TALK. 59 
 
 relations and friends you see, so my eyes 
 like to rest sometimes. He was good- 
 looking, in earnest, and didn't know my 
 flippant nature, so I actually remember 
 what he said, even though he was rather 
 a bore ! Can you ever forgive a man 
 who begins a conversation with the 
 idea that he is going to improve you at 
 the end of it? One meets so many of 
 them now-a-days." 
 
 " Hopeless task," said Sir Ealph, not 
 so interested but rather fascinated by 
 watching Georgie, who made a face at 
 the irresistible retort, with its following : 
 " Of course, to improve you is impossible, 
 the perfect — pussy cat ! " 
 
 " A perfect donkey might be improved 
 if he'd use his ears sometimes ! " she said. 
 
 " I understand you listened to that
 
 60 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 end? Excuse me, you said you listened, 
 didn't you ? Isn't that using your ears ? " 
 
 Georgie did not pursue the subject — she 
 had let him lazily score; her revenge was 
 to annoy. " He said," she continued, " that 
 the mistakes of life arose from people 
 never seeing into each other's modes of 
 thought, and that every one ought to try 
 to make every one know what every one 
 else was like " 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" 
 
 " Of course, he did not put it like that. 
 You've annoyed me to-night, and so I'm 
 making mistakes ; but anyhow, he said 
 that whenever one saw two people suffer- 
 ing from being related without sym- 
 pathy, one should try to bring them into 
 harmony. Now suppose I had a mission 
 near home? Suppose I said that you and
 
 A COWAKDLY STAB. 61 
 
 Vera were splendid subjects to practise 
 on ? Well — how could I make her know 
 what you were like better than by show- 
 ing her that letter ? " said Georgie with 
 her half-pleasant smile. 
 
 Sir Ealph felt the sting, as intended. 
 He put on something of the manner which 
 by the irony of fate he chiefly used to 
 Vera herself, not to the woman with 
 whom he was accustomed to discuss his 
 wife. 
 
 " I suppose you think you understand 
 me" he said drily ; " we will let that 
 pass — probably you are satisfied with your 
 success." 
 
 This was a cowardly stab; they both 
 knew that. Georgie never flinched. She 
 had had bad luck since his allusion to 
 their relations, and, like most women, she
 
 62 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 usually appeared to disadvantage in retort- 
 ing on him she would have ruled. However, 
 she looked at him steadily, and reaped as 
 much victory as may be gained by one 
 whose armour wards off a thrust, but is 
 dinted into the bruised flesh beneath the 
 blow. 
 
 " You understand me," he continued ; 
 " well, do you understand Vera ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Like it or lump it ! simply this," he 
 went on with unwonted energy of expres- 
 sion ; " you're sharp enough, the devil 
 knows, for most things, but if you lived 
 to be a hundred you'd never make out 
 Vera." 
 
 " She left a good deal of room for 
 misunderstanding when she made the row 
 about our riding last year? She's a foo —
 
 WIFE AGAINST COUSIN. 63 
 
 I mean she can't conceal her feelings — so 
 she puts herself at my mercy over and 
 over again. Understand her?" 
 
 Georgie laughed with two-fold scorn ; 
 for Vera, and for the man who had 
 turned upon her for action he encouraged. 
 
 "She may put herself at your mercy," 
 he said, as roughly as if he had spoken 
 to Vera herself, " though pray don't de- 
 ceive yourself; if she knew how to use 
 it she has as much ability in her little 
 finger as you have in all your body ! 
 But if she does seem like twenty fools, 
 no woman of your sort ever yet under- 
 stood a good woman's nature." 
 
 " How dare you, Ealph ? " said Georgie 
 Leyton in real and, to some extent, rightful 
 wrath. 
 
 " Dare ? " he said with a laugh. " Oh,
 
 64 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 come ; at this time of day I'd dare most 
 things with you, and there isn't much in 
 that. Would you like to be a good 
 woman ? Not yo u. Vera is a famous 
 example — she's a bore and a bungler, but 
 she does not know what it is to lift a 
 finger to get an advantage for herself. 
 That wouldn't suit your book, Pussy." 
 
 " If you cannot talk with more sense and 
 more civility I shall go. I am very sorry I 
 came, and " 
 
 " Gently," he said, satisfied with what he 
 had done in the way of correction of his 
 own disloyalty in another, whom yet he 
 really cared for as he cared for his cousin 
 Georgina Leyton ; " now, don't fire up. 
 We'll talk of something better. I was only 
 saying this for your good." 
 
 " For my good ? " she answered bitterly,
 
 RETROSPECT. 65 
 
 with flashing angry eyes. "Did you ever do 
 me good in your life ? Since eight years 
 ago, when I was still quite a child " 
 
 " Excuse me, you never were a child 
 since I knew you ; you were younger, I 
 allow. But you say you were a child eight 
 years ago " 
 
 " Yes ; in thought, in innocence " 
 
 " Of a kind," he persisted* taking pleasure 
 in seeing her wince and colour. " Eight 
 years ago ! What a memory you have ! " 
 
 " My memory has less to burden it 
 than yours." 
 
 " Well, eight years ago ? " he said, to 
 see if she would speak. 
 
 " Eight years ago you began to behave 
 like a blackguard to me. I count that 
 from the first moment that we met." 
 
 Never had Georgie thrust with more 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 6G IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 right or with more dignity, and, though 
 spoken in anger, this truth went home. 
 After a pause he could only say with 
 unsuccessful insolence — unsuccessful because 
 appearing an attempt to cover a retreat : 
 " You have been uncommonly lenient to a 
 blackguard then— for eight years ! Hullo ! " 
 he said, as she rose in anger at last, " I 
 say, don't go ; I haven't meant anything. 
 Pussy ! Georgie ! " 
 
 But for once — alas ! it was only for once 
 — Georgie retreated in dignity, and he could 
 scarcely cover his own astonishment, even 
 to the eyes of the afar-off inquiring young 
 waiter, by springing up to open the door 
 as if the retirement of mademoiselle had 
 been not unexpected though evidently pre- 
 cipitate. He was vexed with himself, not 
 that he had given pain or had been un-
 
 KEGRET. 67 
 
 chivalrous but, that he had driven her 
 away when she might have amused him till 
 bedtime. It was not worth while going 
 out, and he pitied his own dulness. 
 
 Chance, however, favoured him with a 
 companion till then unknown, but with 
 whom he had a link of which he wotted 
 nothing. 
 
 0^5^ 
 
 5-2
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 A SHALLOW STREAM. 
 
 "Of very soft society and great showing; indeed, to 
 speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of 
 gentry."- —Ha mlet. 
 
 " Seen him before or only his type ? " soli- 
 loquized Carstairs idly as another English- 
 man swung the door open, and with no 
 signs of travel about him proceeded to eat 
 at an hour which none but an ultra- 
 fashionable of the future could consider as 
 dinner-able. 
 
 More discomposed by Georgie's absence 
 in the present than by her arraignment of 
 him in the past, Sir Ralph scanned the 
 companion of his solitude. " Tall, fair, 
 good-looking, probably about eight-and-
 
 PAUL WORDSWORTH'S NEPHEW. 69 
 
 twenty, well-groomed head set on square 
 shoulders, pleasant voice, excellent manner ; 
 now, should I say he was clever? No — 
 thinks he is ; not a barrister but some sort 
 of standing like that. Wonder where I've 
 seen him ? " 
 
 The young man ran his fingers over the 
 table as if playing a tune. " Of course," 
 continued Sir Ealph, who had that knack 
 of remembering faces which those in whom 
 it is born specially cultivate if they have 
 to live on the public, " I knew I had met 
 him ; it's Paul Wordsworth's nephew, Grey 
 Meredith." 
 
 Paul Wordsworth, as every one knows, is 
 one of England's strong men. To Paul 
 Wordsworth as yet Carstairs had not made 
 himself commendable ; to Paul Wordsworth 
 Carstairs earnestly desired to be invaluable.
 
 70 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Sure of his man, Sir Ealpli consulted 
 his mental note-book : " People whom I 
 ought to secure ;" and there, as he smoked 
 on, he found recorded the entrance of 
 this young man to the House a year ago 
 at a by-election, coming soon after he had 
 inherited some property and changed his 
 name from something or other on that 
 account. " Better know him than not," had 
 been the impression of Carstairs ; " he is 
 insignificant, but a link to others. Your 
 independent member by profession has to 
 be your dependent touter in practice." 
 
 Partly for this reason, partly because 
 Carstairs was an egotist in the minutest 
 detail of his life, he chose to make an 
 introduction of the, under such circum- 
 stances, natural casual talk of two men 
 obviously of the same nation and nurture.
 
 EELATIVE POSITIONS. 71 
 
 Meredith, of course, was cognizant of the 
 position of Carstairs, and aware of another 
 fact, that Carstairs had married and did not 
 appreciate Vera Ludlow. He showed no 
 alacrity to respond to the civilities of his 
 senior in age and position, though in his 
 turn Meredith might have well put Car- 
 stairs down on a list of " People who can 
 get me on." But even as a struggling 
 man he had not paid the usual nineteenth- 
 century attention to the right people to 
 know ; nor had exercised the proper 
 neglect of the people whom he could get 
 no advantage from. Now well off, he did 
 no better. He did not like Carstairs — voila 
 tout. 
 
 " Sorry to hear of your illness ; suppose 
 that's what brought you away from home," 
 Carstairs said after the preliminary speech,
 
 72 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 with his urbane manner of talking to a mas- 
 culine equal. It was strange that delight- 
 ing to be with women — with some women — 
 he appeared always to much better advan- 
 tage with any or with all men, and knew 
 himself to have the qualities of success 
 rather than of sympathy. Therefore men 
 appreciated his abilities most when they 
 knew who owned them. And, as now, 
 in the simple comment there was not the 
 genuine ring of pleasant feeling, there 
 was the flattery that Car stairs, who had 
 so much to think of, should remember 
 the illness of a new member. By this 
 time Meredith answered less stiffly. 
 
 " Not quite the pleasantest thing in the 
 world to have typhoid in one's second 
 session, and be utterly disabled for two 
 months. However, I'm fit enough now.
 
 HESITATION. 73 
 
 My only excuses are my doctor's fad and 
 the convenience of a friend who paired 
 with me, and I'm bringing my mother out, 
 too, like a dutiful son ! " 
 
 They talked of Italian lakes and of 
 English politics, and as they stood up to 
 separate Meredith said what he had wished 
 to say, as a stranger may remark on any 
 well-known fact. 
 
 " I trust Lady Carstairs is stronger ? " 
 
 With the casual manner natural when 
 speaking of his wife, Carstairs answered : 
 
 " Thanks, yes ; her illness has been 
 chiefly nervous for a long time. But I 
 think she will be all right when she gets 
 back to town." 
 
 "Is she with you here?" said Mere- 
 dith with a little hesitation. Perhaps he 
 was not sure whether Carstairs would
 
 74 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 resent or wonder at the question from a 
 stranger. 
 
 " No," said Carstairs, " I'm a bachelor 
 for the moment." His wife's movements 
 did not interest him, and he had no idea 
 that they could interest Gvey Meredith, 
 any more than he had an idea that eyes 
 were scrutinizing him to see what the 
 husband of Yera Ludlow was like ; that 
 Grey Meredith was surveying him with a 
 contempt for which certain old memories 
 of Vera Ludlow were responsible ; or that 
 Grey Meredith all unconsciously was on his 
 way to see what her husband had made of 
 Vera Ludlow. If Grey Meredith had known 
 it perhaps he would have gone elsewhere. 
 
 Carstairs presently went to the reading- 
 room. He looked at the belittered table 
 and at the clock, and then wrote a note :
 
 AN APOLOGY. 75 
 
 "Dear Pussy, — If you want to coine out 
 shopping with me I'll be ready to-morrow 
 at 10.30. Have your things ready, and 
 I'll take you to the tram at one and see 
 you off. We needn't come back here. 
 Send me a line with your wishes in 
 morning. — E. V. C. 
 
 " P.S. — As we have so little time, Pussy 
 must be amiable." 
 
 This was directed and sent up to Miss 
 Leyton. 
 
 Certainly after what had passed it did 
 not say much either for man or woman 
 that apology and forgiveness should take 
 this form ; but he had had experience, and 
 therefore Sir Ralph had not miscalculated 
 the effect of this note. 
 
 Georgie did not stand on her dignity 
 when her greediness could be gratified, any
 
 76 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 more than on her conscience when her 
 convenience was concerned. 
 
 She had said good-bye to her chaperon, 
 given directions to the courier, and was 
 ready before ten o'clock to go out with 
 her cousin till it was time to start from 
 the station whence the tram conveyed 
 passengers to the Como steamer. She 
 knew the shops in Milan were excellent, 
 and though her outburst had been genuine, 
 recalling it in daylight she was only glad 
 as it worked as a lever to excite Carstairs 
 to action. She was not disappointed. 
 They scarcely noticed Leonardo da Vinci 
 standing in his majestic aspect in the 
 square, but as they passed through the 
 great Gallerie Victor Emmanuele, talking 
 and laughing, they picked up a valet de 
 place, and loaded him with many a
 
 GALLERIE V. EMMANUELE. 77 
 
 package — gloves, knick-knacks, scents and 
 an enormous packet of sweets. Opposite, 
 the cathedral is seen sparklingly white 
 against the blue sky, but Georgie was not 
 ready for that. A tiny diamond pin 
 glittered among its fellows in one of the 
 windows, from which it was taken to 
 fasten the lace escaping from its place on 
 Georgie's neck. 
 
 That was all the shopping Carstairs 
 meant to do for her that day, as Georgie 
 was aware by instinct, and the new hat 
 she had hoped for could easily be paid for 
 out of her savings on the gloves, which for 
 long enough would cost her nothing. So 
 making a virtue of necessity she proposed 
 that they should go to the cathedral. 
 They ought to see it, "Unless," she added, 
 " you have anything to buy for Vera."
 
 78 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 This was to show she intended to jest on 
 the subject again. 
 
 " You're a wicked girl, Puss ; you know 
 you are," he said, delighted with her 
 roguish look, and taking it, as Georgie 
 expected, as an extra ingredient in his 
 pleasure to mark the contrast between his 
 liberality to his cousin and his neglect of 
 his wife. 
 
 " Do we want this man with us ? Could 
 he be sent to the station with the 
 things r " she asked. 
 
 The matter was arranged. Then they 
 sauntered in the fresh sunshine across the 
 Piazza, its bus}^ life dwarfed in contrast 
 with the pile above, and they entered into 
 the great hush of the shadowed cathedral, 
 which awed Georgie and appealed to the 
 aesthetic feelings of Carstairs.
 
 MILAN CATHEDRAL. 79 
 
 It was a festival, soon after Easter, and 
 High Mass was proceeding at the east end; 
 the discordant music of the careless cho- 
 risters toned by the great spaces above and 
 around; and in the distance the smoke of 
 incense fluttered in the light in myste- 
 rious stillness. If everywhere, save far 
 away round the high altar and in a little 
 side-chapel, there was constant movement 
 and curious observation, yet a still sacred- 
 ness was over all, and under the influence 
 of the monument of the faith of centuries the 
 two worldlings hushed their flippant speech. 
 
 As they reached the centre Georgie 
 whispered : 
 
 " Vera would like this ; " for once with 
 no malice in the remembrance. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " she stayed here for 
 one afternoon and wanted to come again."
 
 80 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 "More than I should like to do," said 
 Georgie. " It's very beautiful, of course, 
 but " 
 
 " Madame would wish to ascend the 
 staircase outside the Duomo ? " inquired a 
 voice — that of a cathedral-guide. 
 
 " Bather go to the silver chapel." 
 
 But the chapel was shut where San 
 Carlo Borromeo lies enshrined, and 
 Georgie had a fancy to go outside. Yes, 
 they would have time ; at least they could 
 go up to the botanical garden. 
 
 " And not one step further, Puss, do I 
 go," asseverated Sir Balph, when they had 
 reached the leads from whence is viewed 
 the richly-carved floreate decorations of the 
 flying buttresses from nave to aisle. 
 
 "I should like to go up," she said. 
 « Will it take long ? "
 
 THE BOTANICAL GARDEN. 81 
 
 " They might have time," said the 
 guide. 
 
 But Carstairs remonstrated. He was not 
 going up, and if he went, what chance was 
 there for a rational being to converse, 
 corkscrewing round a stone pillar for half 
 an hour, and losing his breath, and his 
 head ultimately ? There was no view at 
 that hour and season, and if there were he 
 thought Georgie might give way. So she 
 did, and they walked on the leads and 
 forgot to look at the gigantic statues, or 
 to marvel anew at the myriad carvings, till, 
 recollecting the time, they hastened down, 
 and overtook Grey Meredith at the foot of 
 the staircase. The men exchanged a word 
 or two, and lifting his hat to Georgie as 
 they parted outside the Duomo, Grey 
 Meredith apologized to Carstairs for his 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 haste. He was afraid of being late at the 
 station. 
 
 " Who is he ? " said Georgie. 
 
 From his companion's point of view this 
 time Carstairs gave a sketch of Meredith's 
 career so far as he knew it : that Meredith 
 had unexpectedly inherited wealth, that he 
 had gone into the House a short time 
 before, and finally that he was quite worth 
 marrying. 
 
 " Never thought of it, or I would have 
 introduced him. Well, if you meet him 
 again, don't let him slip through your 
 fingers, Georgie ; he is by no means a mil- 
 lionaire, but you might do worse." 
 
 "I'll remember," said Georgie demurely. 
 " Perhaps we shall see him in town." 
 
 " I certainly intend to make him come 
 to us, if Vera doesn't frighten every one
 
 UNCONSCIOUS IRONY. 83 
 
 away," rejoined her cousin. " He told me 
 he was going to the Lakes ; so if you come 
 across him, mind that Vera is civil to him. 
 I wish I had introduced him to you ; no 
 fear of your being too reserved to a decent- 
 looking man, eh Puss?" 
 
 " I am afraid that my original standard 
 has been dragged down by the weight of 
 your influence. It would not do to be 
 always particular about a man's looks," 
 she said, with one of her side glances, as 
 if playfully deprecating his appearance. 
 
 They reached the station in good time, 
 and Georgie was settled into her place, 
 with food for body and mind. She had 
 no maid with her, but Eustace was to escort 
 her to Cadenabbia, and Carstairs had to 
 leave her in his care before the tram started. 
 
 The courier, not wanted, retreated to find 
 
 G 2
 
 84 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 his place. There were few passengers by 
 the tram-cars that day ; and when an old 
 lady and her companion attempted to get 
 in to her compartment, Georgie's behaviour 
 so obviously suggested that she did not 
 want them, that they went on to the next 
 
 carriage. 
 
 "There's room here, Mrs. Winter," she 
 heard the companion say to the fretful 
 elderly lady. 
 
 "Glad there is," was the next remark 
 which came down the open centre of the tram 
 in a high-pitched tone. " There is an ill- 
 bred young woman, whom I wouldn't travel 
 with for any sum of money, in that part 
 of this extraordinary conveyance. Are you 
 quite sure this goes to Como ? Where's 
 my son ? I know he'll be left behind. 
 Why can't you call him?"
 
 THE TEAM-TEAIN. 85 
 
 The man came for tickets. Carstairs got 
 out, still laughing over the old lady and 
 Georgie. If she had had any one to speak 
 to, Georgie would have mimicked the 
 anxious mother after shutting the door 
 between the compartments. The old lady's 
 companion and herself met as both were 
 in the act of attempting to cut off com- 
 munication in this way. 
 
