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 HUGH MOOKE
 
 HUGH MOOEE 
 
 A NO VEL 
 
 BY 
 
 EVELYN STONE 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I. 
 
 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 MDCUCLXXXV
 
 8aB 
 
 VO 
 
 X 
 
 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " They came into a land 
 In which it seemed always afternoon, 
 And round the coast the languid air did swoon." 
 
 '\ 
 
 ^ It was a golden evening in Corfu ; summer 
 
 V. 
 
 ,. still lingered there, though already in Eng- 
 
 V\ land it had given place to chilly autumn, 
 
 )- with its dropping leaves. The sunset was 
 
 I; just over, and the Albanian mountains w^re 
 
 -^ resplendent with its passing glow — resplen- 
 
 j^dent with such depth and intensity of colour 
 
 ^ as we dwellers in the North find it difficult 
 
 ^ to imagine, — while at the foot of the hills 
 
 4 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 the sea was dyed crimson with a vivid reflec- 
 tion of the glory above ; but the splendour 
 lasted only a few minutes, — all too swiftly it 
 faded, and a soft grey veil fell over the 
 scene. 
 
 Then the lights began to twinkle here and 
 there in the ships lying at anchor in the 
 little harbour, and in the houses that climbed 
 the hill and clustered on the edge of the cliff". 
 A picturesque little town it is, especially 
 when the evening mists veil its more modern 
 buildings, and you only see the general out- 
 line, with its pretty grouping of roofs against 
 the deep, clear Southern sky. 
 
 A small English schooner was lying at 
 anchor not far from the quarantine island : 
 a slight swell rolling in from the open sea 
 caused the yacht to swing a little from side 
 to side, but so gently and evenly that you 
 would hardly have noticed the movement, 
 unless you had watched the masts rising and
 
 HUGH MOORE. 3 
 
 falling agaimst the liorizon-line. Her ensign 
 and burgee were hauled down for the night, 
 and on board all was very quiet — three or 
 four sailors gathered together in a little 
 group at the bow, aj^parently half asleep 
 over their pipes, and almost the only sound 
 the lap, lap of the water against the bul- 
 warks. 
 
 Presently, however, the silence was broken 
 by the voices and footsteps of two men who 
 were pacing the deck together, and talking 
 in rather low tones, as they glanced from 
 time to time at the fast-dying glory on the 
 hills. Both young, and both good speci- 
 mens of Englishmen, they were yet different 
 enough to exemplify the saying, that a man's 
 friend must never be too like himself. Jack 
 Ward, the elder of the two by a few months, 
 was the owner of the yacht, and having been 
 smitten with a desire to go pig-sticking in 
 Albania, had invited his friend to spend a
 
 4 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 two months' leave with him on the shores of 
 the Adriatic. 
 
 They had been boys together at Eton, and 
 though, when Ward went to college, Hugh 
 Moore entered the army, they had never 
 lost sight of each other ; and Moore, in 
 accepting Jack's invitation, promised himself, 
 over and above the pleasure of pig-sticking, 
 the enjoyment of renewed intercourse with 
 his friend, on the old familiar footing of 
 Eton days. 
 
 Just now, however, there appeared to be 
 a little disagreement of some sort between 
 them, for Ward's voice had a touch of re- 
 monstrance in it as he said, " I hope you will 
 be careful, don't you know, Moore. It does 
 not do for a fellow to be too — too " 
 
 " What's up now. Jack ? " said the other, 
 good-humouredly. He was accustomed to be 
 told that he must be " careful," and it is to be 
 feared that the caution did not make much
 
 HUGH MOORE. 5 
 
 impression on him. The word hardly agreed 
 with his Hibernian temperament, for though 
 I have spoken of him as English, he was in 
 reality a thorough Irishman, descended from 
 some old Celtic king, as any Moore of Glen- 
 garn would tell you. The savage blood had 
 been tempered by plentiful infusions from 
 the sister isle, but the careless light-heart- 
 edness — recklessness, his enemies (had he 
 had any) would perhaps have called it — was 
 there still, and often aroused the surprise, 
 and even indignation, of the more methodical 
 EnHishman. 
 
 Ward did not answer for a moment, and 
 then he said, much embarrassed to explain 
 himself more fully, and rather annoyed that 
 Hugh did not, or would not, understand — 
 
 " Well, you know — for a fellow to pay a 
 lot of attention to a girl, and then to back 
 out of it, isn't quite the right sort of thing." 
 
 " Oh indeed ! " said Moore, with a charm-
 
 6 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 ing expression of innocence, pulling serenely 
 at the end of his close-clij)ped moustache. 
 " This is very interesting from Mr Jack Ward, 
 who has been doing the same all his life. 
 But pray what are you referring to now ? " 
 
 " Oh, if you pretend not to know, it's no 
 use my talking. I knew it was never any 
 good to say anything to you ; but I thought 
 I had better either warn you or Miss Wilson. 
 Perhaps I shall have a chance of speaking to 
 her to-night." 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed Moore, flush- 
 ing a little. He was fair, and the colour 
 mounted easily to his forehead. " That's 
 rather too much of a good thing. I leave 
 you to your afl*airs — you leave me to mine." 
 
 " All right ; and you will be involved 
 in an engagement before you know where 
 you are." 
 
 " An engagement ! Fiddlesticks ! It is 
 absurd to make so much of it."
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 7 
 
 " It may be fun for you, but death to 
 the poor little girl, that's all. Remember 
 she does not go through London seasons 
 perpetually, as you do ; and she sees so 
 few people that she mayn't understand 
 your " 
 
 '' You are very incoherent and illogical," 
 said Moore, with a little heat : " one minute 
 you accuse me of shabbily backing out, and 
 the next warn me against engaging myself, — 
 and all because I have paid a little attention 
 to the only pretty girl in the place." 
 
 " Oh, I don't think any serious harm is 
 done yet. I only want you to take care ; 
 and don't be too attentive to-night." 
 
 " To-night ! Pooh ! What chance has one 
 at a little stuffy dinner-party ? By the by, 
 it is time to dress. Put your mind at ease. 
 Ward." 
 
 The two men clattered down the steep 
 little ladder that led to their sleeping-berths,
 
 8 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 and presently, dressed in faultless evening 
 attire, were being rapidly rowed to the land- 
 ing-place, in the yacht's smart little gig. 
 
 A short but dusty climb brought them up 
 the hill to the stone-paved street where the 
 British Consulate was situated — for thither 
 they were bound. 
 
 They were both silent, but Ward's thoughts 
 reverted to the conversation they had been 
 holding together. Five weeks of Moore's two 
 months were already over, and, during the last 
 part of the time especially, his amusements 
 had been diversified by a rather marked 
 flirtation with the Consul's pretty daugh- 
 ter. " Was it only flirtation ? " mused Jack, 
 as he and his friend mounted the flight of 
 stone steps which led to the Consul's abode. 
 He felt uneasy. Suppose Moore should 
 really become entangled in this aflair, how 
 should he. Jack Ward, ever be able to meet 
 old Lord Glengarn again ? True, Hugh was
 
 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 but a younger son, and his father only a poor 
 Irish Viscount; but, as every one knows, 
 pride generally goes hand in hand with 
 poverty, and to mix the blood of the Moores 
 with that of a Levantine Consul's daughter 
 (pretty though she might be), would be too 
 great a shock for his lordship's suscepti- 
 bilities to stand for a moment. And as to 
 Lady Glengarn ! Ward's hair stood on end 
 at the very thought of what she would say. 
 She was always rather a freezing personage, 
 at least in his estimation ; but his blood ran 
 cold as he fancied her eyes fixed upon him 
 with a searching and reproachful gaze, and 
 himself arraigned before her tribunal, while 
 she harangued him in some such words as 
 these : " You took Hugh to Corfu. Why did 
 you let him linger there, when you saw the 
 danger? I consider you responsible for all 
 this trouble. Never set foot in my house 
 
 again."
 
 10 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Yes ; he would certainly be the scapegoat 
 if Hugh got into a scrape. And then, fare- 
 well to all future hopes of pleasant shooting 
 at Glengarn Castle — of wild gallops over the 
 moors, or wilder dances with fascinating 
 Irish girls ! 
 
 Then there was another thought. It was 
 really very stupid of Hugh to go and flirt 
 like this with Miss Wilson, when he might 
 amuse himself as much as he chose at home ; 
 and there could be no serious intentions in 
 this case. Jack Ward hardly allowed it to 
 himself, and j^-et he secretly felt that it was 
 scarcely fair of Hugh to engross all the in- 
 terest, and throw him so entirely into the 
 shade. No doubt, Clara was a very pretty 
 girl, and very charming ; and if it had been 
 Jack who had chosen to pay her attention, it 
 would not have mattered so much, for he 
 was his own master, and if he liked to 
 throw himself away (supposing it ivas throw-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 11 
 
 ing himself away) on a girl who was half 
 Greek, and the other half hardly English, — 
 why, there was no one who had any right 
 to object. 
 
 His gloomy musings were interruj)ted by 
 the Consul's greeting. 
 
 What was the Consul like ? It is difficult 
 to give an idea of a Levantine Consul unless 
 you happen to have seen one. He considers 
 himself English, but he is very un-English 
 looking ; he probably wears a very green pot- 
 hat, a large w^hite shirt wdth black studs 
 and many stains, a waistcoat and black coat 
 much the worse for wear, and a seedy pair 
 of boots with elastic sides. His hair is some- 
 what long and uncombed ; his moustache and 
 beard sorely want trimming ; the scent of 
 tobacco is never absent from his person, nor 
 the mark of the habitual pipe from his fingers. 
 He is always exceedingly amiable to the 
 casual British traveller ; really anxious to be
 
 12 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 of service, without counting the cost ; and he 
 usually is a man of keen vision, taking in 
 everything that is going on around him, 
 either in the political or social world. He is, 
 moreover, something of a cosmopolite, with 
 relations all over the Levant, has prob- 
 ably married a foreigner, and speaks several 
 languages as fluently as his own, if not better. 
 He is, in short, a man whose peculiarities 
 strike one at once, but whose good qualities 
 take longer to discover. 
 
 Mr Wilson was no exception to the gener- 
 ality of consuls, without being of an exag- 
 gerated type. He had married a lovely 
 Greek from Asia Minor, and his daughter 
 Clara inherited her beauty, which was of an 
 un-English type, but none the less fascinat- 
 ing on that account to a susceptible young 
 Irishman, who was never quite happy with- 
 out some w^oman to adore. 
 
 She was, moreover, the only girl in the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 13 
 
 place with any pretensions to beauty, and 
 she always took great pains to make herself 
 agreeable to any casual visitors who came to 
 Corfu, and who generally had some business 
 to transact with her father.
 
 14 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 *' Let the luscious south wind 
 Breathe in lovers' sighs 
 While the lazy gallants 
 Bask in ladies' eyes. 
 What does he but soften 
 Heart alike and pen ? 
 Tis the hard grey weather 
 Breeds hard Englishmen. 
 
 But the black north-easter 
 
 Through the snow-storms hurled, 
 Drives our English hearts of oak 
 
 Seaward round the world. 
 Come ! and strong within us 
 
 Stir the Vikings' blood, 
 Bracing vein and sinew — 
 
 Blow, thou wind of God. " 
 
 The Consul's room was large and airy, and 
 furnished in semi -Eastern, semi -European 
 style, wliich was very attractive in hot 
 weather. When Moore and Ward arrived, 
 there were already several other guests as- 
 sembled — one or two other consuls with their
 
 HUGH MOORE. 15 
 
 wives, and two or three strangers, besides the 
 English chaplain and his daughter. Hugh 
 was placed next the young hostess, who, as 
 her mother had been dead for some vears, 
 was well used to take the top of her father's 
 table. 
 
 '^ We have just had some news, Mr Moore," 
 she said, turning to him at once, and dis- 
 regarding the remarks of an elderly consul 
 on her left. " Can you think what it is ? " 
 
 She spoke with a slightly foreign accent, 
 and HuQ-h thouQ:ht he had never seen her 
 look so pretty. 
 
 " What is it ? " he asked. 
 
 " The Eoyal Britain is coming in," she an- 
 swered, " and that is a grand event at Corfu." 
 
 " You often see ships. Have you any 
 friends in this one ? " 
 
 " No : we don't often have such a large 
 one in ; but it will be here to-morrow, they 
 say, or next day."
 
 16 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Your tennis-party won't come off, then ? " 
 he said, rather jealously. 
 
 *' And why not ? " asked Clara, smiling. 
 " Will you not come, then ? " 
 
 " I come ? Need you ask that ? But you 
 will be watching for the ship, or something." 
 He ended rather lamely, for he was looking at 
 her eyes, which shone so brightly just then. 
 
 " We shall have plenty of occasions to see 
 the ship," pursued Clara. " I like going on 
 ships — when they are not moving." 
 
 " You are not fond of the sea ? " he asked, 
 thinking her language was not nautical ; and 
 then making haste to add, ^' I am horribly 
 sea-sick too, sometimes. But have you never 
 been a long voyage ? " 
 
 *' I have been about a good deal. I was 
 born at Smyrna, you know ; and we have 
 been to Broussa, and Alexandria, and Sa- 
 lonika ; and at last we came here, three 
 years ago."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 17 
 
 " And you like this 23lace ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, but not so much as if we English 
 had it still." 
 
 It sounded strange to Hugh to hear her 
 talk of " we English," for she always seemed 
 to him so completely a foreigner, although 
 she spoke English easily, and did not use 
 many foreign idioms. And so they chatted 
 on. She told him (not for the first time) of 
 her life, and her strange experiences — as they 
 seemed to him — and he made her laus^h with 
 stories of his boyhood, of his Irish home, and 
 his pranks in barracks, till attention was 
 drawn to their end of the table, and conver- 
 sation became more general. 
 
 The tennis-party engagement was faithfully 
 kept. Although the game had not as yet 
 taken in Corfu that place as an everyday 
 pastime which it holds in England, Miss 
 Wilson had managed to collect together a 
 fair number of comparatively good players, 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 18 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Hugh and Jack being naturally enougli the 
 champions. Games had gone on in constant 
 succession till nearly sunset, when the play 
 was unexpectedly interrupted by an unto- 
 ward incident. 
 
 Miss Wilson was watching the game, 
 seated in an easy-chair at the edge of the 
 court, her red sunshade making a pictur- 
 esque contrast to her white gown. It 
 was a pretty picture, and it is pardonable 
 to suppose that Hugh's attention was divided 
 between Clara and the play, for a ball shot 
 past him unexpectedly, and in making a 
 sudden effort to get back to it, he startled 
 every one by falling flat on his back at Miss 
 Wilson's feet. There was a general laugh, 
 for his position was sufficiently ludicrous ; 
 and as he did not rise at once, there were 
 one or two attempts at " chaff." But to poor 
 Huo:li himself it was no lauorhinG: matter. It 
 was not the first time in his life that he had
 
 HUGH MOORE. 19 
 
 put his knee out of joint, and the sharj) pain 
 when he tried to rise made him realise only 
 too surely what had happened. 
 
 Of course the game was suspended, and 
 they all crowded round him with advice and 
 condolences ; but the only person he saw was 
 Clara, looking very pale, and with tears in her 
 eyes. In a minute or two he was able to put a 
 brave face on the whole business, and make as 
 light of it as possible, assuring them all that 
 he was well accustomed to such an accident ; 
 but he could not help remarking to Ward, as 
 he was helped into his coat : " I tell you what 
 it is, my friend — I shan't be able to go pig- 
 sticking with you the next few days. I must 
 keep this leg quiet a bit, I know. It's a 
 horrid bore, Ijut it can't be helped ; and you 
 had better get me to the hotel as quick as 
 you can." 
 
 So to the hotel he was carried, Jack 
 declaring he would give up his pig-
 
 20 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 sticking and stay to nurse his friend. Hugh, 
 however, would not hear of it ; and when the 
 doctor pronounced that a few days' rest was 
 all that was necessary, Ward consented to go 
 off the next morning, protesting all the time 
 against his own selfishness, and feeling some 
 compunction at leaving his friend to the 
 undivided assaults of the fair Clara. He 
 knew better, however, than to touch upon 
 a subject that had once been so pointedly 
 dropped, and trusted to luck that no very 
 desperate catastrophe would happen in his 
 absence. 
 
 But what is a man to do, cast upon his 
 own resources in a little hotel, and unable 
 to stir outside for more than a week ? Can 
 he fail to be grateful for any distractions ? 
 and if they come in the shape of a pretty 
 girl, is he to be blamed ? Jack was away, 
 and Miss Wilson and her ftxther took pity on 
 Hugh. She never came alone; but they would
 
 HUGH MOORE. 21 
 
 bring him books and papers, or her father 
 would smoke, while she and Hugh chatted. 
 Moore never committed himself — in fact, he 
 did not consider that he was in love ; but 
 sometimes he could not help asking himself 
 whether their easy . footing of friendship 
 might be supposed to mean anything more 
 than he intended. If Jack had not warned 
 him, he might have gone on without think- 
 ing, and even now he only half believed 
 that Miss Wilson was the little girl — quite 
 innocent of flirtation — that his friend had 
 represented her to be. Moreover, Hugh 
 himself was on such excellent terms of in- 
 timacy with so many women of all ages, 
 married and unmarried. He possessed the 
 Irish inheritance of an irresistibly fascinat- 
 ing manner, — half liumorous, half caressing, 
 — and he never lived in any house for 
 a week without seeming, and feeling, as 
 if he had known the inmates thereof
 
 22 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 all his life. In this case, there was no 
 second woman to divide his interest and 
 attention, and bright-eyed Clara had it all to 
 herself. 
 
 One day, however, he received a visit 
 from one of the lieutenants of H.M.S. Royal 
 Britain, which had entered the harbour the 
 day after his accident. The card was handed 
 to him as he was loung-ing; near the window 
 with his head half out, watching the goings- 
 on in the big square below, — a few soldiers 
 in their white fustinellas being drilled ; people 
 passing up and down the street, or crossing 
 the square towards the open-air stalls on the 
 opposite side ; and the bright sunlight making 
 it all look Southern and picturesque. Now 
 that he was confined to the house, he spent 
 a long time o:azing out of window in true 
 Greek fashion. He had noticed a smart, 
 naval-looking man enter the hotel, but had 
 never thought of him as a visitor to himself ;
 
 HUGH MOORE. 23 
 
 but tlie name, " Lieutenant Charles Drake," 
 made him start forward, limping towards the 
 door, exclaiming heartily : "AYell, it was good 
 of you to climb all those stairs to find me." 
 
 " I am sorry to find you laid up," said 
 Drake. " I heard of you from old Wilson, 
 and thought you must be awfully dull." 
 
 *' I shall soon be about again now," Hugh 
 answered. " I did not know you were on 
 board the Koyal Britain." 
 
 " I have only been on board her a few 
 months, and I am going next month to my 
 uncle's at Eastport,-r-Sir Edward Nevill, you 
 know. His flag-lieutenant has just got his 
 promotion, and he has asked me if I will fill 
 his place." 
 
 " A capital thing, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Oh, an awfully jolly bertli after one lias 
 been abroad a good bit ! Why, I liaven't 
 been at home for eight years, except for a 
 month or two. The last time was three
 
 24 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 years ago, when I met you. I was trans- 
 ferred last May from the Gadfly ; but if I 
 had known I should get this appointment, I 
 should have come home then. You are better 
 off for leave in the army." 
 
 " Everything is beastly now," said Hugh. 
 " Army's going to the dogs — isn't such a 
 thing, in fact ; Eadicals spoil everything. I 
 am bound to be a Tory, you see, for we get 
 next to no rents now ; and as far as I can 
 see, my brother'll be a beggar long before he 
 gets into the property." 
 
 " And has no one taken compassion on 
 you since you have been laid up ? " 
 
 " Oh yes ; Mr Wilson and his daughter 
 have been very good-natured, and often come 
 all this long way up to see me." 
 
 Drake laughed. 
 
 " Aha ! I can fancy little Miss Clara drag- 
 line: the old gentleman about ! So she has 
 been making up to you ? "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 25 
 
 " What do you mean ? Do you know her ? " 
 
 ''Rather! and she has a considerable re- 
 putation all over these parts I Why, I be- 
 lieve she has been engaged two or three 
 times already — at least they say so." 
 
 Now it was no doubt very unreasonable of 
 Hugh to feel angry. Strictly speaking, he 
 ought to have felt relieved ; for if she were 
 such a consummate flirt, of course his con- 
 science might be proportionably clear. How- 
 ever, he did feel angry. Was it that he was 
 harder hit than he supposed ? or was it only 
 that his chivalric nature was roused by any 
 innuendos against a woman's character ? 
 
 " Oh, I daresay they say so," he said ; 
 " and, you know, a naval man is uncommonly 
 easy to catch, — so we always say in our ser- 
 vice ; " after which savage hit he felt better, 
 and they both dropped the subject. 
 
 A day or two after, some of the officers 
 of the Eoyal Britain organised a picnic to
 
 2G HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Paleocastrizza ; and Hugh considered him- 
 self sufficiently recovered to join the party, 
 as hardly any walking was necessary. 
 
 He had been thinking a great deal of what 
 Mr Drake had said to him, and came to the 
 conclusion that there was probably a certain 
 amount of truth in it ; but that if it were 
 so, it was only an additional reason not to 
 disturb his pleasant understanding with Miss 
 Wilson by any abrupt change of manner— 
 especially as his leave was drawing to an 
 end, and he would soon be out of reach of 
 her fascinations. 
 
 Accordingly, by a little judicious manoeuv- 
 ring, he easily contrived to get into the same 
 carriage with Miss Wilson and her father, who 
 were, of course, of the party. She made him 
 sit beside her, and kept the fourth seat empty, 
 so that he could rest his leg if he wished — 
 a precaution not altogether unnecessary, as 
 the drive was a longr one. 
 
 o
 
 HUGH MOORE. 27 
 
 For tlie first part of the time the Consul 
 was very talkative, and Clara held her peace 
 — for none of her father's subjects of conver- 
 sation had any interest for her. Commerce she 
 naturally knew nothing about, and of politics 
 scarcely more ; while of history she had only 
 the vaguest possible notion, and her own 
 travels were about the limit of her geogra- 
 phical information. She talked Italian and 
 modern Greek easily, and w^as more or less 
 at home in colloquial French ; but on all 
 general subjects her view^s were decidedly 
 limited. 
 
 However, as a rule men prefer girls who 
 are the reverse of intellectual ; and a charm- 
 ingly simple confession of ignorance often 
 bewitches, when a suspicion of learning, 
 even without display, does but alarm. 
 So men always liked Clara ; and she herself 
 was a thorougli little coquette, enjoying their 
 admiration, while keeping her heart whole.
 
 28 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 It must be confessed that this time she 
 had met her match. Hugh attracted her 
 very much. His Irishness amused her, his 
 chivah'ous devotion touched the best part 
 of her nature, and her womanhood, for the 
 first time perhaps, asserted itself. She de- 
 termined to risk everything and win him. 
 
 That long drive was a charming oppor- 
 tunity for exercising her powers of fascina- 
 tion, and of that art she was an accomplished 
 mistress. After her father had settled him- 
 self comfortably to doze, with a never-ceasing 
 supply of cigarettes, she began to talk, and 
 there was a less self-conscious ring in her 
 voice than usual. 
 
 " Your time here will soon be up, Mr 
 Moore," she said, with a pretty little sigh 
 and a half -shy glance at him under her 
 eyelashes. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, alas! I shall feel just like 
 a naughty boy going back to his lessons."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 29 
 
 " Why a naughty boy ? " 
 
 " Ah I you don't know what it is to be 
 naughty, Miss Wilson. As for me, I am 
 always in scrapes. I never have any ready 
 money, for one thing." 
 
 "And what do you do then? "she asked, 
 innocently. 
 
 " What can a man do but beg, borrow, 
 or steal ? I am a great adept at all three, 
 but chiefly at stealing," he said, with a care- 
 less laugh. "It is awfully hard that an 
 elder brother should have all the tin. (Don't 
 whisper to any one that I said so !) Not 
 that there's much in our family at all." 
 
 "Ah !" said Clara, looking puzzled; "and 
 tin is so important then ? " 
 
 "Money, I should have said," laughed 
 Hugh. " You are a capital mentor. Miss 
 Wilson ; you don't understand slang. Eng- 
 lish girls are as great at it now as we 
 men."
 
 Q 
 
 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 " I would try to learn if you would teach 
 me," said Clara meekly, at which Hugh 
 laughed more than ever, told her she was 
 much better without such naughty learn- 
 ing, and tried in vain to draw her out a 
 little on the ideal woman. She preferred 
 to go back to the old subject, and told him 
 his departure would make the little Corfu 
 society quite dull. 
 
 " Not now you have got the Eoyal Britains," 
 he replied. " You will forget all about me 
 in a week." 
 
 This was getting rather near dangerous 
 ground, and so she felt, as she answered 
 rather tremulously — 
 
 '' What do you take me for ? " 
 
 Perhaps he was somewhat startled at the 
 very personal nature of her remarks, for lie 
 made no reply ; and finding the pause grow- 
 ing awkward, she said — 
 
 " I am afraid your accident has spoilt your
 
 HUGH MOORE. 31 
 
 stay here ; and I feel rather guilty, for I was 
 the cause." 
 