 Returning to her seat, with just a faint 
 reflection that the pale-faced, ostentatiously 
 simply-dressed girl, who had to be at this 
 lady's call always, was younger than her- 
 self, Georgie was about to dismiss the old 
 lady from her mind, when up came the 
 old lady's missing son — Grey Meredith. 
 
 Georgie was one of those women who 
 resent any good-looking man of their own 
 class being in their neighbourhood without
 
 86 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 paying them attention, and very sorry was 
 the young lady that she had not been 
 more civil to another traveller. After all, 
 though rarely, men may not only have 
 mothers, but may travel with them ; and 
 " frumps " sometimes have good-looking 
 sons with money, who may prefer that 
 their mothers should be treated with de- 
 ference. However, on the other hand, 
 such little mistakes never prevent a man 
 who wants to ignore them from finding 
 out an attractive woman. If Mr. Grey 
 Meredith did not find Miss Leyton was 
 attractive at Cadenabbia that was his loss, 
 not hers. 
 
 Still, it was a bother that this time was 
 wasted. Surely he might leave his mother 
 to herself and her companion, and walk 
 along the tram. He did do so once ; but,
 
 A PIECE OF LUCK. 87 
 
 though he recognized Georgie as the com- 
 panion of Carstairs, naturally it was not 
 his place to address her ; nor had she just 
 then any pretext for arresting him on his 
 return. 
 
 Fate favoured her. The tram divides 
 into two parts suddenly, and the courier, 
 who ought to have known better, was left 
 behind in the Yaresa portion as Georgie 
 went forward with the Como carriages. 
 The courier would not be able to get on 
 further than Como that day. There Georgie 
 could not stay alone ; and as soon as this 
 was discovered Meredith, who saw her 
 difficulty, came to the rescue, when the little 
 meeting in the morning was as good as an 
 introduction. They soon arranged about the 
 details of the journey, and Meredith found 
 himself installed as Georgie's courier.
 
 88 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Nothing could have been better than the 
 accident of Eustace remaining in the Varesa 
 tram. Of course it was natural that Georgie 
 should be introduced to his mother ; and, 
 when on the steamer Mrs. Winter pre- 
 ferred to go below, it was as natural that 
 Meredith should take care of Georgie on 
 the deck. 
 
 They talked of mutual acquaintances 
 quickly discovered ; they talked of expe- 
 riences of travel and table dlwte ; yet 
 somehow Georgie did not mention whom 
 she was going to stay w ith at Cadenabbia ; 
 and one thing rather bored her, that Mere- 
 dith, though very civil and attentive, was 
 perfectly ready to admire the scenery or 
 scan the passengers. On the whole, though 
 she knew he must be used to society, her 
 attention-analytical mind came to the dis-
 
 RATHER WASTED. 89 
 
 illusionizing conclusion that the intention 
 to please necessary to a succes d'esprit 
 came from her side, not from his !
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 ALLIES. 
 
 " I am boy to them all three." — Henry V. 
 
 As she came to see Vera next morning 
 Anice Bentley was met with warm and 
 ready welcome. Vera could scarcely ex- 
 plain to herself the pleasure which the 
 presence of this young girl gave her. 
 They talked for about twenty minutes and 
 then Vera said, " I wonder if you could be 
 spared to go for a little walk with me this 
 afternoon." 
 
 Anice eagerly assented, explaining that 
 she was the " odd one " of the party, who 
 was rather expected to find her own 
 amusements.
 
 COME TO TEA ! 91 
 
 " There is one girl here whom I don't 
 like, and have often to go out with, 
 because, you see, mother sees so little of 
 my sister, and my sister of her husband, 
 in town, and they have so much to talk 
 about which they won't talk of before me. 
 I think it is a little tiresome to be much 
 the youngest of a busy family. Oh! I can 
 go quite well. I know they wont want me." 
 
 " I shall have to be back at four to 
 meet my cousin, but you'll come in and 
 have tea w T ith us." 
 
 " You'll want to talk to her alone, won't 
 you ? " said Anice doubtfully. 
 
 Vera smiled a little. She want to talk 
 to Georgina Leyton alone ! 
 
 "Not at all. I shall see as much of 
 Miss Leyton as I want to. I'll ask Charlie 
 Carstairs and his tutor to come in also.
 
 92 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 You don't know my young brother-in-law? 
 He's rather a nice boy, but horribly idle ; 
 lie's supposed to be reading here." 
 
 " Oh ! I know him," said Anice smiling ; 
 " he and a cousin of mine used to compete 
 for the lowest places in the form ; but he 
 rows well, and is a very nice boy." 
 
 He was her own nge, of course. At this 
 moment he entered, in white flannels and blue 
 sash, looking as bonny a specimen of the 
 athletic English youth as one could meet 
 with. Behind him his tutor, only some 
 seven years his senior, but with no trace 
 of youthful looks ; an emaciated little man, 
 adding spectacles to his boating costume, 
 and, because his legs were particularly bad, 
 wearing tight knickerbockers and striped 
 stockings, as such men will always do. 
 
 They came to see if Vera would go out
 
 GEORGIE FEELS NEGLECTED. 93 
 
 on the lake with them, and finding that 
 Anice would be delighted to go with her, 
 the four departed with an unfulfilled stipu- 
 lation on the part of Vera that she should 
 be allowed to return in time to meet her 
 cousin. But they went further than they 
 intended, and between Georgie Leyton and 
 Charlie Carstairs no love was lost, so that 
 Georgie arrived at Cadenabbia and Vera 
 was not there to receive her. 
 
 Georgie waited a few moments and saw 
 no face she recognized. Not pleased when, 
 having arranged his mother's things, Grey 
 Meredith came to her, Georgie said, " I 
 thought that my cousin would at least 
 have sent her maid to me, even if she sup- 
 posed me to have a courier." 
 
 " For whom shall I ask ? " said Grey, 
 busy with her parcels.
 
 94 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you ? Lady Carstairs." 
 
 " I thought she had returned to England 
 with her husband," exclaimed Grey in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 " No, or I shouldn't be here. Thanks, 
 very much. I am not really helpless ; it 
 is only that one doesn't like to arrive with- 
 out a welcome, you know." 
 
 "Even the appearance of that must be 
 a novelty to you," said Grey readily. " I 
 am sure it is only an accident." 
 
 Georgie's internal conviction that it was 
 Vera's mode of showing displeasure and a 
 secret resolution to revenge herself for the 
 slight were not allowed to appear till she 
 found herself alone with Vera's maid. 
 
 Bennett was a woman whom Sir Ralph 
 insisted on keeping as his wife's attendant 
 against her will. Bennett liked and ad-
 
 BENNETT. 95 
 
 mired Georgie, and, just keeping on the 
 safe side of impertinence, covertly showed 
 that she despised Yera, her present mis- 
 tress. She had been with the late Lady 
 Carstairs, Georgie's aunt, and knew more 
 than most people about the relations be- 
 tween the cousins ; she had seen Georgie 
 when she beard of Sir Ralph's engagement 
 to Miss Ludlow. 
 
 " Lady Carstairs left no message for me ? 
 Has been gone for some hours? On pur- 
 pose, I suppose ! " said Georgie, flinging 
 herself into a chair. 
 
 " She said no word, good, bad, or indif- 
 ferent, about you, Miss Georgie ; she just 
 went off this morning with Mr. Carstairs 
 and that tutor of his — much tutoring they 
 do in a place like this — and a Miss Bentley's 
 gone with them. Finch took your room
 
 96 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 for you yesterday ; Sir Kalph's room it 
 was." 
 
 Georgie looked up interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes, miss ; Sir Ealpli made a mistake, 
 as we know right well. She's quite well 
 enougli now for anything — has been this 
 long time ; but she's kept up the pretence 
 of nerves and what not. I have no 
 patience with her — that I haven't ! She 
 never went out with Sir Ealph all the time 
 she was at Monty Carlo, and to-day she 
 goes out stravasing with Mr. Carstairs and 
 a couple of strangers for hours, and never 
 so much as says, ' Bennett, if I'm not back 
 in time, see that Miss Leyton has what 
 she wants.' " 
 
 " It's abominable," said Georgie. " Get 
 me some tea, there's a good Bennett. Is it 
 very quiet here ? "
 
 A WELCOME. 97 
 
 As Georgie made herself at home, the 
 boating party arrived. Vera came in first, 
 followed by Anice and the others. Her 
 own regret at having been uncourteous to 
 one to whom she could only give polite- 
 ness, made her welcome warmer than it 
 might otherwise have been, and the day 
 on the lake had done her much good. 
 She had tried not to be a wet blanket to 
 Anice and Charlie, and had ended by 
 laughing with them. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Georgie," she said, with 
 genuine apology ; " you must have thought 
 it strange that I let you arrive without 
 even a message of welcome ; but you see 
 that proved my intention of being here. 
 Do you know Miss Bentley? I am so sorry 
 you found no one in." 
 
 "It's of no consequence at all," said 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Georgie, in a tone that implied that it 
 was. 
 
 "I daresay you'll get over it," broke in 
 Charlie. "Did Finch bring my things 
 from Milan?" 
 
 " If he did, he isn't here ; he can't 
 arrive till to-morrow." 
 "How's that?" 
 Georgie explained. 
 
 " What a nuisance ! " grumbled the boy. 
 "I wanted my things." 
 
 " How did you manage ? " said Vera. 
 " You have been doubly unfortunate, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 Georgie replied in a dry tone that she 
 had managed very well, but vouchsafed no 
 further information. 
 
 Her manner to Vera was decidedly cold, 
 and most unmistakably that of conscious
 
 GEOKGIE'S DISDAIN. 99 
 
 superiority. Had Vera been able to 
 show resentment thus, it would have saved 
 her from much aggression a year or two 
 ago. Not in the least impressed by an 
 amiability which, noticing, Georgie probably 
 classed as weakness, she soon extinguished 
 not only Vera's welcome, but her flicker of 
 new animation. Georgie always treated 
 younger girls with infinite disdain. Anice 
 took a sudden dislike to her at first-sight, 
 with which she found Charlie Carstairs 
 fully sympathized. A boy too young, or 
 a man not attracted by such a woman, 
 always loathes her, however she avoids 
 any vulgarity. With all her vulgar 
 minor vices, with all her vulgar selfish- 
 ness, with all her unrefined thoughts, 
 Georgie Leyton was never apparently 
 vulgar, though why she was not it would
 
 100 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 have been hard to say. But if she were 
 not vulgar she was frequently rude. 
 
 So it happened that after dinner Charlie 
 Carstairs thought it of no use beginning 
 to work then, and asked Vera to come out 
 with him. She consented, if Georgie was 
 not too tired. Georgie replied that she 
 did not wish to go out ; but that need 
 not prevent Vera from doing so. To 
 which Vera, nettled by the tone, replied 
 rather curtly that very likely Georgie 
 would prefer to rest alone. 
 
 " You seem to be stronger," said Georgie 
 with a sneer. 
 
 " I am, thank you," Vera replied ; and 
 wrapping her cloak round her went out 
 with Charlie. How her young brother- 
 in-law also hated Georgie Vera now first 
 understood.
 
 Mf 
 
 CHARLIE'S OPINION. 101 
 
 " I say, Vera," said he, " why on earth 
 did } f ou let the Pussy cat come here ? 
 She's a perfect beast, and you know she 
 
 hates you like the d I mean like 
 
 poison. Why on earth do you let her 
 come to you ? She's no relation of yours ; 
 you may thank your stars for that." 
 
 " Why do you dislike her ? " replied 
 Vera, with a question more easily asked 
 than she could have answered his demands. 
 
 " Oh, she's a pig," he said vaguely. " I 
 say, isn't it jolly? The sort of dreaminess 
 of the whole thing, you know, with the 
 nightingales and the fireflies and all the 
 proper sort of sceneries. I knew you'd 
 like to get out of the way of all the 
 people ; and now we'll go down to the lake." 
 
 In effect he had taken her up through 
 the woods behind the hotel, and now led
 
 102 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 lier by a narrow little path towards the 
 darkened waters. The melody of the 
 nightingales rose from the flickering trees, 
 and the cool night air was laden with the 
 scent peculiar to a Cadenabbian springtide 
 night — a penetrating subtle perfume of 
 white rose, magnolia, azalea and laurel, 
 spreading wherever the breeze rose and 
 fell on the quiet shore. The sturdy, ap- 
 parently unsentimental, youth at her side 
 was quite awake to those stray influences of 
 beauty and sensitive to the soothing peace- 
 fulness of the scene. He did not fear to 
 show it to his sister-in-law, but rather felt 
 his words too rude — as indeed more poetic 
 utterances than his have been — to express 
 how that mystical loveliness affected even 
 his careless nature. 
 
 They said very little as they walked.
 
 NIGHT BREEZES. 103 
 
 " Are you tired ? " lie asked once. 
 
 " No, if we are not leaving Georgie alone 
 too long." 
 
 "Bother Georgie! Now look at those 
 fireflies," he interrupted. 
 
 They stopped to watch the little sparks 
 of pale light above the lake. All was 
 very still, only in the distance a little 
 laughter, and nearer, footsteps passing. 
 
 "You like it?" said the boy, delighted 
 to please his fair pale sister, for Charlie, 
 without knowing it, was a little hungry 
 for love ; the Carstairs brothers had few or 
 none belonging to them, except Georgie 
 Leyton. 
 
 "Like it?" said Vera. "Thank you, 
 Charlie. To-day has been very nice, and I 
 owe it to your thought twice over. I am 
 so glad to be here," she continued.
 
 104 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " It is jolly,*' lie responded, and Vera knew 
 that this meant full appreciation of the 
 quiet loveliness they felt. " I wish people 
 wouldn't come. Let's go on." 
 
 " I mustn't ; I'm afraid of being tired. 
 But you go. I can return by myself; you 
 can get some one more amusing." 
 
 " A fellow doesn't always want humbug. 
 Look here, Vera ; I wish you'd remember 
 I'm older than I was, and if Ralph is 
 rusty you might tell me. I'm quite willing 
 to stick up to him. I've told him already 
 that you are a deal too good for him, and 
 that he'd have a better time of it if he 
 was half as civil to his own wife as to that 
 beast Georgie." 
 
 Vera was nonplussed at this unexpected 
 evidence of observation and execration on 
 behalf of herself from careless Charlie.
 
 CHARLIE'S COUNSEL. 105 
 
 " You shouldn't say such things. It is 
 very good of you to think of me ; but if you 
 were a little older you would know that 
 husband and wife must settle their own 
 little quarrels. Of course, there should be 
 none, but to you I can't deny them." 
 
 " I should think not ! " ejaculated Charlie. 
 " I don't call it quarrelling ; I call it bully- 
 ing, though." 
 
 " Who is coming alon<* the road ? " said 
 Vera, to change the subject. " Any one 
 you know ? " 
 
 "It might be. But don't humbug, 
 Vera. It's awfully serious. If you've got 
 to live with Ealph you'll have to get the 
 upper hand more than you've done; and 
 you'll have to fight for it too. Now, look 
 here, you can depend on some of us " 
 
 " Charlie," said Vera, " I know you mean
 
 106 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 well, and that you are a boy no longer," 
 she hastened to add, " but you don't under- 
 stand that there are some things which it is of 
 no use talking of, and one of them is, how 
 your brother is to be treated by his wife." 
 
 " Considering what I've seen of how 
 his wife is treated by my brother, and 
 that she has no one to stand up for her 
 
 but " He paused ; then facing the 
 
 new-comer, as Vera had her back to him, 
 Charlie exclaimed : " By Jove ! Meredith ! 
 How are you, old chap ? " 
 
 Meredith, sauntering along with his 
 cigarette, had paid no heed to the figures 
 by the water's edge, and through the 
 dusk, till he spoke, had not recognized 
 Charlie Carstairs. 
 
 Vera heard the name, but it conveyed 
 nothing to her, and she turned a little
 
 A RENCONTRE. . 107 
 
 further round that Charlie might speak, if 
 he chose, to his friend. 
 
 Charlie, however, was determined to in- 
 troduce Meredith, but as he attracted 
 Yera's notice for the purpose she and Grey 
 recognized each other. 
 
 Of course, Charlie saw nothing, but only 
 that his introduction was unnecessary. 
 
 " Had I seen your face," Grey explained, 
 " or, indeed, anything in this darkness and 
 my unobservant mood, of course I should 
 have asked you if you had forgotten Grey 
 Winter. I have only been ' Meredith ' 
 for a year ; it sounds as if I had done 
 something of which I was ashamed that I 
 have had to change my name ; but I 
 don't deserve to be cut yet, so far as I 
 know." 
 
 The three paced on together in the still-
 
 108 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 ness, and, lazily, and indifferently it appear- 
 ed, Grey put his arm on Charlie's shoulder 
 and put the youth on the other side of 
 himself, as he walked bv Vera. It was 
 natural that he should wish to be between 
 them, but so long as Charlie was there 
 Grey Meredith only talked vague gener- 
 alities, from which the boy gathered that 
 they had not seen each other for a long 
 time. 
 
 Not till the light of the hall fell on the 
 trio could Grey see Vera's face, and note 
 how the pretty childish girl had become 
 a beautiful woman ; not till then could 
 Vera scan the face of the man whom she 
 first had loved. She knew instantly, as 
 women know, that she loved him no more, 
 could never love him again ; he felt, as 
 men feel, suddenly an intense attraction.
 
 CHARLIE TALKS TOO MUCH. 109 
 
 After they parted, with some talk of the 
 morrow and an invitation, not pressed, to 
 come up then, Charlie rapidty, with warm 
 respect, recounted his knowledge of Mere- 
 dith, adding : " Anice Bentley pretends 
 she isn't, but I'm sure she is, awfully 
 p'one on him ; and you'll see how George 
 will try to make the running." 
 
 " You'd get on faster if you devoted 
 some of your intellect to your books, my 
 dear boy," said Vera ; " you'll see too much 
 — more than exists — soon, besides not pass- 
 
 ing vour exam." 
 
 Charlie whistled then, and lie made a face 
 a little later, when, Vera remarked, for 
 something to say, that they had had a 
 lovely walk and had met Mr. Meredith 
 as they returned. For Georgie answered : 
 "Mr. Meredith was extremely attentive to
 
 110 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 me as I came here, and 1 told him that 
 he might call on me — on us — to-morrow." 
 
 "Don't correct yourself, Miss Puss," re- 
 plied Charlie. "'Me' shall have her visitors, 
 ' me ' shall ; but if you had only happened to 
 say before the last moment that you were 
 going to stay with Lady Carstairs, he'd have 
 told you that he came to Cadenabbia only 
 to see her whom he had adored for years. 
 Isn't that true, Vera ? " 
 
 He gave her the most open wink, as in 
 sheer mischief he evolved this false statement, 
 which came not far from the truth in some 
 ways of which he had not the slightest idea. 
 
 " You are perfectly insufferable," said 
 Georgie, only believing that he was laughing 
 at her. 
 
 44 You don't think so, do you, Vera?" he 
 said, lolling about.
 
 AND IS SILENCED. Ill 
 
 "Yes, Charlie, sometimes," she said 
 gravely; and, somewhat to his own astonish- 
 ment, Charlie felt that he was obliged to be 
 quiet.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE TABLES TURNED. 
 
 To Cadenabbia, which the Soul of Rest, 
 
 World-worn and weary, fashioned with delight, 
 'Mid bowers and glade beside the water's breast, 
 And hid, as happy birds conceal their nest, 
 'Neath hills that shield the secret of her flight. 
 
 Serbelloni. 
 
 The weather was perfect that season, and 
 the little party enjoyed it to the full. 
 Out on the sunshiny lake ; roaming through 
 the shady woods ; tracing in the cool of 
 the day the mountain paths, with superb 
 views of the serene harmonious loveliness 
 on every hand ; in the soft balmy evenings 
 wandering where nightingales answered 
 each other with notes of prolonged pain, 
 followed by gladder melodies ; — with some- 
 times one, sometimes another, as her com-
 
 EEST. 113 
 
 panion, Vera regained what she sorely 
 needed, and had only temporarily lost, her 
 calm courage and her superb beauty. 
 
 Georgie never made one of the little 
 group unless it happened to comprise Grey 
 Meredith, and never, save by accident, was 
 away if he were of the party ; she found 
 her own friends and joined them — her 
 place being taken by Anice Bentley, an 
 arrangement which pleased every one. Day 
 by day Anice grew into Vera's affections, and 
 the girl's soul was laid open before her — 
 even to the secret which, the chaff of 
 Charlie aside, she thought was sacred to 
 herself. 
 
 That Anice should make Vera her con- 
 fidante was not unnatural. But Vera mar- 
 velled that she had in some way returned 
 the confidence by speaking not of herself 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 114 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 but of that Vera Ludlow who had loved, 
 as Anice Bentley did now, an ideal Grey 
 — such a Grey Meredith as never existed 
 in this world. 
 
 About a mile from Cadenabbia is a little 
 square, grass-grown and walled in on the 
 side overlooking the lake, and on that 
 opposite closed by a little church, and villa 
 walls covered with wisteria and white 
 roses. On the square children were play- 
 ing ; the elder pretending to read like the 
 priest as he had catechised them that 
 Sunday afternoon, the younger tumbling 
 on the sward formed by the grass which 
 hid the stones supposed to pave the public 
 place of Grianti. 
 
 Below the wall crickets chirped with great 
 vigour in the long flower-mingled grass, 
 bending in the soft wind and shining green
 
 GEIANTI. 115 
 
 or silver, yellow or brown, as the breeze 
 was strong enough to affect this or that 
 portion of the varied vegetation of the field. 
 And all around an atmosphere of peace and 
 beauty ; the purple tints strongest in the 
 afternoon light, and the expanse above, the 
 clear-cut heights, the verdant shores, the 
 pale lake ; entering into the vision of the 
 two young Englishwomen who sat gazing 
 on the beauty that quiet Sunday. They 
 would always remember that afternoon. It 
 was the day on which their friendship 
 became certain, though companionship and 
 even intimacy had existed since the first 
 moment of meeting. 
 
 They had been talking of other matters, 
 and somehow Grey Meredith's name was 
 mentioned. An impulse then caused Vera 
 to say plainly : 
 
 8—2
 
 116 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " You do care for Grey, then ? " 
 Anice took the question as it was asked 
 — no liberty, but with the right of friend- 
 ship, and as knowing that there was confi- 
 dence between them ; nor would Vera have 
 asked the question, the answer being 
 certain, had she not perceived that the girl 
 was in need of help — no fear of putting that 
 into her head which was not there already! 
 Nevertheless, Anice naturally answered by 
 silence for a moment, and then a whispered, 
 "I can't help it; I know it's wrong." 
 
 She poked at the intrusive grass peeping 
 between the stones of the Tlace with some 
 embarrassment, and there was silence for a 
 moment so far as the English were con- 
 cerned, while the children laughed at their 
 own sports and a goat from the neigh- 
 bouring house came out to see what was
 
 THE SECRET OF ANICE. 117 
 
 going on. Eeceived by the children with 
 too vigorous delight, the animal probably 
 regretted that she had come forward. 
 
 "I don't think it is wrong at all," said 
 Vera. " But I am very sorry that you 
 should think of Grey in this way." 
 
 "He doesn't know it," said Anice. 
 
 " I should hope not," replied Vera. " You 
 must never let him know it, and by-and-by 
 you'll change your mind." 
 
 "I?" said Anice, with surprise. 
 
 " Yes, you — you also," said Vera with 
 emphasis. " I don't think it is the least 
 wrong so long as you keep it to yourself 
 that you should care for Grey or any other 
 man ; but I think it is foolish in this case." 
 
 Anice was taken aback by these words 
 from Vera. She had not expected Vera to 
 be so lacking in sentiment.
 
 118 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Vera continued : " I daresay you think 
 me very hard, and want none of the old 
 platitudes from me. Wiser people would 
 tell you these : a ' bad ' man may abuse 
 a woman's affection for him, and even a 
 ' good ' man can't resist confusing her ad- 
 miration with his complacency ; but as for 
 the grey man — I mean no pun — the average 
 man, neither white nor black, he's sorry to 
 know of unsought affection just in propor- 
 tion as he's worthy of it. You already 
 know all that. But, dear, I don't want 
 you to make for yourself a trouble, if you 
 haven't made it already." 
 
 "I wish I hadn't," said Anice in a low 
 tone, answering Vera's sweet smile rather 
 than her somewhat severe words. 
 
 "I am afraid you have. I have been 
 thinking of it ever since I noticed this in
 
 VERA USED TO CARE. 119 
 
 you. No ; don't be afraid. You have done 
 nothing wrong. I was wondering how I 
 could say what I should like to, and I 
 think it will be best to speak straight- 
 forwardly. I can trust you, dear, I am 
 sure. The reason that made me quicker 
 to notice that you cared for Grey than I 
 should have been was this : I used to care 
 for him as you do now. It seems so 
 strange to me." 
 
 "You used to care for him, Lady Car- 
 stairs ? " said Anice. 
 
 "Call me Vera, dear, if you will. Don't 
 make any mistake. I did care for him 
 when I was your age. I dreamt of him ; 
 I thought of him ; I cried about him — five 
 years ago. And now I like him very 
 much, but that is all. I am thankful that 
 I did not marry him."
 
 120 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Why did you not ? " asked Anice 
 simply. 
 
 Vera's cheek coloured. " For this one 
 reason : he did not ask me to marry him. 
 No, looking back, I see that Grey did not 
 behave well. He was only three-and- 
 twenty, and not very wise, and I was very 
 foolish at nineteen. I was very miserable. 
 I thought it would have been so much 
 easier to bear parting from him if he had 
 said it was hard for him, as it was, that 
 I know. And I know now that Grey did 
 care for me then. I thought it at the 
 time, and I had reason to, Anice ; yet he 
 did not care for me enough to trust the 
 future for us both. He should have gone 
 away sooner if he had meant to go away 
 at all. Yet, as it turned out, it did no 
 harm."
 
 ADVICE. 121 
 
 All this had been said in a low tone, as 
 if any one could hear, in little quick abrupt 
 sentences. 
 
 " It is strange," said Anice, in a grave 
 voice. 
 
 " It is strange," echoed Vera. " Now let 
 us talk of something else." 
 
 "Only this," said Anice with hesitation. 
 "Does he — do you know if he does — care 
 for any one else ? Perhaps it would be 
 easier to — not think if one knew. I can't 
 see why he should care for me. I am 
 sure he doesn't and won't care for me — 
 ever — but " 
 
 " If Grey should ever take it into his head 
 to care for you, you'll soon find it out ; 
 till then — as, indeed, in any case — I should 
 make up my mind to do without him. 
 No fear that you will not have enough of
 
 122 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 love in your day," said Vera, looking at 
 the attractive face. 
 
 " It comes to every one, I suppose, in 
 the right way. Do you think so ? " asked 
 Anice a little eagerly. " Do things go 
 wrong only because people are stupid? 
 And do you believe in love — I mean as 
 something " 
 
 Anice did not finish her sentences that 
 day, nor was Vera inclined to take up her 
 work. Vera was then for the first time 
 suddenly conscious that no real love had 
 ever come to her, or had ever passed 
 from herself. 
 
 "Look," she said, as two figures emerged 
 from behind a wall bounding the path 
 from Cadenabbia to Grianti ; " we are not 
 to have our walk alone, after all. Here 
 are Grey and Charlie."
 
 CHARLIE IS DISTURBED. 123 
 
 A view halloa from Charlie startled the 
 natives, and the two mad young English- 
 men bounded across the place, and Charlie 
 leapt on to the wall, leaning against Vera 
 back to back, with his legs stretched out, 
 whilst, a little more decorously, Grey Mere- 
 dith sat down beside Anice, and a fire of 
 small talk began. 
 
 "This fellow," grumbled Charlie, "has 
 no idea at all of a Christian Sabbath. I 
 was enjoying a peaceful siesta under the 
 white roses, when up he trots, routs me 
 about, so that for very life's sake I was 
 forced to come along with him. Where 
 do you think he wants to go to ? Up 
 there ! " 
 
 Charlie pointed to a little speck on a 
 hill beyond. 
 
 " It's a curious sort of church," explained
 
 124 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Grey ; " but I don't think I care for it 
 now. It's rather too far, after all. There's 
 a church here, you know, amply sufficient for 
 my purposes." He pointed across the road. 
 
 " Come, I say," expostulated Charlie, 
 " you're going up there, you know. You've 
 wound me up to it, and I'm a regular 
 machine ; there'd be an alarming accident 
 if all that energy you put into me wasn't 
 expended." 
 
 " You see, the effort of inspiring you was 
 so great that it has taken all my energy." 
 
 w< Fudge ! Come along, you lazy beggar." 
 
 " He has no respect for his senior. I 
 wish you'd teach him better manners, Anice," 
 said Grey. " Why don't you ask Miss Bentley 
 to take you up there, if you must go, and 
 won't go alone ? I'm not going, that's flat." 
 
 Charlie, with his back to the present
 
 CHARLIE IS WOUND UP. 125 
 
 company, suddenly twisted his neck round in 
 some fashion peculiar to himself, made an 
 astounding face at Grey over Vera's 
 shoulder, then stretching his legs along 
 the wall performed the feat of getting up 
 without bending them, and began to dance 
 a break-down on the stone. Pretending 
 
 o 
 
 to stop and rest for support on Vera's 
 shoulder he jumped as far as he could 
 on to the place, chivied the children and 
 the goat, and swung a child up above 
 his head, to the small boy's fear, 
 astonishment and delight. Finally, he 
 brought up before the trio who had been 
 watching him, and with sudden gravity 
 stood erect for a second. Drawing his 
 heels together, and with a bow which in 
 its sweep brought his head into Grey's 
 face, Charlie asked :
 
 126 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Would mademoiselle be so very gra- 
 cious as to accompany her humble servitor 
 on a perilous mission to unknown and 
 unattempted heights ? It is of no use to 
 ask madame to make the ascent — it is 
 too penible, but will not mademoiselle, 
 who being an angel will doubtless have 
 wings " 
 
 " Silly boy ! Would you care to go, 
 Anice ? I am afraid it is too far for me, 
 even now, but I will tell the others that 
 I have sent you to take care of Charlie. " 
 
 " Come on, if you're coming," said Charlie. 
 " Come on, Meredith ; don't be so idle." 
 
 But though Vera told him to go, and 
 that she had had enough both of walk- 
 ing and of the society of other people 
 for the time, and would like to be alone, 
 Grey passively refused to stir. Perhaps
 
 SILENCE. 127 
 
 Anice had hoped that he would go. 
 In any case she liked the walk, and liked 
 Charlie Carstairs well enough, and she 
 would not have shown that she preferred 
 to remain where Grey was if he stayed ; 
 so she went with Charlie, and Grey 
 Meredith and Vera Carstairs were alone 
 on the little place at Grianti. 
 
 The children trooped away just at this 
 time, and save for a peasant woman who 
 knelt at the iron-barred window of the 
 church opposite, there was no one but 
 themselves, and they spared to break the 
 silence. 
 
 Never now keenly conscious of his pre- 
 sence, though always with some pleasure 
 in his society, Vera began to dream as 
 nature-lovers will dream when alone, or 
 with those whose tastes are sympathetic
 
 128 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Her soul was not formalizing thoughts, but 
 floating away into a mystical atmosphere 
 in which was felt and idealized the sun- 
 shine above, the colour around, and the 
 very stillness — a stillness of all but the 
 tiny, usually unperceived sounds of small 
 insect beings, of wind scarcely stirring, of 
 running water ; these are dreams in which 
 the soul makes for itself an ante-room 
 to Heaven in realizing the Beautiful of earth. 
 Grey Meredith was not in heaven, nor 
 realizing the Beautiful in the abstract; he 
 was in torment — the more because he had 
 the Beautiful at his side : 
 
 " A being breathing thoughtful breath, 
 A traveller betwixt life and death . . 
 And yet a spirit still, and bright, 
 With something of an angel light." 
 
 He watched her, nor appreciated the 
 compliment of her unconcern at his pre-
 
 SPEECH. 129 
 
 sence. He noted each movement of her 
 graceful figure, and tried to read the 
 secret of those dreaming eyes, but there 
 was nothing for him. And yet a few 
 years before, when she had not known 
 how rare is love — when, if he might have 
 had less to give, she had required 
 less, perchance then Vera Ludlow's eyes 
 had not concealed their secret from him. 
 And knowing from others' scandal (and 
 confirming the story in view of her own 
 reticence) something about her husband, 
 Grey knew no reason why she should be 
 indifferent to him now. What he wanted 
 he scarcely knew — no wrong, but the 
 right, for love always seems right to the 
 lover. 
 
 "Vera!" he said softly, as the silence 
 continued. 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 IN OPPOSITION, 
 
 She opened wider her dark eyes as if 
 waking from a happy dream, but with no 
 answering look to his intense gaze; she 
 had not quite come back to earth. "Is 
 it not beautiful here ? " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Vera ! " he said again, and at the 
 vibration of that tone Vera Carstairs 
 awoke to the knowledge that it was his 
 turn to feel love for her. 
 
 _@-s 
 
 *5J?*-^
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 MANIFESTOS. 
 
 Oh ! a crime will do 
 As well, I reply, to serve for a text, 
 
 As a virtue golden through and through . . . 
 You of the virtue — (we issue join) — 
 How strive you Y De tefabula. 
 
 The Statue and the Bust. — Browning. 
 
 Quite quietly, as if she had not been 
 suddenly startled, though in an instant the 
 straight path by which they had come to 
 this point was retraced by memory, Vera 
 rose from her seat on the square, and 
 Grey rose also. 
 
 His face was working — the slowly-moved, 
 good-looking face, which masked all ex- 
 pression so cleverly in society ; his hand, 
 half stretched out as if to detain her,
 
 133 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 trembled ; and Vera felt his excitement. 
 But, not answering to his mood, it terri- 
 fied her — or would have done had it 
 been any one else but Grey ; with him 
 it made her sad. 
 
 " I was beginning to be happy, and 
 have I done this to him" she thought 
 quickly. " No ! he shall say nothing — that 
 is best." And aloud she continued : 
 " Are you going on ? I am thinking of 
 going back to the hotel. Even now, you 
 see, I am not fit for more than a certain 
 amount of walking." 
 
 She said this in a careless tone. 
 
 " And whose fault is it ? " broke in Grey 
 hotly. " Charlie Carstairs tcld me last night 
 a few facts about his brother's treatment of 
 you that were enough to make any man's 
 blood boil."
 
 AN APPEAL. 133 
 
 " Then," said Vera with dignity, " if 
 Charlie was so young and so wanting in 
 respect for me, as to talk of what he fancies 
 he sees in his brother's conduct to the first- 
 comer, you encourage him." 
 
 " I am no first-comer, Vera," answered 
 Grey as sternly ; " nor do I wish for infor- 
 mation about you from any other being but 
 yourself. Not a word wanting in respect to 
 you passed Charlie's lips ; of myself even 
 you dare not think dishonourably. Don't 
 you know — speak the truth — don't you 
 know that I love you." 
 
 Facing her — one hand on hers now, as if 
 to compel her to face him, to stay with 
 him, to answer him — Grey Meredith waited 
 her answer. " You know it," he repeated 
 with sternness as if she had been a culprit 
 from whom he had to extort a confession.
 
 134 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Vera, you know my love for you ? 
 Answer." 
 
 She tried to know what was best to say. 
 Vera had never the saving instinct of 
 coquetry, and she only told the truth at 
 length : " I begin to be afraid that it is 
 so, Grey." 
 
 Her low musical tone had no effect on 
 his anger. " You are afraid," he said. 
 " What harm does it do you if I am miser- 
 able ? What do } t ou care ? You need not 
 delude yourself ; I am tired of the pre- 
 tence of friendship ; it is pretence — arrant 
 humbug — on my side." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that ; I thought I 
 had a friend in you," she answered, trying 
 to smile ; anything to divert the oppressive 
 force brought to bear on her. 
 
 " You have ; worse or better" as it pleases
 
 A PLEA. 135 
 
 you," he continued ; " I am no friend if 
 friendship excludes love." 
 
 " Then be my friend," she said quickly, 
 " if love includes friendship. Listen to me, 
 Grey. You have said you love me ; is it 
 true ? " 
 
 " Is it true ? " he answered contempt- 
 uously. i: As true as that we stand here, 
 and," he continued bitterly, " as true as 
 that you care nothing for me. Would you 
 like me to indulge in a few poetical as- 
 severations ? Shall I prove that the sun 
 is shining upon us now — is that true ? T 
 had no intention of raving like a lunatic, 
 but as I have begun you may hear me 
 out. I am no more going to annoy you 
 than I am going to leave you ; if seeing 
 you with others does not drive me mad I 
 shall be with you constantly ; you shall
 
 136 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 give me all you can and know that my whole 
 life, all I do, am and think, is yours and 
 only yours for ever ! That's all, Vera." 
 
 He had let go the touch upon her arm, 
 and they moved onward slowly together 
 across the little place ; they came to the 
 door where the publication of intended 
 marriages flutter against the notices of 
 duties on corn, the regulation of the prices of 
 bread ; they passed together down the little 
 narrow way by the church and through 
 the spring-garlanded lanes. Neither spoke ; 
 not from further embarrassment but from 
 the feeling that something had been said 
 to which there was no repty ; together they 
 were silent. 
 
 " You know now," he said at length — they 
 were then walking between two hedges full 
 of spring freshness, clad in delicate verdure
 
 GREY LOOKS BACK. 137 
 
 — " you know to what you have to trust — 
 to ray devotion ; it shall never do you 
 hurt, Vera ; it shall never weary you, but 
 there it is. Years ago we knew each 
 other, and though there have been women 
 for whom I have had a fancy, I swear to 
 you that you were my first love in time, 
 as you are first and foremost in my soul. 
 I was foolish, an utter fool. I tried to 
 shut my eyes to the result of that 
 summer holiday, pretending to myself that 
 I did not care, trying to persuade myself 
 that you did not care ; well, if you had 
 aught against me, you are avenged, Vera, 
 in this. You will not make my punishment 
 too hard ? " 
 
 " Grey, don't you think that it would be 
 better for you not to see me for a time ? " 
 she suggested.
 
 138 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 He laughed bitterly. " Not much use in 
 that at this time of day. Perhaps if you 
 had cared also it might have been my duty 
 to exile myself again. As it is, I should 
 be none the better and you all the worse 
 for that. You may see through me now, 
 but however much }^ou undervalue me, you 
 will have one on whom you can depend in 
 your life. Oh ! Vera, why did you not wait 
 for me?" 
 