 ''Oh no!" he cried, warmly. "I should 
 have done it anywhere. It tvas a bore," 
 — here his honesty overcame him, — "an 
 awful bore, to lose a week or more of sport 
 in that way ; but I have to thank you for 
 making my captivity so pleasant. By the 
 by. Miss Wilson, did you not tell me you 
 had no friends in the Eoyal Britain ? Drake 
 said the other day he had the pleasure of 
 knowing you. Perhaps you don't count 
 him as a friend ? I think he seems a nice 
 feUow." 
 
 " Oh yes," said Clara, who never spoke 
 against any one, and never contradicted any 
 remark that was made to her; " I don't think 
 he knows me very well." 
 
 " Some people never know any one well. 
 Now I am one of those lucky creatures who 
 always seem to, I don't know why. I sup-
 
 32 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 pose it's a happy Hibernian temperament. 
 Irish are always favourites, you know, spe- 
 cially in Parliament. They impart a flavour 
 to its proceedings, just as olives do to a 
 dinner. I say, what splendid old fellows 
 these olives are ! " 
 
 They were passing through a grove of 
 hoary trees, gnarled and twisted, as only an 
 olive-tree can be — sometimes with quite hol- 
 low trunks, sometimes fantastically distorted 
 in shape, but always with the soft grey-green 
 foliage, which never changes in winter or 
 summer, youth or old age. 
 
 Now at last they began the descent towards 
 the sea, and here the road was very rough, 
 and even dangerous in parts, for the Corfiotes 
 have little interest in keeping up the roads 
 for driving, in the more distant parts of their 
 island. They use mules and donkeys them- 
 selves, which take them along quite fast 
 enough. They like to sit sideways on the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 33 
 
 animal, and walk slowly enough to play 
 at cards with a friend who is bound for the 
 same village. It is the great excitement of 
 their life, this card-playing, and they can do 
 it quite as well on the backs of their quiet, 
 sure-footed beasts, as in a little jolting cart 
 without springs. Why, then, should they pay 
 to keep up roads for the benefit of strangers ? 
 Accordingly they do not, and both roads and 
 bridges fall into bad repair. 
 
 There had been a landslip not far from 
 Paleocastrizza, and this had broken away 
 portions of a bridge which spanned a narrow 
 but rather deep ravine. Here the carriages 
 unladed their burden for greater safety, and 
 Clara insisted on her father giving Hugh his 
 arm, in case of any awkward bit of road. 
 He would much rather have been left alone, 
 but thought it was very sweet and consid- 
 erate of Clara to provide a support for him. 
 He felt furiously jealous for the moment of 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Drake, who walked on the outside of ^liss 
 Wilson, and began to engross her com- 
 pletely. 
 
 She wandered down to the beach with the 
 rest of the party, but Hugh was forced to 
 get into the carriage again, and sat there 
 
 ■ 
 
 gnawing at his moustache in silent dis- 
 gust, listening to the voices of the others, 
 and distinguishing hers from the rest. A 
 turn of the road brought him into view of 
 the monastery of Paleocastrizza, with the 
 little cove at its foot, lapped by the waves of 
 the Ionian Sea. Such a sea ! No resistless, 
 all-devouring monster did it seem that morn- 
 ing, as each little ripple flowed gently in, and 
 broke almost without a sound on the white 
 shining; beach. A o-lorious blazincf sun over 
 everything, — spreading a delicious sense of 
 drowsy laziness, — almost lulling pain and 
 strife to sleep, one would have thought, did 
 one not know that it burns into the veins of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 35 
 
 these Southerners, filling them oftentimes 
 with a madness that we men of the North 
 can hardly realise. 
 
 And we fall victims to that madness, as 
 to their climate, and yet believe that the 
 laws and customs of England are made for 
 all the world ! 
 
 I do not know whether Hugh's musings 
 took exactly this form, as he lay full length 
 on the pebbly beach, and watched the cease- 
 less ebb and flow of the tiny waves ; but he 
 was conscious, at any rate, of a vague sense 
 of difference, not only between Aldershot and 
 Corfu, — which, after all, is but a common- 
 place, — but also between himself and Clara 
 Wilson : a difference not enough to disturb 
 him, because he did not think seriously 
 enough of her for that, but enough to lend 
 a little additioiud piquancy to a day-dream 
 of his ideal wife — a day-dream he did not 
 indulge in very often, but which floated
 
 3G HUGH MOORE. 
 
 before him now and then, and might some 
 day take tangible form. 
 
 She must be pretty, of course — not neces- 
 sarily beautiful, but at least elegant and grace- 
 ful ; perhaps a little gracious dignity would be 
 well. And she must be very religious and 
 good. Hugh felt that he himself was some- 
 what deficient on that score ; for while all his 
 sympathies were on the right side, he had no 
 very strong feelings or principles, and rather 
 agreed with the Frenchman who thoug;ht 
 wives were bound to do their husbands' reli- 
 gion for them as well as their own. A 
 certain latitude, both in faith and practice, 
 might be allowed to men — nay, was their 
 due — but a woman was " horrid " if not reli- 
 gious. And she must be well-born and well- 
 bred, and, alas ! she must be rich. Hugh hated 
 this last proviso with all his heart, but how 
 could he help it ? A younger son, brought 
 up (to say the least) without economical
 
 HUGH MOORE. 37 
 
 habits, he was perhaps hardly to blame if he 
 found his small allowance and his pay to- 
 gether insufficient for his wants. He was 
 generous and open-handed, never accustomed 
 to count his change ; and if he were in debt 
 already, what w^ould he be with a wife ? His 
 debts were not very bad ; he had no doubt 
 his father would pay them, when he had 
 the courage to ask him, and he was annoyed, 
 rather than ashamed, at having to do so ; but 
 the idea of thrusting a penniless daughter- 
 in-law on his parent's generosity never once 
 crossed his mind. No, the bride must wait 
 till his ship came home. Hark ! there is the 
 rest of the picnic party winding down the 
 hill — there is Clara still — no, she isn't — yes, 
 she is — talking to that fellow Drake. What 
 does she mean by it ? Not her friend ! He 
 will be, by this evening, then.
 
 Q 
 
 8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ** Yet remember, 'midst your wooing, 
 Love has bliss, but Love has ruing ; 
 Other smiles may make you fickle, — 
 Tears for other charms may trickle. " 
 
 The picnic was a great success. So evciy 
 one said. The lunch was excellent, of course, 
 and under the shade of the cliffs, with the 
 dancing waters of the little bay before them, 
 was doubly delicious. Of course there were 
 a great many exclamations at the beauty of 
 the spot, and a great many comparisons witli 
 other bays in different parts of the world. 
 One lady said it was just like Devonshire ; 
 and Hugh, who was in a contradictory mood 
 just then, declared that Bantry Bay beat it
 
 HUGH MOORE. 39 
 
 hollow. He was very patriotic, and refused 
 to believe that " ould Oireland" could be 
 surpassed in any particular. 
 
 ^' At least you never get such lights," said 
 one incautious female — " nothing like the 
 sunset colours." 
 
 ^' Sure and ye do," he replied, speaking for 
 the nonce with a rich, rolling brogue. " I'd 
 like to see the coast which was better lighted 
 than the coast of Ireland ; and as for colour, 
 where could ye beat the colour in a good 
 Corrk farmer's face when he is rriding back 
 from market ? " 
 
 '' With plenty of whisky inside him ? " 
 suggested Drake. 
 
 " Sure it is so," said Hugh, at which they 
 all lauo;lied. 
 
 After lunch every one wanted to climb the 
 hill to the monastery. A few picturesquely 
 dirty monks, with handsome faces and flow- 
 ing beards, had been wandering al)out, gazing
 
 40 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 from a little distance on tlie merry party, 
 and perhaps longing for a share in the good 
 things ; and now they followed them, and let 
 them go wherever they pleased, but did not 
 offer to guide them into the recesses of the 
 monastery. Hugh was left quite alone. Even 
 the coachmen had gone fast asleep. The 
 silence was intense — as unbroken as it can 
 be by the sea ; but it did not last long. In 
 a few minutes Clara Wilson found out that it 
 was very hot, and that climbing a hill was 
 tiring ; so she slipped behind, and running 
 back to the beach, seated herself a little in 
 front of Hugh, on the left. He was gazing 
 out to sea, and so occupied with his thoughts 
 that he did not see her at first ; but a little 
 rustle of her dress startled him out of his 
 reverie, and he hobbled up to her ; while 
 she turned round and exclaimed — 
 "Oh, Mr Moore ! are you here ? " 
 The little monkey knew perfectly well
 
 HUGH MOORE. 41 
 
 where he was, and had taken her steps ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 " Did you not expect to find me here ? " 
 said Hugh, Avho secretly suspected she had 
 done it on purpose. ''Shall I go away? 
 Did you want to be alone ? " 
 
 " I hate solitude ; please stay," she an- 
 swered, with a bewitching glance of her 
 black eyes. " I came down because it is so 
 hot and tiring going up the hill, and there 
 is nothing to do but to see a lot of dirty 
 monks." 
 
 " The monks don't interest you as they do 
 the ladies fresh from England. I have heard 
 people very sentimental over their splendid 
 eyes and their picturesque clothes." 
 
 " Do you admire them ? " she asked, 
 always anxious to make every tiling a per- 
 sonal matter. 
 
 " Honestly, no. But I should like awfully 
 to climb the hill and see the view. This leg
 
 42 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 of mine is rapidly getting intolerable. I 
 think I shall have it off and get a wooden 
 one." 
 
 Clara's genuine look of horror made him 
 laugh, and he was obliged to assure her that 
 he did not seriously intend to do so, and that 
 in a few days more it would be quite strong 
 again ; and then he gave her a decided hint 
 that he would like to know the subject of 
 her long conversation with Mr Drake. She 
 told him willingly : " He was talking about 
 his sister. They are orphans. She lives with 
 his uncle, Sir Edward Nevill, at Eastport." 
 
 " Where he is going to be flag-lieutenant ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and he told me about his uncle and 
 aunt, and his cousin." 
 
 " Oh ! what cousin ? " 
 
 " Miss Nevill. The only child she is, he 
 says, and almost like his sister." 
 
 " Oh ! I suppose so. You know what that 
 means, generally ? "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 43 
 
 *' That they will marry ? " 
 
 " Ten to one. Do you ever take bets, 
 Miss Wilson ? " 
 
 " Whenever any one wants to," she replied. 
 " What do you want to bet ? " 
 
 " A pair of gloves to you if Drake doesn't 
 marry his cousin within six months." 
 
 "Very well. But you will forget. How 
 will you send them ? " ' 
 
 "Oh, I'll manage that ; perhaps I'll bring 
 them, who knows ? But it aint likely I'll 
 get leave again so soon to get as far as 
 this. Here ! " — picking a little flower off 
 the cliff — " take this, and send it to me if 
 I forget." 
 
 Clara blushed a rich red through her dark 
 skin as she took the little token ; and Hugh 
 suddenly saw that what he had done quite 
 thoughtlessly, might be supposed to have an 
 utterly difi*ercnt interpretation, and he in- 
 w^ardly cursed his folly. It was no use ex-
 
 44: HUGH MOORE. 
 
 plaining it away. He only hoped she would 
 forget. 
 
 Certainly one cause of Clara's attractive- 
 ness was the interest — not put on, but quite 
 genuine, if not very deep — she took in the 
 personal concerns of any one w^hom she came 
 across. It was not exactly curiosity — for the 
 inquisitiveness of a Yankee is never attrac- 
 tive. It was rather a sort of sympathy which 
 worked upon that subtle vanity, or love of 
 self, we almost all possess, and men more 
 than women. Like most girls, Miss Wilson 
 took more interest in men than in her own 
 sex ; therefore her sympathy for the former 
 was more lively, and they generally took her 
 into their confidence very soon. A man is 
 usually more interested in talking about 
 himself than about any other subject, unless 
 he happens to be extraordinarily modest, or 
 uncommonly proud and reserved ; and as 
 Hugh was neither particularly one thing nor
 
 HUGH MOORE. 45 
 
 the other, it did not require much manipula- 
 tion on Clara's part to direct the conversation 
 into, what was to her, the most interesting 
 groove. He had not a very high opinion of 
 himself, but neither was he much ashamed of 
 his faults ; and he was proud of his fixmily, 
 which was an old if not a rich one, and being; 
 fond of talking, liked to have a sympathetic 
 listener to all his stories. 
 
 Drake was more on his guard, but all the 
 same she had extracted a good deal of infor- 
 mation from him. 
 
 The tete-a-tete on the beach was interrupted 
 by Clara's father, who came towards them 
 looking rather black, and saying he had 
 missed his dauohter, and had been huntino; 
 everywhere for her. He was very hot, and 
 as he stood before them mopping his face 
 with his handkerchief, Hugh was suddenly 
 struck with the full ludicrousness of intro- 
 ducing this man to his parents as his father-
 
 46 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 in-law. There were limits to every human 
 power of endurance, and Hugh felt instinc- 
 tively that this would surpass his. 
 
 Clara blushed more than ever, and seemed 
 conscious of what he must be feeling ; but an 
 explosion from the Consul was so evidently on 
 the verge of taking place, that Hugh hastened 
 to move off to join some of the stragglers of 
 the party, who had also found exploring the 
 monastery a warm proceeding — and indeed 
 he was not sorry of an excuse for leaving 
 Miss Wilson. He avoided her for the rest of 
 the day, and was apparently in the highest 
 spirits during the drive home, keeping Drake 
 and another of the Eoyal Britain's officers in 
 constant peals of laughter. 
 
 The evening was as exquisite as the rest of 
 the day had been, and the shade of the olive- 
 groves was welcome. As they neared Corfu, 
 and came out on the open tract, they passed 
 the country carts laden with purple graj^es,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 47 
 
 and led by peasants in their picturesque 
 costumes, who were lounging along on their 
 way back from the town to the villages 
 where they lived. The rich sunset light 
 was over everything, and once more the 
 Albanian hills reflected the crimson slow 
 in marvellously vivid shades — San Salvador 
 standing out, a rapidly darkening mass, 
 clearly defined against the evening sky. 
 
 Hugh brought two of the officers back to 
 his hotel to supper — unconsciously, perhaps, 
 wishing to put off the moment when he must 
 reckon up the day's accounts. He had placed 
 himself in an awkward fix. Did Clara really 
 care for him ? and if so, was it his duty, or, 
 to speak more correctly, did his honour bind 
 him, not to draw back ? And vet he could 
 not help feeling she had drawn him on, and 
 made him go further than he intended. Had 
 it been only herself who was involved, he 
 would not have minded so much, or rather
 
 48 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 his hesitation would have been more easily 
 disposed of, for he admired her very heartily, 
 and liked to feel he had the power of always 
 bringing that pretty smile to her lips, and 
 the light into her dark eyes. But there 
 was her father — and he was a hard morsel 
 to swallow. For a long; time he sat, brood- 
 ing over his pipe, without coming to any 
 conclusion ; and his sleep was tormented 
 w^ith restless dreams, so that he blessed the 
 returning daylight. He was still young, and 
 by no means inclined to the art of lady-killer. 
 Meanwhile, Clara had had a very bad time 
 of it with her father. He had given her a 
 strong hint of his displeasure on the beach, 
 and her heart was sore when she looked round 
 for Moore's support and found he had basely 
 deserted her. Durin gr the drive home the 
 Consul was oblio-ed to conceal his feelinors, 
 though Clara sat inwardly quaking ; but as 
 soon as they reached home, he motioned her
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 49 
 
 into the room, and closing the door with a 
 bang, said — 
 
 " Now, Clara, give an account of yourself." 
 
 She resolved to profess perfect innocence, 
 and answered meekly, "What do you mean?" 
 but her face was in a flame directly. 
 
 ^'Mean ? You know perfectly well what I 
 mean — and I'll tell you, — that I won't have 
 you throw yourself at that boy's head any 
 longer." 
 
 " Oh, papa ! " said Clara, with a rising sob ; 
 "how can you say such horrid things? I'm 
 sure I would not throw myself at his or at 
 anybody's head for anything ! " 
 
 " I daresay ! " said Wilson, with a scornful 
 little laugh. " Now look here, once for all — 
 I wont have it. I consider I allow you more 
 than enough liberty — a great deal more than 
 your mother had, I can assure you ; and I 
 w^on't have that young fellow go home and 
 laugh at you — and me — with all his grand 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 friends, and say I wanted you to marry bim, 
 and he only just escaped in time. Bah ! 
 you know the sort of things he would say." 
 
 " I am sure I don't," cried Clara, bursting 
 into tears. " I don't know what I have done 
 to make you so unjust and unkind — and I 
 am sure Mr Moore would behave like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 *'You know nothing about it," said her 
 father, angrily. " I shall behave like a 
 gentleman too, and forbid you to speak to 
 him again." 
 
 '' Oh, papa! jDapa! " cried Clara, too fright- 
 ened now for tears, and trying to speak 
 calmly ; •'' don't say that. I will be very 
 careful, indeed I will ; and Mr Moore will 
 be only here a little longer, and — and I think 
 he does care for me." 
 
 " Care for you ? Do you mean he has 
 proposed to you ? " 
 
 " No, not that," said Clara, blushing vio-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 51 
 
 lently again ; " but I should not be surj)risecl 
 if perhaps — he did : he gave me a flower to- 
 day." 
 
 " I daresay he did," said the Consul, bit- 
 terly; "and an old fool I have been to let 
 him hang about so long, or let you hang 
 about him, which is perhaps nearer the mark." 
 
 Clara shook, between wrath and fear. 
 
 " But, once for all, if he should do such a 
 thing, you are to say No. Do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 She was utterly astonished, for she had 
 always supposed that her father would have 
 been pleased at such an alliance, and she 
 gasjjed out, " Why ? " all the colour fading 
 from her checks as she spoke. 
 
 Her sudden change seemed to strike the 
 Consul, for he looked at her silently for a 
 minute, and lit his pipe before answering ; 
 and then he sj^oke more quietly — 
 
 " You don't understand these things, Clara : 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOiS
 
 52 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 and you think, because his father is Lord 
 Somebody, and his uncle Lord Somebody 
 else, that he has any amount of money, and 
 all that ; but you are quite mistaken. I have 
 made inquiries, and find that Mr Moore has 
 very little money at all, besides his pay as 
 an officer, which is, as you must know, very 
 small indeed, — that he is already in debt, — 
 that he is extravagant, and has expensive 
 tastes, — in short, that if he marries a girl 
 without means of her own, both his wife and 
 himself will be miserable. You know per- 
 fectly well that I have nothing to give you 
 — nothing, that is, which would be of any 
 use in a case of this sort. Moreover, his 
 friends and relations would never approve 
 of such a match, and would make it most 
 unpleasant for you. His father would cut 
 him off with a shilling, and you would come 
 back to me with a large family to support 
 in my old age, when I shall be past work.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 53 
 
 and when your husband had got tired of 
 
 you." 
 
 Clara was quite practical enough to see 
 that the money question presented serious 
 difficulties. In her heart of hearts she felt 
 sure that, once in Ireland as Mrs Hugh 
 Moore, she would have little trouble in 
 making her way with Lord and Lady Glen- 
 garn ; but she durst not say so to her father 
 in his present mood. If Hugh really cared 
 for her, she felt that together they might 
 brave the anger of their respective parents. 
 But when her father went on to say — 
 
 " There's that fellow Ward, now — if you 
 had taken to him, I should have had nothing 
 to say against it. He has a nice little pro- 
 perty of his own, and he is independent, and 
 could marry you if he chose without asking 
 anybody's leave " 
 
 Then poor Chira cried, " Mr Ward ! Why, 
 he has hardly spoken to me ! How could I
 
 54 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 take to him when he always kept out of my 
 way, and Mr Moore w^as so very nice ? " 
 
 " Always the way," muttered Wilson. 
 "The ones that have money are too 
 cunning ! " 
 
 He was not usually harsh to his daughter, 
 but he was thoroughly provoked this time, 
 and the feeling that he w^as partly to blame 
 did not tend to improve his temj^er ; and as 
 for her, after being used to a certain amount 
 of petting and spoiling, and Hugh's pretty 
 manners and punctilious courtesy, her flither s 
 harshness seemed all the harder to bear. It 
 was like being brought suddenly from the 
 Equator to the Arctic regions : the change 
 made her shiver. She felt too broken- 
 hearted to continue the discussion ; and 
 giving her father a duty-kiss, she went to 
 her own room, where she threw herself on 
 the bed, and sobbed passionately till she 
 could sob no more. It was her first real
 
 HUGH MOORE. 55 
 
 grief — and how bitter, needs not to say. 
 Surely many of us remember that first 
 despairing sense of trouble. The world is 
 dark — the sun has set, never to rise again. 
 We almost expect to wake next morning 
 and find our " hair grown white in a single 
 night ; " but somehow its colour remains un- 
 changed, and the sun does rise after all. It 
 is not a first passionate grief that kills. 
 Moreover, Clara's despair was not absolute. 
 She had a little lingering hope that Moore 
 would dare anything, and would come to 
 claim her ; and, hugging this hope to her 
 heart, she fell asleep at last. 
 
 The old Consul w^as almost "more to be 
 pitied than his daughter. He wished his 
 wife were alive. lie wished he had had no 
 daughter. He wislied that marriages were 
 all arranged a la Frxingaise. He wished 
 Moore had never come near the place. lie 
 repented his folly and short-sightedness in
 
 56 HUGH MOOPtE. 
 
 letting them see so mucli of each other ; but 
 he none the less held firm to his resolve 
 on no account whatever to sanction their 
 marriage. 
 
 When Hugh got up the following morning, 
 after his restless night, he found a letter 
 awaiting him containing a somewhat start- 
 ling piece of news. It was from his father, 
 enclosing the offer of the post of aide-de- 
 camp to the General at Eastport. " I have 
 answered it provisionally, as you were away," 
 wrote Lord Glengarn, " but you had better 
 telegraph a reply at once." 
 
 "This is a piece of luck," thought Hugh, 
 " and it will give me a capital excuse for 
 getting away at once." 
 
 He put on his hat, and strolled down to 
 the telegraph office, where he happened to 
 meet Drake, to whom he told his news. The 
 latter advised him to take an Austrian Lloyd 
 up to Trieste.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 57 
 
 " When does the next start ? " asked Hugh. 
 
 " There is one that leaves on Thursday ; 
 and that would give you time to put up your 
 things and come to our dance to-morrow." 
 
 *'A11 right. Thanks, awfully. I am not 
 good for dancing yet, but I shall like to 
 come and see you perform ; and I rather 
 think Ward will be over, so I shall be able 
 to make my farewell to him." 
 
 ''Did you expect this offer?" 
 
 " Not a bit. It's a cajDital piece of luck ; 
 and it is curious that you and I should 
 have met like this, and be both bound for 
 Eastport so soon." 
 
 " You will be there first. I am not due 
 for a month later than I thouglit. The old 
 Flag stays on a bit." 
 
 " I expect we shall be there about the 
 same time, then ; for I must go home to 
 my people in Ireland for a week or two, and 
 then to Aldershot to pack up my traps,
 
 58 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 before I begin my duties. Awful old stick, 
 the General ! I shall have to be on my good 
 behaviour." 
 
 "Well, good-bye till to-morrow. Come 
 early and helj) to entertain the natives." 
 
 " Take the old ladies down to tea, eh, if 
 I can't dance with the young ones ? There 
 are lots of men, so I shan't be missed in the 
 latter capacity." 
 
 Drake turned down towards the harbour, 
 and Hugh sauntered slowly back up the 
 shady side of the street to his hotel in the 
 blazing square. It required some effort of 
 wall to set about the necessary preparations 
 for his departure, few and simple though 
 they w^ere. There was something in the 
 enervating atmosphere that made it pecu- 
 liarly difficult to do anything at a given 
 moment. He spent most of the afternoon 
 on board Ward's yacht, gathering together 
 his scattered belonmno^s, and feelino^ it was
 
 HUGH MOORE. 59 
 
 just as well to avoid a chance encounter with 
 the Consul or the Consul's daug;hter before 
 he paid them his final adieux. He had an 
 instinctive dread of a scene, and rejoiced at 
 the piece of good fortune that provided him 
 with the opportunity of saying good-bye to 
 them in public. Unconsciously, that message 
 from England acted as a tonic upon his moral 
 nature, and recalled him to his truer self. 
 He did not calculate on the effect of Clara's 
 powers of attraction when he was not in 
 actual contact w^ith her. 
 
 With a shruo^ of his shoulders he said to 
 himself, as he stepped out of the gig on to 
 the landing-place — " So here's an end of dolce 
 far niente ! " 
 
 The next afternoon was propitious for the 
 dance, and the Eoyal Britain was gaily decor- 
 ated for the occasion. No London ball-room 
 can equal in attractiveness the decks of a 
 man-of-war when cleared for dancing pur-
 
 60 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 poses. Gaily coloured bunting formed the 
 walls of the ball-room, banks of flowers and 
 palms encircled the masts and filled every 
 available corner, and many a cosy nook was 
 to be found by those who knew the ins 
 and outs of the ship. Drake and his fel- 
 low - officers were well rewarded for their 
 labours. 
 