 " How did I know that you wished 
 it ? " she said quickly. " Let us not 
 go back to the past ; it is done with. 
 I shall value your loyal friendship very 
 highly, Grey ; friends are what I need 
 most in my life, and then, by-and-by, I 
 hope that you will find some nice girl for 
 your wife." 
 
 " I dislike girls, especially as wives in
 
 ABOUT ANICE. 139 
 
 posse. Who would you like me to marry? 
 You had better complete the cure of my 
 little illusion ; you haven't enough interest 
 in me even to keep me as an odd re- 
 tainer," he said, switching off the heads of 
 the green nettles. 
 
 "I haven't selfishness enough. You'd 
 make another woman happy." 
 
 " Hang it ! who wants unselfishness in 
 the woman he's fond of ? " rejoined Grey 
 impatiently, taking her literally as if she 
 had meant to claim the quality she spoke 
 of. 
 
 " I hope that Charlie will not go too 
 far for Anice Bentley," remarked Vera as 
 a sign she had had enough. "Isn't it get- 
 ting late ? " 
 
 " Not very," said Grey, taking her hint 
 
 that the conversation must change. " Anice
 
 140 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 is a pretty little thing and as good as gold. 
 I've known them all for a^es, and used to 
 go and have school-room tea with Aniee. 
 I'm so glad you like her ; I'm very fond 
 of her." 
 
 " Poor Anice ! " thought Vera, " how ut- 
 terly hopeless ! That he should care for me 
 is not so fatal as that avowal that he 
 is very fond of her. Fancy my arriving at 
 only being ' very fond ' of Grey, and that's 
 just what it is." 
 
 However, after all, Grey's declaration 
 seemed to have cleared the air and to have 
 broken down all barriers of reserve. Having 
 made the assertion that he was not her 
 friend he was content so to be, and they 
 glided into talk which if not general 
 was at least not tragic, and Grey was 
 happy and Vera satisfied. Arrived at home
 
 A TETE-A-TETE. 141 
 
 they found every one still out, and Vera 
 and he were alone in the salon. He lin- 
 gered as if he did not wish to part from 
 her, and she did not bid him go. There 
 was a pathetic look in his eyes which 
 touched her heart. 
 
 No one came in, and it was perhaps to 
 show how she really accepted him as a 
 friend that then, for the first time, Vera 
 spoke to him of little Daisy, and showed 
 him the photograph, which after Georgie's' 
 arrival had been taken to her own room. 
 Thence she fetched it. Silent as to the 
 scene which preceded it ; silent as to the 
 blame justified by her husband's conduct, 
 the story as she told it was touching 
 enough, and Grey listened to it with re- 
 verence. Somehow the recital seemed to 
 solemnize him. He had thought his respect
 
 142 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 for her womanhood had already been 
 perfect ; now something more seemed to 
 ennoble her, in her motherhood of the little 
 child that was dead. He even perceived 
 that with Vera motherhood had been a 
 passion, and that if the real child had been 
 beloved, the ideal image always with her 
 was adored. 
 
 He was deeply touched by the pathos 
 of words and looks, but he resented — for 
 he was only a man, a very ordinary com- 
 mon-place man — her devotion to this pure 
 white image in her soul, when he was 
 longing, wrongly it might be, to see her 
 flush at the discovery of love, rosy, warm 
 and living, at her very side. But she — think- 
 ing that he now was all engrossed with 
 her thoughts instead of all engrossed by 
 thoughts of her — she held out her hand
 
 A FALSE STEP. 143 
 
 in sympathy. She wanted thereby to seal 
 the compact of their friendship, and felt 
 that she was honouring him in doing this 
 before her shrine. 
 
 He did not misunderstand her, but he 
 was too weak to struggle with himself, and 
 as she gave him her hand, and he came 
 nearer still, suddenly bent forward, and 
 would have touched her forehead with his 
 burning lips ; but before he had neared 
 the white brow below the soft silky dark 
 hair, Vera started back. Yet she did 
 not resent it more than momentarily ; his 
 pleading look apologized for him, before 
 he said, "I had thought this once, for auld 
 lang syne, Vera." 
 
 She remembered that once he had kissed 
 her before — a kiss that had for one day 
 made her happy, and for years miserable.
 
 144 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 That lie could think so little of her as to 
 kiss her thus and then to go away without 
 the words spoken that she should have 
 heard first, but then supposed a mere form. 
 She coloured now to think of herself 
 then, and, though there was no disrespect 
 in manner or tone, the vivid remembrance of 
 the past might have made her take a dis- 
 like to Grey had not Georgie entered to 
 establish a reaction in his favour. 
 
 For the memory had come like a light- 
 ning flash, and Georgie had entered at her 
 blush, saw Grey a little discomposed — he 
 usually self-possessed to a fault — saw Vera 
 close by him with the rare vivid colour in 
 her face, saw the photograph on the table. 
 Geonne thought she took in the situation 
 at a glance, and contrived to be so sig- 
 nificant in saying nothing, that Grey made
 
 GEORGIE'S INSOLENCE. 145 
 
 an abrupt exit to crown a stupid em- 
 barrassment for which he could find no 
 excuse to himself a little later. It was one 
 of the exceptional awkwardnesses of a man 
 of the world. 
 
 But Georgie had subtly made the most 
 of it. Then she blundered too. Instead of 
 being content with her position, which was 
 as impregnable as indescribable, she pursued 
 the enemy too far. 
 
 As soon as Grey had gone she said 
 rather insolently, "You were having an 
 interesting talk when I came in ; but don't 
 you think it is rather a pity to bore a 
 young man with family histories ? I don't 
 know, of course." 
 
 Vera had often let speeches pass that 
 
 would have deserved rebuke, so that 
 
 Georgie did not often even trouble herself 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 TN OPPOSITION. 
 
 to be cleverly rude ; but Vera was a 
 little highly-wrought and now spoke her 
 mind. 
 
 Vera's slight tall form stood above 
 Georgie as the girl lounged in the long 
 chair on the balcony. They had both 
 gone out there as Grey left. The soft 
 calm of the evening sky, where the moon 
 floated above the Varenna hills, was behind 
 her, and at the first tones of her voice 
 Georgina Leyton looked at her and had to 
 listen. 
 
 44 No ; I think you do not know what 
 any one should do, Georgina. You have 
 a greater want of knowledge of that sort 
 than any one I ever met with." 
 
 Georgie gazed at Vera, utterly astounded. 
 Had she believed Vera capable of up- 
 braiding her, she never would have sup-
 
 A NEW DEPARTURE. 147 
 
 posed Vera to have attacked her savoir 
 /aire ; but Vera had found a weak spot, 
 and Georgie was so astonished that she 
 could not interrupt her successfully. 
 
 " It is quite time that we came to an 
 understanding. Very foolishly I have al- 
 lowed myself to drift into a wrong position, 
 and have permitted your insolence on 
 occasions when, even for your sake, I 
 should not have done so. Do not inter- 
 rupt me. I am extremely sorry to speak 
 now, but it is better to do so." 
 
 The words flowed from her lips very 
 quietly and easily, and Georgie bit her lips, 
 rose from her lounging attitude, sat down 
 again on the side of her chair, and 
 fidgeted with her parasol. 
 
 " Yes," Georgie said, " you can take 
 this new departure also in your husband's 
 
 10-2
 
 14S IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 absence; there is a good deal going on 
 which is novel." 
 
 " So much the better," rejoined Vera. 
 " I will pardon you for the past, but 
 for the future remember that I am Ealph's 
 wife — if you wish me to remember that you 
 are Ealph's cousin and not merely an 
 ignorant, irresponsible mischief-maker whom 
 I should not receive if she called to see 
 me." 
 
 "You think that you could shut me 
 out ? " said Georgie with brilliant colour 
 in her cheeks. " Ralph would sooner turn 
 you away than me." 
 
 This was no sooner said than she re- 
 pented of it, and she had swallowed down 
 many more truths rather worse to say, 
 such as that Ralph saw her ten times 
 abroad for once at his own house.
 
 A DISCOVERY. 149 
 
 Vera took no notice of this, but con- 
 tinued : " I have written to my husband 
 and told him that I am now quite strong 
 enough to undertake the money matters 
 which I find were entrusted to you." 
 
 Georgie started. 
 
 "Eustace informed me that Sir Ealph 
 had told him to go to Miss Leyton for 
 orders and for money. It was kind of you 
 to undertake this trouble, and I told the 
 courier that it was quite right. However, 
 for the future he can come to me." 
 
 " Ealph gave you power to draw for 
 him ? I am afraid even if I give up the 
 cheque-book to you it would be of no 
 use, the account is in my name. You 
 see he wished to save you trouble," said 
 Georgina. 
 
 Vera had had a small sum sent to her
 
 150 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 for her private expenses, and the courier 
 had been told to pay for everything, and 
 for any purchases ; just as in London, she 
 might have what bills she liked, but had 
 rarely five pounds in cash. Vera had sup- 
 posed that the courier had received money 
 direct from Sir Ealph, and that day had 
 accidentally discovered that Georgie had 
 control of these accounts and drew the 
 weekly cheques. Had Sir Ealph intended 
 this as a deliberate insult ? or had he so 
 arranged matters that the ostensible hostess 
 should be in the power of her guest should 
 any contretemps occur ? 
 
 " Yes," said Vera bravely ; " I know 
 that I have been glad to have no trouble 
 in such matters for some time, but in 
 this and other ways there will be from 
 henceforth a change."
 
 VERA SPOILS HER EFFECT. 151 
 
 Leaving Georgie meditating some reply, 
 Vera went to the balustrade of the balcony 
 and leant over it, letting the twilight cool 
 play on her heated cheeks as the lime- 
 scented air refreshed her. She was hailed 
 by Charlie and Anice just below, coming 
 in after their walk. 
 
 "Who's that?" said Georgie, who did 
 not think it convenient to quarrel with 
 Vera then. 
 
 " Charlie and Anice," said Vera. Then, 
 for she was one of those natures who 
 always spoil their own strong assertions 
 by being sorry for their effect on others, 
 Vera again astonished Georgie by adding : 
 " Charlie is coming up, and we have 
 done with this subject. But, Georgie, I 
 have cause to dislike you, yet I do not 
 know why you have given it to me?
 
 152 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Would you not be happier if you tried to 
 let me be your friend? I am sorry for 
 you, and I would try to help you if you 
 let me." 
 
 Before Georgie could reply Charlie 
 entered. 

 
 CHAPTER Vlll. 
 
 ASIDES. 
 
 " It takes something- else besides 'cuteness to make folk 
 see -what'll be Ibeir interest in the long run. It takes some 
 conscience and belief in right and wrong — I see that pretty 
 clear." — Adam Bede. — George Eliot. 
 
 Single heavy drops of rain against the 
 window ; wind in gusts at long intervals ; 
 dust in spasms; and the lake parti-coloured 
 beneath the dreary-looking mountains ; all 
 cold and colourless, and telling of ap- 
 proaching storm. 
 
 Vera Carstairs and Georgie Ley ton were 
 both writing letters — both writing to the 
 same man. Vera, slowly and deliberately 
 on black-edged paper, in neat even letters, 
 with large capitals, stops in their places, 
 and sentences formalized by anxiety ;
 
 154 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Georgie, in a scrawl of much character, 
 letters running about round each other and 
 into the next words, on red paper with 
 torn edges, and regardless of what she said 
 in the certainty of pleasing the receiver; no 
 stops at all, frequent dashes at uncertain 
 intervals, plenty of underlining and notes 
 of exclamation. Neither of these women 
 did themselves justice in their letters : 
 Vera, because she was nervous — one can 
 have a fit of shyness in writing a letter ; 
 Georgie, because she rarely was able to 
 get any of her wit and certainly could get 
 nothing of her will upon paper. 
 
 This is part of Vera's letter : 
 
 " I must thank you for letting me stay 
 here so long ; it has done me a great deal 
 of good in more ways than I can name. 
 I hope now to be strong enough to be of
 
 VERA'S LETTER. 155 
 
 some use to you, though you must not 
 expect too much from me. What may 
 seem a long time to you is in one respect 
 a very short time to me, though indeed it 
 is years, I think, since last October. For 
 the last time — unless you should wish it 
 — I speak of that, because for the first 
 time I am able to say that for your share 
 in making that great sorrow (though you 
 never intended that terrible consequence) 
 I do forgive you, Ralph. In return, will 
 you not try to be a little more tender to 
 me ? I know that I am young and inex- 
 perienced, and unfitted for the difficult 
 part which you say your wife should 
 play ; but if you tried to teach me what 
 you wished more gently and more 
 lovingly, don't you think it would be easier 
 for us both ? I wanted to die last winter
 
 156 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 because it was so hard to live ; but I had 
 to get well, and it is so terrible to think 
 that all our lives — for years perhaps — we 
 should have to live as we have done for 
 the last two years. Am I foolish in writ- 
 ing this ? I think not. Ealph ! forgive me 
 for my share in our estrangement. I will 
 try to help you. Will you not try to help 
 your loving wife, Vera Carstairs." 
 
 With tears in her eyes, and trembling 
 all over in her excitement, glad that 
 Georgie had her back to her, Vera drew 
 the sealing apparatus towards her, and was 
 fastening up the letter when Anice Bentley 
 entered. She came in quietly as she had 
 been in the habit of doing, but as Vera 
 looked up she perceived that something 
 was wrong, though the girl moved and 
 spoke with perfect composure.
 
 GEORGIE'S LETTER. 157 
 
 " Can I speak to you ? " said Anice. 
 "It doesn't matter if you are busy." 
 
 " No ; I have finished. Come into my 
 room. No, thanks, Georgie ; don't move. 
 In any case I wanted to show Anice my 
 shopping of blankets at San Giovanni." 
 
 Georgie did not wish to move, so they 
 left her in the salon, and she finished her 
 note to Ealph Carstairs in some content ; 
 then, rising, went to the balcony, and ap- 
 parently excited by what she saw, re- 
 turned indoors, put on tocque and new- 
 market, and braved the gale now whistling 
 round the house. This had been part of 
 her letter : 
 
 " Why on earth should you expect a 
 letter every day, or, if it comes to that, 
 every week ? I have absolutely nothing 
 to sa}-. Are you interested in the moon-
 
 158 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 liofht manoeuvres of some bread-and-butter 
 wives with half-willing swains, in the 
 troops of tourists who ebb and flow, leav- 
 ing a permanent remainder of frumps lug- 
 gaged with awful trunks of nailed wood 
 and antediluvian relics of the carpet bag 
 period? As for more regular residents like 
 ourselves, they are perfectly uninteresting, 
 including Vera's devoted worshipper, Anice 
 Bentley, whom Vera prefers to me ! But 
 fancy choosing to idealize a woman! Vera 
 has, however, developed a whole set of 
 Arcadian ideas. I envy the result, which 
 seems to be happiness greater than she has 
 known for some time, but can't quite 
 sympathize with the means! I answer 
 your last letter — e Write : anything in 
 terests me from you ' — by giving you a 
 dose of Vera. (A storm is comin2 on, and
 
 GEORGTE'S LETTER. 159 
 
 I have nothing to do !) Have I ever 
 written so much about Vera before? (such 
 a storm, and there's a small boat out on 
 the lake trying to cross ; I expect we shall 
 have a sensation before it gets in. I 
 wonder whether it ever will? What a 
 horrid idea !) I continue in preference — 
 toujours Vera ! At this moment her 
 strongest passion is, I think, for this pretty 
 but rather absurd child ; yet I was a little 
 startled to find that evidently she had been 
 at least a friend of your acquaintance, 
 Grey Meredith. You always said that if she 
 had not particularly cared for you she had 
 cared for no one else, How can any man 
 know even that in the case of the youngest 
 woman, and Vera was over nineteen when 
 you married her ? But I'll let you off 
 Vera as chief subject, sub-divisions into
 
 160 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 these three heads — Anice Bentley, Grey 
 Meredith, and her sketching from nature, 
 which is really a combination of the other 
 two elements. I am going to see those 
 mariners shipwrecked. How rough the 
 lake is ! Thanks very much for postage 
 stamps. After this stupid letter is posted 
 there will be a balance of £4 19s. d^d., 
 which I shall use somehow ! ! You are 
 good, after all. 
 
 "Your affectionate Pussy." 
 
 An unliterary epistle, looking better in 
 the disguise of MS. than in the all-reveal- 
 ing garb of print ; for print levels all the 
 little feminine flourishes, and exposes the 
 disconnected periods to public gaze ; yet 
 even thus in the given passages illustrating 
 something of the writer's nature, and cast- 
 ing a light on the habits of the husband
 
 LETTERS RECEIVED. 161 
 
 who received, of the woman who wrote, 
 such comments on his wife. 
 
 The two letters were laid together on 
 arrival in England, and the last was read 
 first. The Pussy's scratch at Yera's 
 friendship for Grey Meredith, with the 
 further insinuation, scarcely did much 
 damage by itself; but, like many an 
 obstinate man unreasonably swayed by the 
 esteem in which others held his own pos- 
 sessions, Sir Ealpli Carstairs was influenced 
 by the contempt expressed in the descrip- 
 tion of Vera. Yfas he ever angry at such 
 freedom? The freedom was only the 
 natural result of his own disloyalty, and 
 Georgie's daring the result of her down- 
 fall. 
 
 Reading this letter first in the hand- 
 writing of the woman whom he fought 
 
 vol. i. 11
 
 162 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 with and had struggled from, with respect 
 for her grip, even five years before ; reading 
 it with vivid memory of her mockery and 
 with full power to give life to the dis- 
 jointed sentences ; reading it with all the 
 suggestiveness which a letter from such a 
 woman carries to such a man in spite of 
 all possible defects of style, information 
 and taste ; Sir Ealph lingered over the 
 sheet, disliked it thoroughly, and read it 
 over again with pleasure. He was more 
 than usually irritated with her, but 
 still it was a letter from her, albeit 
 he had had to bribe her for it with 
 what they had euphoniously called postage 
 stamps. 
 
 Next — set against his wife by the fact 
 that she was not Georgie, though that fact 
 had not been the fault of Georgie, nor in
 
 LETTERS READ. 163 
 
 becoming his wife had Vera been entirely 
 to blame — Sir Kalph Carstairs opened the 
 second Italian letter. 
 
 He did not expect to be much interested 
 in it, but the vein in which it was couched 
 was novel. Something in it struck him, 
 and if he had been sensitive he would 
 have felt its pathos. 
 
 As it was he read this letter again, and 
 his indifferent contempt passed into a cer- 
 tain amount of wonder. 
 
 Perhaps, however, the plea only 
 achieved the honour of being considered, 
 and of fathering the remark he made 
 to a friend a little later, a propos of some 
 one else : " She is sorry that there is an 
 estrangement, is she? Probably she's in 
 the sentimental stage of love with another 
 fellow ; a woman's always soft then, even 
 
 11—2
 
 1G4 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 to the other man she's injuring ; at least 
 she tries to be." 
 
 Putting the appeal in this light and 
 connecting it with the insinuation of 
 Georgie (not made for the first time, 
 though for the first time relating to an- 
 terior relations between Vera and Grey), 
 Sir Ralph Carstairs felt himself justified 
 in not paying the smallest attention to the 
 letter of his wife. If those words, written 
 in such fire, received with such coldness, 
 had otherwise had power to touch him, 
 again Georgie Leyton's influence of person- 
 ality and of persiflage had counteracted 
 hers of pathos and loyalty. Very likely 
 it would have made no difference to Yera 
 if Georgie had never written in idle- 
 ness as much as in malice ; but as it was, 
 not jealously but self-excusingly, Carstairs
 
 THE STORM ON COMO. 165 
 
 from thenceforward believed in his wife's 
 affection for Grey Meredith. 
 