 Hugh fully intended to be punctual ; but 
 when did an Irishman ever succeed in carry- 
 ing out this laudable intention ? He was 
 delayed in leaving the hotel ; and then the 
 afternoon was very enticing, and he felt it was 
 his last day in Corfu, so he strolled up the 
 hill and looked over the little bay and the 
 channel across to the Albanian coast, blue 
 and hazy now in the full glare of the sun, 
 its barren outline softened into mistiness by 
 that wonderful light. It was a long time 
 before he could tear himself away from 
 the view ; and when he at last reached
 
 HUGH MOORE. 61 
 
 the Royal Britain, lie found that all the 
 world had arrived, and dancing was in full 
 swing;. 
 
 Almost the first person he saw was Clara. 
 She was waltzing past him ; but she saw 
 him, and a slight blush rose to her cheeks 
 as she bowed. It was all over in a moment ; 
 but Hugh felt his own cheek grow hot, and 
 turned awav to make himself useful amonsj 
 the cha^Dcrons. 
 
 After conducting several old ladies to tea, 
 he deposited the last in her place, and stood 
 alone for a minute watching the dancers — 
 his feet fidgeting to be off, but his leg still 
 too weak to allow of it. Suddenly he caught 
 Clara^s eye. She was looking very pale and 
 rather forlorn, seated all by herself in a 
 corner ; for her fatliei', who had brought her, 
 had (man-like) deserted her, and she did not 
 know where he was — perhaps she did not 
 much want to do so. It struck Hugh that
 
 62 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 he had never before realised how lovely she 
 was — maybe because there was less of the 
 usual colour and sparkle about her, and more 
 depth of expression than was generally to 
 be found in her laughino: face. Whether 
 the pensive attitude came by nature or 
 design, she could not have found a straighter 
 road to her admirer's heart. 
 
 Hugh had fully made up his mind to avoid 
 her as much as possible ; but what was he 
 to do now ? The excuse of not dancing did 
 not serve him, for she was not dancing 
 either. He said to himself that he could 
 not refrain from speaking to her without 
 positive rudeness. So he made his way to 
 her side, with the commonplace remark as 
 he bent over her — 
 
 *'You are not dancing. Miss Wilson." 
 
 " No ; I am so tired," said Clara, plain- 
 tively, " I was obliged to rest." 
 
 " Have you not yet recovered from the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 63 
 
 effects of the picnic ? " he asked, with rather 
 a forced smile. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I have been sleeping 
 badly ; " and as she spoke she raised her dark 
 eyes to his face almost beseechingly, and in 
 spite of himself his heart became dangerously 
 soft, as a mistress's does when her little dog 
 licks the hand that beats it. 
 
 "I am a brute ! " thought Hugh, and he 
 did not resist her mute invitation to take 
 the seat beside her. She moved further 
 on — quite into the corner behind a palm, 
 so that she was almost invisible from out- 
 side. There was a red Hag just above, and 
 the sun, shining through it, cast a most 
 becoming glow over her face. 
 
 " It is so horrid not being able to sleep at 
 night," she added, finding that he did not 
 question her. 
 
 " Very," he answered, rather absently ; for 
 this enforced tcte-a-tete was exactly what he
 
 64 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 had meant to avoid. " What is the reason 
 of it ? " 
 
 " I can hardly tell you," said Clara, blush- 
 ing ; " it is — it is — my father was so cross 
 with me." 
 
 " Cross with you ? I should have thought 
 that was impossible." 
 
 " Ah ! you don't know him. Of course 
 he is very nice to you, at least to your face." 
 
 " Well, one never knows, thank goodness, 
 what people say of one behind one's back. 
 It is much better not to know. I have no 
 doubt, for instance, that your father could 
 tell me many home truths ; but I won't ask 
 him, especially as I want to part good friends 
 with him and with everybody." 
 
 " You are always talking of going away, 
 but you aren't going just yet ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am, Miss Wilson ; I am off to- 
 
 morrow mornino;." 
 
 She gave a great start, and her lips turned
 
 HUGH MOORE. 65 
 
 quite white. By a strong effort she con- 
 trolled herself, however, and said with toler- 
 able calmness, though with a huskiness in 
 her voice, "That's much sooner than you 
 intended." 
 
 "It is indeed," said Hugh; "but I have 
 unexpectedly been offered an aide-de-camp- 
 ship in England, and I must be off at once. 
 I start in the Austrian Lloyd to-morrow for 
 Trieste," he continued, feeling stronger after 
 he had dealt his blow, and looking straight 
 in front of him, — " and I came here to-day 
 partly in hopes of seeing you and your 
 father, and saying good-bye, and thanking 
 you for all your kindness to me. Do you 
 think I should find him somewhere on board ?" 
 and he made a movement as if to rise. 
 
 This summary farewell was too much for 
 poor Clara, and for a moment she could not 
 speak. The silence surprised Hugh, who, 
 looking down on her, was astonished to see 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 her mouth quivering aucl her eyes full of tears. 
 Instantly all thought of her father vanished, 
 his good resolutions flew to the winds, and 
 his one idea was how to comfort this poor 
 little girl. What cruel wrong had he not 
 done her ! " Miss Wilson — Clara ! " he cried, 
 " what is the matter ? Are you sorry for me 
 to go ? " and seizing her hands, he tried to 
 look into the downcast eyes, from which 
 large tears were dropping, while she sobl3ed 
 out, " It is nothing — go away — you don't 
 care." 
 
 *' Don't care ! Is it possible you can 
 think so ? Only look at me. Look at me, 
 Clara, and tell me if you are sorry for me 
 to go?" 
 
 " How can I help it ? " she said at length, 
 with a rainbow smile, and lifting her eyes 
 for a moment to his face. " What could you 
 think of me if I wasn't sorry ? But oh ! " 
 she cried, suddenly disengaging her hands,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 67 
 
 and clasping them tight together, " what 
 would papa say if he found us ? Oh dear, 
 oh dear ! what shall I do ? " She was 
 genuinely distressed, and yet never lost 
 sight of the fact that she wished Hugh 
 thoroughly to appreciate her position, and 
 to understand that he was the cause of all 
 her present grief and trouble. 
 
 *' Your father ! " Then, as her meaning 
 flashed upon him — " Do you mean, my 
 poor little Clara" — and he got possession 
 of her hands again — "do you mean that 
 it's owing to me he has been angry with 
 you ? " 
 
 *'He was, indeed he was. Oh, I can't tell 
 you the cruel things he said ! " 
 
 " What can 1 do ? " said Hugh, distract- 
 edly. " I will go to liim and explain every- 
 thing. I will go this evening, and promise 
 you it shall be all right. Forgive me, Clara. 
 I ought to have thouo;ht of this, fool that 1
 
 68 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 am, long ago. To think that you were suf- 
 fering " and he broke off suddenly. 
 
 "Don't go to him — don't speak to him," 
 she cried ; '^ that would make it worse — ever 
 so much worse. He would not hear of it. 
 He told me not to speak to you — as if I 
 could help it ! He said you meant nothing ; 
 you mean to make fun, — oh, I can't tell you 
 what he said I " 
 
 " I don't wonder he was angry — I de- 
 serve it," said Hugh, looking with eyes 
 full of pity at the little panting creature in 
 front of him, and bitterly reproaching him- 
 self for his carelessness ; " but when I go 
 and explain everything, he will be ready to 
 listen to reason. I will tell him that I did 
 not dare to speak — that I've no money — 
 that " 
 
 " But that is just what he said," persisted 
 Clara ; "he declared you hadn't, and that 
 you couldn't afford to — to "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 69 
 
 " To many ! Well, that is about the 
 truth," he answered, bitterly; "we should 
 have to wait years and years — and I have 
 no right to ask that of you." 
 
 '' I would wait, indeed I would. I daresay 
 it wouldn't be very long," she murmured, 
 wistfully ; " but don't you see that it would 
 be no use to talk to papa ? You might as well 
 talk to the moon — indeed you might. No 
 one need know. I can keep a secret. Let 
 us keep this all to ourselves." She stopped, 
 surprised that he did not eagerly respond — 
 that no endearing phrase fell from his lips ; 
 but the fact was, that her proposal was alto- 
 gether repugnant to Hugh's sense of honour 
 — that the reaction from the excitement of 
 the last few minutes was already begin- 
 ning to set in, and the more she persisted 
 with her insinuating suggestions, the more 
 he felt estranged in spirit from this pretty, 
 pleading, confiding child, whose moral sense.
 
 70 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 he instinctively felt, was different from liis 
 own. 
 
 Wlien he spoke, the answer sounded almost 
 harsh to her; for he said, gently but reso- 
 lutely — 
 
 *' Indeed, indeed 1 could not do that. I 
 must speak to your father." 
 
 He had hardly uttered the w^ords when the 
 sound of voices and feet came ver}^ near; 
 some one brushed past the j)calm on the out- 
 side, and there stood Mr Wilson confronting 
 Hugh, and asking if he had seen his daughter. 
 With ready wit, Hugh was on his feet in a 
 moment, trusting that his own broad shoulders 
 would effectually screen his companion until 
 she had had time to recover herself. He 
 shook hands cordially with the Consul, — said 
 that he had just been coming in search of 
 him ; and when Miss Wilson emerged from 
 her corner, it was difficult to say which was 
 the more self-possessed of the two. But the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 71 
 
 officers who had been with Wilson exchano;ed 
 significant glances behind his back, and Hugh 
 was not slow to note the action. Wilson was, 
 as we have seen, a hot-tempered man, and 
 this time he took even less pains than before 
 to dissemble his wrath. 
 
 " I have been hunting for you high and 
 low, Clara," he said, ferociously scowling at 
 her. '^ Come at once. It is high time to 
 be off. Do you know you are the last on the 
 ship ? " 
 
 " Not quite, Mr Wilson," said Hugh, coolly, 
 " for I'm here. But I must be going too, for 
 I am off to-morrow morning, first thing. I 
 will follow you in a few moments, if you will 
 allow me to call, and say good-bye." 
 
 Tlie Consul muttered something unintellig- 
 ible ; but Hugh took it as a permission, and 
 in half an hour's time, with many heart- 
 searchings and a most curious mixture of 
 sensations, he was once more mounting the
 
 72 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 familiar steps to the Consul's house. The 
 hints that Ward had let drop long ago, about 
 ^'it's being fun for him, but death to the 
 little girl," had never occurred to him till 
 now in their full significance : he had gone 
 on from day to day, thinking he would take 
 quite sufficient care; but now Clara's face 
 haunted him. She had looked so ill, so 
 sad — and her eyes had appealed to the softest 
 spot in his heart, when he had caught a 
 glimpse of them through her tears. He 
 could not help trying to comfort her; and 
 if he comforted her, he must say something 
 endearing ; and if he did that, of course she 
 thought he loved her, and wanted to marry 
 her. So he did love her— -at least he was 
 very fond of her, and could not bear the 
 thought of giving her pain. He had had a 
 vague idea that his love would be something 
 deeper and stronger than this — something 
 that would claim his worship, as well as
 
 HUGH MOORE. 73 
 
 appeal to liis pity. But lie was still very- 
 young, and the Fates seemed to have thrown 
 this pretty girl in his way ; and when she as 
 much as told him she loved him, there was 
 no way out of it — or so he thought. He did 
 not consider that if he were genuinely in love, 
 he would not wish to "get out of it" at all. 
 However, here he was at the Consul's door. 
 
 Wilson received him courteously, for he 
 was far more angry with Clara than with 
 Moore, as he had a shrewd suspicion that, 
 if left to himself, Hugh would have done 
 nothino; more than flirt a little with her 
 during his stay at Corfu. When he found 
 that Hugh really wished to make a proposal 
 for his daughter, he allowed him to hesitate 
 and stumble over his sentences, without any 
 of that help which a young man might ex- 
 pect from an old one who had gone through 
 the same torture in liis day. When at last 
 he stopped, Wilson told him (juite decidedly
 
 74 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 that he would not hear of it, — that he did 
 not choose his daughter should l)e engaged 
 for an indefinite period, with her lover at 
 such a distance from her ; moreover, that he 
 did not wish her to marry above her own 
 rank, and that he did not think they were at 
 all suited to each other. 
 
 '' I'll tell you frankly, and it may be a 
 lesson to you," he said, — Hugh winced, but 
 acknowledged the shrewdness of the old man's 
 observation, — '' you shouldn't play with edge- 
 tools. Clara had far more definite ideas from 
 the beginning than you liad, and she can 
 bring most people round to her views ; but 
 she doesn't succeed with me. And if you 
 were to marry, you would be disappointed in 
 her, and she probably with you, after the 
 first month or two. I must ask you to for- 
 give me for being frank with you, l)ut I want 
 you clearly to understand that I shall not 
 alter my mind."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 75 
 
 " Then I can only ask you to forgive me 
 for being the cause of any distress to your 
 daughter," said Hugh, with much emotion, 
 but unable at the same time to help feeling a 
 certain amount of resentment at the tone of 
 superiority which the Consul adopted. " I 
 can never forgive myself for having troubled 
 her peace in any way." 
 
 "As to that, she'll get over it. And there 
 is only one thing more I want to say to you, 
 and that is, that I trust to your honour not 
 to engage in any clandestine correspondence 
 — for that I ivont stand. It is just the sort 
 of thing Miss Clara would enjoy ; so I give 
 you fair warning." 
 
 *' The idea of such a thing would never 
 have occurred to me," said Hugh, proudly ; 
 " but I must be allowed to write her one line, 
 — unless I may see her again ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. Well, sit down and write 
 here. T will sec she has your letter ; but
 
 76 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 don't expect an answer, for I shan't allow her 
 to write one." 
 
 ^ Hugh sat down at the table the Consul 
 pointed out to him, and tried to collect his 
 thoughts — which was a difficult matter — and 
 to say all he wanted in a few lines. JVIr 
 Wilson did not leave the room, moreover, 
 — a thing much to be desired under the cir- 
 cumstances, — but sat down in an arm-chair, 
 reading a newspaper. His presence did not 
 certainly conduce to Hugh's peace of mind. 
 He tore up his paper more than^ once into 
 minute fragments, and at last wrote as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 « 
 
 " Your father absolutely forbids us to meet 
 again, and nothing will induce him to sanction 
 our engagement. I cannot ask you to wait, 
 my darling, with the vague hope of some day 
 being able to offer you a position which I 
 could ask my wife to accept ; and indeed I
 
 HUGH MOORE. 77 
 
 have told your father that the idea of a clan- 
 destine correspondence had never entered my 
 head — I hope I have enough sense of houour 
 for that. I can only throw myself on your 
 mercy, and beg you to forgive me for causing 
 you any grief. I hate myself for the thought 
 of it, and wish you could forget me alto- 
 gether ; but if you can't do that, think of me 
 as kindly as you can, and believe I never 
 meant to do you any harm. What can I say 
 to tell you what I feel ? You can under- 
 stand far better than I can write. Once 
 more, forgive me. — Yours, H. M." 
 
 He addressed the letter and gave it to 
 Wilson ; and as the latter extracted a formal 
 promise from him not to write again to Clara, 
 there was something in the young Irishman's 
 face that brought a momentary softening to 
 the Consul's heart. 
 
 "You will thank me some day for this
 
 78 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 apparent cruelty," he said, wringing Hugh's 
 hand, as he wished him farewell. 
 
 Moore could not answer, and, turning 
 hastily, ran for the last time down the 
 familiar flight of stone steps. 
 
 Early next morning Ward saw him off" on 
 board the Austrian Lloyd. 
 
 Hugh's heart was very heavy as he watched 
 Corfu disappear, and yet there was a strange 
 relief in his sensations — a cessation of re- 
 sponsibility when the inevitable is reached. 
 ^' That episode is over," he said to himself. 
 He had yet to learn that the chains we 
 forge for ourselves are not so easily snapped 
 asunder, and that the results of a course of 
 action determine the after-events of our lives 
 in a manner we least expect.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " She walks in beauty like the night 
 Of cloudless climes and stany skies, 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 Meets in her aspect and her eyes." 
 
 "My dear Dorothea, — It was very good 
 of you to write to me ; and pray thank my 
 aunt for lier message. It is all very well 
 for you to talk of my being your Flag- 
 Lieutenant, but I give you fair warning 
 that I shall leave my work to you. I think 
 it is lucky no other confiding Admiral has 
 asked for my services, for my uncle knows me 
 so w^ell that lie can hardly be disappointed. 
 I revel in the tliought of all the possibilities 
 of idleness which open out before my en-
 
 80 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 raptured gaze. I shall have time now to 
 attend to a whole menagerie of beasts, while 
 you and Fan write my notes for me. Think 
 of the joy of it ! specially to you, who do 
 so love to help the over-burdened and un- 
 fortunate. As to Fan, I'm not so sure. 
 
 " Mind you make my aunt ask the General's 
 new aide-de-camp to dinner as soon as he 
 comes. He is a friend of mine — or rather, 
 I met him two or three years ago in Scot- 
 land, and I have been seeing a good deal 
 of him here, where he has been on a pig- 
 sticking jaunt with a friend. His name is 
 Moore, a son of old Lord Glengarn's — a 
 regular Paddy, and such a good fellow. 
 Look out how you talk to him, however, 
 about Corfu. There's a certain pretty Miss 
 Wilson here, the English Consul's daughter, 
 and when any one has got into her clutches, 
 it's rather hard to cfet out of them acrain. 
 
 o o 
 
 Whether Moore is in or out, I'm not pre-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 81 
 
 pared to say ; but there was a regular scene 
 the day of our dance, and old Wilson, the 
 father, was in a furious way — why, no one 
 could make out, for there's no reason for 
 thinking he would object to his daughter 
 having an ' Honourable ' tacked on to her 
 name. Perhaps he thought Moore had no 
 serious intentions, and, pon my honour, Fm 
 not in his confidence. Moore himself went 
 off the next day to England, but Miss Clara 
 hints at something more than a flirtation. 
 However, mind you see a lot of Moore, for 
 he's a regular good one. Bother ! there go 
 eight bells, and I am on duty. 
 
 My love to Frances, and I hope she's behav- 
 ing herself. I will write to my uncle in a day 
 or two, and get him the information he wants. 
 — Your humble and obedient servant, 
 
 " Charles Drake." 
 
 Dorothea Ncvill looked up from her letter, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 82 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 and caught the eye of her cousin Frances, 
 who was sitting on the opposite side of the 
 breakfast-table, and who exclaimed, "An- 
 other epistle from Charlie ? Well, I never ! 
 I think he might write to me sometimes." 
 
 "Boys never care about their sisters, my 
 dear," said her uncle drily, from behind his 
 newspaper ; and Dorothea said — 
 
 " Well, Fan, there's a message for you." 
 
 " Oh, I know what Charlie's messages are 
 worth ! You need not give yourself the 
 trouble of repeating it." 
 
 Dorothea laughed. She was a great con- 
 trast to her cousin, — the elder by four or 
 five years, tall and stately, with a head 
 well set on her shoulders, and crowned with 
 masses of chestnut hair. Her eyes were a 
 deep shadowy blue, and her complexion had 
 that rich glow that Komney loved to paint. 
 Frances Drake was between sixteen and seven- 
 teen, shorter and darker than Dorothea, with
 
 HUGH MOORE. 83 
 
 brilliant dark eyes that flashed and sparkled 
 when she spoke, a colour that varied inces- 
 santly, and a sensitive mobile mouth, — all 
 betokening an excitable child, as one could see 
 at a glance. Nevertheless there was a certain 
 resemblance between the two, especially in 
 voice and manner, which made strangers 
 often take them for sisters. Indeed Frances 
 had never known any other home, for Lady 
 Katherine had adopted her from her birth, 
 and had lavished almost more tender care 
 upon the little orphan than her own 
 daughter received. Lady Mary Drake 
 (Lady Katherine's only sister), already a 
 four months' widow, had died at the birth 
 of Frances — leaving her boy Charlie, also, 
 to the guardianship of Sir Edward Nevill. 
 
 Older by a few years than Dorothea, 
 Charlie had always stood on those pleasant 
 cousinly terms with her which parents some- 
 times permit. He was almost like her (nvii
 
 84 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 brother, with just the additional spice of inter- 
 est which cousinship supplies ; and of course 
 there were not wanting prudent people 
 who shook their heads over Lady Kather- 
 ine's short-sightedness, and tongues wagged 
 still louder when Mr Drake's appointment 
 as Sir Edward's Flag-Lieutenant was known 
 at Eastport. But gossip never reached Ad- 
 miralty House ; if it did. Sir Edward's scorn 
 of women's tongues, and Lady Katherine's 
 easy - going good - nature, did not produce 
 fruitful soil for its development. She w^as 
 in appearance a soft, motherly little woman, 
 with a gentle cooing voice, and hair that 
 had once been more golden than Dorothea's, 
 but was now turning grey. Her husband 
 carried his sixty years lightly enough, and 
 was as erect and alert as many a man twenty 
 years his junior. To have no son of her own 
 had been one of the greatest disappointments 
 in Lady Katherine's life ; she was therefore
 
 HUGH MOOKE. 85 
 
 little loath to allow her sister's boy to usurp 
 that vacant place in her heart, and was only 
 too glad to fill her too silent nursery and 
 schoolroom with companions for her solitary 
 daughter. 
 
 She did not the least realise now that 
 Frances, the baby of the family, was almost 
 grown up ; and the result was a dangerous 
 amount of liberty for this spoilt child, who 
 hovered between the drawing - room and 
 schoolroom in a manner slightly injurious 
 to discipline. 
 
 Charlie's letters were public property, and 
 this one went the round of the breakfast-table, 
 eliciting various comments on its way. Lady 
 Katherine recalled the fact that she had 
 known Lord Glengarn in the days of her 
 youth, and Frances was much excited at the 
 idea of Hugh's flirtation with the pretty 
 Levantine. Dorothea hojjcd he danced well, 
 and Sir Edward said that in liis day men with
 
 86 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 broken hearts didn't dance, l)ut he supposed 
 all that was altered now. 
 
 " Why a broken heart, Uncle Edward ? " 
 said Frances. " I daresay he was glad enough 
 to get out of it ; " and Hugh's broken heart 
 became a joke in the family. 
 
 " Have you ordered the flowers for to- 
 night, Dorothy ? " asked her mother. 
 
 " No ; I thouo;ht Fan and I miorht o-et some 
 this morning. We shan't want many. There 
 are some still in the garden." 
 
 '' I wish we had a little more glass," sighed 
 Lady Katherine ; " but if you and Fan will 
 drive into the town, I will give you a few 
 
 commissions." 
 
 The breakfast-table was deserted, and the 
 party separated — Sir Edward to the study, 
 Frances to the schoolroom, and Lady Kather- 
 ine and Dorothy to make arrangements for 
 a dinner-party that evening. 
 
 ^'We must settle about the takinsf in and 
 
 o
 
 HUGH MOORE. 87 
 
 seating — these people never know how to 
 place themselves," murmured her ladyship, 
 with a little gentle scorn for the inhabitants 
 of Eastport. " Let me see : Admiral Jenkins 
 takes me in. Dear old man, I hope he won't 
 be quite so deaf as he is sometimes. And 
 your father must have Mrs Jenkins. Who 
 shall we put on the other side of him ? 
 Some one who can talk." 
 
 " Blanche Harvey," suggested Dorothea, 
 with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 
 
 '^ Oh, my dear ! do you think it will be 
 Blanche who will come ? I hope not. Your 
 father will never speak to her. And who 
 must you have ? Captain Newman, I sup- 
 pose f 
 
 ^' Don't you think he must be tired of me 
 by this time ? " 
 
 " Well, it doesn't seem like it. I can't give 
 him to Miss Harvey, for there is Colonel Brisc 
 to be provided for. Do you want a change ? "
 
 88 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 *' Oh no ! As for me, I like him very- 
 much ; only I am always afraid that the 
 Commander of the flag-ship will see too much 
 of the Admiral's daughter." 
 
 Not long after, Dorothea and her cousin 
 were spinning along the dusty road from the 
 dockyard to the town, in a smart little dog- 
 cart, drawn by two bay ponies, which were 
 well known in Eastport. Past the bare 
 common and the brand-new pier — past the 
 long line of houses facing the sea, w^here 
 numberless nurses were drawing perambu- 
 lators full of children, and invalids were 
 dragging themselves up and down, and 
 sunning themselves in the southern aspect — 
 round among the dreary little villas, with 
 their damp autumnal gardens and poor little 
 lawns strewn with dropping leaves — out into 
 the street of shops, where the Eastport dandies 
 were disporting themselves, with exquisite 
 " button-holes," tight gloves, and large eye-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 89 
 
 glasses, and brushing past the over-dressed 
 girls on the narrow pavement with hardly 
 a "Beg your pardon" — till the ponies stopped 
 before the flower-shop. There was not a very 
 great choice of flowers : Eastport was not the 
 sort of place to produce any extensive de- 
 mands on florists, and the supply was in 
 consequence of a limited description ; but 
 after considerable trouble, Dorothea found 
 more or less what she wanted, or rather had 
 to make the best of that which was ofi"ered 
 to her. As she turned her ponies' heads 
 towards home, a gentleman passing by on 
 the pavement lifted his hat, and with an 
 almost imperceptible smile wished them good 
 morning. 
 
 " What an unusual sight ! the Commander 
 of the flag-ship on shore in plain clothes, and 
 at this hour of the day !" 
 
 Frances made a slight grimace as her 
 cousin spoke, and gave a less gracious return
 
 90 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 to the gentleman's salutation. She took the 
 liveliest interest in every one who came to 
 Admiralty House, and was apt to amuse and 
 alarm her family l^y the unguarded expres- 
 sion of her likes and dislikes. 
 
 " So you're to have him again to-night, 
 Dolly; I pity you." 
 
 " Who ? Captain Newman ? You needn't 
 pity me for that, Fan. I like him very 
 much." 
 
 " I can't think how you can. 1 should be 
 sick of him, if I were you." 
 
 " I daresay he is of me." 
 
 " I don't know about that," demurely re- 
 plied Fan, turning eyes full of admiration 
 on her cousin, who looked very pretty with 
 the sun shining on her bright hair, and a 
 flush on her cheek from the cold air throuorh 
 which they were driving. " I can fancy that 
 he likes well enough to see you. But I won't 
 have him for a cousin-in-law, mind ! "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 91 
 
 " I haven't the smallest intention of pre- 
 senting him to you in that capacity. But 
 really, Fan, you're too absurd. What busi- 
 ness have you to trouble your youthful mind 
 with such ideas ? Besides, you are so partic- 
 ular about men's manners, and I am sure 
 Captain Newman's are good enough for any- 
 body." 
 
 " He is so frightfully sober. No ; I hate 
 him. I am sure I shall like this new friend 
 of Charlie's— this Mr Moore." 
 
 "He doesn't seem over-wise, at any rate, 
 from Charlie's account. He won't be too 
 sober for you." 
 
 "I do like people who can be naughty 
 sometimes," cried Frances, with precocious 
 worldliness. "It is so dull when they never 
 say or do anything wrong." 
 
 " You think it is good fun, I suppose, when 
 they break either their own hearts, or, what 
 is much more likely, somebody else's."
 
 92 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Dorothea pulled up, as she spoke, before 
 the Admiralty House, and together they en- 
 tered the wide hall, from which opened the 
 drawing-room and dining-room. 
 
 Both rooms looked out on the garden — 
 Dorotheas special realm — still bright with 
 autumn flowers, asters and a few geraniums, 
 which had not been touched by the 
 frost. In spite of the difficulty of making 
 flowers grow so near the sea, Dorothea's 
 love of overcoming obstacles had proved 
 successful in this case. For a wonder, 
 she and the gardener were warm allies, and 
 his contempt for all the productions of East- 
 port (he was a west - countryman) was an 
 unfailing source of amusement to her. How- 
 ever, the dinner -table did justice to theii* 
 joint taste and skill — though it was, j^orhaps, 
 hardly appreciated by the guests, who were 
 not very numerous or very entertaining, en- 
 tirely naval and military, and chiefly retired
 
 HUGH MOORE. 93 
 
 officers with their wives and daughters, with 
 which species Eastport abounds. 
 
 The Admiral felt it necessary to entertain 
 a good deal, and these duty dinner-parties 
 were sometimes a trial to himself as well as to 
 Lady Katherine and Dorothea; but they went 
 through them gallantly. When Sir Edward 
 said, " It must be done," his word was as 
 much law in his own house as on board ship ; 
 and his whole air — his straight upright 
 figure, keen grey eye, and clear-cut features, 
 broad forehead, and firm mouth and chin — 
 showed that not only could he exercise 
 authority if he chose, but that he was well 
 accustomed to do so. Perhaps he could be 
 something of a tyrant : it is rare for a man 
 to be absolute for any length of time, without 
 getting to love the exercise of jDower for its 
 own sake — unless he is so weak that he al- 
 ways needs to be guided by some one, or so 
 lazy that he prefers to let things take their
 
 94 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 course. Sir Edward was neither weak nor 
 idle, but he rarely made his hand felt heavily, 
 except where it was needed, and he was much 
 liked in his service, while his wife adored 
 him, and between him and his daughter there 
 was perfect confidence. The member of the 
 family most inclined to rebel was Frances, 
 who had a natural dislike to all authority ; 
 but she had too much sense seriously to 
 contemplate mutiny. 
 
 On this October evening, while Sir Edward 
 was endeavouring; to fulfil Nelson's maxim 
 (and finding it hard work) with Mrs Jenkins, 
 a stout phlegmatic old lady with a strong 
 tendency to drowsiness ; and while Lady 
 Katherine was strainino; hor ears to catch 
 Admiral Jenkins's murmured remarks, and 
 answering "Yes" and "No" rather vaguely, 
 where she hoped they would fit ; and while 
 Miss Harvey, dressed in the extreme of East- 
 port fashion, in a bright red gown, cut very
 
 HUGH MOORE. 95 
 
 low, and unrelieved by even a soupgon of 
 white, was trying to captivate Colonel Brise, 
 who was a new arrival, and looked at her 
 sideways, as if she were some new and strange 
 variety whose sjDecies he had not yet dis- 
 covered ; and while the rest of the party were 
 discussing Eastport gossip, the arrival of the 
 last transport, and the prospect of the next 
 dance, — Dorothea was sitting, looking very 
 beautiful and serene, by the side of Captain 
 Newman, whom she knew so well that it 
 was not necessary to begin conversation the 
 moment they sat down. 
 
 " It was very good of you to place me 
 here," he said at last ; and Dorothea smiled, 
 but replied — 
 
 "Mother did all that, or rather" (with a 
 conscientious regard for truth) "we arranged 
 it together ; and, in fact, T ^vlsll w^e could 
 have given you a change, but it can't be 
 helped."
 
 96 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 She spoke to him quite frankly, as to a 
 man a good deal older than herself, as indeed 
 he was, being at least five-and-thirty, and 
 looking more. He was one of those men 
 who never look very young, and accordingly 
 are treated with an unusual amount of con- 
 fidence by the fair sex. Moreover, he always 
 seemed to take Dorothea's remarks as natu- 
 rally as she made them, and never em- 
 barrassed her with compliments. 
 
 " And when I come to think of it," she 
 went on, " I don't believe you and Miss Har- 
 vey would have got on very well together. 
 Do you think so ? " 
 
 *' No," he said, so gravely and simply that 
 she laughed. 
 
 " How delightful the world would be," she 
 said, " if one could choose whom one would 
 know ! " 
 
 " Too delightful a world by half," he 
 answered ; '' but what would become of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 97 
 
 the poor people wliom nobody chose to 
 know ? " 
 
 " They would have to find their like," 
 laughed Dorothea ; " ' birds of a feather flock 
 together,' you know." 
 
 '' Seriously," he said, " I think they get 
 punishment enough as it is. Haven't you 
 noticed the men who dance so badly that no 
 girl will dance with them, standing looking 
 on gloomily at a ball from a corner ? " 
 
 '' Not often," said Dorothea, candidly ; 
 " but I often see girls, who arc either very 
 plain or very uninteresting, sitting in a cor- 
 ner all through a dance, and I am very sorry 
 for them." 
 
 With her beauty, and her position as queen 
 of her own little circle, he thought she could 
 afford to be sorry for them ! but he went 
 on — 
 
 " Well, take another class — the men who 
 never succeed ; aren't you sorry for them ? " 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 98 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " My father thinks people ulways get on 
 who deserve it." 
 
 " Ah ! Sir Edward is a successful man. 
 No," — seeing she flushed a little, — " I don't 
 mean he is unfair ; but a man who has never 
 had any serious contretemps in his life, can 
 hardly understand the struggling lives of 
 those men who never get into harbour : they 
 are always sailing as near the wind as they 
 can, and yet they seem to gain nothing by 
 tacking." 
 
 " Why don't they change their course ? " 
 
 " Easier said than done ; or perhaps they 
 do rather too often, and not only their 
 course, but their ship and their pilot too — 
 and then they make no way at all." 
 
 " It's very sad; but. Captain Newman " 
 
 she paused. 
 
 "Yes," he said courteously, turning his 
 head a little, and looking at her while her 
 eyes were cast down.
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 99 
 
 " You said people who were successful 
 could not understand those who fail. But 
 your life is not what you describe ? " 
 
 " Not altogether, perhaps, though that de- 
 pends rather on w^hat you call success." 
 
 " I think you are shifting your ground," 
 said Dorothea. '^ Of course, if by success 
 you mean that every wish one has is grati- 
 fied, 710 one is successful." 
 
 ^' Perhaps it depends rather on the propor- 
 tion of wishes realised," he said ; " but in 
 truth, what the world calls success is worth 
 very little if the one wish of your heart is 
 disappointed." 
 
 " People ought not to depend on one 
 thing like that," said Dorothea, impatiently. 
 " Take a man who has been disapj^ointed in 
 love. That is what people generally mean, I 
 suppose, by not getting the one thing they 
 want. Well, that lias no business to spoil a 
 man's whole life. I don't l)elievc it docs,
 
 100 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 cither; it is only in novels that that hap- 
 pens. Keal life doesn't turn on a love-story. 
 What fills a three-volume novel takes only a 
 few months, or at most a few years, to hap- 
 pen, and a man's business lasts much longer, 
 and is much more important, than that." 
 
 " Well," he said, amused at her vehemence, 
 " at least those few months may make a dif- 
 ference to all the rest of his life." 
 
 " Of course it does, in a sense. But what 
 I mean is, that a man's home-life is almost 
 always secondary. His real business is his 
 professional life, whatever it may be. Now, 
 with a woman it is different, I allow. Her 
 home-life is the first thing with her, and 
 matters ever so much more to her. And 
 that is why," she added, smiling, " it is so 
 hard for us women to understand why you 
 men are so deep in your own business and 
 affairs that you have hardly time to think of 
 us at all."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 101 
 
 " I don't think you often have that com- 
 plaint to make of sailors," he said. " We are 
 away from you ladies so long, that we make 
 the most of you at home." 
 
 " Or learn to do without us altogether. It 
 is all very well to talk of women's rights and 
 things like that, but women can never get 
 on long together alone without quarrelling — 
 except, I suppose, in sisterhoods, where they 
 are kept strictly under rule ; and that shows 
 how inferior they are to men, who get on 
 quite well without women." 
 
 " I must beg leave to differ from you there, 
 Miss Nevill. What makes you so hard on us 
 all round, this evening ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure." 
 
 Perhaps she was thinking of Hugh's love- 
 story, which had set her off on these reflec- 
 tions ; but she could not with fairness repeat 
 it, even to Captain Newman, who was no 
 gossip.
 
 102 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 * ' My idea of an agreeable person is a person who agrees 
 
 with me." 
 
 The Austrian Lloyd glided swiftly through 
 the waters of the blue Adriatic, and Hugh's 
 seafaring powers were not unpleasantly 
 tested, for the '^Droad back of the sea" 
 remained smooth as glass during the thirty- 
 six hours of the voyage to Trieste. There 
 was a certain sense of exhilaration in turn- 
 ing his steps homewards and to work once 
 more. Of course he grumbled a little, — 
 every Englishman does, more especially every 
 soldier, — but lie was really fdid of liis work, 
 though no one could more thoroughly enjoy
 
 HUGH MOORE. 10 
 
 Q 
 
 a holiday. It must be confessed that this 
 jDarticular holiday had hardly been a success, 
 for at the end of it he found himself en- 
 tangled in an unpleasant affair, which, the 
 more he contemplated, the less he liked. Away 
 from Clara's fascinations, he was more than 
 ever alive to the disagreeable consequences — 
 to use no stronger word — which an eno-ao-e- 
 ment with her would involve ; and yet, so 
 contradictory is human nature, more than 
 ever did he feel himself bound in honour to 
 her, at least for the present. He could not 
 conceal from himself that it would be a satis- 
 factory conclusion if she were jDi'oi^^ptly to 
 marry some one else ; and yet he rebelled at 
 the idea. As they had smoked their pipes 
 together the last evening. Jack Ward had 
 asked him casually how his love-affair had 
 been progressing, and he liad answered, half 
 joking, " Oh, I'm out of the running. Why 
 don't you cut in yourself?" Wliat if lie
 
 104 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 should take the suggestion in earnest, and 
 act upon it ? 
 
 With some difficulty Hugh shook himself 
 free from his reverie, and began to look about 
 him. The ship was not full ; but there was a 
 considerable variety among the passengers, 
 most of whom had come from farther east. 
 There was a Turk in a genuine fez, and a 
 couple of Greek merchants in seedy European 
 clothes, all on their way to Trieste ; a mem- 
 ber of the English Embassy at Constanti- 
 nople, returning home on leave with his wife 
 and two little children ; one or two good- 
 looking Austrian officers, very smart, and 
 with most graceful manners ; a young Italian 
 artist who had been painting in Corfu, and 
 was on his way back to Venice ; a British 
 bridal couple, finishing their honeymoon, and 
 still in the honey stage ; and last, but not 
 least, especially in his own estimation, the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 105 
 
 special correspondent of the ' Kadical Mer- 
 cury,' the great advanced newspaper of the 
 provincial press. They were hardly out of 
 sight of Corfu when this gentleman, much 
 to Hugh's amusement, began to attack him 
 on the subject of the " Eastern Question," in 
 continuance, apparently, of a conversation he 
 had had the day before with the diplomatist. 
 Indeed, Mr Vivian could not long escape 
 being drawn into the discussion, and Hugh 
 was glad to pass the inquisitive Mr James on 
 to him, feeling himself unequal to rej^ly to 
 all his inquiries on a subject on which he was 
 not well posted up. 
 
 " I have been into the interior of Albania 
 and Greece," explained the correspondent, 
 " and have been much struck by the pro- 
 gress making in civilisation and freedom." 
 
 Hugh assented, more from lazy dislike to 
 an argument than from conviction, fur he
 
 106 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 had thought the Albanians of the coast singu- 
 larly savage-looking. 
 
 " I was interested yesterday in hearing ]\Ir 
 Vivian's opinions in regard to I'urkey" (he 
 would have been puzzled to say precisely 
 what information he had gained as to Mr 
 Vivian's opinions), " and I am anxious to 
 know his views as to the future of the 
 Hellenic and Slav races." 
 
 " They're in dangerous proximity, no 
 doubt," remarked Mr Vivian, adjusting his 
 eye - glass, and apparently examining the 
 ship's bulwarks with great care. 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! " said the man of literature, 
 as if that was a new idea ; " dangerous prox- 
 imity, do you think ? Do you see any signs 
 of disagreement ? Is the diplomatic horizon 
 clouded ? " 
 
 "We have liardly got so for as diplomacy 
 yet with Albania," remarked ^Fr Vivian, with 
 a hardly perceptible smile.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 107 
 
 " True ; for as yet her autonomy has not 
 been secured. It is to be hoped that the 
 sinojuhxr success of the reforms in Greece \Yill 
 lead to further efforts among the Slavs — a 
 people with endless capacities — now cruelly 
 rendered all but useless by their enslaved 
 condition. What are your views with regard 
 to the present position of Turkey ? " 
 
 " Eather a large question," said Hugh ; and 
 Mr Vivian relapsed into another smile, and 
 then, finding Mr James was waiting for an 
 answer, remarked with great deliberation, as 
 if he were giving a weighty piece of infor- 
 mation — 
 
 " There is improvement in some respects, 
 and doubtless decadence in others." 
 
 This apparently harmless sentiment, liow- 
 ever, gave uml)rage to Mr James, wlio was 
 too thorough-going a Rndicjd to admit tlio 
 possibility of any good in the Turk, and only 
 responded sardonically —
 
 108 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Ah ! you are a Turcophil ! Wonderful 
 how all Englishmen living in Constantinople 
 get so fond " 
 
 " Of those gentlemen in fezzes," said Hugh, 
 glancing at the representative of that much- 
 abused nation, who was tranquilly smoking a 
 little distance off. 
 
 " Fine fellows they are, too," said the dip- 
 lomatist, sauntering off to join his wife, who 
 had just come on deck wdth her children. 
 The elder, a little girl of seven or eight, 
 soon made great friends with Hugh, and 
 trotted about with her hand in his all the 
 morning. She took a great dislike to the 
 corresj)ondent, and a great fixncy to the 
 Austrian officers with their handsome uni- 
 forms, and was always dragging Hugh in 
 their direction, and looking up at them from 
 under the broad brim of her white hat, with 
 a mixture of shyness and forwardness which 
 was very diverting to him. He was fond of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 109 
 
 children, especially pretty little girls, and of 
 course his kindness to her child won the 
 mother's heart. Mrs Vivian was a languid, 
 delicate -looking woman, with a slight lisp 
 and a slow manner that bordered on aflfecta- 
 tion — not at all happy at sea, in spite of the 
 calm weather, and divided between her own 
 headache and her anxiety for her children, 
 the younger of whom was in the charge of a 
 young Greek nurse, who gave herself up for 
 lost if ever the land was out of sight. Mrs 
 Vivian was therefore doubly grateful to Hugh 
 for taking the elder child off her hands ; 
 and when they parted at Trieste, she ex- 
 pressed many hopes of meeting at some 
 future day. 
 
 During the afternoon the correspondent 
 had attached himself to the Austrians, who 
 talked very fair English, but were })uzzled 
 by some of his questions, and there was a 
 o;ood deal of jresticulation and laufrhinji over
 
 110 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 their answers. They soon discovered, how- 
 ever, who he was, and became almost as 
 guarded and " official " as Mr Vivian. But 
 Mr James was quite clever enough to extract 
 a certain amount of information even from 
 such unpromising subjects ; and they would 
 all have been surprised if, a few days later, 
 they had seen an article in the ' Kadical 
 Mercury ' from " our Special Correspondent," 
 containing an account of what " a distin- 
 guished member of the British Embassy at 
 Constantinople communicated to me as to 
 the prospects of the Porte in Europe and 
 Asia;" and, "I learned from an interesting 
 conversation with some Austrian officers, who 
 courteously assured me," &c., &c. 
 
 At Trieste Hugh landed, and had time to 
 walk about tlie town, see the ancient church 
 with its beautifully preserved mosaics, and 
 admire the oriental costumes in the streets — 
 for Trieste is called, not without justice, the
 
 HUGH MOORE. Ill 
 
 gate of the East — before he started in the 
 train for Calais, en route for England. He 
 travelled to Aldershot almost without stop- 
 ping, and there spent a day or two, arranging 
 about the transfer of his goods and chattels 
 to Eastport, before jDroceeding on a visit to 
 his parents in Ireland.
 
 112 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." 
 
 Hugh's travels came at length to an end 
 on a chilly autumnal evening, and the 
 dawdling train pulled w'p slowly at the 
 little country station near his home. The 
 deliberation of the porters and the other 
 railway officials, who all immediately recog- 
 nised him, and wanted to hold a long con- 
 versation with him on the spot, tried his 
 patience considerably ; and their vociferous 
 comj^liments did not long detain him, thougli 
 the rich brogue sounded sweet in liis ears 
 after his long absence from Ireland. The dog- 
 cart from the castle was waitins; for him, and,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 113 
 
 taking the reins from the groom's hands, he 
 replied to his " Welcome home, Mr Hugh," 
 with a friendly salutation, and started his 
 ponies homeward at a brisk trot. The man 
 cautioned him about Jenny — a new purchase 
 — who had a very strong mouth, and '* the 
 will of a woman." 
 
 •' And how are they all at home ? " added 
 Hugh, delighting in the fresh moorland air 
 and brisk motion, and indifferent to the holes 
 and ruts which were plentiful in the road, 
 and over which the dogcart bounded as the 
 ponies raced along. 
 
 " Sure, and as well as your honour could 
 expect," said O'Donncll, in answer to his 
 question, and keeping his eyes fixed on 
 Jenny's ears. 
 
 " Why, what do you mean ? Is any one 
 ill ? " 
 
 " It wasn't me that said so," was the 
 oracular answer. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 114 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " What on earth do you mean ? Can't you 
 say Yes or No ? " 
 
 That was just what a true Irishman never 
 would say, if he could possibly help it ; and 
 Hugh ought to have know^n it. 
 
 "Sure you're grown such a fine young 
 gentleman," said the man, soothingly but not 
 very connectedly ; " and you'll have been see- 
 ing many fine sights since you left us." 
 
 ^'What's that got to do with it?" said 
 Hugh. But at that moment Jenny swerved 
 violently at a white post, and his attention 
 was distracted by a gap in the hedge. They 
 were nearing the house, and he was surprised 
 that it had not been mended. 
 
 " What's that left for ? " he asked. 
 
 " Sure, your honour, it has been so a year 
 or more, ever since I can remember." 
 
 "Your memory's very short, then, for it 
 was all right less than a year ago, when I 
 was here. That means no rents, I suppose ? "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 115 
 
 " I'll not be surprised if your honour's 
 right entirely," said O'Donnell, calmly ; " but 
 his lordship will be pleased to see you, and 
 no doubt all will be put to rights now. With 
 Mr Moore ill, there's many things have 
 been left for your honour to settle." 
 
 " Mr Moore ill ! They never told me," 
 cried Hugh, startled and grieved, for he 
 was very fond of his brother. He began 
 to notice how cold and dark the night w^as, 
 and what a disgraceful state the drive was 
 in, and how Jenny was pulling ; but though 
 he asked many questions, he could get no 
 further information from O'Donnell, who, 
 finding he was distressed, at once tried to 
 soften down his remark, but could not so 
 set Hugh's fears at rest. At last the ponies 
 dashed up to the house, — a large, ugly, white 
 building, of no particular style of archi- 
 tecture, — and stopped under the portico. 
 The big liall-dour was open, and Lord Glen-
 
 116 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 gam waiting to receive his son. He looked 
 worn and older, Hugh thought, and the 
 wrinkles in his brow were not smoothed 
 away even by his smile of welcome. He 
 had hardly spoken, when Hugh said — 
 
 " What is this about Ion being ill ? " 
 
 "Oh, has O'Donnell told you?" — mth 
 a shade of displeasure. " I am sorry your 
 home-coming should be clouded, my dear 
 boy; but we did not think it worth while 
 to write, as you would so soon be here. 
 The fact is " (he lowered his voice), " your 
 mother is worried and anxious. I don't my- 
 self think it is so bad, but you know she can't 
 get on without the doctors, and the doctors 
 always make things out as bad as they can — 
 good for the profession, you understand ! " 
 
 " But what's the matter ? " asked Hugh, 
 who began to despair of getting any in- 
 formation. 
 
 " A chill— a chill," said his father. " But
 
 HUGH MOORE. 117 
 
 come along and see him ; you'll cheer us all 
 up a bit." 
 
 They went through the large bare hall, 
 and along a narrow badly lighted passage, 
 to a room which seemed to Hugh very hot 
 and stuffy, after his long cold drive. There 
 was a fire, near which his mother was sitting ; 
 and in an arm-chair, looking pale and list- 
 less, was his brother. 
 
 Lady Glengarn had been handsome in 
 her youth, but the brfght flush which had 
 been becoming then, had settled into a hard 
 red colour on both cheeks, which made her 
 look as if she would never get cool. The 
 high spirits of her girlhood had deserted her, 
 and she was a prey to fits of depression and 
 nervousness, which had drawn many lines 
 across her forehead and round her mouth ; 
 and Hugh knew only too well what his 
 father meant when he said she was worried 
 and anxious.
 
 118 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Well, old chap," said Hugh, " I am very- 
 sorry to hear you are not well." 
 
 "I am all right," said Ion, fretfully,his brows 
 contracting slightly, " or rather I should be 
 if I were once out of this beastly hole." 
 
 " A pretty way of speaking of your native 
 place," said his father, laughing — a little 
 nervously, Hugh thought ; and Lady Glen- 
 garn added — 
 
 " It is a way he has got into of late. He 
 used to be very fond of it, but now it 
 appears to disgust him." 
 
 "And so it would you, mother, if you 
 were stuck into a little stuffy room like this, 
 and never allowed to go and get a breath 
 of fresh air." 
 
 " A breath of fresh air means a day's 
 hunting, I suppose," retorted Lady Glengarn. 
 
 " A day's hunting would do me pounds 
 of good." 
 
 *' I daresay. You hear him ? " turning
 
 HUGH MOORE. 119 
 
 to Lord Glengarn; "and you think I am 
 cruel for not letting him do exactly what 
 he pleases ! Why, he could no more hunt 
 now than a baby ! " 
 
 " Oh, there, mother ! " cried the invalid ; 
 ''let's turn the conversation. Come, Huo-h, 
 old boy, tell us what you've been doing. 
 Any adventures ? Any fairy princess ? " 
 
 Hugh had been standing with his back 
 to the fire, much astonished and embarrassed 
 at this passage of arms between his mother 
 and brother. He had always looked on Ion 
 as her favourite child ; and though she had 
 not brought up her children to treat her 
 with any elaborate respect, this sort of thing 
 was unusual, and fairly startled him. 
 