 Meanwhile, having traced those letters 
 to their destination, let us return to the 
 writers, on the stormy day on which the 
 words went from Lake Como. 
 
 As soon as Anice had safely shut the 
 door into Vera's room, and Vera, seeing 
 that she wished it, had locked them in, 
 the girl clasped her hands and let her 
 self-control be set aside. 
 
 " I had to come to you," faltered Anice. 
 
 " You won't Oli ! how horrible ! Oh, 
 
 Vera, listen ! " 
 
 Anice shuddered. The wind swept by 
 with a howl, and for a second the girl 
 kept still, with all the colour gone from 
 her face and her frame trembling to Vera's 
 touch.
 
 166 • IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 '•What is it, dear? Tell me," said Vera 
 gently ; " I hear nothing but the wind." 
 
 " Look ! " said Anice, drawing her to 
 the window of the bedroom, yet keeping 
 within the room. The half window-frame 
 was open. The wind passed again and 
 clapped the persienne to. Seeing Vera 
 attempt to push it back, Anice went 
 through the opening, fastened it against 
 the wall, and then, returning, shut the 
 window. As she had finished : 
 
 " You mustn't catch cold," said the girl, 
 in a dull tone. " Oh, help me from going 
 mad ! Hide me ! " she suddenly added. 
 " Tell me ivhat to do. Look ! " she said 
 again ; all this in a tone of suppressed 
 agony. 
 
 Vera looked. That Anice was in her 
 senses and in great trouble Vera had no
 
 THE LITTLE BOAT. 167 
 
 doubt, but what had her suppressed grief 
 to do with the stormy lake and the rising 
 wind? There was no one on the balcony, 
 nothing but storm on the darkened 
 heaving waters. That was all she saw 
 in the direction to which the girl pointed. 
 Nothing, yet Anice still repeated, " Look ! " 
 
 " I see nothing, darling," said Vera 
 gently. " Tell me what it is." 
 
 "Nothing — you see nothing?" said the 
 girl hoarsely. " Let me look. No. Thank 
 God! It is there still. Look, Vera. 
 Dont you see the boat?" 
 
 Vera strained her eyes, and she saw at 
 last, rising and falling, sometimes visible, 
 sometimes sinking beneath the rolling 
 waves, even as viewed from their elevation 
 at the window, a little boat. Danger to 
 the safety of any boat on that great cold
 
 1C8 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 gusty lake would have been apparent to 
 the most ignorant, and both had heard 
 only a day or two before tales told of 
 lives lost on the then smiling inland 
 sea in sudden squall or gradually rising 
 storm. . . 
 
 It was the only speck on the angry 
 surface, the little lake-boat on the giant 
 sea-like rollers. 
 
 "Who is there?" whispered Vera, but 
 scarcely needed to hear the answer between 
 the girl's bloodless lips : 
 
 "It is Grey Meredith — and two sailors ! " 
 
 No more words were needed between 
 the two women in this. Anice was sud- 
 denly a woman. Vera comprehended. The 
 girl, who had no right to show more than 
 ordinary anxiety for the man who knew 
 not nor would have wished to know her
 
 REPRESSION. 1€9 
 
 love for him, had come to Vera in her 
 double trouble of mind. 
 
 Vera understood it all — the agony of 
 anxiety intensified by the impossibility of 
 either repressing or expressing it — under- 
 stood the instinct which brought Anice to 
 her: to have fellowship in suffering and to 
 be shielded from self-betrayal in the safety of 
 Vera's presence, ere yet her growing terror 
 should carry her beyond herself. Vera 
 understood in an instant what has taken 
 long enough to indicate — all the threads 
 of torture woven round the delicate girlish 
 soul : a girl's heart, like the rose first 
 opening, ever tossed by the wind, held 
 firmly in its beauty by the cup which had 
 controlled and shielded its budding. Not 
 till the rose has known more of storm and 
 of sunshine do those mantlings of reserve
 
 170 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 abandon the soft petals and permit the 
 display of the luscious heart within. The 
 instinct of reserve, so strong and beautiful 
 in such a girl, was not swept away by the 
 storm of passionate anxiety; its conscious- 
 ness did not prove that she suffered less 
 than if she had wholly abandoned herself; 
 nay, as Vera knew, that rightful self- 
 control implied great suffering, and won 
 from her respect for the young soldier 
 under the first fire on love's battlefield. 
 
 So little was then said between them. 
 Anice could not even bear the touch 
 of her friend's hand. Vera gave her the 
 glasses, following with her own eyes 
 the speck growing slowly larger and 
 larger, yet ever and anon vanishing for a 
 second in some gulf of cold and cruel 
 sea. At such times Anice would quiver
 
 WATCHING. 171 
 
 from head to foot, and blood dropped from 
 her lip once, as she bit it through trying 
 not to scream. 
 
 They could not be saved by others. 
 No other boat could live if that could 
 not. If it weathered the storm, well ; if 
 not 
 
 "They are in God's hands, Anice dar- 
 ling," murmured Yera, as she thought that 
 all was over. 
 
 They were nearer now. With the glasses 
 Anice could distinguish the figures in the 
 little boat, could see how the waves rolled 
 it along as it lay sideways in the trough 
 or on the height. Those boats do not 
 confront the waves ; and the uncertain 
 gusts of wind added to the danger. It 
 could not have been greater. 
 
 "Let me have the glass, dear," said
 
 172 IN. OPPOSITION. 
 
 Vera, and when reluctantly it had been 
 given she kept it in spite of the girl's im- 
 patience. Then she put it down. " Dearest, 
 I don't think you should look any more. 
 You are brave ; but this is too awful for 
 you to bear. We can do nothing but 
 wait, and, perhaps, in His mercy, God 
 will bring them to the haven where they 
 would be. ,, 
 
 The beautiful old words came so natu- 
 rally to Vera's lips. Yet Anice, looking up 
 at the lovely pale face beside her, feeling 
 the gentle arms put round her, hiew that 
 Vera had no thought that Grey Meredith 
 and the sailors could ever reach an earthly 
 haven, but that the girl was not to be 
 allowed to watch any more lest she 
 should only see the struggle of the 
 strong swimmers " in their agony."
 
 AGONY. 173 
 
 "My poor, poor cliild!" said Vera; but 
 Anice felt risfid in her arms. 
 
 " All is not over ! I know they can 
 send no one, or I wouldn't have come 
 here. But isn't it a little calmer? Won't 
 they be a little sheltered ? And they have 
 gone so long through the worst. See, 
 they are not so far off! I must look! 
 Don't be afraid ; if they get through I 
 shall be none the worse ; if not " 
 
 She had never spoken so much before, 
 though never had she been so near to 
 losing that self-control. 
 
 Vera forebore to press her. Love must 
 have its way, and was it not to be able 
 to indulge in its sorrow that this young 
 ove had sought her side? 
 
 And so, from henceforth, during fifteen 
 minutes more, the two women watched in
 
 174 IN OPPOSITION, 
 
 silence. For the first part of the time it 
 seemed impossible that the boat could ever 
 keep its broadside above the pursuing 
 waters ; then the worst was over, but at 
 any moment the boat might still have been 
 swamped ; and then, at last, Anice turned 
 to her friend with a pitiful appeal in her 
 eyes, and Vera whispered : "I think so ; 
 they have got into the sheltered water now." 
 And in a minute or two more : " Yes ; 
 they are safe." 
 
 
 (s>r<<D
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COUNTER IRRITATION. 
 
 " And life's fine loyalties are turned to jest." — Austin Dobson 
 
 Trembling herself with the reaction, Vera 
 felt Anice, fainting, fall against her. She 
 called no one, and soon the girl came 
 to herself, and very quickly the colour 
 came back. 
 
 " Be brave now," said Vera firmly, " Grey 
 Meredith is quite safe. I will send to 
 your people and say that I want you to 
 stay with me. I know Georgie is going 
 to dine downstairs, and then to have a 
 walk with some of her friends ; so we 
 shall be alone." 
 
 Anice looked up at her, half compre-
 
 176 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Lending the quiet matter-of-fact tone, half 
 resenting it. Had Vera herself felt nothing ? 
 
 Vera left her time to think this out ; 
 then, knowing the nerves of the girl must 
 be unhinged, she went on with kind 
 cruelty : 
 
 " Kemember, dear, no one must ever 
 know of our watch here but ourselves ; you 
 are not one whit nearer to Grey Meredith 
 because his danger has given you all this 
 pain." 
 
 Again Anice looked up, almost angrily, 
 a light in her bright young eyes ; then, 
 covering her face with her hands for a 
 moment, she answered Vera, in a voice to 
 which emotion only added sweetness, very 
 quietly and very touchingly : 
 
 "I know it." 
 
 Vera turned away for a second. Her
 
 . REACTION. 177 
 
 own eyes were rilling with tears, not bit- 
 ter, but in sweet sympathy this time ; she 
 respected Anice, and knew that to her she 
 need say nothing more. All she could do 
 was to gain time for her to recover before 
 others saw her. To-morrow the Bentleys 
 were going back to town, and for the fu- 
 ture Anice must take her chance, as other 
 women do. She would doubtless often see 
 Grey Meredith as before, but so long as 
 she was not put to the test at that 
 moment, her dignity would doubtless be 
 sufficient. 
 
 " Will you please me, Anice ? Best here 
 on the sofa a little." 
 
 "Yes," said the girl. " Only would you, 
 
 if you don't catch cold, just see if be 
 
 has landed safely ? " 
 
 Vera again comprehended. Only from the 
 vol. i. 12
 
 178 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 balcony it could be seen if the boat had 
 got to the landing-stage, and Anice did 
 not want to go out there. 
 
 It was calmer now, and the rain had 
 blown over ; the grey scudding clouds 
 were shining with light, and the wind, 
 shifting round, now brought odours of the 
 white banksias and limes ; the lake here 
 and there fretted with silver, and the 
 colour passing again over the hills. The lake 
 surged so that the splash of the rollers 
 was heard, sea-like, on the stone wall and 
 on the steps in front, and at the side 
 came murmurs of the leaves and distant 
 songs of birds. People began to go out, 
 only one or two ; but there were a few 
 'below the balcony over which Vera leant. 
 The itinerant merchants near the landing- 
 stage on the approach of the storm had
 
 GEORGIE TO THE FRONT, 179 
 
 folded away their wares and now were 
 unpacking, and the boatmen chatted with- 
 out fear of missing fares. Under the fresh 
 green avenue beyond the roses, Vera could 
 not quite see the boat-steps on the little 
 breakwater ; but as she looked she saw 
 a scarlet petticoat beneath a black coat 
 and a scarlet knot in a small hat, beyond 
 the men. 
 
 Recognizing Georgie's dress, in another 
 minute Vera perceived that Grey Meredith 
 was there also. She returned to Anice. 
 " Yes, he's all right ; don't move." 
 
 Catching up a scarf, she threw it round 
 her and went again on to the balcony, 
 Mrs. Bentley was below, and called to know 
 if Anice was with Lady Carstairs. Yera 
 said a few words, watching the two who 
 advanced ; she could not help it.
 
 180 ■ IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Grey's face was pale and Lis manner 
 earnest ; lie was talking to Georgie, but on 
 reaching the group at the front, lifted his 
 cap and left them all ; while Georgie stayed 
 outside, attitudinizing a little in her shapely 
 costume. 
 
 It was just a chance whether Grey had 
 been nattered or bored at the advance she 
 had made ; for advance it was. She had 
 .gone down to the quay, and the first thing 
 Grey had seen as he landed was Georgie. 
 She had acknowledged that she had been 
 aware of his danger — a danger which he 
 had felt keenly, and which by the way she 
 had not, for he had been in comparative 
 safety before she knew of it, and she did 
 not care at all about him for his own sake ; 
 she had seemed to hide so much feeling, 
 and to have acted with such spontaneity
 
 GREY IS FLATTERED, 181 
 
 and carelessness of appearances with him ; 
 she looked very well, in her flush of cal- 
 culating gambling, which he thought was 
 womanly anxiety ; she was a connection of 
 Vera's ; and — Georgie knew what she was 
 about — Grey Meredith was flattered. 
 
 So Vera saw, divining something at the 
 time, and having it described with all due 
 frankness in the evening, as he told them 
 all first the story of the day ; how he had 
 ventured when his mother required some 
 remedy not to be had in Cadenabbia ; the 
 last steamer had gone from Bellagio ; he 
 felt bound to return, and when on starting 
 he and the boatmen had realized the 
 danger was immediate, not possible, they 
 could not regain the shore ; they had to 
 cross. 
 
 Grey Meredith spoke very gravely then.
 
 182 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Among his hearers was Anice Bentley, sit- 
 ting a little behind him, very busy with 
 some work for Vera, also Georgie in full 
 view, Charlie Carstairs and a friend, all 
 of whom had come up, thinking it too 
 doubtful to go out late that evening. All 
 guessed something then in his tone, though 
 only Yera, later on, heard how fully the 
 danger had been realized, and how immi- 
 nent it had really been. Still at this point 
 of his narrative even then Grey suddenly 
 paused : " No, it was not cheerful ; and my 
 only consolation then was that I had said 
 nothing to my mother and that no one was 
 likely to have discovered our whereabouts. 
 I did find afterwards that one friend of 
 mine," with a smile and glance at 
 Georgie, " had seen the last part of our 
 struggles; however, then we might have
 
 GEORGIE IMPROVES THE OCCASION. 183 
 
 saved ourselves by swimming (at least I 
 might ; so few of those boatmen can swim). 
 It is a great thing that no one was 
 anxious about me." 
 
 "I had quite enough anxiety, thank you," 
 said Georgie ; " you declare that I only 
 saw the comparatively safe part, but I can't 
 say that it was pleasant." 
 
 " No," rejoined Grey, " without any undue 
 conceit about myself, even in that ' com- 
 parative safety,' I should not have liked to 
 see any one I knew, or did not know, for 
 that matter. Once I wondered if " 
 
 Grey paused. He evidently did not 
 say what he had begun to say, but to 
 change the subject went on: "I wondered 
 if you people on this balcony had ever 
 learnt to use my telescope." 
 
 " Not they," said Charlie Carstairs, with
 
 1S4 • IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Bis boyish langli. "I don't believe a wo- 
 man ever can use a telescope." 
 
 "Very few," said Grey, " though I don't 
 mind trying to teach some of them ; most 
 of them find it easier to see through stone 
 walls." 
 
 " That's more than men can do," said 
 Vera, with a keen remembrance of the 
 afternoon hours in which she and Anice 
 had watched behind the walls, before which 
 Georgie now 'sat, triumphant in her daring, 
 being the only person who had at the time 
 sympathized with Grey. " I don't think 
 that many men can either see through walls 
 or through characters." Of course the chal- 
 lenge was taken up, but Anice Bentley 
 suddenly rose; she could bear the surfaced 
 talk no longer. 
 ' " I must go ; we leave so earhy in the
 
 ACT- REVOIR ! ANICE ! 18o 
 
 morning that it is good-bye to every one," 
 she said. 
 
 Among the others Grey Meredith came 
 round to her : " Of course, I'd get up if 
 there was any chance of your mother- 
 needing me ; but she wants no one 
 with your brother and sister-in-law, does 
 she ? " 
 
 " No," said Anice ; " thank you very 
 much. Six is too early for you, and there 
 is nothing to be done." 
 
 " I've said good-bye to them all ; they 
 said I should find you here. It isn't for 
 long ; we shall meet in town directly, I 
 hope," he went on in his frank friendly 
 way. "Good-bye, Anice; pleasant voyage 
 and lots of success in the season. (One 
 moment, Miss Leyton !) Love to your sisters 
 good-bye."
 
 186 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Good-bye, Grey," said Anice, taking his 
 hand. 
 
 "It has been a bad day for the last at 
 Cadenabbia," he said, holding hers, " but 
 I got the worst of it." 
 
 " We would all like to go on saying 
 good-bye to Anice," said Vera, " but I shall 
 take her away now." 
 
 So the partings were made, and while 
 Grey Meredith again sat down by Georgie 
 and improved on the new departure in that 
 direction, without prejudice to his self- 
 avowed devotion to Vera, in the passage 
 Vera and Anice exchanged a few words. 
 
 "You did very well," said Vera, among 
 the rest. " Believe me, whatever happens, 
 you can only gain by keeping the secret 
 of our watch." 
 
 " Yes ; but— but it was a little hard that
 
 HARD LINES. 187 
 
 he should think," her voice quivered, " that 
 only Miss Leyton cared." 
 
 "Better so," said Vera uncompromis- 
 ingly, and changed the subject. Needless 
 to say she had another score against Miss 
 Leyton. 
 
 Only at the last, as they said good-bye, 
 Anice faltered: "I will be brave; but, oh, 
 Vera, how could you have cared for him 
 once and not always ? " 
 
 " My dear, I am married," said Vera, 
 feeling a little hypocritical. 
 
 Anice blushed. " I ought not to have 
 said it," she said simply. 
 
 "Don't vex yourself about that," said 
 Vera brightly. 
 
 But when she went back again, after a 
 few more words of friendship and promise 
 to have Anice with her as often as possible
 
 188 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 during the season, Vera found Grey Meredith 
 much occupied with Georgie Ley ton. 
 
 Yera's provocation with them both was 
 seen by the sharp-eyed Georgie, and to a 
 slight degree felt with astonishment by the 
 somewhat innocent Grey, when a little later 
 he tried to get real sympathy and win some 
 sentimental advantage for himself in a brief 
 and by Georgie unpreventable ' tete-a-tete. 
 Georgie set the coldness down to jealousy, 
 though a little surprised at Vera being so 
 human ; and, flattered for the second time 
 that day, as only a man used to women 
 can be, by such subtle' displeasure at a 
 slight showing of devotion to another during 
 a new allegiance, Grey Meredith ventured 
 a- little more of devotion to herself. Never- 
 theless, Vera was very human, and so on 
 tlie' provocation of Georgie's flirtation, be-
 
 GE0RGIE SCORES ONE. 189 
 
 lieving that she was acting in the interest 
 of Anice, she suddenly made up her mind 
 that at least where Grey Meredith was con- 
 cerned she would beat Georgie on her own 
 ground.
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 ON THE SURFACE. 
 
 "Helas ! ces trois mots de rhomme — 
 Hier, aujourd'hui, demain ! " — Lamartine. 
 
 After Anice had gone things went wrong. 
 There was a day or two of bad weather ; 
 a day or two of bad temper, both on the 
 part of Georgie and of Grey ; a day or two 
 of bad spirits for Vera. The peacefulness 
 of the place was disturbed, and the little 
 party awoke from their various dreams and 
 hopes, and thought of " plans " — the most 
 unidyllic things on earth. 
 
 Grey grudged each moment, yet fretted 
 sometimes for his work, and now every one 
 was restless, and Geor^ina Leyton had
 
 UNCERTAIN WEATHER. 191 
 
 become a little too open in her manner 
 of intending proprietorship ; whilst it made 
 all the difference to the comfort of his talk 
 if she were beside Yera, selfish and scru- 
 tinizing, instead of Anice, innocent and 
 pleasing, on occasions when a third of some 
 sort had to be there. 
 