 He knew his mother too well, however, 
 not to be aware that it was her intense 
 anxiety and affection for Ion that made her 
 so irritable, and unable to bear contradic- 
 tion ; and as his illness had much the same
 
 120 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 effect on the invalid himself, the result was 
 very trying for all parties. 
 
 Hugh at once perceived his brothers 
 efforts to avoid further wrano-lino;, and 
 eagerly threw himself into the breach, ready 
 to do anything — even invent adventures 
 — for his amusement. 
 
 Truth to tell, he found the few days 
 which he passed at the castle hang very 
 heavily on hand. He went out hunting one 
 day; but the thought of Ion cowering over 
 the fire spoilt his pleasure, and the wistful 
 look in his brother's eyes, as he had watched 
 him start from the hall window, went to 
 Hugh's heart, and haunted him all day. The 
 longer he stayed, the more his brother's con- 
 dition depressed him, and the more surely 
 he realised the change that a few months 
 only had wrought ; and one day, as he 
 and his father were sitting together in the 
 smoking-room after dinner, he said that he
 
 HUGH MOORE. 121 
 
 thought Ion was quite right, and that he 
 ought to go abroad. 
 
 " So do I," said Lord Glengarn, " and I 
 shall begin to make arrangements for going 
 to Cannes. The boy has set his heart on it, 
 and that is enough. Dr Morris talks of 
 Bournemouth, but Ion won't hear of it." 
 
 " Well, Cannes would be livelier. It is a 
 pity my mother is so dead against it. I 
 think it worries him. I tell you what," — 
 and Hugh choked a little as he spoke, — " it's 
 as much as a fellow can stand to see old Ion 
 like this. He used to be up to anything, 
 and now the least thing upsets him ; and his 
 gallant attempts, every now and then, to 
 seem as if he was all right, are almost worse 
 than all." 
 
 "It is most* disheartening; and Morris 
 was so confident he could cure him in next 
 to no time — and now he says he's no consti- 
 tution. Why, as you say, the boy used to
 
 122 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 be up to everything, and as strong as a horse. 
 I can't understand this sudden l^reak-do^Ti." 
 
 There was a pause, while the father and 
 son gazed into the fire, and the smoke 
 from their pipes ascended in meditative 
 curves. 
 
 " Haven't you had any other doctor ? " 
 said Hugh, presently. 
 
 " Oh yes ; a fellow from Dublin came over 
 one day, — can't remember his name. He 
 said Morris was doing the right thing ; and 
 then they put their heads together, and said 
 the place was damp — and that made your 
 mother angry." 
 
 " Well, it is damp," said Hugh ; " the 
 mist was awfully thick over the lake to-night." 
 Perhaps a remembrance of the glowing climes 
 of Corfu flashed across him for the moment ; 
 but he continued, " I tell you what, father — 
 I wish you would have that swampy bit 
 between the lake and the house drained."
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 123 
 
 '' All riglit, if you will provide the money. 
 The fact is, I have none to spare." 
 
 "I am very sorry," said Hugh. After a 
 moment's consideration he continued, hold- 
 ing his pipe between his fingers, and looking 
 straight before him — " I am very sorry in- 
 deed, for I was going to ask you for 
 some." 
 
 It was a considerable effort to sjDeak of his 
 debts at such a moment. Had he been only 
 the easy-going fellow some of his friends 
 thought him, he w^ould have put it off to a 
 more convenient season ; but he knew too 
 well the misery of any less straightforward 
 expedient, and made his j)lunge boldly. His 
 father asked how much he wanted, and was 
 relieved to hear him name a comparatively 
 small sum. 
 
 *'You shall have it, my boy," he said, 
 laying his hand affectionately on his son's 
 shoulder, — '^ nothing like starting fair in
 
 124 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 a fresh place. Don't you ever be afraid to 
 come to your old father when you are in 
 difficulties. You are a good Ijoy, and I was 
 young myself once. But be careful now, 
 and don't spend more than you can help, 
 for times are bad, and I get hardly any 
 rents." 
 
 " Was the harvest so bad ao-ain ? " asked 
 Hugh, more deeply touched by his father's 
 confidence and generosity than he could 
 express. 
 
 " The harvest was fair — fair; but the people 
 don't pay. Why should they, when, by hold- 
 ing out a little longer, they will get some 
 more reduction? They'll live rent-free at 
 last, and the landlords will be shoved out 
 altogether. But that won't happen in my 
 time — at least, I think not, though things 
 march pretty fast in these days. Talk of 
 progress indeed ! It isn't much progress I 
 have seen since I was a boy. Solomon tells
 
 HUGH MOORE. 125 
 
 US not to say that the old times were better 
 than the new ; but, upon my word, I think 
 they were ! " 
 
 " There will be a turn of the wheel some 
 day," said Hugh. 
 
 "Well, there may — there may. Not in 
 my time. And you can't put back the 
 confidence and good understanding between 
 classes, when that has once been disturbed. 
 You can't prevent people making land a 
 speculation, and agreements between land- 
 lord and tenant a matter of hard money- 
 bargaining, like any other buying and sell- 
 ing ; for, mind you, if you do away with the 
 present class of landlords, you will get a 
 much harder set in their place, with a regular 
 commercial spirit, and no consideration for 
 poverty or distress. Depend upon it, it's 
 easier to destroy than to build up again. 
 
 " However, thank heaven, you aren't one 
 of these new-fangled economists ; and, to
 
 126 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 come l^ack to what I was saying, I shall have 
 to live carefully enough just for the present, 
 for there will 1)e a heavy drain on my purse, 
 what with this illness of Ion's, and the going 
 abroad, and all that. I shall have to take 
 your mother and him out to Cannes, and per- 
 haps stay there too myself; so I shall want 
 some one to look after my affairs here while 
 I am away. I tell you what, my boy ; if you 
 ever marry, — and I hope you will, and keep 
 up the family — for God knows if Ion will 
 live to do it, — you must take care that 
 the young woman has some money." 
 
 Hugh made no response, but looked gloom- 
 ily down, 2^nffing away at his pipe, and his 
 father said questioningly — 
 
 "Anything the matter? Your mother 
 and I have often talked the subject over, and 
 only the other day it struck us that Sir 
 Edward Nevill's daughter would l)e the very 
 thing."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 127 
 
 " Sir Edward Nevill ? Who on earth do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 "The Admiral at Eastport. He married 
 Lady Katherine Drury, who used to be one 
 of my best partners in old days — days when 
 I was in the Guards, and she was having her 
 first or second season. She was such a pretty 
 girl. And I hear her daughter is quite 
 as pretty, and the only child, and will come 
 in for her mother's money as well as Sir 
 Edward's." 
 
 " Oh ay ! I remember now, — Drake's 
 cousin. I fancy I am forestalled there, sir. 
 There is a cousin in the cjuestion, who is 
 coming to Eastport as the Admiral's flag- 
 lieutenant ; and you know a cousin is a 
 serious obstacle." 
 
 " Oh, well, I don't know ; that depends. 
 Anyhow, there is no harm in keeping your 
 eyes open." 
 
 " I shall certainly do that. But as to any-
 
 128 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 thing further, pray put it out of your head. 
 On my own account, quite independently 
 of Miss Nevill's cousin, I could not think 
 of it." 
 
 *' And pray why not ? " 
 
 " Well, in the first place, I hate making 
 plans like that about any girl — in short, I 
 couldn't do it ; and in the next place, I am 
 bound by honour elsewhere." 
 
 " Good gracious, Hugh ! " cried poor Lord 
 Glengarn, startled and alarmed ; " and you 
 never told us ! Pray explain yourself. How 
 long has this secret arrangement been 
 going on ? " 
 
 It required a tremendous effort on Hugh's 
 part to proceed, and his tone became defiant 
 in proportion. 
 
 " I daresay you will be shocked, but pray 
 hear me to the end. It is Miss Wilson, the 
 Consul's daughter at Corfu, who " 
 
 " The Consul's daughter ! Good gracious!"
 
 (( 
 
 ii 
 
 HUGH MOORE. 129 
 
 once more ejaculated Lord Glengarn, but 
 under his breath. 
 
 " She is very pretty and charming." 
 
 " Oh, of course ! " still sotto voce. 
 
 " And her father treated her like a brute 
 on my account : and when I found out how 
 unhappy she was, and I was going away, 
 what could I do ? " 
 
 And she has nothing, I suppose ? " 
 No." 
 
 " And how will you live on nothing, pray ? 
 Do you expect me to support the Consul's 
 daughter ? " 
 
 " Certainly not ; but we are not going to 
 be married to-morrow." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it ! But am I to 
 understand it is a formal engagement ? AVill 
 the lady be willing to wait ? " 
 
 "Clara would be willing, but her father 
 won't hear of it at all. Indeed he almost 
 kicked me out of doors." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 " Well, this passes everything ! A son of 
 mine scorned by a Levantine Consul ! Pray 
 proceed." 
 
 " I have nothing more to tell you if you 
 take it in that way," said Hugh, with a 
 stony feeling in his heart, as he realised how 
 bad it all looked, and that, for all he had 
 done towards gaining his fathers consent, 
 he had better have kept silence on the sub- 
 ject altogether. The shock to Lord Glen- 
 garn had indeed been terrible ; but after a 
 minute or two, his spirits rose as he com- 
 prehended the full significance of the Consul's 
 disapproval ; and he was ready now to argue 
 with his son, trying to prove to him that 
 his honour was by no means concerned in 
 this silly engagement with Clara Wilson. 
 
 But on this point Hugh was not to be 
 converted. He knew that she loved him, 
 and he was not going to desert her at a 
 moment's notice, just because his father
 
 HUGH MOORE. 131 
 
 treated the whole subject so much more 
 lightly than he did himself. Moreover, the 
 fair Clara had run the gauntlet as far as 
 detection was concerned ; and only that 
 morning a letter with the Corfu post-mark 
 had been lying on his plate when he came 
 down to breakfast. it would hardly be 
 truthful to say that he was pleased when he 
 opened the envelope and saw Clara's familiar 
 signature ; but his heart melted as he read 
 the letter, and pictured the glowing face and 
 lustrous eyes that had bent over it. Once 
 more the spell of her fascination domineered 
 over his better judgment, and he began to 
 feel twinges of remorse when he recollected 
 he was bound by his 2)romise to Mr Wilson 
 not to return any answer to all those en- 
 dearing professions. But, after all, he was 
 really craving for sympathy ; and directly 
 his father assumed a softer tone and manner, 
 lie poured out the whole story, laying more
 
 132 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 than enough stress on the extent of his own 
 attentions to Clara, and putting out of sight 
 her own evident efforts to attract his admir- 
 ation. Indeed, Hugh had almost succeeded 
 in forgetting them himself. 
 
 The old lord listened very attentively, and 
 did not fail to observe the somewhat strained 
 tone in which Hugh spoke. He knew his 
 son too well not to notice the want of natur- 
 alness and freedom in the w^ay he talked of 
 Clara, and Hugh saw that he was not making 
 much impression ; so, as a last resource, 
 he laid the letter before his father. This 
 is what he read : — 
 
 "Dear Mr Moore, — It was very kind 
 of you to write to me, and it comforted me 
 a little ; and, indeed, I needed comfort, for 
 I have been very miserable since you left. 
 Papa says he made you promise not to 
 do it again ; but that is all nonsense. Do,
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 133 
 
 please, write to me, for I am so unhappy. 
 You see I am going to send you this 
 letter in spite of papa, and I shall manage 
 to get your letters all right. Oh, dear Mr 
 Moore ! don't forget all about me, now you 
 have gone away. I shall die if you do ! 
 Papa is very unkind to me, and I don't 
 care for any lawn - tennis or anything. I 
 was in bed quite ill for two days, and I am 
 never hungry now. 
 
 I always go every day and look over the 
 harbour, and watch the ships and the moun- 
 tains you used to talk about, and I think, 
 not every day but every hour, of that dance 
 on the Eoyal Britain. Every night I count 
 the days, and say to myself how many it 
 is since you left, and when you will come 
 again. Please, i^lease write and tell me 
 when you are coming. I see Mr AVard very 
 often, but I dare not ask him about you. 
 Did you have a good voyage, and get safe
 
 134 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 to Ireland ? Please tell me about everything. 
 If you knew how wretched I am without you, 
 you would not care about papa. I am sure 
 he will give in soon, and then everything will 
 come right. Corfu is very dull now, and the 
 weather has changed and got wet and stormy 
 since you left. How I wish I were going to 
 Eastport too ! I am dreadfully afraid you will 
 be angry with me for writing to you, but 
 I could not help it ; and every day I shall 
 watch and wait for the post till I get your 
 answer. — Yours ever, Clara Wilson. 
 
 " P.S.—l forgot to tell you that Mr Ward 
 says that he will take care of any letters 
 for me that you send. Then it will be quite 
 safe. He is very kind to me, now you are 
 gone." 
 
 Lord Glengarn fairly burst out laughing 
 when he had perused this epistle.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 135 
 
 " Upon my word, Hugh," he said, " is it 
 possible that you have lost your heart to 
 this child?" 
 
 " She is childish," said Hugh, parrying 
 the question rather than answering it ; '' but 
 that is her bringing-up." 
 
 "It is her bringing-up, I suppose, that 
 makes her utterly disregard her fathers 
 wishes and your promises ? Strikes me her 
 code of honour isn't very fine ! " 
 
 " Well, I daresay not ; her mother was a 
 Greek." 
 
 "An answer worthy of John Bull himself! 
 Did her mother teach her to tell stories too ? 
 Just look at the letter : in one breath she 
 says she dare not speak to Mr Ward about 
 you, and in the next that Mr Ward will be 
 the medium of correspondence between you. 
 How do you explain that ? " 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure," said Hugh. 
 
 " You confess that puzzled you ? Well,
 
 136 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 to sum up this young lady's qualifica- 
 tions — she is childish, penniless, has no 
 idea of the value of a promise, or of the 
 duty of obedience, or of truth, and has 
 a pretty considerable idea how to flirt." 
 
 Hugh could not help smiling, l3ut he knit 
 his brows and answered — " That is one side. 
 The other is, that she is young and very 
 pretty, confiding and affectionate, and with 
 no mother to guard her, and is hardly treated 
 by her father." 
 
 " She makes the most of that, no doubt ; 
 but really, if I was blessed with such a 
 daughter, I think I should keep a pretty 
 tight hand over her. Now, my dear boy, 
 be reasonable. Is she, do you think in your 
 sober senses, a woman who would make you 
 happy as a wife ? And if she were, have 
 you any prospect of being able to marr}' 
 her ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, to the last question."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 137 
 
 *' If you were honest with yourself, you 
 would say so to the first too. The fact is, 
 you are afraid." 
 
 '' Well," said Hugh at last, " the fact is, I 
 am afraid of being dishonourable." 
 
 " Just so ; and you won't do the dishon- 
 ourable thing — which would be to write to 
 this girl, as she implores you to do. As to 
 dishonour, I see none in letting an affair 
 drop which can never come to a satisfactory 
 conclusion. Depend u23on it, she will soon 
 console herself with some one else. It seems 
 to me she has already begun the process 
 with your friend Ward." 
 
 " I don't believe it ! " cried Hugh, warmly. 
 " I'm certain Jack Ward would never play me 
 such a nasty trick." 
 
 " Ah ! Well, at my age one gets more scep- 
 tical. You have uulimited faith in human 
 nature. What a pity that one gets unde- 
 ceived ! However, you will make up your
 
 138 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 mind, won't you, my dear boy, not to do 
 anything rash ? " 
 
 " I have made up my mind to that. I 
 have promised Mr Wilson not to write to 
 Clara, and I won't. I shall make Ward give 
 her a message from me not to expect it." 
 
 " How much longer does Ward stop there?" 
 
 " I don't know. I thought he would have 
 been gone before this." 
 
 " Well, don't keep up a fire of messages 
 with Miss Wilson ; and above all things, 
 Hugh, don't say a word of all this to your 
 mother — it will only worry her, and do no 
 good." 
 
 " I promise you that," said Hugh, who 
 was much more afraid of her than of his 
 father. 
 
 Lady Glengarn had a truly feminine disre- 
 gard for logic, and her arguments were chiefly 
 assertions : when you had a very strong case, 
 this did not so much matter ; but when, as
 
 HUGH MOORE. 139 
 
 ■ 
 
 in the present instance, the case resolved 
 itself into a point of honour, which it was 
 more than probable she would ignore even 
 more completely than lier husband had done, 
 the contest would be irritatins; — and Hus-h 
 did not like to feel angry with any woman, 
 least of all with his mother.
 
 140 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " She knows a deeper statescraft, sirs, than yon." 
 
 It must be confessed that, at the end of 
 another week, a summons from the Admiral 
 at Eastport, appointing the day when he was 
 to take up his work there, was not altogether 
 unwelcome to Huojh. Anxious thouefh he 
 was to do all in his power to make the time 
 pass less heavily for his brother, there was 
 something in the atmosphere of the Castle 
 that oppressed him. There was less than 
 usual going on, both in his home and in the 
 neighbourhood, and his thoughts were in 
 consequence free to brood more persistently 
 than was agreeable upon the recent events of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 141 
 
 his life, and his present unsatisfactory posi- 
 tion. As the days wore on, he noted, to his 
 surprise, that his mother's ojDi^osition to the 
 Cannes idea had suddenly vanished, and she 
 began to take the keenest interest in all the 
 plans and arrangements for the journey, and 
 was even anxious to hasten the departure as 
 much as possible. She never told anybody 
 how it was that. Ion's illness became a much 
 more serious matter in her eyes ; but she ^ 
 went about the house with a look in her face 
 as if she had some secret j^ain gnawing at 
 her heart, and hardly let any one but herself 
 wait upon her son. 
 
 Hugh did what he could to help them by 
 writing to some friends at Cannes, who pro- 
 mised to find rooms for the party at one of 
 the hotels ; and Ion's spirits began to revive 
 at the thought of a change. His lirother's 
 society had unconsciously been of great 
 service to him, by bringing him more in
 
 142 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 contact with the outside world, tind causing 
 him to forget for the time what he patheti- 
 cally spoke of as " crushing hard luck." His 
 mother's temperament was too like his own 
 to make her a good nurse for him — she never 
 saw how it fretted and teased him to be 
 always asked how he felt ; whereas Hugh 
 possessed the wonderful knack of always 
 seeming to know whether his brother were 
 tired or not, without making any remark 
 on the subject. 
 
 When, in addition to his strength, it is 
 given to a man to exercise the tact and gen- 
 tleness of a woman, his services are never 
 willingly parted with for a moment by the 
 invalid. Had it not been for a generous 
 regard for his mother's feelings, Hugh would 
 have haunted his brother's rooms much oftener 
 than he did already. 
 
 The last week of his stay was enlivened by 
 the presence of his married sister, who, in
 
 HUGH MOORE. 143 
 
 spite of her husband's absence in America, 
 contrived to leave her chiklren, though she 
 was never quite happy out of their sight, in 
 order to spend a few days at the Castle before 
 the general flitting to Cannes. Mrs Fitz- 
 gerald had always been Hugh's confidante, 
 and her arrival was, at this particular junc- 
 ture, an immense comfort to him. They had 
 not been very long together before all his 
 troubles and perplexities were poured into her 
 sympathising ears. She was still quite young 
 and very lively, devoted to athletics of all 
 sorts and kinds, and yet not wanting in 
 feminine tact, and of peculiarly quick sym- 
 pathy. They were riding together when the 
 name of Clara Wilson first slipped out ; and 
 by the time the whole history had been drawn 
 from her l)rother, she had formed her own con- 
 clusions. The state of the case appeared even 
 clearer to her than it had to her father ; and, 
 woman-like, slie was more severe on Clara.
 
 144 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Bound to her, forsooth ! Stuff and non- 
 sense! I didn't know your liead was so full 
 of sentimental absurdity ! " 
 
 " It's all very well to talk of absurdity, 
 Nora ; but who was it who was so indignant 
 with Teddy Barnes for throwing over Miss 
 Waters ? " 
 
 " Captain Barnes ! Don't talk to me about 
 him ! That was an utterly and entirely 
 different thing. They were actually engaged, 
 and she was a charming girl, and hadn't 
 thrown herself at his head." 
 
 "And who told you Miss Wilson had, 
 either ? " 
 
 " You think I have no eyes ? " 
 
 "You can't see through a wall." 
 
 " I can see through a glass door. Really, 
 you men are incomprehensible ! You, who 
 might have had the pick of all the prettiest 
 Irish girls, to go and fall in love with a 
 stupid little thing out at Corfu ! Why
 
 HUGH MOORE. 145 
 
 don't you go to the moon and fall in love 
 there ? " 
 
 "Too long a journey. And, to crown it 
 all, my father goes and tells me it would be 
 a most suitable and desirable thing, and all 
 that is proper and charming, if I were to 
 marry Sir Edward Nevill's daughter ! " 
 
 " Oh do, Hugh, do ! " cried Nora, letting 
 her reins drop and clasping her hands ; " it 
 would be the very thing. She is lovely. I 
 met her in London last year. Oh, do ask 
 her if she remembers me ! " 
 
 " I am sure she won't. You are far too 
 insignificant." 
 
 " Don't be rude. Oh, Hugh, do marry her ! 
 I should love to have her for a sister-in-law." 
 
 " I never do anything that's proper, as you 
 know well enough ; and I certaii^ly don't 
 intend to marry to give you a sister-in-law. 
 You'll have to be thankful for any one I 
 bring you in that capacity." 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 ^'If it's Miss Wilson, I shall figlit her 
 within the first half-hour of our introduction." 
 
 " Clara never fights." 
 
 "What a poor, mean-spirited creature!" 
 turning up her pretty little nose. " What 
 on earth would happen if we were all so 
 meek and mild ? and what would all you 
 men of war do ? " 
 
 " Is that remark addressed to me, or are 
 you referring to an ironclad ? " 
 
 Nora laughed, and shook her riding-whip 
 at him. 
 
 " By the by, is it true," she asked, " that 
 we are to have another African war ? " 
 
 " I am not in the secret any more than 
 you are. It would be good news for me." 
 
 " You would volunteer directly ? " 
 
 " Of course — and thank my stars for such 
 a chance." 
 
 *' Poor Hugh ! tired of his playing at 
 soldiers ! "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 147 
 
 " It's no playing, I can tell you." 
 
 " Oh no ! Poor boy ! he never gets any 
 leave — always starving, night and day — 
 never has any fun — never time to go abroad 
 and fall in love — never time to ride about 
 the country with his sister." 
 
 " It pleases you to be facetious, Mrs Fitz- 
 gerald," said Hugh, with only the ghost of a 
 smile curling his moustache. "Be thankful 
 that your husband isn't a man of war at all, 
 but only a pleasure-yacht." 
 
 *' Fie, for shame ! a pleasure-yacht indeed ! 
 Who does more work than he, I should like 
 to know ? " 
 
 " Oh, no one but his wife — and she's the 
 hardest-worked woman in the country ! " 
 
 Hugh was smiling now, broadly. 
 
 "You needn't laugh, Hugli ; it's j^erfcctly 
 true. But you men never believe that a 
 woman docs anything." 
 
 " I grant you she's busy enougli, even if
 
 148 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 her work doesn't count for much. But then, 
 many a yacht goes more miles in a year than 
 a man-of-war." 
 
 " And does more work, and costs the coun- 
 try nothing. All an excellent parable." 
 
 " Humph ! and would be as helpless as you 
 would be in any real danger." 
 
 " Helpless ! Eeally, Hugh, you take one's 
 breath away. You are too impertinent to 
 be talked to to-day. I think your stay at 
 Corfu has made you imbecile — or Miss Wil- 
 son has spoilt you. I retract that desire of 
 mine that you should marry Dorothy Nevill 
 — you are not worthy of her." 
 
 " Dorothy Nevill ! What a pretty name ! " 
 
 " Much prettier than Clara Wilson — much 
 too pretty for you. I tell you she's love- 
 ly, only you are not worthy to appreciate 
 her." 
 
 " Thank you, my sister. Now a truce to 
 these amenities, for we must behave respect-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 149 
 
 ably indoors, and I see poor Ion's face at the 
 window." 
 
 *' Speak for yourself. When was I other 
 than respectability personified? Though, 
 really, it's a wonder I can bear up at all, 
 considering I have a husband in California ; 
 one brother so rude that I can't speak to 
 him, and another in a consumption ; and a 
 mother " 
 
 " Come, not a word against her ! It's 
 bad enough for us to see Ion like this, but 
 ten times worse for her. I would give all 
 I possess to see the old boy look as he 
 used to." 
 
 " So would I, I am sure," said Nora, with 
 an irrepressible sigh, as they entered the 
 house. 
 
 When one is young and happy, the atmo- 
 sphere of grief and sickness seems so un- 
 natural that it is almost unbearable : one 
 turns away from it with relief, and faces it
 
 150 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 again with a sickening feeling of intolerance. 
 That ride through the light fresh air had 
 driven away from the brother and sister, for 
 the time being, the atmosphere of oppression 
 which hung round their home ; and now it 
 came back upon them with a fresh sense of 
 weight and weariness, which they made an 
 instinctive effort to throw off. It is so hard 
 to learn to suffer. We think we are meant 
 to be happy, and it needs many years and 
 many severe lessons to undeceive us. The 
 last lesson of all is to expect sorrow, and to 
 bear it calmly without trying to get rid of 
 it ; and some people never learn that at all. 
 
 Three days after Hugh's departure for 
 Eastport, the Glengarn party set off for 
 Cannes. Nothing more had been said by his 
 father on the subject of Clara AVilson ; but 
 Hugh had written to Jack Ward, telling him 
 to let her know he could not on any account 
 break his word to her father by writing to
 
 HUGH MOORE. 151 
 
 her. Not long after his arrival at Eastport, 
 he received a letter from his friend, announc- 
 ing his intention of spending the winter at 
 Corfu, and of proceeding to Eastport in the 
 spring. He enclosed another message from 
 Miss Wilson, to the effect that if Mr Moore 
 didn't write to her, she was quite sure he 
 could not care for her, and she would prob- 
 ably die. Hugh did not quite believe that 
 threat, but it did not tend to make him more 
 cheerful ; and altogether his residence at 
 Eastport began under rather melancholy 
 auspices. 
 
 The hints thrown out by his father with 
 regard to Miss Nevill made him dislike 
 the idea of meeting her, and he was re- 
 solved at any rate not to call at Admiralty 
 House before it was absolutely necessary. 
 He was thrown, of course, more amonof the 
 military than the naval circles ; but the 
 society of Eastport was sutiiciently small to
 
 152 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 be a grand field for gossip, and Sir Edward 
 Nevill and his family were fully and freely 
 discussed. Miss Blanche Harvey, in her 
 bright red dress, was seen everywhere, and 
 knew everybody. Hugh was no exception. 
 When, at a reception of his chiefs, he hap- 
 pened to receive the honour of an introduc- 
 tion, she proceeded to enlighten him then 
 and there as to the private histories of most 
 of the other guests, but also of the Admiral 
 and his party, who were not present. Hugh 
 did not talk scandal himself; but he was 
 much entertained by this young lady, — no 
 longer, by the by, in the first bloom of 
 youth, — and listened to her with so much 
 attention, that she flattered herself she had 
 made an impression. He ventured to say he 
 had heard rumours of Miss Nevill's beauty. 
 
 " Ah yes ! "* said Miss Harvey ; " she is 
 pretty in a way. Depends which style of 
 beauty you admire. Men mostly admire
 
 HUGH MOORE. 153 
 
 the fair insipid sort" — with a little giggle. 
 " Which do you ? Fair or dark ? 
 
 " Dark," he answered, rather absently, 
 thinking of Clara; but Miss Harvey, who 
 considered herself a brunette, took it as a 
 personal compliment, and went on with 
 more assurance — 
 
 " Then I'll bet you anything you'll be 
 disappointed in Miss Nevill. I quite agree 
 with you, however. You would say, of 
 course, that girls are never fair judges of 
 each other's charms " — with another giggle. 
 
 " There is no fear of jealousy, at any rate, 
 in this case," said Hugh, smiling; and Miss 
 Harvey fell in love with him on the spot, 
 and became most confidential. 
 
 *' It is said, of course, that she has a great 
 many admirers ; but then, you know, sailors 
 are so indiscriminate. They have no taste, 
 and always fall into the first snare that is 
 laid for them."
 
 154 HUGH xMOORE. 
 
 " And you think we soldiers are more 
 particular ? " 
 
 " How can you ask ? " — with a little smirk 
 above her fan. " However, you mustn't 
 think Dorothy Nevill is ugly ; and she 
 sets herself up for being awfully clever, 
 too." 
 
 " How very alarming ! " 
 
 " Ah ! you don't like clever women ? For 
 my part, I think it's nonsense for girls trying 
 to educate themselves as if they were men, 
 and going in for Greek, and being doctors, 
 and all that. What do they want with such 
 stuff? I am quite sure men don't like them 
 any the better for it." 
 
 " Perhaps that is not their object," said 
 Hugh ; and Miss Harvey shrugged her 
 shoulders incredulously, and remarked — 
 
 " I should be sorry to be the old women 
 they practise upon." 
 
 " What ! practise Greek on old 'women ? "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 155 
 
 " No, no ; medicine " — laughing as much as 
 she dared, for she was very tight-laced. 
 
 " And Miss Nevill prescribes for old 
 women ? " 
 
 " Oh, I expect so. She is the goody-goody 
 sort, you know — goes about with tracts in 
 one hand, and poison in the other." 
 
 " Dear me ! " cried Hugh ; "I hope she 
 won't try either experiment on me ! " 
 
 " Depend upon it, she will," laughed Miss 
 Harvey. " Oh, bother ! there's papa moving, 
 and I must go. Come and see us, won't you ? 
 Tea and muffins. Come and tell me how you 
 get on with Miss Nevill. Bye-bye." 
 
 *' What a caution ! " thought Hugh, as he 
 turned on his heel ; and then — " Dorothy 
 Nevill and tracts ! That's the line, is it ? But 
 one can't believe anything that creature says. 
 A garrison hack, with a vengeance ! Beastly 
 place this Eastport." 
 
 A few days later he was dining at the
 
 156 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Club, and nearly the first person he saw 
 there was Charlie Drake. 
 
 " Holloa, Moore 1 you here ? I had no idea 
 you had arrived. My people said they had 
 seen nothing of you." 
 
 " I have only been here a short time," 
 said Hugh, rather ashamed of himself, for 
 Drake had pressed him to call at Admiralty 
 House directly he arrived at Eastport. 
 
 " If I had known it, I would have come 
 and looked you up. But you must come 
 and call on my aunt. She's a good-natured 
 old body," he added, irreverently ; " and I 
 want you to know my cousin Dorothy." 
 
 " I have heard a great deal of her," said 
 Hugh. 
 
 "All the women are awfully jealous of 
 her good looks," said her cousin ; " but she 
 is not stuck-up a bit, as some of them would 
 be. She's an uncommonly good sort, though 
 I say it as shouldn't."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 157 
 
 "So I should judge, from what Miss 
 Harvey told me the other day." 
 
 " Whew ! 'taint often that that young 
 woman has a good word for any one, spe- 
 cially one of her own sex." 
 
 " One judges by contraries sometimes." 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! " said Drake, laughing. " Well, 
 by this time Dorothy can stand a little of 
 Blanche Harvey's venomous tongue, and it 
 won't do her much harm. By the way, 
 have you heard lately from Corfu ? " 
 
 Hugh did not think the connection be- 
 tween the two remarks very obvious. Had 
 any venomous tongues been wagging at his 
 expense in Corfu, he wondered ? 
 
 " I heard the other day from Ward," he 
 answered, glancing sharply at Drake's face 
 as he spoke ; " he is going to stay the winter." 
 
 " So he told me. It strikes me he has 
 found an attraction there." 
 
 " Oh indeed ! " said Hugh, with rather
 
 158 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 a forced laugh ; but lie could not Ijring him- 
 self to pronounce Clara's name. 
 
 "Ay," said Drake, as indifferently as he 
 could, but eyeing Hugh curiously to see 
 how he took the information; " he seems to 
 find Miss Wilson's society very charming, and 
 I should not greatly wonder if they were to 
 make a match of it before the winter is out." 
 
 " I should hardly think so. Jack Ward 
 is not the fellow to do anything rash ; " and 
 Hugh was dimly conscious of two very con- 
 flicting lines of thought rushing through 
 his mind as he spoke. If one was jealousy, 
 was the other relief? 
 
 " Oh, as to that, one never knows, and the 
 people one is in the habit of crediting with 
 most wisdom do the queerest things." 
 
 "Well, he might do worse," said Hugh, 
 rather sharply ; so that Charlie began to feel 
 he was treading on dangerous ground, and 
 hastened to change the subject by saying
 
 HUGH MOORE. 159 
 
 he was anxious to introduce Hugh to his 
 uncle, who was in the room. The Admiral 
 greeted Moore very kindly, said he had 
 heard of him from his ne|)hew, and hoped 
 they should see him at Admiralty House. 
 " We want some red coats among our blue," 
 he said ; " the ladies complain that the dances 
 are very dull when there are none." 
 
 Hugh thanked him, and said he hoped 
 soon to pay his respects to Lady Katherine. 
 
 " She knew your father, she tells me," 
 said Sir Edward. " You have just come from 
 Ireland, I think ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hugh ; " I paid them a flying 
 visit before coming here." 
 
 How is the country going on ? " 
 They are quiet enough about us, l)ut my 
 father rather expects another storm is brew- 
 ing. The tenants hold back their rents in 
 hopes of another reduction, and the land- 
 
 ii 
 
 a 
 
 lords are retrenching all round. 
 
 >>
 
 160 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " H'm ! hard on them. I thank my stars 
 I am not an Irish Landlord." 
 
 "It is a grand country, though," said 
 Hugh, his patriotic blood rising at the 
 hinted inferiority of Ireland ; " and the 
 people are very decent if they are decently 
 governed." 
 
 " I believe you are right there," cried the 
 Admiral. " I tell you what, — a representa- 
 tive government is the curse of that country : 
 a good dictator is what you want." 
 
 " They are not very easy to find, I am 
 afraid." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! that is what all you young 
 men think," said the Admiral, with a smile ; 
 " but take my word for it, there's plenty of 
 good stuff to be found, if you only know 
 where to look for it. Take your service, 
 take mine, — is there any difficulty in getting 
 men to command when they are wanted ? 
 When arc we worsted in the loiio-run?
 
 HUGH MOORE. 161 
 
 The men never fail us — neither the men to 
 command nor the men to follow. But in 
 Ireland they are not given a chance — one 
 day in power, the next out of it ; and even 
 when they are in power, governed by wire 
 from Downing Street — monstrous system ! 
 monstrous ! Upon my word, I think it's a 
 wonder the country gets on as well as it 
 does. However, in spite of all that, things 
 look better ; and I believe we have rounded 
 the corner, and are getting into calmer water 
 now. Does not your father think so ? " 
 
 " I don't think he is very hopeful," said 
 Hugh. 
 
 " Well, I daresay living in the midst of it 
 all makes it difficult to see the signs of im- 
 provement which we at a distance notice," 
 replied the Admiral, with a serene optimism 
 and persuasion of his own clear-sightedness 
 which amused Plugh, though he afterwards 
 learned to look upon it as a happy charactcr- 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 162 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 istic of Sir Edward, who was very ojiinionated, 
 but had nothing of the intolerance and bitter- 
 ness of bigotry in his composition. 
 
 This meeting with Drake, and the intro- 
 duction to his uncle, left Hugh without a 
 shadow of excuse for postponing any longer 
 his afternoon call at Admiralty House, and 
 a day or two afterwards he sallied forth to 
 perform this duty ; but as he was shutting 
 the hall-door behind him, a particularly dirty- 
 looking child suddenly accosted him, and 
 thrust a letter into his hand. Hugh was 
 considerably astonished ; and if it had been 
 a man who had pushed his unwashen hand 
 into his neatly gloved one, he would prob- 
 ably have dropped the paper and passed on : 
 but he could not resist the pleading eyes of 
 a little child, even though he were ragged 
 and dirty. In the badly written and almost 
 unintelligible epistle he found himself en- 
 treated to go and visit a poor man — a former
 
 HUGH MOORE. 163 
 
 private in his regiment, and, moreover, an 
 Irishman — named Macartney, who, after leav- 
 ing the army, had got into trouble, and was 
 now in terrible difficulties, owing to illness 
 and debt. 
 
 Hugh followed the child into a gloomy 
 street, and up a rickety stair into a wretched 
 room, where he found the whole family in 
 the utmost misery. He did what he could 
 to help them at the time, j)i"omising future 
 assistance ; and perhaps his cheery words 
 did them more good than anything else. 
 He was always a favourite with the men 
 in the regiment, and it was Macartney's 
 remembrance of his kindness which had in- 
 duced him to send for Mr Moore in the hour 
 of his dire distress. Moreover, his brother's 
 illness made Hugh especially tender just then 
 to all sick men, and his presence seemed to 
 bring a gleam of sunshine into the gloom of 
 that little dark room.
 
 164 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Owing to this incident, it was already dusk 
 when at last he entered the dockyard, for 
 the days were now very short. 
 
 The policeman at the gate accosted him 
 with the usual formula — " Where are you 
 going, sir?" — and he answered, "To Admir- 
 alty House," and jDassed on unmolested. As 
 he said the words, the contrast between his 
 present destination and the abode he had 
 lately visited struck him forcibly, and he 
 pondered on the inequalities of Fortune as 
 he crossed the dockyard towards the house. 
 As he rang the bell, the bluejacket in wait- 
 ing in the hall instantly opened the door, 
 and across the softly carpeted hall he was 
 conducted to the drawing-room. There was 
 no time for moralising then ; for there were 
 voices within, and Lady Katherine advanced 
 to meet him. She was always ready to re- 
 ceive Charlie's friends graciously, and Hugh 
 impressed her favourably at first sight. He
 
 HUGH MOORE. 165 
 
 brought back old days, too, to her mind, 
 when she and his father had danced together 
 through the whole of one London season, 
 and then separated — as people so often are 
 separated in this world — perhaps never to 
 meet again. 
 
 Hugh was very like his father, or rather 
 like what Lord Glengarn had been ; and 
 so Lady Katherine told him when she 
 got to know him better. There was the 
 same lithe upright frame, slightly but 
 strongly built, the same fair hair and blue 
 eyes, the same straight nose ; but the mouth, 
 though similar, varied more in expression : 
 there was the same amiability, — would it be 
 deepened into seriousness, or be weakened 
 into self-indulgence ? 
 
 The drawing-room at Admiralty House 
 was singularly attractive, and Hugh never 
 forgot how it looked on that first afternoon. 
 It was barely dark yet ; and Lady Katherine,
 
 166 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 who loved half-lights, had only allowed one 
 shaded lamp to be brought in and j)laced 
 on the tea-table, which stood on the further 
 side of the room, leaving the rest only illum- 
 ined by the firelight. 
 
 There was hardly a piece of furniture or 
 an ornament which had not its history, from 
 carpets and cabinets down to fans and bits 
 of china. Sir Edward had picked them up 
 in his voyages all over the w^orld. He col- 
 lected, and his wife and daughter arranged. 
 But the room was not overcrowded : you 
 could walk about in comfort, without fear of 
 throwing down some precious little table at 
 every turn. And then there was another ad- 
 vantage — all the things were genuine : there 
 was no oriental porcelain manufactured at 
 Worcester, nor China screens made at Bir- 
 mingham, nor Venetian carving from War- 
 dour Street. Sir Edward was a collector, 
 and to some extent a connoisseur, before col-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 167 
 
 lecting became the rage ; and he was apt 
 to wax wroth with the wealthy ignoramuses 
 who spoilt the market by buying what they 
 knew nothing about. 
 
 Two fox-terriers belonging to Charlie were 
 lying on the hearth, while their master re- 
 galed them with morsels of tea-cake and 
 bread-and-butter. He had kept his word, 
 and was rapidly collecting a menagerie 
 around him. 
 
 But all this time Lady Katherine is pour- 
 ing out tea, and asking Hugh how he likes 
 Eastport. He was obliged to confess he did 
 not think it charming. 
 
 '^Well, it isn't," she allowed. "Outside 
 the dockyard it is horrid ; inside, as an 
 Admiral's wife, I am bound to think it 
 tolerable." 
 
 " This is much more than tolerable," said 
 Hugh, glancing round the cosy room, which 
 was not too large to be comfor talkie, and
 
 168 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 yet large enougli to contain a great many 
 people without crowding. 
 
 " Yes ; it is a very good house, with plenty 
 of accommodation for such a small party as 
 we are." 
 
 " Large enough even for a flag -lieuten- 
 ant," came from the figure stretched on the 
 hearthrug. 
 
 "And it must be large to take in such 
 an important person as you, Charlie, with 
 your extremely numerous family," said his 
 aunt, smiling. " You don't know what we 
 go through, Mr Moore, between dogs and 
 cats, birds, fishes, and reptiles. Our lives 
 are made a burden ; and I wonder we ever 
 get a servant to stop with us." 
 
 " Holloa, Fan ! " cried Drake, jumping up 
 as the door opened. " Come in and sup- 
 port your brother, who is being cruelly 
 slandered." 
 
 Frances entered the room in her riding-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 169 
 
 habit, and tlirougli the open door they 
 caught a vision of another taller figure, also 
 in a riding-habit ; but it did not come 
 nearer, and Frances closed the door and shut 
 it out. 
 
 " Here is Charlie's friend Mr Moore, 
 Frances," said her aunt, as Hugh placed a 
 low chair for her by the tea-table. 
 
 " Were you attacking Charlie ? " she asked, 
 raising her sparkling eyes to his face. 
 
 " Lady Katherine was attacking his men- 
 agerie," he replied. 
 
 " Then I cannot help standing up for you, 
 Charlie, for I do love all your creatures. 
 Come here, Spot, and have a bit of cake." 
 
 *' You will make him ill," said Drake, re- 
 signedly ; " he's had as much as he can 
 swallow already." 
 
 " Which means you are jealous of any one 
 feeding him ])ut yourself. Never mind, old 
 fellow, I know yours is cupboard-love ; but
 
 170 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 that lasts for ever, and is much more sensi])le 
 than the fancies people take for no reason 
 at all." 
 
 " What makes you so late, Frances ? " 
 asked Lady Katherine ; " and where is 
 Dorothy ? " 
 
 " The roads were so stony, we couldn't 
 trot, — they always are stony here," she re- 
 plied; " and as to Dolly, she said she didn't 
 want any tea, and went up-stairs. It is a 
 nasty raw evening, and I think it's going 
 to rain." 
 
 " A contrast to Corfu ! " said Lady Kath- 
 erine, turning to her visitor with a smile. 
 " How you must long to be back there ! " 
 
 Hugh was beginning to hate the sound of 
 Corfu, but he replied politely (wondering all 
 the time whether Drake had told on him) 
 that he had no wish to go back there just yet, 
 and he had almost forgotten to think about 
 it, and make comparisons as to weather, &c.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 171 
 
 '^ I was in Ireland for a week or two, and, if 
 possible, it was worse there than here," he 
 said. And then she questioned him as to 
 his father, and he told her about his brother's 
 illness, and found her motherly sympathy so 
 pleasant, that half an hour was gone before 
 he knew it ; and when he rose to go, he had 
 been mentally inscribed in her good books, 
 and she gave him a warm invitation to come 
 to a small dance they were giving on the 
 folio win oj week. 
 
 "You will see Frances then," she said, 
 deprecatingly ; ' ' she isn't out yet, but I let 
 her come down to our little dances. When 
 we give a big ball, she must stop up- 
 stairs." 
 
 " Cruelty ! " ejaculated Frances. "I do 
 love dancing ; don't you ? " to Hugh, with 
 another flash of her l)riglit dark eyes. And 
 he confessed lie did, which crowned the 
 favourable impression he had made.
 
 172 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 "He is not one of your languid swells," 
 observed Miss Frances, in her most deci- 
 sive tones, when the door had closed upon 
 him. " I like him, Aunt Katherine ; don't 
 you ? " 
 
 " I told you he was a good sort," said 
 Charlie, " and yet you seem as much as- 
 tonished as if my opinion were not worth 
 having." 
 
 " And you mean to say he is engaged to a 
 Greek girl — or a half Greek, which is worse ? 
 Impossible ! " cried his aunt ; " he ought not 
 to be allowed to throw himself away." 
 
 " I never said he was engaged. Don't you 
 go and tell Miss Harvey that, or she'll blaze 
 it abroad all over Eastport in no time." 
 
 " I have no intention of discussing Mr 
 Moore with Miss Harvey," said Lady Kath- 
 erine, in her most dignified manner, which 
 she was never able to maintain for more than 
 a few minutes too^ether.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 173 
 
 So Hugh had been to Admiralty House, 
 and had never seen Miss Nevill after all ! 
 
 He need not have fought so very shy of 
 it, then ; and he felt rather ridiculous as he 
 thought of his repugnance to such a simple 
 and agreeable call as he had just been 
 making. A pleasant old lady to talk to ; a 
 bright pretty girl to look at — a girl not out 
 of the schoolroom, and therefore not at all 
 alarming ; Charlie Drake to make things 
 doubly easy ; the vision of a riding-habit in 
 the distance, and the sounds of a few bars of 
 a German Volksliecl coming from some one 
 up-stairs, — and that was all. If he had heard 
 the words of the song, he might have thought 
 them an omen : — 
 
 " Wenii Menschen aiis einandergehn, 
 Da sagen sie auf wiedersehii — 
 Auf wiedersehn." 
 
 But " auf wiedersehn " to what ?
 
 174 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 " He was my friend, faithful and just to me." 
 
 It was said to be only a small dance at 
 Admiralty House, chiefly in order that 
 tender-hearted Lady Katherine should not 
 feel compelled to keep her pet niece up-stairs ; 
 but there were plenty of people, neverthe- 
 less — quite enough to make the ball-room 
 look bright and lively — while there was 
 sufficient room for the dancers to enjoy 
 •themselves thoroughly. The floor was 
 superb : had it not a character to main- 
 tain of being the best in Eastport ? — thanks 
 to the perpetual scrubbing and skating of 
 the bluejackets ; and what band could rival
 
 HUGH MOORE. 175 
 
 that of the Admiral ? It really was not a 
 matter of prejudice to say that none of the 
 ships' or regimental bands could compete 
 with it for a moment — in the matter of 
 dance music, at any rate. The bandmas- 
 ter, a German and a good musician, was 
 a great friend of Dorothea's, and she was 
 for ever discovering music, both old and 
 new, for his men to play ; and she took such 
 a keen interest in their performance, that it 
 was not surprising the result was above 
 mediocrity. 
 
 On this occasion most of the proverbial 
 Eastport belles were on view, and it might 
 be thought a poor compliment to Dorothea 
 to say she outshone them all. No doubt, in 
 a London ball-room she could have been 
 equalled and surpassed ; but here at East- 
 port, by common consent, she l)ore oft' the 
 palm. There was an air of distinction aljout 
 her tall graceful figure, and the glow of her
 
 1V6 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 deeply tinted complexion was set off to 
 perfection l)y her soft white gown ; while 
 her bright hair, coiled coronet-fashion round 
 her shapely head, gave just the finishing 
 touch to the admirable pose of her neck and 
 shoulders. But if her height was in the 
 abstract a thing to be admired, it was often 
 a source of actual inconvenience to her, and 
 more especially on an occasion like the pres- 
 ent. Naval men are proverbially short ; 
 there is also a common idea — whether true 
 or false, I will not say — that they are not 
 wanting in assurance : it is certainly true 
 that they are punctilious with regard to the 
 respect due to their superior officers and 
 their superior officers' families. Imagine, 
 then, the feelings of Dorothy Nevill, head 
 and shoulders taller than her cavalier, whirled 
 round and round a ball-room, the cynosure 
 of all admiring eyes ! When at length she 
 has ventured to suggest to her partner that
 
 HUGH MOORE. 177 
 
 a pause miglit be an agreeable variety, she 
 catches sight of her cousin, and regards her 
 with fenvious glances : there was never the 
 slightest fear that Frances Drake would find 
 a partner shorter than herself; but then — 
 consoling thought ! — there might be many a 
 partner too tall ! 
 
 But this night there was something Miss 
 Nevill dreaded still more than a dance with 
 a very short man, and that was a dance with 
 a certain very rich man, — a big star that had 
 lately risen on the Eastport horizon — Sir 
 John Hawker by name. Nobody knew much 
 about his antecedents, or why he had been 
 knighted ; but his wealth was very palpable, 
 and was being freely spent for the benefit of 
 the Eastport people, with a reference — so it 
 was whispered — to the probability of a con- 
 tested election occurring very shortly. The 
 present member was about to retire on 
 account of ill-health ; and as parties were 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 pretty evenly balanced, Sir John would liave 
 to fight a hard battle. Meanwhile he was 
 not bribing ; he was only spending his 
 money judiciously in aiding the local chari- 
 ties and encouraging local tradesmen. He 
 had been some time in the place before 
 Dorothea met him ; but her good looks had 
 made a considerable imj)ression upon him, 
 and at the last dance at which they had both 
 been present, he had been more marked in 
 his attentions than she at all approved. It 
 was not according to her ideas that he had 
 been asked this evening ; but by some means 
 or other he had evidently received an invita- 
 tion, and as soon as she saw him she went 
 hastily up to her cousin Drake, and said in 
 a low voice — 
 
 " Charlie, I can't and won't dance with Sir 
 John Hawker to-night. I shall say I am en- 
 gaged to you if he asks me." 
 
 *' Oh, I say, Dorothea, that's rather hard.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 179 
 
 I shall be awfully busy seeing after every one, 
 and I have lots of engagements already." 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? I can't dance 
 with that man ! " 
 
 '^What's the matter, Miss Nevill? Can 
 I help you ? " It was Captain Newman who 
 caught the last words, and saw her despair- 
 ing expression. She told him directly, and 
 he said, " Won't you let me do instead of 
 Drake ? I am hardly dancing at all, and I 
 should be much honoured." 
 
 " Will you really ? Oh, how kind of you ! " 
 and she gave him one of her fascinating 
 smiles, just as she was claimed for the next 
 dance and led off. 
 