 Grey and his mother were to go one 
 way, Charlie and his tutor another, and 
 Vera and Georgie were to return to 
 England, met in Paris by Sir Ealph Car- 
 stairs. The rain had lessened that last 
 evening before the party was further broken 
 up. It was warm and summerlike again, 
 and behind the hills the moon rose full and 
 eclipsed by her splendour the stars which had 
 been bravely struggling through the cloud- 
 drifts. The night was very glorious, and at 
 nearly ten o'clock, getting a little tired of
 
 192 , IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Georgie's unsympathetic silence, Vera once 
 more went out on the balcony. 
 
 " How lovely it is ! " she exclaimed. 
 "Won't you come out on to the balcony, 
 Georgie ? " 
 
 U A great deal too damp, thank you," 
 answered Georgie.. 
 
 Looking down, Vera was perceived by 
 Charlie and Grey Meredith, who called up 
 to her in a duet : 
 
 " We want you both to come out on the 
 lake." 
 
 Charlie added : " Look jolly well sharp, 
 and tell Georgie to be quick." 
 
 " It's too damp," said Vera doubtfully, 
 for the great expanse of silvered water was 
 very tempting to a lake-lover. 
 
 " She thinks the lake is wet after the 
 rain," laughed Charlie.
 
 PLUS AND MINUS. 193 
 
 Vera was going to say " No," in spite 
 of Grey's plea — " Oh, do come ; it's our 
 last night," — when Georgie came on to 
 the balcony, all-awakened by the male 
 voices. 
 
 "Miss Ley ton," said Grey, seeing her 
 form beside Vera, " you won't be hard- 
 hearted ? Do beg Lady Carstairs to come 
 out with us." 
 
 " You didn't want to go out," asked 
 Vera of her in a low tone ; but Georgie 
 never responded to a woman's words whilst 
 a man was present. 
 
 " I'm sure Lady Carstairs will come. 
 We were wishing to go out, but no 
 one came near us all the evening. It 
 would serve you right if we wouldn't go 
 now." 
 
 " Come on, then," said Charlie impatiently. 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " You will go ? " inquired Vera, wlio, 
 stupidly we own, never got quite used to 
 Georgie's moods, plus and minus man- 
 kind. 
 
 " Of course," answered that lady, " un- 
 less you are afraid ? " She had the grace 
 to add this, as they parted to get 
 cloaks. 
 
 Descending through the hall, where only . 
 one or two men lingered over the papers 
 or at the door (most people going to bed 
 early at Cadenabbia), Vera and Georgie 
 went out, and were welcomed by their two 
 r iwers. 
 
 'Have you got a boat? We paid off 
 ours to-day," said Charlie. 
 
 " No difficulty in getting one now, if you 
 are quick," said Grey. 
 
 The men had not gone to bed, and while
 
 DIPLOMA CI'. 195 
 
 the boat was called for by Charlie, Grey 
 drew attention to the nightingales singing 
 one against the other, or answering to the 
 long low plaintive call with trills of joy- 
 fulness. 
 
 Charlie came back in a moment. " He 
 says the boats are asleep, so far as I can 
 make out, and he wants to know which 
 we would like awakened, two piccoli, or a 
 great boat? Shall we have two boats? 
 Let's " 
 
 Vera demurred: "Oh! let us be to- 
 gether." 
 
 But simultaneously Grey had said, 
 " Take the two light boats, and we'll race 
 each other, Charlie. Miss Leytoii, would 
 you come with me first ? " 
 
 (This was in accordance with a previous 
 whisper of Charlie's to Grey : " / won't row 
 
 13—2
 
 196 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Georgie, you know." Showing nothing of 
 annoyance ; after brief surprise at disturbance 
 of the arrangement as he had conceived it 
 most proper, Georgie with her cousin, the 
 chaperon (!) with himself; to this General 
 Grey responded : " We'll go shares in our 
 pleasures.") 
 
 But asking Miss Ley ton to go with him 
 he pleased Miss Leyton. 
 
 A conversation took place between the 
 two rowers before they each handed their 
 charges into the boats, of which the ladies 
 heard Grey's last two words, as if he meant 
 to be obeyed ; " Mind that." He continued : 
 " Come on, please, Miss Leyton. Lady 
 Carstairs, I have told Charlie to row 
 straight across to San Giovanni ; mind he 
 keeps tryst with us. Of course we shall 
 be first."
 
 NIGHT ON COMO. 197 
 
 " Of course you won't," said Charlie. 
 " In with you, Vera." 
 
 Perhaps the conversations, or parts of 
 the conversations, in the two boats as they 
 shot out into the silver had better be 
 arranged in parallel columns. Charlie rowed 
 violently for a time, then gave up, then 
 again put on a spurt. Grey rowed slowly 
 and steadily across,* and when he paused, 
 paused deliberately. They had the lake 
 almost to themselves. 
 
 Is Lake Como more beautiful in the 
 twinkling sunlight, or in the rippling moon- 
 light ? Either is good, but never had it 
 seemed more beautiful than to Vera that 
 night, when the ebony shadows were cut 
 by the silvery waves, and . after passing 
 through the placid" light they gained the 
 peaceful darkness on the other side.
 
 198 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Boat No. I. Boat No. II. 
 
 Voice in the Bow and voice Voice in the Bow and voice 
 
 of the Rower marked B. of the Rower marked B. 
 
 and R. respectively. and R. respectively. 
 
 [Boats keep near each other for a little while, then separate ; 
 Charlie's oars, Georgie's lines, having 1 the same tendency to 
 increase distance.] 
 
 B. (In a low 
 tone.) There! Mere- 
 dith can have her, 
 since he's so fond of 
 her. I've told him 
 he can land her on 
 the opposite shore 
 and leave her there, 
 or stay with her — I 
 wont change. 
 
 B. What are you 
 talking about ? 
 
 B. Some one 
 whom I won't row. 
 
 E. One can get 
 along so much bet- 
 ter with the lighter 
 boats; those to hold 
 two are four times 
 as light as those to 
 hold four, and some- 
 times twice as plea- 
 sant. 
 
 B. I like the 
 lighter boats, as you 
 say, sometimes. But 
 it is rather a trial 
 if one has an um
 
 CONTRASTED IDEAS. 109 
 
 Take care. Sounds trustworthy rower. 
 
 travel on this water. 
 But of all detestable 
 creatures, Georgie 
 is one. Meredith 
 thinks she's a jolly 
 sort of girl. He 
 don't know what a 
 jolly sort of girl 
 is ! Are you warm 
 enough, Vera? 
 
 B. Quite. 
 
 R. Look out, don't 
 let us go near them. 
 I hate the sound 
 of her voice even 
 when I don't know 
 what she says. She 
 riles me. Look at 
 
 I won't mention 
 names — sound 
 travels so far on 
 the lake ; but one 
 of the party here 
 amuses himself at 
 my expense. 
 
 A Don't you 
 think you're a little 
 too hard on Charlie ? 
 He always seems to 
 me so gentle with 
 Lady Carstairs ; but 
 I've noticed that 
 you and he don't 
 get on together. 
 
 B. I should think 
 not. He is so rude.
 
 200 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 that fishing boat Vera spoils him, but 
 
 with the lantern to 
 attract the fish. 
 
 (The boat drifts.) 
 
 she likes boys so 
 much. I think that 
 I prefer men. 
 
 Pi. May I smoke ? 
 
 (The boat drifts.) 
 
 Boat No. I. 
 
 (Charlie begins to sing, 
 and sings two or three 
 songs, with a scrap or two 
 of conversation between 
 whiles ; they get across 
 the lake ; it is quite dark 
 there.) 
 
 E. I promised 
 Gre}' I'd land here 
 and meet him ; but 
 I'm hanged if I'll 
 change coxes ? You'd 
 j ust as soon have me 
 
 Boat No. II. 
 
 (Grey smokes and mnses,and 
 forgets to talk. Georgie 
 is impatient, but will not 
 show it. After a time 
 she says : — ) 
 
 B. I suppose this 
 is good-bye. 
 
 B. Yes. What? I 
 beg your pardon. 
 One becomes rather 
 dreamy. Yes, it is 
 our last ni^ht here.
 
 " DOING THE 
 
 as him — wouldn't 
 you, Vera? 
 
 B. It is very good 
 of either of you to 
 row me. I don't 
 want to change. 
 
 E. I don't, and 
 Georgie don't, and I 
 don't believe Mere- 
 dith does ; it is only 
 awkward when the 
 ladies don't choose 
 — but he's done the 
 civil to you, and I 
 don't care if I do 
 the uncivil to 
 Georgie — let's stay 
 as we are. 
 
 B. I am content. 
 
 CIVIL." 
 
 201 
 
 I shall look back to 
 Cadenabbia with the 
 very greatest plea- 
 sure. 
 
 B. It is a charm- 
 ing place. 
 
 7?. With charm- 
 ing people — like our- 
 selves ! I should like 
 to thank your party 
 for allowing me to 
 join it ; my stay 
 would have been 
 very different if you 
 had not been here. 
 
 B. (Hesitatingly.) 
 Did I — we — make 
 so much difference ?
 
 202 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 E. (Gallantly.) 
 Why correct your- 
 self? You have made 
 a great deal of 
 difference to all of 
 us. Yes, it makes 
 one very sad that 
 our party^ should be 
 broken up — it can't 
 be the same thing 
 in town. 
 
 B. I often think 
 one knows people 
 on such occasions 
 as never on any 
 others. 
 
 . R. And how much 
 some people gain by 
 being known !
 
 EXCHANGE A E0BEERY. 
 
 203 
 
 R. I won't land, 
 and then we can't 
 change. 
 
 B. As you please, 
 dear. 
 
 R. (With a spurt 
 to take him away 
 from the shore, but 
 which brings him 
 alongside Grey's 
 boat coming in the 
 other direction.) We 
 
 (A little desultory talk 
 follows. Georgie gains very 
 little ground, though he 
 answers her in her own vein, 
 till they near the shore.) 
 
 B. Must we land? 
 It is so much plea- 
 santer on the water. 
 The others seem to 
 be returning already. 
 
 R. (Looking 
 round.) Hullo! stop 
 there. 
 
 (Is suddenly vivacious — 
 cigarette pitched overboard, 
 spurt put on ; seeing that 
 Charlie is not looking, steers 
 across his course.) 
 
 aren't going to land. 
 
 The two boats just avoid colliding, and 
 Grey catching the sides together, says : 
 "How are you? Now, Charlie boy, out
 
 204 • IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 with you ! we aren't going to Lave step- 
 bairns to-night." 
 
 " We are going to stay as we are," 
 says Charlie. 
 
 " Do what I tell you," says Grey in 
 a low firm tone, and Charlie resists no 
 longer. They change places. 
 
 " Au revoir, Miss Ley ton," says Grey. 
 Vera has not spoken a word, nor has 
 Georgie. They leave the shore. 
 
 Boat I. 
 
 Now contains Vera and Grey 
 — silent. Grey rows slow- 
 ly and increases distance 
 between the boats, but 
 says nothing- till they 
 have reached the silvery 
 water again. 
 
 R. (Stopping.) 
 I've made an enemy 
 
 Boat II. 
 
 Now contains Georgie and 
 Charlie silent in rage ; 
 Charlie rows desperately 
 and Georgie steers as 
 straight as she can for the 
 last lights in the hotel 
 opposite. 
 
 E. (Insolently.) 
 Why didn't you try 
 
 of Miss Levton for to make vourself
 
 life. I'll pitch into 
 Charlie. I relied on 
 his doing the thing 
 decently. He must 
 have known that I 
 wanted to be with 
 you, though I put 
 it to him that we 
 should divide the 
 pleasures of being 
 with either lady. 
 And there I had to 
 bundle him out of 
 the boat and show 
 Miss Leyton how 
 little I cared for 
 her. 
 
 B. What did it 
 matter what boat 
 
 EXCHANGE A ROBBERY. 205 
 
 agreeable to Mere- 
 'dith ? he was in a 
 precious hurry to 
 
 get rid of vou ! 
 
 B. (Foolishly.) I 
 was in no hurry to 
 have you thrust 
 upon me. 
 
 E. (Chuckling.) 
 Double score ! This 
 makes amends for 
 much ! Oho ! sits the 
 wind in that quar- 
 ter, miss ? 
 
 B. Hold your 
 tongue, sir. 
 
 R. With great 
 pleasure. I'm de- 
 li o-hted with this
 
 206 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 you were in ? I arrangement now I 
 
 thought you very 
 rude. 
 
 E. Some things 
 force rudeness on a 
 man. What did it 
 matter ? Do you 
 mean that you would 
 just as soon have 
 Charlie ? Mi^s Ley- 
 ton has that advan- 
 tage over you — she 
 wouldn't. She told 
 
 me so 
 
 (Vera does not reply.) 
 
 7i. (Looks round 
 and sees that the 
 other boat is suffi- 
 
 know how pleased 
 
 you are 
 
 (Georgie draws 
 her cloak round 
 her and sulks. She 
 tries to see the other 
 boat, which Charlie 
 perceiving, says : — ) 
 
 You'd like to 
 know what they are 
 saying. Well, now, 
 I was just thinking 
 I'd row beside them 
 to plague Meredith, 
 but I shan't ! They 
 shall have some 
 peace from you. I 
 quite excuse Merc-
 
 " COMPLIMENTS APAET ! " 2C7 
 
 ciently far off, then cl i t li preferring 
 
 says :— ) 
 
 Charlie has more 
 sense than I expec- 
 ted. Do you think 
 I'd give up tamely 
 my last night with 
 you here ? 
 
 B. Don't spoil it, 
 Grey ; you are only 
 making me uncom- 
 fortable when you 
 talk and look like 
 that. And I do 
 wish that you had 
 stayed with Georgie 
 — No, I really do. 
 
 B. If you are fish- 
 ing for compliments 
 
 Vera ; she's ten times 
 better looking and a 
 million times jollier 
 than you are. 
 
 B. I am forced to 
 be in the same boat 
 with you, but I am 
 not listening to a 
 word you say. 
 
 R. Well, don't 
 strain your ears to 
 hear the others.
 
 208 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 (tries to laugh), that 
 isn't like you, Vera. 
 (Suddenly.) I wish 
 you could know my 
 uncle, Paul Words- 
 worth. 
 
 B. Why do you 
 say that now ? 
 
 E. I don't know. 
 It struck me a pro- 
 pos of compliments. 
 Did you never meet 
 him ? At least you 
 must have heard 
 his story ? 
 
 B. I have seen 
 him, and we were 
 to have met him at 
 dinner last year, 
 
 {Silence, broken by Charlie 
 trying- experiments with the 
 oars. Georgie becomes really 
 nervous.)
 
 " COMPLIMENTS APART 
 
 but I know nothing 
 more than the news- 
 papers tell us. 
 
 R. How mislead 
 ing they are too 
 about public men 
 in private life ! But 
 very few people 
 know Wordsworth's 
 story ; I suppose he 
 is about forty now, 
 and the thing hap- 
 pened a long time 
 ago. He got infatu- 
 ated over a very 
 worthless sort of 
 woman — worthless 
 as to being a good 
 sort, you know, 
 
 209 
 
 (During this time Georgie 
 sulks, and Charlie sings to 
 himself.) 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 14
 
 210 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 position all right, 
 even above his own. 
 After getting all she 
 could out of him 
 she threw him oven 
 He's awfully bitter 
 about women now, 
 but it drove him into 
 work. You shall know 
 him. I know you'd 
 like him — I'll bring 
 him round. He's very 
 grave, you know, 
 but a tremendously 
 interesting man, and 
 just the sort to suit 
 you for a friend. 
 
 B. Why did you 
 think of him now? 
 
 B. Why can't you 
 keep the boat 
 straight ? 
 
 R. Why should I? 
 I'll let them have a 
 bit of peace from 
 you, at all events.
 
 SNUBS. 211 
 
 R. Don't know. 
 It was a waste of 
 time when you were 
 there ! 
 
 B. What made B. That's this, 
 
 you think of him ? 
 
 R. I don't know, R. And what is 
 
 except this : I want there for me to 
 you to have plenty like in rowing you? 
 of friends, but I Spoilt my eveuing, 
 don't you want to you have ! 
 have men who'll talk 
 nonsense to you. 
 
 B. One is more 
 than enough. 
 
 R. You're not like 
 yourself .... I 
 won't play any 
 more ! 
 
 14-2
 
 212 
 
 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 (Rows in silence. After a 
 time : — ) 
 
 B. Oli, how glori- 
 ous this light is! 
 I am glad that 
 we came out. It 
 is the sort of 
 night to make 
 one forget that 
 annoyances ever ex- 
 isted, or will come 
 
 again. 
 
 R. Thank you. 
 
 B. Why? 
 
 R. If annoyances 
 aren't present and I 
 am, I am not an 
 annoyance. 
 
 B. I see. 
 
 B. You tiresome 
 boy! How I wish 
 we had never come 
 out.
 
 TWO PICTURES. 
 
 E. Don't say 4 7 
 see ' in that tone ! 
 
 (Semi-serious badinage for 
 a few moments, then con- 
 cludes gravely : — ) 
 
 Will you let me 
 look at you ? 
 
 B. (With sur- 
 prise.) I thought you 
 were doing that, if it 
 is necessary ; what 
 do you want ? 
 
 it. (Turning the 
 boat so that the 
 moonlight falls on 
 her face — is silent 
 for a few moments 
 taking her in.) 
 There! I've got a 
 picture of you that 
 
 213 
 
 B. Do go straight 
 home, or I shall 
 call to the others ! 
 
 R. (Sings at the 
 top of his voice 
 latest comic song :) 
 6 You do look so 
 lovely iu a rage! '
 
 214 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 you can't take away. 
 I want you, now if 
 you can, to give me 
 something to keep in 
 memory of to-night 
 — anything that you 
 wear. 
 
 £. (Suddenly.) I 
 gave you a rose 
 once and repented 
 of it ever after. 
 
 R. I don't see 
 why you should . . . 
 In any case if you 
 gave me the rose, 
 which might have 
 been a life-long 
 pleasure, and I let 
 it go, you can give
 
 KEFUSAL. 215 
 
 me something now 
 
 which. ...which It 
 
 will be a life-long 
 pain to know that I 
 can only have such a 
 a trifle — o?ily, in me- 
 moriam amoris. Give 
 me that pin you 
 wear. I will have one 
 made to replace it. 
 Give it io me, Vera. 
 
 B. Why take it 
 when it will — if it 
 will — give you pain ? 
 
 II. Give it to me. 
 
 B. No, I cannot. 
 
 B. (Stiffly.) Well, 
 don't against your 
 will T suppose we
 
 216 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 ought to push on. 
 (Eows fast.) Do 
 you see the others? 
 
 B. Yes ; and hear 
 them. Charlie is 
 singing, and I be- 
 lieve Geor^ie is call- 
 ing. 
 
 R. (Calls.) Hullo! 
 Stop! If Charlie 
 has been rude to 
 Miss Leyton he'll 
 have to answer for 
 it. If he doesn't 
 like her — though 
 why I can't see — 
 it is only when I 
 want you that she 
 doesn't do ! If he 
 
 B. I will call; I 
 can stand this no 
 longer, and I'll tell 
 Mr. Meredith now, 
 and Ealph later, 
 how you have be- 
 haved to me to- 
 
 night. 
 
 You'll be sorry 
 for it.
 
 ANNOYANCE. 217 
 
 hated to-night — he E. Not I! I've 
 
 should behave like got too much of 
 a gentleman. Ralph in me for 
 
 B. The Carstairs that ! 
 are very determined. 
 
 The two boats approach each other. 
 " What's up ? " said Grey. 
 