 After all, the ball was well advanced be- 
 fore she could give Captain Newman a dance 
 and then he said — 
 
 " You look tired, Miss Nevill ; would you 
 rather sit out, or dance ? " 
 
 " I should like to sit down very mucli,"
 
 180 HtJGH MOORE. 
 
 she said, with the secret thought that dancing 
 was not one of Captain Newman's strongest 
 points ; so he led her out into the hall, where 
 there were delicious wide sofas, really rest- 
 ing-places, and where they could talk undis- 
 turbed. But he asked no questions, — he 
 never did, which sometimes a little provoked 
 Dorothea, and tempted her to think he did 
 not take any interest in the little everyday 
 occurrences which were l^rought so inces- 
 santly under his notice by the terms of 
 intimacy upon which he stood with them 
 all ; and then he would surprise her by say- 
 ing somethino; that showed that his observa- 
 tion was keen enough, and his memory 
 retentive. On this occasion, however, she 
 did not wait for him to begin the conver- 
 sation, for she felt she owed him some ex- 
 planation of her somewhat unconventional 
 proceedings. 
 
 "You must have thought me very odd
 
 HUGH MOORE. 181 
 
 just now, Captain Newman ; and I should 
 never have dreamed of asking; such a thino- 
 of you, if you had not been so very kind as 
 to offer. I was cross with Charlie because 
 he would not help me. I do hope you do 
 not really mind ? " 
 
 " I told you," he said, smiling, " that I 
 was only too happy to be of the least service 
 to you. I only hope you will always make 
 use of me whenever you can. My dancing 
 days are almost over, you know ; but when 
 you want a " 
 
 "Thank you so very much," said Doro- 
 thea ; then continuing, with a little hesita- 
 tion in her voice, " I really could not make 
 up my mind to dance with Sir John Hawker 
 to-night. I do wish he had not come here, 
 — there is something I cannot endure about 
 him." 
 
 " I don't much like the look of him 
 myself."
 
 182 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 This wa.s pretty strong for Cai;)taiii New- 
 man, who never expressed his opinions con- 
 cerning other people ; and Dorothea went 
 on — 
 
 "No one really knows anything about 
 him, except that he is very rich and has 
 made his money in America. But I must 
 tell you what I did just now, when he 
 came up in his fawning way to ask for a 
 dance. I told him my card was quite full, 
 and introduced him promptly to ]\Iiss Har- 
 vey. You should have seen his face as 
 I walked away ! But Miss Blanche was 
 delighted." 
 
 Her companion laughed and said, " He 
 will owe you a grudge for that snub." 
 
 " I hope he will," she replied, " and keep out 
 of my way. What is it that makes one take 
 such violent dislikes to people, I wonder ? " 
 
 " You don't often do it." 
 
 " Not so often as Frances ; and perhaps
 
 HUGH MOORE. 183 
 
 I take a little more pains to hide it when 
 I do. But do you think one can tell a 
 person's character at first sight ? " 
 
 "No, I don't, — at least I think one is 
 often mistaken. For instance," — and a scarce- 
 ly perceptible smile stole over his face, — 
 *' I was a good deal mistaken in you, when 
 I saw you for the first time." 
 
 " Oh, were you ? " cried Dorothea, her eyes 
 sparkling with amusement ; "I should like 
 to hear what you thought of me. I often 
 wish I could know the impression one makes 
 on people ; it would teach one so many 
 lessons." She spoke quite seriously now, 
 with the peculiar simplicity which was her 
 natural characteristic, and which few people 
 quite understood. 
 
 " Do you think you would learn them ? 
 Most people would turn up their noses and 
 say, ' How silly ! ' and go on the same way 
 as before."
 
 184 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Well, I will try and not say that, if you 
 will tell mc what you thought of me. See 
 — I am treating you as a friend," said Doro- 
 thea, instinctively opening her hands, which 
 had been clasped over her fan. 
 
 " Perhaps you won't like it," he said at 
 length ; " but you bring it on yourself, since 
 you wish me to tell you. I thought you 
 were proud, and cold, and reserved, and I 
 had a dim idea that some day you would 
 permit me, perhaps, to touch the hem of 
 your garment." 
 
 " Acting the Admiral's daughter, in fact ? " 
 
 A 
 
 she said. 
 
 "Very much that, — but only till you 
 spoke, not when you — when you opened 
 your lips ; " and Captain Newman's perfectly 
 controlled voice had a little unsteadiness in 
 it, which his companion did not notice. 
 To tell the truth, she was thinking of her- 
 self, and not of him.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 185 
 
 She answered, after a little pause, " I am 
 sorry I gave you that impression, though ; 
 because every one else must think the same, 
 and it is not true, really. I wonder if one 
 can help it? How I do envy people with 
 bright, cheery manners ! Frances, for ex- 
 ample, — all strangers get on with her directly. 
 She has a knack of putting every one in a 
 good humour. But to go back to reading 
 character at first sight — what would you 
 say of Sir John Hawker?" 
 
 " I have not studied him much, but my 
 impression of his face is that of a clever, un- 
 scrupulous, self-indulgent man. I have no 
 right to say so. I may be as much mis- 
 taken in him as — as I was in you ; " and he 
 turned and met her eyes for a moment. 
 
 Here Charlie's voice broke in — 
 
 " Holloa, Dorothea ! I have been hunting 
 for you everywhere. Mr Moore wants to 
 be introduced to you."
 
 186 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Dorothea bowed : the colour that dyed 
 her cheeks might have Ijcen deepened by 
 Captain Newman's words, or by the sudden 
 interruption of their conversation ; but at 
 any rate, Hugh thought Drake was an un- 
 commonly lucky man to have such a lovely 
 cousin. 
 
 By-and-by, however, when the time came 
 for their dance, he found her rather cold 
 and silent, and did not feel inspired to ask 
 for another ; whereas he had valse after valse 
 with Frances, who was as light as a feather, 
 and in a blissful state of enjoyment. More 
 than once, his thoughts travelled back to 
 that afternoon on board the Eoyal Britain, 
 and that curious interview with Clara, as 
 to the results of which he still felt quite 
 misty ; but the energetic Flag-Lieutenant did 
 his duty too well to allow Hugh much time 
 for reverie. He found his knee perfectly 
 recovered, and behaved with astonishing
 
 HUGH MOOHE. 187 
 
 pro^Driety, dancing with all his Eastport 
 acquaintances, not omitting Miss Blanche 
 Harvey. 
 
 Hugh stayed, indeed, to the last, and 
 thanked Lady Katherine very heartily and 
 sincerely for a most pleasant evening. 
 
 Corfu, after all, was beginning to fade 
 into the dim distance. English girls were 
 very charming : there was nothing, for in- 
 stance, in Frances Drake to jar on his feel- 
 ings, in the way that Clara had done so 
 often in minute particulars ; for with all her 
 anxiety to please, and constant guard over 
 herself in Hugh's presence, the recollection 
 of various little touches of want of refine- 
 ment on her part remained unpleasantly 
 prominent in his mind — all the more so, 
 perhaps, because Clara herself had been so 
 unconscious of them. 
 
 It was the small hours of the morning 
 before Dorothea and Frances retired to rest ;
 
 188 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 and whether the lessons next morning were 
 improved l)y the preceding dissipation, was 
 a very open question. Dorothea, too, was 
 tired, and realised with a groan that after 
 an early lunch she had her usual Friday 
 afternoon engagement — a " mothers' meet- 
 ing " to attend. 
 
 It was now some time since Mr Johnson, 
 the vicar of a miserably poor district just 
 outside the dockyard gates, had enlisted her 
 services in this way. He had been struck 
 by a certain listlessness and want of vigour 
 about her manner and way of speaking of life 
 in general, when he had first made her ac- 
 quaintance, and instinctively divined the 
 good it would do her to be brought in 
 contact with the suffering and misery out- 
 side her door. Up to this time Dorotheas 
 life had been a very wandering one ; for the 
 Admiral and his family had never really 
 settled long enough in any place to take
 
 HUGH MOORE. 189 
 
 much interest in, or feel their responsibilities 
 towards, their poorer neighbours. Moreover, 
 a man of Mr Johnson's type had never till 
 now crossed Dorothea's path ; and she was 
 experiencing, with all the vividness of a first 
 impression, what was practically meant by 
 personal influence. It was new to her to 
 have some one constantly at hand whose 
 standard was so much higher than that 
 generally met with in society, and who was 
 ready at all times to respond to any question- 
 ings she might trouble him with, without 
 impressing her with the sensation that she 
 was being dictated to from a platform. 
 
 Hitherto her mind had been very much 
 formed on that of her father, who was 
 a man of bright and vigorous but some- 
 what narrow intellect. Sir Edward was 
 intensely observant, but purely practical. 
 It is true he was fond of theories ; but 
 they were generally rather crude deduc-
 
 190 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 tions from his own experience than carefully 
 reasoned-out principles. He belonged essen- 
 tially to the past generation ; and the more 
 thoughtful side of Dorothea's nature, with 
 the doubts and reasonings and aspirations 
 which she could not avoid sharing with many 
 others of her own day, received from him no 
 support. Just when she most needed it, she 
 came in contact with Mr Johnson on the one 
 hand, and on the other with Captain Ne^v- 
 man, whose thoughtful and somewhat dreamy 
 nature seemed to supply the want she felt, 
 even in her friendship with the cultivated 
 but distinctly practically minded clergyman. 
 It was not Lady Katherine's way to trouble 
 her head about the extent of intercourse 
 allowable between her daughter and the 
 friends she chose to make for herself She 
 was far too easy-going to be at all disturbed 
 by trifles, and was so accustomed to the fact 
 of Dorothea's beauty claiming a certain
 
 HUGH MOORE. 101 
 
 amount of homage from the sterner sex, 
 that she was not as vigihmt as many mothers 
 would have been in her position. It was also 
 tacitly acknowledged that Lady Katherine 
 had never been, and never could be, her 
 daughter's conjidante. Dorothea's nature, so 
 much the stronger of the two, had always 
 stood alone and fought its own battles ; 
 while her mother was quite content with 
 the terms of perfect good - friendship on 
 which they found themselves — being all the 
 while a little in awe of her, and lavishing 
 her affections on the open-hearted Frances. 
 On this occasion there was nothing to fear 
 on the part of Mr Johnson : he was utterly 
 devoted to his work, and to his work alone. 
 Whether it was equally safe with the sailor, 
 w4io was generally regarded at Eastport as 
 the most uninq)ressionable of men, remains 
 to be seen. 
 
 On this })articular Friday of which we liave
 
 192 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 been speaking, Mr Johnson came as usual to 
 close the mothers' meeting, and walked home 
 with Dorothea afterwards. They generally 
 found many subjects to discuss in connection 
 with the various parts of his parish from 
 which the mothers came. 
 
 Dorothea had been a good deal struck by 
 discovering, quite accidentally, from a woman 
 who had appeared for the first time that after- 
 noon, — a j)oor miserable-looking creature, — 
 that Mr Moore, the Generars new A.D.C., had 
 been visiting her, and was in the habit of giv- 
 ing very substantial relief in the shape of shil- 
 lings and half-crowns. This was such a very 
 new idea to Dorothea, who had put down her 
 cousin Charlie's friend as a very ordinary ball- 
 room acquaintance, that she could not lielji 
 coming out with it to Mr Johnson, ending 
 her communication with the naive remark — 
 
 " It is curious how much better people are 
 than one takes them for ! "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 19 
 
 Q 
 
 Her companion smiled. 
 
 " That is a pleasant lesson to learn, at any 
 rate," he said. 
 
 " But it is a true one, isn't it ? though 
 it is newer to me than to you. I am always 
 feeling it with these poor women, whose 
 stories make one's heart ache ; and they seem 
 to count bearing pain just the most ordinary 
 thing in the world. And one knows how 
 one shrinks from pain one's self " 
 
 " That's a dangerous sentiment, you know. 
 Miss NeviU." 
 
 " Dangerous ? Why, one can't help it," 
 she said ; " it is almost a physical feeling." 
 
 " That may be ; but our minds act upon 
 our bodies, and we can control our minds. 
 Do you know, it makes me quite alarmed 
 sometimes to think of the softness of every 
 one nowadays. I don't know what it is all 
 coming to. We could never stand the things 
 our ancestors thought nothing of." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Yet in some ways we are braver than 
 even the Greeks were," said Dorothea. "Do 
 you remember what Lessing says in ' Lao- 
 coon ' about expressing one's pain ? — how the 
 old Greeks were not ashamed to cry and 
 scream for pain ; whereas now, no one but 
 a child would think of doingr so — at least in 
 any ordinary suffering. What do you think 
 makes the difference ? " 
 
 " I suppose our ideas on that subject are 
 partly an inheritance from our barbarian 
 ancestors, and partly perhaps the result of 
 Christian teachino^ — the ' endurins; hardness ' 
 of St Paul, for instance. How people forget 
 that, to be sure ! And with all their boasted 
 wisdom, they forget another saying — one I 
 am very fond of, a maxim of the wise man — 
 ' The very true beginning of wisdom is the 
 desire of discipline.' " 
 
 Dorothea was silent for a moment, and 
 then said, thoughtfully, " I suppose that was
 
 HUGH MOORE. 195 
 
 what the old monks and nuns thought when 
 they scourged themselves." 
 
 " Putting it off again on the past ? " he 
 said, smiling. " You think the scourgings 
 were rather unprofitable ? I am not sure 
 but that they were better in their rather 
 ungoverned desire for discipline than we 
 are in our very ungoverned dislike of 
 it. 
 
 " I should have thought, though," said 
 Dorothea, " that the love of discipline was 
 a long way on in the way of wisdom, and 
 not in the beginning of it." 
 
 " I don't think so," said Mr Johnson. 
 " Consider a moment what can be done with- 
 out discipline. Why, nothing worth speaking 
 of. It seems to me that is just the lesson the 
 world is teaching us in these days. We in 
 the Church have dropped discipline — I sup- 
 pose because we thought ourselves wiser tlinn 
 our forefathers ; but look round, and you see
 
 196 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 directly how every success is dependent on 
 organisation, subordination, self-restraint — 
 call it what you will. Take a war between 
 two countries. It isn't the army where in- 
 dividuals are bravest which wins the battle, 
 but that where the discipline is strongest. 
 Analyse discipline, and you find it is the 
 submission of individuals to suj)erior will, 
 cost what it may. In an army we all know 
 what it costs — self-denials of all sorts, often 
 life itself. It is a truism to say our life is 
 a warfare. Why, then, do we shrink so from 
 the discipline ? " 
 
 " I think it would be easier to bear it if 
 it were all laid down by rule, like a soldier's," 
 she replied : " now we have to apply all that 
 to ourselves." 
 
 " Yes ; and, as I told you, I think we 
 suffer grievously in consequence. But there 
 is another thing you mustn't forget. All 
 discipline, self - denial, trial, is a means,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 197 
 
 not an end. Its object is not to make us 
 machines, but to perfect us as individuals — 
 to strain out the dross, and purify us, till we 
 are fit for the great Presence-Chamber. The 
 same means are often not good for different 
 natures ; and after all, if we are weak and 
 timid in using the rod ourselves, God may 
 take it into His own hands and discipline us 
 Himself Only, we often bring troubles on 
 ourselves by refusing to use the lighter 
 means He puts within our reach." 
 
 "And do you think that using those means 
 is a help to bearing the heavier trouble if it 
 comes ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it — ^just as constant exercise 
 in rowing hardens the hands, or exposure 
 bronzes the skin. A person who has never 
 learnt to deny himself, does not know how to 
 bear it if God denies him the desire of his 
 heart." 
 
 *' You think, then, that every one has
 
 198 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 some great crushing trouble to Ijear in their 
 lives ? " 
 
 " My clear Miss Nevill, that can only Ije 
 left in higher hands. There is no use in 
 imagining evils, so long as one does not 
 shrink from the pain and trouble when they 
 do come. It always seems to me that no 
 life is worth living that is without pain — 
 perhaps a great deal of it." Mr Johnson 
 was looking straight before him, and spoke 
 as if he were touchins; some hidden chord 
 in his own life. They were close to the 
 dockyard gates by this time, and he turned 
 with a smile to his companion, — " Here have 
 I been sermonising all the way. Now may 
 I come in ? I want to speak to Lady Kath- 
 erine about a poor woman she has been good 
 enough to befriend." 
 
 Dorothea led the way into the cosy draw- 
 ing-room. It was a great contrast to the 
 misery she had been hearing about, and see-
 
 HUGH MOORE. 199 
 
 ing traces of, that afternoon — this comfor- 
 table room, with its warm fire, easy-chairs, 
 and fragrant teapot. It struck Dorothea as 
 it had struck Hugh a few days before, and 
 liung like a weight at her heart. Why 
 should she step into all this luxury and 
 comfort with a sense of rightful possession, 
 while those others outside were in such w^ant 
 and wretchedness ? She had not much op- 
 portunity, however, for following her own 
 train of thought just at present. Mr John- 
 son sat down by Lady Katherine, and en- 
 tirely engrossed her in conversation ; while 
 Dorothea found two or three young naval 
 officers had to be entertained, and provided 
 with small-talk — though there was not much 
 need to do more than suggest the latter, as, 
 when once started, they chattered away to 
 her, attacking each other, and laughing at 
 each other's discomfiture, with easy confi- 
 dence, and friendly reliance on her sympathy.
 
 200 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Presently the door opened, and Mr Moore 
 was announced. He joined the little circle 
 round Dorothea, where last night's ball was 
 the prevailing topic of conversation, and 
 fell naturally into his part with his usual 
 happy knack, making it appear as if he had 
 been as long in Eastport as the rest of them. 
 When the sailors took their leave, he stayed 
 on, with the excuse that he wanted to see 
 Drake. In reality he wanted to study Doro- 
 thea. He seemed to admire her more this 
 afternoon, in her simple dark gown, and with 
 her hair a little disordered by the wind, — 
 she had thrown her hat aside when she found 
 she had guests who would keep her in the 
 drawing-room, — than he did last night in all 
 the brilliancy of the ball-room. Perhaps it 
 was because she had thawed a little : he had 
 taken her, as it were, at unawares, coming 
 into the circle of her old friends and joining 
 in their talk ; and she showed no signs of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 201 
 
 drawing back into her shell, now that she 
 and Hugh were left tete-a-tete. Indeed she 
 reverted naturally to what had remained up- 
 permost in her thoughts, and began almost 
 at once. 
 
 " I heard of you this afternoon, Mr Moore, 
 from an unexpected quarter — poor Mrs 
 Macartney ! She was full of your kindness, 
 and the help you had given them." 
 
 He was surprised and rather disconcerted, 
 and hastened to assure her that this sort of 
 thing was not much in his line ; but that 
 Macartney had been in his regiment, and 
 he could not refuse to help him when he 
 heard of his distress. 
 
 **Your going to see them pleased them 
 more than anything," said Dorothea, with 
 a soft little smile playing round her mouth. 
 "It is wonderful how they enjoy pouring 
 out all their griefs into some one else's 
 
 ears ! 
 
 !"
 
 202 HUGH moorp:. 
 
 *' It gets rather monotonous," said Hugh, 
 laughing. " I believe they have told me 
 nearly the same thing in the same words 
 every time I have seen them." 
 
 " Their life is monotonous, I suppose," she 
 answered. " When one comes to think of 
 it, it is quite extraordinary how very little 
 variety some people have in their lives. That 
 is what Mr Johnson " — orlaneing; across to the 
 other side of the room — "is always saying, 
 and that is why he is always doing his best 
 to give them variety by entertainments and 
 that sort of tliino." 
 
 " Is he the parson of the parish ? " asked 
 Hugh, following the direction of her eyes. 
 
 "Yes — at least of that district. He has 
 been working there ten years — real mission- 
 work most of the time, and the opposition 
 was frightful at first ; but he has lived it 
 down. He has just been appointed to an 
 Indian bisho])ric, and we shall lose him here
 
 HUGH MOORE. 20 
 
 o 
 
 before long. I can't imagine how liis place 
 will be filled. Of course you have not 
 been here long enougli to have heard much 
 about him," added Dorothea, feeling that 
 she was speaking very enthusiastically of 
 one who was quite a stranger to her listener, 
 and that her warm partisanship might be 
 the better for a little ex23lanation ; " but 
 we, who have lived six months and more 
 alongside of him, know and feel that there 
 is a master-mind amongst us ! " 
 
 There was a glow on her cheek, which 
 Hugh noted, as well as the half-deprecating 
 smile on her lips. 
 
 " Almost a pity he should go away, isn't 
 it ? " said he. 
 
 " Well, I don't know ; he is very much 
 wanted there too, I suppose. They are cry- 
 ing out for more people to come and teach 
 them." 
 
 " It is very naughty of me, I know ; but
 
 204 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 I have always an idea that the niggers get 
 on very well without us." 
 
 " They aren't exactly niggers in India," 
 said Dorothea, laughing a little. " And, you 
 see, there we are already. We haven't been 
 letting them alone in other ways ; and 
 besides, I am sure you don't really think," 
 she added, rather anxiously, " that they are 
 not the better for beins; Christians ? " 
 
 He did not like to see her look like that, 
 and hastened to assure her that he had only 
 been making a rather silly and very common- 
 place remark, and then he said — 
 
 " I knew a fellow at Eton — a clever chap 
 he was, too — and he went out to Africa or 
 somewhere, and died in no time ; and it 
 seemed like throwing himself away, you 
 know, to go to a place like that, where no 
 decent man can live — all to try and con- 
 vert a lot of wretched blacks, who would 
 never be any good ! "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 205 
 
 *' Perhaps he was making the way for 
 others," said Dorothea, softly, " like the 
 men who scaled the ladders first. Oh ! 
 don't you think it is fine for people to go 
 out like that with their lives in their 
 hand ? " 
 
 " It makes one feel awful cowards at 
 home, at any rate," said Hugh. " It's a 
 fearful wrench for a fellow to go away and 
 leave all his people, and think that ten to 
 one he will never see them again." 
 
 " Yes. They couldn't do it unless — unless 
 they cared very much for the ' wretched 
 blacks,' " said Dorothy, smiling a little. She 
 was opening out to Hugh in a way very 
 unlike her usual mode of intercourse with 
 comparative strangers. Quite unconsciously 
 she had appealed to the best side of Hugh's 
 nature, by enlisting his sympathy in a cause 
 that was higher than that of common phil- 
 anthropy, and he was not superior to the
 
 206 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 fascination of being treated with such confi- 
 dence by a woman so far removed from the 
 ordinary type as Dorothea. Surely her con- 
 fidence was not misphiced. 
 
 " And you are awfully good, Miss Nevill," 
 said Hugh, in that curious tone of assertion 
 which Irishmen use in asking questions, — 
 " you are awfully good, and work for the 
 wicked whites instead ? " 
 
 She laughed. " I ? Oh, I do next to 
 nothing. Indeed part of this district is 
 too bad for me to go to, and I have not 
 much time either. I'll tell you who is one 
 of Mr Johnson's great helps — Captain New- 
 man. Have you met him ? " 
 
 " No," said Hugh ; " who is he ? " 
 
 " The Commander of the flag - ship : a 
 great friend of ours, if that is any recom- 
 mendation," she added, smiling ; and when 
 Dorothea smiled like that, you felt it was 
 good to look at her.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 20 7 
 
 " I am sure he would be gratified if he 
 heard you," was Hugh's hiughing rejoinder, 
 feeling a momentary pang of jealousy for the 
 unknown but highly fiivoured individual ; 
 " but I must really be off if Drake is not 
 
 coming soon. 
 
 " Hark ! there are voices. Yes, it is Fan 
 and Charlie," said Dorothea, as her cousins 
 made rather a noisy entrance. The appear- 
 ance of visitors checked their flow of con- 
 versation for a moment, but then Frances 
 greeted Hugh with — " Oh, I'm so glad it's 
 you ; I thought it was somebody else." 
 
 " We had just been talking of you, Charlie, 
 and wondering why you did not come," said 
 Dorothea. " There have been many calls on 
 my teapot, but you are too late to expect a 
 good brew." 
 
 "And to while awa}" tlie time, Miss Nevill 
 has been telling me of some Eastport celeb- 
 rities — amongst them your great friend Cap-
 
 208 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 tain Newman," said Hugh, addressing Frances, 
 as he handed her some cake. 
 
 " Of mine ? Oh dear, no ! Of Dolly's, 
 you mean. He is a pet of hers, but much 
 too good for me ; " and she tossed back her 
 rough hair defiantly. 
 
 " Because you are a naughty child," said 
 Dorothea, *' and talk rubbish." 
 
 Drake and Moore prepared to go out to- 
 gether; but Frances, who looked on Hugh 
 already as a great friend, insisted on making 
 Charlie show him his menagerie — part of 
 which was kept in her schoolroom, much to 
 the unhappy governess's distress ; but in 
 spite of many a protest, the creatures some- 
 how remained in undisturbed possession of 
 even the educational sanctuary. 
 
 Thus Hugh, almost before he knew it, was 
 established on terms of intimacy at Admir- 
 alty House.
 
 209 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " A dying glory smiles 
 O'er the far times, when many a subject land 
 Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles, 
 Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles. 
 