 " I told you that Charlie was perfectly 
 untrustworthy with me, and he is. I've 
 been tormented out of my life " 
 
 " We'll change again," said Charlie. 
 
 " In the middle of the lake ? Certainly 
 not ; otherwise I should ask Miss Leyton 
 to come in here. I am sure that Lady 
 Carstairs would make room, and I would 
 leave you without any one. I am so sorry 
 you have been annoyed, Miss Leyton." 
 
 " Annoyed ? Insulted ! terrified ! " 
 
 " I was under the impression that Charlie
 
 218 13 OPPOSITION. 
 
 was a gentleman," said Grey, " otherwise I 
 should not have proposed the little varia- 
 tion. Well, let us keep together now. We 
 shall soon be home. Don't behave like a 
 boy or a bear, Carstairs." 
 
 Without further accident home was 
 reached, the boats were paid off, and the 
 parties separated. Charlie was following 
 the two ladies into the darkened hotel, 
 when Grey stopped him. 
 
 " Good-night to you both. There are 
 candles. Carstairs, I'm not £oin£ in till 
 I have had a smoke. You stay with me." 
 
 Then Meredith let loose his wrath. So, 
 as soon as they got upstairs, did Georgie, 
 on a more innocent subject ; and the last 
 evening at Cadenabbia heard Meredith as- 
 suring Carstairs that his conduct should 
 not be forgotten, and upstairs, Georgie
 
 GEORGIE BREAKS OUT. 219 
 
 declaring to Vera that her behaviour with 
 Mr. Meredith was disgraceful. 
 
 Vera said very little to Georgie, who was 
 wild with passion, not in one of her merely 
 hasty moods, but in a half hysterical state 
 of rage. As it at length wore itself out, 
 Georgie said : " You shall not again come 
 between me and " 
 
 She stopped short, looked at Vera 
 venomously, and, with clenched teeth, was 
 silent. She swept out of the room, and 
 Vera heard the bedroom door locked. 
 
 Vera went to her room, thinking very 
 little of what Georgie said, except once 
 she wondered how her conduct could be 
 disgraceful. She might have encouraged 
 Grey, but she had not — surely. 
 
 She looked out for the last night on the 
 beautiful lake, and then went quietly to
 
 2'20 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 rest, for they would have to leave early 
 to-morrow. 
 
 But Meredith, after he had done with 
 Charlie, went back again for a boat, and 
 spent the night on the still dark waters, 
 he, the only thing restless and troubled on 
 the calm lake of Como. 

 
 BOOK II. 
 
 Conflict. 
 
 It's no in titles nor in rank ; 
 
 It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank 
 
 To purchase peace and rest ; 
 It's no in making muckle, mair ; 
 It's no in books ; it's no in lear ; 
 
 To make us truly blest. 
 If happiness hae not her seat 
 
 And centre in the breast, 
 We may be wise, or rich, or great, 
 But never can be blest. 
 
 Nae treasures nor pleasures 
 
 Could make us happy long, 
 The heart ay's the part, ay, 
 That makes us right or wrong. 
 
 Epistle to Davie — Burns.
 
 Book II.— Conflict 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PAUL WORDSWORTH. 
 
 " From his intellect 
 And from the stillness of abstracted thought 
 He asked repose." — Excursion. 
 
 Contrasting with the clear air and the 
 calm restfulness of Como is the murky fog 
 and unceasing rattle of the London traffic. 
 It is true that Paul Wordsworth's house is 
 just out of a noisy thoroughfare, but the 
 little street is on the direct route to many 
 a fashionable abode, and is loved by aristo- 
 cratic coachmen who prefer byways. Not 
 having to drive, their younger " ladies " do 
 not ; but what is good enough for the
 
 224 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Eight Honourable Paul Wordsworth to live 
 in is good enough for other folk to drive 
 in. In this world one. cannot have amuse- 
 ment and safety, without a great deal of 
 trouble. So might run the thoughts of the 
 variously collared, cuffed and coated tribe 
 who choose Sharp Street, Piccadilly, as the 
 course for their precious convoys. 
 
 Paul Wordsworth does not much care 
 whether they pass his house or not. When 
 he is out of office, as at present, he spends 
 a good deal of time in his own rooms, so 
 far as people can see ; but in reality he 
 is often miles away, frequently not on this 
 planet, sometimes (as he once said very 
 quaintly) " if there be another Universe, 
 not in this Universe." Paul, of Calvinistic 
 forbears and north country origin, takes 
 Life very seriously, and, of modern learning
 
 OUR PHILOSOPHER. 225 
 
 and philosophic education, is not disposed to 
 consider as fear or fruitage his personal death. 
 His nerves are as steady as any man's may 
 be who indulges in the expensive luxury of 
 thought on a rather delicate constitution, but 
 he supplies his sometime lack of physical 
 strength by splendid perseverance ; is much 
 respected and a little liked wherever he 
 chooses to go. His power has purchased 
 for him the right to be fastidious, and he 
 exercises his criticship in society as in 
 literature with a calm independent air, 
 which seems to say : " Against me there 
 is no appeal." Small people know his 
 solidity, and greater minds his geniality, 
 half hid in seeming ungraciousness ; just 
 one of the men who ought continually to 
 have been forced into gentleness by his 
 love, instead of being goaded into hate 
 
 ' CD O 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 once and for all by a doubly false 
 woman. Yet, with consequent severity, 
 his chivalrous and philosophic opinion of 
 womanhood remained true to its standard, 
 though, as he told himself, his personal 
 allegiance could never again be given. 
 Doubtless this was all theory, but men 
 like Paul Wordsworth do not every day 
 find women with power to test theories. 
 
 It is a long description to give of a 
 man's nature, but many lived near Paul 
 Wordsworth himself and for want of the 
 key could not penetrate beyond the outer 
 wall of his reserve. A brow open and 
 broad, arched in the centre — beneath 
 hair, too long, too thin and too shaggy (a 
 little touched already with grey), and 
 above very steady dark eyes and well- 
 formed features ; a well-proportioned figure
 
 A PORTRAIT. 227 
 
 too, never quite at ease unless its owner 
 was very much in earnest, when its every 
 gesture followed the eager forcible speech. 
 These characteristics are known of all men. 
 Though the age of forty is the childhood 
 of statesmanship now-a-days, Paul "Words- 
 worth had already become a power in 
 England. 
 
 " Who is there ? " he asked, as his 
 servant entered into his study that June 
 afternoon. But before the reply was 
 given, Grey Meredith had introduced him- 
 self and came to perch himself on a corner 
 of the davenport sans ceremonie. It was 
 evident that Paul Wordsworth had no 
 terrors for his half-nephew. 
 
 "You bad shilling," said Paul Words- 
 worth, " you can go away as you came. 
 I have no time for you to-day. I have 
 
 15-2
 
 228 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 to write without an idea to put on paper, 
 and to speak to-night when I can only 
 do myself justice if I don't." 
 
 " I told you that you'd suffer from con- 
 gestion of the brain soon," responded Grey. 
 " Do you realize how few words you 
 exchange with any one now-a-days ? What 
 you ought to do is to go into society 
 more and But, really, am I inter- 
 rupting you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; of course you are. No ; I have 
 got a block in my brain. I can't write 
 a word. I don't know when it has hap- 
 pened to me before. I cant do it to-day." 
 
 So saying, he scanned the MS., written 
 in a good-sized clear hand with broad yet 
 angular letters, and drew a line across the 
 last page. 
 
 " There, I wrote only those two hun-
 
 BLOCKED. 229 
 
 dred words in the last hour, and not one 
 of them means anything. Take my word 
 for it, Grey ; make as much effort as you 
 like beforehand, but never say, do, or write 
 with an effort, if speech, action, or book is 
 to be worth its toil. Your thought isn't 
 ripe unless it can run of itself, if you are 
 usually a rapid writer." 
 
 " You'd say the contrary another day," 
 said Meredith. 
 
 " Of course I would," replied Words- 
 worth instantly. " Never suppose that 
 when I say a thing one day I mean to 
 repeat it the next. I believe in no in- 
 fallibility, much less in that of a person 
 whose good-for-nothingness I have so often 
 experienced as I have experienced my own. 
 What have you come for ? " he added. 
 By this time all had been put away
 
 230 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 neatly and Meredith was on the sofa and 
 Taul Wordsworth sat in an old oak chair, 
 in which (as malice might say he was 
 aware) he looked very dignified. He never 
 lounged. His rooms were filled with 
 luxuries, and comfortable chairs were 
 among them for his own perception and 
 other people's reception. At this moment 
 he made Grey Meredith, though really 
 far the stronger and more athletic of the 
 two, look a feminine and trifling character, 
 and Grey Meredith's youth and good looks 
 were eclipsed at once by Paul Wordsworth's 
 strong intellectually-matured appearance. 
 
 " It gives me courage to say what I 
 I came for," said Grey laughing. " If 
 you are temporarily on my level with a 
 block in your brain, I want a very, very 
 great favour from you."
 
 A REQUEST. 231 
 
 "So?" said Wordsworth. " Go to the 
 point. No one is backward now-a-days in 
 asking for anything, except the people one 
 would specially like to help. You needn't 
 beat about the bush. Self or friend ? " 
 
 " Don't know. Both, I should say. 
 The fact is " 
 
 " You don't want money " 
 
 ' ; And you can't part with your brains, 
 unfortunately. No ; but I want a loan, — 
 the loan of yourself for half an hour. I 
 was telling you of Lady Carstairs. I'm 
 going to her to-day, and I promised to 
 bring you. So you'll just come along 
 with me now — at once, immediately." 
 
 Grey looked for a refusal, and felt like 
 a small boy who had fallen because he 
 had erringly expected his companion to 
 pull back when the answer came.
 
 232 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 "Very well," said Paul Wordsworth. 
 " Shall we go ? " 
 
 Grey sat up and stared. 
 
 " Didn't you want me after all ? " 
 
 " The truth is I expected a lot of oppo- 
 sition, and had prepared a quantity of 
 arguments wherewith to convince you that 
 you were wrong." 
 
 " I'll tell you what they were. 'No. 1 — 
 Lady Carstairs is a friend of yours.' Of 
 that I am not sure, and I want to be ; so 
 first of all I go because Lady Carstairs is 
 said to be a friend of yours." 
 
 " Look here," said Grey, " even from you 
 I won't stand a sneer like that." 
 
 " My dear fellow, I'm only charring, and 
 we are alone. I believe that Lady Car- 
 stairs is an angel, and I have a curiosity 
 to see her, for which you are answerable."
 
 DISPASSIONATE ADVICE. £33 
 
 " Eubbisli ! " answered Grey ; " as if you 
 liave ever bad a curiosity to see any 
 
 woman." 
 
 Wordsworth looked at the younger man 
 a little sarcastically, and the fine lips shut 
 themselves, then opened for faint smile and 
 forcible speech. 
 
 " Curiosity and women, especially when 
 connected, are the guardians of all good 
 and all evil in the world. Eemember that 
 you were at first in your letters from Como 
 voluble about Lady Carstairs, and then 
 completely silent till last night, when you 
 attempted to give me a dispassionate and 
 disinterested account of this friend of yours. 
 All of which awoke my suspicions. I don't 
 ask you for any confidence ; I only say, 
 don't burn your fingers. I hate these flirta- 
 tions with a married woman. I am not
 
 234 • IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 going to interfere, but I wished to see what 
 she was like in case you got into any 
 bother with her." 
 
 Grey up to this had listened to the elder 
 man's a little too measured utterances with 
 some astonishment, and now again lost 
 patience. 
 
 " Lady Carstairs is far above discussion, 
 if you please," said Grey, beginning quietly 
 but ending in anger ; " but I'll trouble you 
 not to insult me with such insinuations." 
 
 " I gave you chaff and I gave you 
 candour " 
 
 " Neither of which are acceptable on this 
 subject." 
 
 " Well done ! " said Paul Wordsworth with 
 warm approval ; '• you are quite right. I'd 
 drop this ; but I want you to hear reason 
 No. 2 why I am glad to go with you
 
 CARSTAIRS IS ABLE ? 235 
 
 to-day. Carstairs is put on that committee 
 I told you of with me. It's about the first 
 time I ever got into personal talk with 
 him ; he's more or less of an able man, I 
 should say." 
 
 " Able brute ! " put in Grey. 
 " I daresay he is. I know nothing about 
 him ; he never interested me, except that 
 he intends to be No. 1 if he can. You 
 say he is a brute." 
 
 " It has nothing to do with the case," 
 said Grey. 
 
 " No personalities allowed ? I suppose 
 that husbands are brutes, and brutes are 
 husbands, sometimes. At all events, a few 
 days ago I could not do less than say I 
 would like to be allowed to call on Lady 
 Carstairs ; so you come a propw* 
 " Is that all ? "
 
 236 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " What else do you want ? Look here, 
 Grey, for goodness' sake don't make a fool 
 of yourself. I did it once, so I know. I 
 have always hoped you would escape. It 
 has gone hard with you this time." 
 
 " Yes," said Grey, and Paul Wordsworth 
 was silent. 
 
 The next time they spoke — these two 
 who had always been in confidence, if so 
 unequal in intellect and position and even 
 in age — it was of another matter. But by- 
 and-by Grey jumped up: 
 
 " Are you coming ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It is her At Home, so I wouldn't go 
 too early ; but it is a charity to go. I said 
 nothing about you. I thought I'd surprise 
 her." 
 
 " More surprise than pleasure, certainly.
 
 IN FOR A PENNY ! 237 
 
 So it is an At Home you're dragging me 
 to ? I ask you, Grey ? I did not expect 
 that of you/' 
 
 " Well, if you'd rather come a little 
 later " 
 
 " In for a penny in for a pound, and if 
 so why stop at the pound? What an 
 idiotic saying it is ! As if men had no 
 common-sense ; but there ! they have not. 
 No, we'll go on to your friend's At Home." 
 
 By this time the two men were out in 
 the street. Grey was unusually constrained. 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts ! I sup- 
 pose Thorold Sogers' volumes are respon- 
 sible for these pennyweights of proverbs! 
 What is it?" 
 
 / Grey half stopped, and very slowly the 
 two paced down the street. 
 
 "I have an idea in my head. I'd tell
 
 238 IX OPPOSITION. 
 
 it to no living sonl but you ; not even to 
 her — though it's about her. You see she 
 is in a very difficult position as Carstairs' 
 wife in man}^ ways — and, I think, she 
 might like you, and if Carstairs saw that 
 you thought a good lot of her he might 
 treat her better. Of course it is his in- 
 terest to be in with you just now. Do 
 you understand? I'm an awful fool to 
 have said anything," Grey continued, " I 
 always am an ass." 
 
 " Yes, either a fool or a sage you cer- 
 tainly are, if I do understand you. In 
 my old age to become the recipient of 
 a lover's lunacies ! Let us walk up Sharp 
 Street again, and let me study my new 
 part. It is somewhat complicated. Now 
 if you are going to get white and make 
 faces, I can't really take it in. The con-
 
 GRE¥ MEREDITH'S OFFERING. 239 
 
 suiting physician must make his diagnosis 
 before he can approve the course." 
 
 The two men had turned. Grey was 
 angry and pleased at his own confidence in 
 Wordsworth, and irritated by and in- 
 terested in the manner of treatment. 
 
 " Go on," said he, half laughing against 
 his will. 
 
 "At first I thought I was taken as a 
 sort of chaperon for you, or as a little 
 offering of tender flowers. ' Behold,' says 
 Grey Meredith, ' I have brought to thy 
 sweet feet in chains that severe recluse 
 and unsociable hermit, yclept Paul Words- 
 worth.' I know that my appearance will 
 excite some minds, though from no personal 
 merits, unless it be a merit not to go to 
 At Homes. Is Lady Carstairs a lion- 
 hunter ? "
 
 240 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Grey, with 
 a genuine smile. 
 
 " She must have a snobbery of some 
 sort. Everybody has. Some have the 
 snobbery of titles, some of clergy, 
 some of authors, some of mere money : 
 we all worship power. And I just 
 managed to comprehend your meaning — 
 (let us turn again) — by my talk with 
 Carstairs yesterday. A snob is a man who 
 gives way without reason, and flatters you 
 without believing in you, whether you're 
 a peer, a priest, a prig, or a purse. Bah ! 
 Carstairs is a snob where I am concerned, 
 and I, quite as ready as he himself really 
 is to see the weakness of the man he 
 flatters, simply laugh at him. So he is a 
 brute to his wife? And you would use 
 his snobbery and abuse my good nature
 
 IN A TALKATIVE MOOD. 211 
 
 by asking me to pay attention to her, to 
 excite, not his jealousy, but some pride 
 in her ? Grey, you are really very deep, 
 but it is not to be done at the price ! " 
 
 " How on earth did you put all this 
 together ? " said Grey. 
 
 " Do you insult me ? " said Wordsworth, 
 with his pleasant smile. " You are a babe, 
 my dear boy, a guileless babe, and, given 
 you and Carstairs, it is not a difficult 
 matter to divine your weak spots with re- 
 lation to an unknown quantity." 
 
 "I wonder if you have any idea what 
 she is like, you guileful sage." 
 
 " I have not considered the matter. I 
 
 suppose a pretty little thing with ' speaking ' 
 
 eyes, rather given to attitudinizing, and 
 
 making every one flatter himself that only he 
 
 knows of her secret sorrows, on which in 
 vol. i. 10
 
 242 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 tete-a-tete she dilates at much length. And 
 I am to be let in for another confidence." 
 
 " You will have no such luck," said 
 Grey laughing. " But here we are." 
 
 They stopped at the door of a large 
 house in Grosvenor Place, and presently 
 " Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Meredith " were 
 preceded by their names, and after some 
 salutations on the staircase from those 
 overtaken or met, Wordsworth saw the 
 lady without any hat, whom one supposes 
 to be the hostess of an At Home. It was 
 a tall dignified figure in black, only re- 
 lieved by innumerable beads ; a lovely 
 head, he thought, and a pale beautiful 
 face, with very quiet manners and charm- 
 ing low voice. Wordsworth was intro- 
 duced, and Grey keenly watched him. 
 There was certainly some interest in the
 
 MENTAL NOTES. 243 
 
 way he regarded her. Grey, who knew 
 them both, was sure that each was cor- 
 recting a mental judgment already formed, 
 and as he had done a hazardous thing in 
 presenting his best friend to his queen — ■ 
 as all men do who introduce those they are 
 fond of to each other — Grey was very con- 
 tent as he thought that he read approval 
 on the face of each. Wordsworth seemed 
 inclined to linger by the door to try to 
 converse with the hostess, and Grey was 
 nothing loth when up came Carstairs him- 
 self and forced Wordsworth into talk. 
 
 Almost before he had quite made 
 up his mind whether he cared to enter 
 the house again, Wordsworth found him- 
 self asked to dine the next evening. 
 
 The guests had more or less crowded 
 into the rooms ; there was a cessation of 
 
 16—2
 
 244 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 the stream, and Wordsworth marked Grey 
 detaining Vera's attention for a moment or 
 two. 
 
 "To-morrow night?" said Wordsworth. 
 "Wednesday? No special business. I 
 have no engagement. Thanks, I shall be 
 very happy." He spoke very slowly and 
 absently. He had been watching the two, 
 and saw that Vera was a little impatient. 
 She joined the others, Grey following. 
 
 "I have asked Mr. Wordsworth to din- 
 ner, to-morrow, Vera," said Carstairs. 
 
 Of course she should have said some- 
 thing readily and easily civil at once, such 
 as would have come naturally even to her 
 on any other occasion, but her husband 
 being present and she having been inter- 
 ested in Paul Wordsworth before she saw 
 him, she became thoughtful and appeared
 
 SCRUTINY. 245 
 
 a little distraite from the very intensity of 
 her feeling that this was a critical point. 
 She was silent, perhaps for half a moment, 
 and they scrutinized, each other — Paul 
 Wordsworth and Vera Carstairs — before 
 she said to him, " I hope that you can 
 come." 
 
 " Your hesitation was most unnatural 
 and ill-bred," said her husband to her a 
 little later ; but Paul Wordsworth had felt 
 himself weighed and accepted, so pardoned 
 the deliberation. 
 
 ?-Gs
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW IT BEGAN. 
 
 " La plupart des gens rte jugeut des liorames que par la 
 vogue qu'ils ont, ou par leur future." — La Rochefoucauld. 
 
 In intervals of the conversation-exciting 
 music, Paul Wordsworth was greeted by 
 one and another, and Vera moved about 
 with her quiet pleasant manner in mitiga- 
 tion of the dulness of an assemblage where 
 half the people know each other too well 
 and nearly half know nobody in the room. 
 Among the small minority who were enjoy- 
 ing themselves were Georgie Leyton, keep- 
 ing a small circle in fits of laughter, 
 (especially during a pathetic song), and 
 Anice Bentley, who had found to her as- 
 tonishment that she did like going out
 
 ANICE BENTLEY. 247 
 
 and was always pleased to be in Vera's 
 house. 
 
 Paul Wordsworth spoke to Anice 
 presently ; he had known her through 
 Grey, and a few of the curious eyes stuck 
 in the unintelligent faces of the ugly-nature d 
 well-dressed women, who have become only 
 " envious spectators of the game," were 
 turned towards the two. Every one who 
 was any one knew Paul Wordsworth by 
 sight ; he was pointed out and whispered 
 about, and those whom he spoke to — even 
 the young girl he greeted — came in for a 
 share of those regards. 
 
 " Those clever men always make for the 
 prettiest girls in the room. Who is it 
 Mr. Wordsworth is talking to ? " said a 
 well-known lady to Grey. "She is so 
 pretty."
 
 243 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Miss Bentley," said Grey. 
 
 " Is it ? Who is she ? Do you know 
 her ? and you don't go and talk to her in 
 preference to old dowagers like me ? " 
 laughed the lady, giving him no time to 
 answer. " Mr. Wordsworth has better taste. 
 How prettily she colours ! She looks 
 charming." 
 
 " She would be flattered if she knew 
 your opinion," said Grey. He wanted to 
 talk to Vera, and though he knew he could 
 not do so, the party was fretting him. He 
 lost the complimentary opening. 
 
 " You know Miss Bentley ? " repeated 
 the lady. 
 
 " For years," said Grey. " I know her 
 very well." 
 
 " Ah ! that accounts for your not noticing 
 how pretty she is. Were you ever one of
 
 GREY'S GOOD BEHAVIOUR. 243 
 
 a blackberry party, Mr. Meredith ? More 
 amusing than this kind of party, you know. 
 You think me quite mad? Confess it." 
 
 "I did not understand what you meant," 
 said Grey, a little bit severely ; for he, who 
 mused on the one subject day and night, 
 thought that the lady was referring to a 
 certain expedition in which he and Vera 
 had lost their way for half an hour or so. 
 When a man once gets into a state of 
 mind in which he hears references to the 
 subject of his thought in the most inno- 
 cent remarks, he is likely to hear nothing 
 but allusions (as he fancies) to things pre- 
 cious to himself, but about which in reality 
 no soul knows or cares. 
 
 " No," the lady went on, " I don't sup- 
 pose that you do understand. But you 
 see one would be utterly weary if one
 
 250 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 didn't amuse oneself with one's own 
 thoughts on these occasions, and I thought 
 of that childish lesson about the black- 
 berries d propos of you young men." 
 
 " What was it ? " said Grey. " I need 
 teaching very much." 
 
 " I am sure of it. Well, as children we 
 used to take our donkeys and get the 
 blackberries for jam ; I'm going to the 
 point directly — which was and is for every 
 one, how to get the finest blackberries of 
 life. Some took sticks and made for the 
 topmost clusters, but I used to go along 
 the ditches and low down, where people 
 didn't think of looking, there were beauties, 
 hidden and cool, and oh ! so fat, and black 
 and sweet, and no scratches as their 
 price." 
 
 " You speak with feeling ; may I take
 
 AN APOLOGUE. 251 
 
 you to have some strawberries down- 
 stairs ? " 
 
 " No, you can introduce Mr. Wordsworth 
 — he isn't in the ditch." 
 
 " But oh ! so fat, and black and sweet," 
 said Grey. "Am I, then, only the stick 
 to reach him by ? " 
 
 " Yes, in many people's eyes," said the 
 lady shrewdly ; and at this moment up 
 came Georgie Leyton, and, as soon as she 
 conveniently could, made known her de- 
 sire to talk to Mr. Wordsworth ; and 
 many others did the same thing. Grey 
 wondered what the proverb of the black- 
 berries meant, and then harked back in 
 thought to the origin of the subject — that 
 he had not noticed the charms of the girl 
 he had known too long. He finished his 
 introductions and then made his way to
 
 252 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Anice, with not much thought of the ap- 
 plication, which the lady had made at ven- 
 ture. Anice was delighted by his notice, 
 and whether it was that others were 
 now drawing her out, or whether he sud- 
 denly saw her more as they did who 
 were not pre-occupied, certain it is that he 
 was by no means to be pitied for his act 
 of condescension. 
 
 Vera came down to tea with Paul Words- 
 worth at last, when the crush had much 
 diminished and only a few lingered on. 
 
 Grey noticed their presence by the bright 
 colour flashing over Anice's face, and the 
 smile, which was a reflection of Vera's 
 own ; and, like a child who will be quite 
 good with others till his nurse is seen 
 again after absence, Grey began to fidget 
 in himself.
 
 GREY FIDGETS. 253 
 
 Vera was looking very tired, almost wan, 
 and Wordsworth spoke in a tone of 
 quite friendly authority, made her rest, 
 and waited on her with a special atten- 
 tion which surpassed his usual politeness. 
 He sat down beside her, and they began 
 to talk, only being interrupted by the 
 good-byes of the last departures. Grey 
 fidgeted. Vera was listening to his friend 
 with an attention she did not pay to him, 
 and Wordsworth was watching her with 
 evident pleasure and interest, trying to draw 
 her out. Grey did not like it. He had 
 wished that his friends should appreciate 
 each other ; but now that the first few 
 minutes they had an opportunity for 
 speaking should be used and appreciated 
 was not pleasing. to him. 
 
 " Are vou staying here ? " he said to Anice.
 
 254 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 "No; but I stay till Lady Carstairs 
 goes to dress ; she asked me to. The 
 others have gone and will send the car- 
 riage back soon. Oh, here they are ! " 
 
 He saw her off and went back to the 
 room to Vera and Wordsworth. They 
 broke off in their conversation at his ap- 
 proach, and Vera made room for him at 
 the other side of herself. But he would 
 not see the sign of friendliness. 
 
 " Are you going to stay much later ? " he 
 said to Wordsworth. 
 
 "It is not very late, is it ? " responded 
 Wordsworth placidly. "Don't wait for me, 
 if you are in a hurry." 
 
 On which Grey sat down beside them 
 and sulked fur a few minutes. Of course, 
 he looked as if he were perfectly at ease 
 and as if the others were including him,
 
 . GREY SULKS. 255 
 
 as was natural, in their talk ; but, all the 
 same, he felt that he was not wanted by 
 the two whom he had introduced to each 
 other, and he sulked. 
 
 However, Wordsworth did not like the 
 trio so well as the duet, and he rose to 
 go in a few minutes, just as Grey saw 
 Georgie Leyton come into the room, with 
 her colour a little brilliant, followed by 
 Carstairs. Anice was talking to Charlie, 
 who had also entered late, and the whole 
 of our former dramatis personal, with the 
 addition of Paul Wordsworth, were now 
 assembled in the otherwise deserted dining- 
 room. 
 
 Swayed by common desire of making 
 themselves disagreeable, I fear, Georgie 
 and Grey devoted themselves to each other 
 with some empressement ; but no one took
 
 266 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 any notice of the little game, though they 
 were both very good players. Grey, like 
 almost all rather good-looking and rather 
 run-after young men, had practised the art 
 of self-defence, and the instinct of coquetry 
 is as natural to some kinds of men as to 
 some kinds of women, just as it is un- 
 natural with others of either sex. Georgie 
 responded most readily, not slow to take 
 advantage of more promising circumstances 
 and to force him into familiarity before Car- 
 stairs, whom she loved ; his wife, whom she 
 hated ; and the stranger, whom she respected. 
 In the meanwhile her husband's entrance 
 had discomposed Vera considerably. She 
 had become unconscious of his wishes, and 
 in so forgetting was fulfilling them ; but 
 when he came she recollected that he 
 expected her to interest Wordsworth, that
 
 NERVOUSNESS. 257 
 
 he was listening and looking. She lost 
 her presence of mind, and made a few 
 inane remarks in a jerky way quite 
 different to her usual manner. Carstairs 
 came to the rescue of the conversation. 
 
 " So glad to find you here still. We 
 shall have some talk to-morrow evening. 
 Suppose we leave those messy cakes and 
 cream and have a cigar in my room ? Ladies 
 will have these awful arrangements in the 
 afternoon." 
 
 "My experience to-day has been so 
 agreeable that I shall repeat the pleasure, 
 if I may. I have paid you too long a 
 visit. Lady Carstairs ; but I hope that you 
 will let me come and finish what we were 
 saying some other time." 
 
 "I shall be very pleased," said Vera 
 
 stiffly, because she was nervous. 
 
 vol. i. 17
 
 258 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 Wordsworth would not stay. Grey 
 went with him and they walked towards 
 the House. They heard seven o'clock 
 strike. 
 
 " I had no idea it was so late," said 
 Wordsworth. "Lady Carstairs is an 
 interesting woman, certainly." 
 
 "So you seemed to find her," returned 
 Grey. " I had no opportunity of speaking 
 to her at all." 
 
 "You were too much occupied with 
 others. You spent over half an hour with 
 that pretty little girl, I forget her name, 
 and when you might have talked to our 
 hostess you were too much amused by 
 that dark young lady even to look round 
 when Lady Carstairs spoke to you." 
 
 Grey did not answer directly. 
 
 " I think it is fearfully bad form to run
 
 "FEARFULLY BAD FORM." 25) 
 
 after a woman the first time you see her," 
 observed Grey. 
 
 Wordsworth laughed one of his rare laughs. 
 
 " My dear fellow, you are too amusing. 
 You take me to a house, I am there with 
 you, you keep me there to all intents and 
 purpose, and you come away in an 
 abominable temper because after being 
 hunted, baited, and toadied all the after- 
 noon I talk for a few minutes with 
 pleasure to my hostess. Shall I tell you 
 what we spoke of ? " 
 
 " I am not in an abominable temper," 
 said Grey ; " and, if you chose to talk 
 from noou to night to Lady Carstairs 
 about the man in the moon, what the 
 devil does it matter to me ? " 
 
 " Are you dining there to-morrow even- 
 ing?" asked Wordsworth, taking no notice of 
 
 17—2
 
 260 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 this particularly good-humoured speech. 
 " If so, we might go together. Shall 1 
 call for you ? " 
 
 "No, I'm not asked," said Grey. "And 
 if I am not to have a word with any 
 friend of mine when I go out with you, 
 I shall not do it in the future." 
 
 So saying he beckoned a cab and 
 jumped in. 
 
 " Can I take you anywhere ? " he called 
 out to Wordsworth from within in a 
 cuttingly civil tone. 
 
 " No, I thank you," replied Words- 
 worth, very formally ; " I shall walk." 
 
 " Where to, sir ? " came from the roof. 
 
 " The Bachelors," shouted Grey. But 
 as he passed Grosvenor Place the cabby 
 was stopped at the house he had just 
 come from.
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 (i The lover who cannot wound has indeed lost anchorage."- - 
 
 George Meredith. 
 
 " Has her ladyship gone to dress yet P " 
 Grey asked of the butler, already well 
 used to unconventional comings and goings. 
 
 " The carriage isn't ordered till eight 
 o'clock, sir," was the reply ; " I think her 
 ladyship is in the boudoir." 
 
 Vera had been only allowed to decline 
 some extraneous invitations to dinner and 
 dances — none that were in any way con- 
 nected with the set in which Carstairs 
 wished his wife to be admired and him- 
 self to be a power. The sole concession 
 granted her was that she might slid
 
 262 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 wear black. Bennett was an excellent maid, 
 and Vera's beauty allowed her a simple 
 style of hair dressing, therefore Grey 
 hoped to find her still writing, as was 
 her custom just before dinner. He had 
 armed himself with an excuse for returning, 
 and telling, the servant he would go up 
 by himself, he ran upstairs and entered 
 the now tenantless drawing-room. These 
 large rooms in the Grosvenor Place houses 
 have a conservatory at the end, dividing 
 the double reception room from a small 
 boudoir. It is extraordinary how much 
 variety there is in houses similarly con- 
 structed ; the very shape of the rooms 
 seems to be altered at the caprice of the 
 owner. This drawing-room with its hand- 
 some furniture and costly knick-knacks 
 never seemed so much a part of Vera as
 
 AN EAVESDROPPER. 263 
 
 the little room in which she was really 
 free to. do as she pleased — at times. 
 
 Grey always entered it softly, and to- 
 day, after his rush upstairs, he stopped 
 by the conservatory to steady himself; 
 a dim consciousness was stealing over him 
 that he had just made a fool of himself, 
 as in truth he had. The rich scent of helio- 
 trope floated past him as he paused, and 
 an angry voice was coming from within 
 the room beyond. As soon as he realized 
 it he had a moment's debate with himself 
 as to whether he should enter ; and in 
 the moment, and while he went forward, 
 deeming interruption could at least do 
 no harm, he heard a few words from 
 Carstairs. Needless to say, Grey Meredith 
 had no wish to listen, and made his presence 
 known the first moment that was possible.
 
 264 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 " Wordsworth went away perfectly chilled 
 and disgusted ; it is not your fault if he 
 ever enters this house again," Grey heard 
 Carstairs say. Then Carstairs saw Meredith 
 enter, and did not welcome him. How- 
 ever, Grey, internally anathematizing his 
 luck, and piquing himself on his self- 
 possession, began : 
 
 " I came back to get that address of 
 Lady Ainger's ; do you mind giving it to 
 me now ? " 
 
 Vera had been standing by her writing- 
 table, her back to the light, opposite 
 Carstairs, leaning against the mantelpiece. 
 She stooped, picked up her address-book, 
 and looked out the name in question. 
 
 " So sorry to give you the trouble. Are 
 you going to the House to-night?" he 
 asked of Carstairs.
 
 SUSPICION. 265 
 
 "We are dining out," Carstairs answered 
 curtly. 
 
 Vera gave him the address written down. 
 
 " Let me see it," said Carstairs suddenly. 
 
 She gave it him with a little drawing 
 up of her form. He looked at it, and 
 passed it on to Grey. " Why did you 
 want it ? " he asked, and pretended to 
 smile. " Lady Ainger is rather too ante- 
 diluvian for you." 
 
 " "Wordsworth asked me to get it ; he 
 wants to write about her son," said Grey. 
 
 "Energetic man, Wordsworth; he told 
 you he'd spared us an evening to-morrow ? 
 If you must go I won't keep you. We 
 shall all be late for dinner." 
 
 As soon as Grey had gone, Carstairs 
 continued : 
 
 " I spoilt his game for him that time !
 
 £G3 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 And lie ha. I the impudence to ask if I 
 was going to the House ! That's why I 
 repeated that I'd asked Wordsworth and 
 didn't ask him to dinner. You can be 
 pleasant enough when it suits you, I see, 
 when I am out of the way! But I'll have 
 an eye on you, no fear!" 
 
 " You need not take the trouble," she 
 said with scorn, and swept past him. 
 
 There is a second flight of stairs which 
 opens out of the conservatory to the rooms 
 at the back of the house. Up these Vera 
 went to the room which she had taken 
 since Daisy's death. She left the other, look- 
 ing on to the Green Tark, to Sir Ralph, 
 even yet unable to bear its associations. 
 He stayed still in the boudoir, scanning 
 photographs, books and notes left to be 
 answered. One photograph with folded
 
 SUSPICION. 2G7 
 
 doors stood on her writing-table. He was 
 looking for a photograph of Grey Meredith 
 which he thought was certain to be there. 
 This curtained frame had roses before it, 
 half concealing it. 
 
 He thought he had found it ; he cau- 
 tiously opened it, but recognized the 
 photograph of little Daisy, one which he 
 did not remember. Vera, returning to 
 fetch a forgotten letter, stood by him. 
 
 " Do you like it ? " she said. " It was 
 done only three days before her death." 
 
 "You never showed it to me," he said. 
 
 The question and answer had been soft 
 and natural ; then he suddenly turned back 
 upon her : 
 
 "Why aren't you dressing? Did you think 
 that Meredith was still skulking about ? " 
 
 " I cannot bear this," she said. " Ealph,
 
 238 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 listen to me ! Do you wish to drive me 
 mad — or " 
 
 She staggered against the chimneypiece. 
 
 " I cannot understand you," he said. 
 " Don't begin to cry ; you'll make your- 
 self a fright for to-night." 
 
 " I shall not cry, and I can't go to- 
 night ; you must go without me." 
 
 " That you may stay and see Grey 
 Meredith ! " 
 
 " No, that I may stay and recover my 
 strength, if you wish me to live — if you 
 do. I have been exhausting myself all day, 
 trying to please you in the way you 
 wish. I wrote and worked for you all the 
 morning, I entertained for you all the after- 
 noon, and now your untruths and insults 
 — am I fit to go out to-night? I am not 
 going." i
 
 VERA AT BAY. 26D 
 
 "Has Meredith nothing to do with it?" 
 he persisted. " You have never told me 
 a lie yet — that I have found out. What 
 you say I will believe. What is Meredith 
 to you?" 
 
 "I do not care if you believe me or 
 not ; that is what you have driven me 
 to," she said, trembling from head to foot, 
 two bright spots of colour in her white 
 cheeks, and her voice husky. " But if you 
 like I can tell you this, that except that 
 Grey is gentle to me and thoughtful for 
 me when from you I have neither gentle- 
 ness nor thousditfulness — I do not care 
 whether I ever see him again! I am 
 growing desperate. God knows it is not 
 my fault! Grey Meredith has no power 
 over me, save the influence of a friend ; 
 but if ever man have, if ever temptation
 
 270 IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 be too strong for me, it would be your 
 fault!" 
 
 She paused. Then in a quieter tone she 
 added : " Make what excuse you like ; go 
 if you are going. I cannot. In any case 
 to-day was too much for me ; you have 
 made it impossible. Simply I cannot," she 
 repeated. "Leave me." 
 
 He looked at her, laid his finger on her 
 pulse ; then he said curtly : " Very well ; 
 go to bed, and as the children are told, 
 ' sleep for more sense.' " 
 
 As he went he heard her lock the door 
 after him. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 :ELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S IX\. FIELDS, W.C. 
 
 A>D MIDDLE MILL, KJKGSTOK-02 - 1'HAMES.
 
 V