 She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean, 
 
 Kising with her tiara of proud towers 
 At airy distance, with majestic motion, 
 
 A ruler of the waters and their powers." 
 
 Let lis carry our thoughts for a few minutes 
 back to Corfu. 
 
 The account which Clara had given of 
 herself in her letter to Hugh was more or 
 less true. She had felt quite broken-hearted 
 when he had left without seeing her again, 
 and only leaving behind him that short note 
 of farewell, which her father had given her, 
 saying shortly, " I promised Mr Moore to 
 
 VOL. L
 
 210 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 give you this, on condition there should be 
 no further correspondence : you understand 
 my word cannot be trifled with." Clara 
 snatched at the note, carried it off to her 
 room, and cried over it for the best part of 
 one day. 
 
 After some days she wrote her answer, and 
 easily managed to have it conveyed secretly 
 to the post-office. But she was listless and 
 languid, and lost her appetite ; and Mr Wil- 
 son, w^ho watched her carefully, began to be 
 anxious about her health, for he was vaguely 
 impressed with the idea that he should lose 
 her some day, as- he had lost his wife. Al- 
 though he was often abrupt and harsh in 
 his manner to her, Clara had no idea of the 
 depth of his affection. She preferred to 
 measure the extent of feeling by the amount 
 of petting and flattery she received, and 
 resented the want of this outward expres- 
 sion on her father's part.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 211 
 
 By degrees, however, this extreme depres- 
 sion wore off; — it diminished steadily from 
 the time when Jack Ward's visits became 
 more frequent. At first she said to her- 
 self how much it relieved her to be with 
 a friend of Hugh's, who w^as not at all 
 averse to talking about him, and whom 
 she could easily persuade to be the secret 
 channel of her correspondence ; but the long 
 silence, when her letters never received an 
 answer, and no sign was made whatever by 
 her absent lover, began to disturb, and 
 finally to irritate, her sorely. In the first 
 letter she had written, she had pur2;)osely 
 spoken of " seeing Mr Ward very often," 
 in order to excite Hugh's jealousy. If, at 
 the time she wrote, her expression had been 
 slightly exaggerated, in a few weeks' time 
 the facts of the case more than confirmed 
 her words, and before long she was seeing 
 Mr Ward more frequently and more famil-
 
 212 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 iarly than had ever been the case with 
 Hugh. 
 
 The Eoyal Britain did not remain very long 
 at Corfu ; but before he left, Charlie Drake 
 made many shrewd guesses as to the state 
 of aflfairs, and resolved to give his friend a 
 hint thereof when they met at Eastport. 
 We have seen how Hus^h received Drake's 
 well-intentioned remark, and how impossible 
 it seemed then to venture on anything more 
 explicit. 
 
 Meanwhile, Ward had never forgotten 
 Hugh's words : " Oh, I'm out of the run- 
 ning. Why don't you cut in yourself ? " 
 They were in reality an outburst of disap- 
 pointment, hardly intended to have been 
 taken seriously, and Moore himself had all 
 but forgotten having uttered them ; but 
 nevertheless, they had stuck in Ward's 
 memory. 
 
 He began to look on Clara with more
 
 HUGH MOORE. 213 
 
 interest — first because of his friend's in- 
 fatuation, and then on his own account. 
 It was wonderful how all the objections he 
 had made to the idea of Moore's enojao-ement 
 vanished when the case was applied to him- 
 self : but then he was entirely his own master, 
 and could do as he pleased ; whereas Hugh 
 was tied by the leg. 
 
 However, it must not be supposed that 
 this revolution in Mr Jack Ward's senti- 
 ments was accomplished without any effort 
 on Clara's part. She wanted some excite- 
 ment, and with her excitement generally 
 took the form of flirtation. One miorht 
 
 o 
 
 have thought that her last attempt at exer- 
 cising her powers of fascination had taught 
 her a lesson or two, and would have gone far 
 to deter her from making a fresh experiment ; 
 but, by long practice, this style of intercourse 
 had become so much part of her nature, that 
 she could hardly have refrained from " carry-
 
 214 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 irig on " with some one, even had she wished 
 to do so. 
 
 After all, she found it was much easier 
 work to fascinate Jack Ward than it had 
 ])een to caj)ture Hugh Moore. Jack was 
 made of coarser fibre ; and her attentions 
 could be a little more obvious, and her 
 flattery less delicate, without fear of exciting 
 disgust on the part of her victim. The old 
 Consul, on his part, w^as ready to be un- 
 usually indulgent to her after his outbreak 
 of severity : he could not bear to see how 
 she shrank from him ; and not having the 
 slightest idea of how much Clara had dis- 
 obeyed his orders, he hailed with delight any 
 
 » 
 
 token of recovered health and spirits. 
 
 Poor Clara ! She was not really happy. 
 This new triumph did not make up for the 
 last defeat. What does it matter to a mv\ 
 if she has a liundred men at her feet, so long- 
 as the one man she wants keeps at a distance ?
 
 HUGH MOORE. 215 
 
 Sometimes, after an afternoon or evening 
 spent in Ward's society, she would fling her- 
 self on her bed and cry passionately — '' Oh, 
 Mr Moore, Mr Moore, come back ! I hate 
 you for going. I hate you for not 'writing. 
 I hate everybody. I wish I could die. 
 Come back, come back ! " 
 
 Meanwhile there had been a week or two 
 of stormy unsettled weather, after which it 
 cleared ao^ain ; and Ward beo^an to take the 
 Consul and his daug;hter, toofether with a 
 few other friends, for little cruises round the 
 islands, or to different points on the Albanian 
 coast. 
 
 It was surely the perfection of enjoy- 
 ment, even to nervous landlubbers, on sunny 
 autumn days such as those were, to skim 
 along the calm sea 1)eforc a light l)ut favour- 
 ing breeze ; to drop anchor in some sheltered 
 bay, and hear the musical lap, lap of the 
 water against the side of the vessel ; to
 
 216 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 watch the sun sink in crimson splendour, 
 and the moon rise in rival loveliness, the 
 water reflecting both ; to hang over the bul- 
 warks and gaze into the clear depths of the 
 sea, and tell thrilling stories of sharks seen 
 half a century ago ; and alas ! was not the 
 pleasure of Clara all the greater because Ward 
 was there to do her bidding, — to fetch her 
 cloak and wrap her round (albeit not so ten- 
 derly and gracefully as Hugh would have 
 done) in some cosy corner, protected from 
 the wind ; while he left his other guests to 
 look after themselves, and devoted himself 
 to humour her slightest whim and forestall 
 her faintest wish, even to the extent of 
 taxing his skipper's patience to its utmost 
 limit by the contradictory orders he gave 
 him ? 
 
 In short. Jack was far more infiituated 
 than Hugh had ever been, and was entirely 
 under Clara s power ; and the fickle little
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 217 
 
 thing, when her victory was complete, began 
 to tire of her capture — weary of him, that is, 
 by fits and starts, for sometimes she would 
 enrapture him by her gentleness, and then 
 drive him to despair the day after by her 
 coldness and indifference. It was on these 
 latter occasions that she would be dreaming 
 of those golden days when she thought 
 Hugh loved her, while there was still excite- 
 ment in the uncertainty, and before her 
 hopes had ripened to a momentary frui- 
 tion, only to be so ruthlessly blasted in 
 the end. 
 
 One day in December, — such a day as we 
 seldom have in July — calm, cloudless, with 
 a blazing sun and unruffled sea, — the little 
 yacht lay l^ecalmed a short distance from 
 Corfu. Ward had only Clara and her fiither 
 on board on this occasion, and they had not 
 been out long before the light breeze died 
 down, and they could do nothing but watch
 
 218 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 the sails flajj aimlessly, as the ship lay mo- 
 tionless on the oily sea, only drifting with 
 the current in the opposite direction to that 
 in which they had intended to go. 
 
 The old Consul was, at any rate, perfectly 
 happy, for he had an unlimited supply of 
 cigarettes. Ward would have been equally 
 content, had Clara only been in one of her 
 gay coquettish moods : instead of this, how- 
 ever, she was silent and rather grave, and 
 Jack thought with despair how bored she 
 must be with the monotony of the proceed- 
 ino;s. He did his best to amuse her, brouo-ht 
 up books from his cabin, apologising for the 
 misdemeanour of the winds and waves ; but 
 he could not win even a sparkle from Clara's 
 half-closed eyes, and she rejected his books 
 snappishly enough, declaring she knew them 
 all before. Poor Jack ! he was at his wits' 
 end, and sat sadly on a coil of ropes at her 
 feet, racking his brains to think what he could
 
 HUGH MOORE. 219 
 
 find to enliven the dreary waiting-time. All 
 of a sudden Clara brightened up, and asked 
 him — 
 
 " How lono; would it take to sail from 
 Corfu to Trieste ? " 
 
 " It depends on the weather. A few days 
 ought to do it with a fair wind," he answered, 
 vaguely wondering what was her attraction 
 to Trieste. 
 
 " Is that the w^ay you are going home ? " 
 
 " I have hardly begun to think about go- 
 ing home yet, I am so happy here. Are you 
 getting tired of me, Miss Wilson ? " 
 
 "Oh, don't tease ! " said Clara, pettishly ; 
 " but tell me, how would you go home if not 
 that way ? " 
 
 " I might go round by the Bay," he an- 
 swered, in a crestfallen tone, " or land some- 
 where in Italy, and take the train." 
 
 '' But you would naturally go to Trieste ? " 
 she persisted.
 
 220 HQGH MOORE. 
 
 " Well — yes, perhaps." He was puzzled 
 by her questioning, till a sudden thought 
 struck him, and he exclaimed — "Do you 
 wish to see Trieste ? Would you like to 
 go there in my yacht ? Could I take you 
 there ? I need not tell you, need I, that 
 you have only to speak the word, and I 
 would take you to the w^orld's end ? " 
 
 Clara was so much accustomed to these 
 protests that she took them very calmly, 
 and after thanking him with perhaps a 
 little more warmth than usual, she bent 
 forward and said, in rather a low voice and 
 very earnestly, "It is not Trieste I want 
 to see, but England. Don't you know, I 
 have never been there ? and," with a glance 
 at her father, " I want papa to have a rest. 
 I am sure he needs it ; look how tired he 
 seems ! " 
 
 Jack Ward was completely taken by sur- 
 prise, for Clara had never before even hinted
 
 HUGH MOORE. 221 
 
 at this wish, and now it came out as a long- 
 thought - of plan, and connected with her 
 anxiety for her father's health. He looked 
 up as he was told, and observed the Consul, 
 who was leaning against the mast, smoking 
 of course, w^ith his arms folded, and his eyes 
 gazing dreamily into vacancy — the picture 
 of lazy contentment, one would have said ; 
 but his daughter apparently thought other- 
 wise. Ward tried to imagine that perhaps 
 he might look a little leaner and browner 
 than usual, possibly the wrinkles in his 
 forehead and round his mouth might have 
 become a little more marked lately — at 
 anyrate, he would say so, to satisfy Clara. 
 
 " Well." said the young lady, still in an 
 eager, semi - confidential whisper, " if you 
 really do want to do anything to please 
 me 
 
 " You know I would do anything," he in- 
 terrupted.
 
 222 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 '' Persuade papa, then, to come to England 
 for a change. I know it would do him 
 good." 
 
 " I will try," said Ward, solemnly. 
 
 " He will attend to you, perhaps," she 
 said, " when he does not care for what I 
 say ; and he has been for so long without 
 any holiday, that I am sure he wants one. 
 And besides," she added, too transparent, 
 after all, not to let her real motive appear 
 through it all, "it is too ridiculous to think 
 of my being English and never having been 
 to England." 
 
 "It is much nicer out here," answered poor 
 Jack dolefully, his heart sinking at the pros- 
 pect of a speedy conclusion to such a dream 
 of delight as the past few weeks, in spite of 
 every drawback, had seemed to him. 
 
 It was not such an easy matter, after all, 
 to persuade Mr Wilson that his health re- 
 quired a change \nd holiday.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 223 
 
 " Health ! Nonsense ! I beg your pardon ; 
 you are very good," he corrected himself, as 
 AVard began rather timidly to broach the 
 subject — " I never was better in my life." 
 
 " Your daughter seems anxious about you," 
 said Jack, humbly. " Don't you think she — 
 you — perhaps the anxiety might prey upon 
 her, and a few weeks' rest " 
 
 " Bless me ! anxiety for me prey upon 
 Clara ? How she does take every one in, to 
 be sure ! Don't you trouble yourself on that 
 account, Mr Ward. It is quite possible she 
 wants a change — I mean, that she would like 
 one. But I have not the smallest intention 
 of going away. I don't see any reason why 
 I should." 
 
 So Ward was silenced for the time ; and 
 thouizh he renewed the attack once or twice 
 at Clara's bidding, it was the dutiful daughter 
 herself who was in the end chiefly instru- 
 mental in causing the Consul to change liis
 
 (C 
 
 (( 
 
 224 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 mind. For that he did change his mind, 
 hardly needs to be said. Clara's persistency 
 almost always conquered in the long-run, and 
 in this case she worked upon him to such an 
 extent, that he really began to think himself 
 ill. " Papa, dear, you look so tired ; " or, 
 Papa, rest — you are looking so poorly ; " or. 
 Every one says you are ageing so fast : " and 
 similar phrases, repeated constantly, produced 
 an effect at last, — and surely there are not 
 many fathers who w^ould have stood proof 
 against such tender solicitude. Clara's sys- 
 tem was much like that described by the 
 wise man as a "continual dropping," and in 
 process of time she received her reward. 
 
 Christmas passed. " As the day lengthens 
 the cold strengthens," even in Corfu, and 
 January was a stormy, chilly month ; but 
 with February came the first signs of spring, 
 and at last, one soft hazy morning, Clara 
 triumphantly lockl^d her last box, and watched
 
 HUGH MOOEE. 225 
 
 it beino: transferred to the deck of Ward's 
 little yacht. 
 
 It was not without some emotion that she 
 left Corfu, for she had a sort of presentiment 
 that she would not return there, although 
 her father made light of all the farewells, 
 and said they would be back in a few 
 weeks. He was not without a half suspicion 
 that he had been entrapped into taking this 
 holiday against his will ; and he w^ould also 
 have much preferred, if he went to England 
 at all, to go by the ordinary service to Brin- 
 disi or Trieste. But Miss Clara had set her 
 heart on sailing in Mr Ward's yacht : she 
 liked to feel she had an obedient slave, and 
 she was rapidly becoming more reconciled to 
 the idea of putting up with him, if she could 
 not have Mr Moore ; but before giving in, she 
 must put her fate to the touch, and discover 
 whether, by meeting Hugh once more in 
 England, she could regain her influence over 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 22 G HUGH MOORE. 
 
 him. She knew quite well that in the end 
 she could manage to direct her father's steps 
 wherever she chose ; and with Corfu behind 
 her, she felt her secret task at least on a fair 
 way to being accomplished. 
 
 But the voyage was not so pleasant as she 
 had anticipated. The fair wind lasted for a 
 day and a night, and then shifted, and they 
 lost much time in tacking ; and then the sea 
 became rough, and the sky hard and grey : 
 the little yacht was tossed about from the 
 crest of one liuo;e wave to another like a 
 shuttlecock ; and, sad to say, the Consul and 
 his fair daughter were miserably sea-sick ! 
 A small sailing-yacht is not the pleasantest 
 place in the world for a lady in rough 
 weather, even if she be a good sailor; and 
 the result of that week's battlincr with the 
 elements was to produce a very white and 
 scared-looking little creature, when the news 
 that Trieste wi^s in sii^ht enticed Clara to
 
 HUGH MOORE. 22? 
 
 mount the ladder and creep on deck. How 
 Ward welcomed her ! But slie was too weak 
 and hungry to pay much attention to him, 
 either in the way of encouragement or the 
 reverse. Jack himself had been in his ele- 
 ment all the while, enjoying a good breeze 
 to his heart's content, and seeing how near 
 the wind he could sail. Of course he was 
 sorry for Clara, but he did not the least 
 realise her sufferings, — no good sailor ever 
 knows the true meaning of that ghastly word 
 sea-sickness. The fresh north wind seemed 
 to blow away the fogs that had gathered over 
 his brain in the enervating climate of Corfu ; 
 but it did not blow away Clara's fascinations ! 
 It was not without a pang that he left 
 his smart little craft lying at anchor in the 
 Trieste Eoads, with orders to come round 
 the Bay at once and report herself at East- 
 port, while he himself accompanied Mr Wilson 
 and his daughter across the Continent.
 
 228 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 At Venice, however, he began to wish he 
 had never come, for he was roused to furious 
 jealousy by the same Italian artist whom 
 Hugh had met on board the Austrian Lloyd. 
 This young fellow had made acquaintance 
 with Clara the previous summer and autumn 
 while sketching in Corfu, and, chancing to 
 meet her and her father with Ward on the 
 bridge close to the ducal palace, he at once 
 offered to act as their guide, and conducted 
 them about, first to one sio-ht and then to 
 another, during the whole of their sojourn 
 in Venice. 
 
 Giovanni Lega knew every hole and 
 corner in the beautiful old city, and they 
 could therefore have had no better cicerone ; 
 but what provoked Ward to distraction was, 
 that his ignorance of Italian practicall}' shut 
 him entirely out of the conversation, or at 
 least compelled him to fall back on the Con- 
 sul — which was perhaps worse, as it left
 
 HUGH MOORE. 229 
 
 Giovanni and Clara to a perpetual tete-a-tete. 
 He watched how the young Italian's eyes 
 would flash, and Clara's face glow with that 
 rich beautiful colour that no word of his 
 appeared able to produce ; and his resent- 
 ment grew all the more bitter, as he never 
 had an idea of what they were talking about. 
 Such a position is, at the best of times, a 
 somewhat aggravating one ; how much more 
 so when the third person is a lover whose 
 patience and forbearance have already been 
 considerably tested ! Occasionally, indeed, 
 young Lega, with the innate politeness of 
 his nation, turned to Ward and tried to 
 translate into broken English something he 
 had been saying to Clara — and she would 
 laugh, and perhaps help him out, or more 
 often refuse to do so, in order to enjoy the 
 fun of hearing his blunders ; but to poor 
 Jack it seemed as if they liad formed a con- 
 spiracy to annoy him. He tried to break
 
 230 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 loose once or twice, but a kind word or even 
 a look from Clara instantly brought him back 
 to his allegiance. 
 
 Neither the Consul nor his daughter knew 
 or cared much about art ; l)ut the calm, lazy 
 existence, floating up and down the canals 
 in gondolas, charmed them both. Mr Wil- 
 son smoked, Clara talked — what more did 
 either of them want ? Indeed, once there, 
 the only difficulty was to induce them to 
 leave ; and never in his life had Jack 
 Ward felt more like a prisoner than he 
 did on those soft spring days in the mar- 
 ble halls and splendid churches, or on the 
 shining watery w^ays of the Queen of the 
 Adriatic. 
 
 Worse than all, Giovanni persuaded Clara 
 to sit for her portrait, and from these sittings 
 Ward was excluded. Mr Wilson was present. 
 He did not interfere with the two young 
 people ; but nobody must speak to the sitter
 
 HUGH MOORE. 231 
 
 except the artist, and Jack never knew what 
 went on there. 
 
 At last, however, matters came to a crisis. 
 The quartette were assembled one evening 
 in Mr Wilson's apartment, wiiich over- 
 looked the Grand Canal. The lights wxre 
 twinkling below them in a long vista, re- 
 flected tremulously in the water ; on one 
 side the sunset, crimson and purple, — such 
 colours as Venice only can boast, — was 
 fading away in the west, and a crescent 
 moon was rising just high enough to touch 
 the dome of Santa Maria della Salute with 
 silver light ; there was a constant soft 
 ripple, musical and soothing as a lullaby, 
 as the boats passed to or from the lagoon. 
 
 Clara and Giovanni were leaning over the 
 balcony watching the scene, and talking in 
 a low voice — so low that Jack, who was 
 walking restlessly up and down and strain- 
 ing every nerve, could not catch a word.
 
 232 ' nUGH MOOKE. 
 
 Once he thought Giovanni was saying some- 
 thing about ''Amove,'' and even Ward knew 
 what that meant ; but at that moment a 
 large gondola passed, lighted with coloured 
 lamps, and some men in it wx^re singing 
 "Santa Lucia" at the top of their voices. 
 The chorus over, a tenor sang the next 
 verse ; and when the gondola was quite 
 out of sight, the chorus came faintly back — 
 " Santa Lucia ! Santa Luci-i-a ! " and then a 
 silence. 
 
 Ward began to listen again to the low 
 murmur of voices close by, which had not 
 been for a moment interrupted. 
 
 " Che vita ! what a life this is ! " said 
 Lega. 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Clara ; " and to think it 
 must so soon be over. I have never been 
 so happy before." 
 
 " Why should it end ? " he said, passion- 
 ately. " Why do you talk of going to
 
 HUGH MOOKE. 233 
 
 England ? You are only English in name, 
 and only half that. Clara ! Chiara ! — your 
 name is prettiest in Italian, and Chiara 
 rhymes with — can you guess what ? Mia 
 Chiara, mia cara!^' 
 
 She was looking prettier then than Jack 
 had ever seen her, — prettier because less self- 
 conscious and self-absorbed. Perhaps Gio- 
 vanni might have stirred those deeper chords 
 in her heart which Hugh's fingers had first 
 made to vibrate, though he had never 
 brouo;ht out the full music. Who knows ? 
 They were both children of the South, these 
 two — and Ward felt himself singularly heavy 
 and phlegmatic beside the slight Italian 
 youth, with his dark Hashing eyes and soft 
 Southern tongue. 
 
 Clara's answer to Giovanni's passionate 
 words was drowned in the sound of a snatch 
 of song, carolled out by a German student 
 down below, who, looking up at the two
 
 234 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 figures in the balcony, laughingly turned to 
 his companion, and began Schumann's Gon- 
 dola Song : — 
 
 " Auf ziira Balkone sclnving ich mich, doch dii lialtst unten 
 Wacht. 
 vvollten lialb so eifrig niir dem Himmel wir uns weili'n, 
 Als sclioner Weiber Diensten trau'n, wir konnten Engel 
 
 sein." 
 
 Ward did not understand the words, but 
 he saw the gesture and heard the laugh, and 
 turning abruptly on his heel, he confronted 
 the Consul, who was inside the room snooz- 
 ing over his paper, and abru23tly addressed 
 him with, " Sir, do you wish your daughter 
 to marry this Italian fellow ? " The Consul 
 started up, walked to the window, and 
 watched the two in the balcony for a min- 
 ute ; then he said, " Don't disturb yourself. 
 I was always having scares that Clara was 
 going to marry this person or that, but it 
 has never come off yet." 
 
 " Don't disturb yourself ! " repeated Jack,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 235 
 
 bitterly ; " it is easy for you to say that, but 
 I consider that I have some right to be 
 thought of in this matter. Am I to stand still 
 to be made a fool of? Your dau2;hter can't 
 pretend she doesn't know I care for her. 
 What have I been doing all the winter? 
 But there ! you know it as well as I do, and 
 so does she." 
 
 " Bless you, that she does I " ejaculated 
 Mr Wilson. 
 
 " And yet you expect me to take it calm- 
 ly," continued Ward, his face very white, 
 and with a look in his sleepy grey eyes that 
 could not be mistaken, " and say nothing, 
 while this Italian boy, whom she hardly 
 knows, and who has done nothing on earth 
 for her, makes love to her in the most bare- 
 faced manner ; and she talks to him by the 
 hour in a lane:ua2:e she knows I can't under- 
 stand, and won't so much as look at me." 
 lie was pacing up and down the room
 
 236 nUGH MOORE. 
 
 fiercely as he spoke. Outside the night had 
 come down over the city, and the soft sum- 
 mer lightning was playing in two or three 
 different parts of the sky at the same time. 
 " T tell you I can't stand it," Ward went on, 
 " and if you don't choose to leave this place 
 to-morrow, / shall, and wash my hands of 
 the whole concern. Perhaps you think I 
 
 have no feelings, but " 
 
 Mr Wilson broke in soothingly — " Indeed, 
 Mr Ward, I am the last person who could 
 think such a thing as that. I am more an- 
 noyed than I can tell you at my daughter's 
 behaviour, and that — that you should look 
 upon it in so serious a light. I have had a 
 great deal of trouble, one way and another, 
 with Clara, and I thought I would try what 
 leaving her alone, and not interfering, would 
 do. I see it doesn't answer, and I will do 
 whatever you wish in this matter. I quite 
 acknowledge she is treating you shamefully ;
 
 HUGH MOORE. 237 
 
 but, ten to one, she only does it to amuse 
 herself and tease you. I'll order her to marry 
 you to-morrow, if you wish it." 
 
 " No, no ; not quite so summary as that !" 
 said Ward, diverted, in spite of his annoy- 
 ance, at the Consul's confession of incapacity 
 in the management of Clara. " Take her away 
 from here — that is all I want — before further 
 harm is done." 
 
 " I promise you we will leave to-morrow," 
 replied Wilson ; and he was true to his word. 
 When Giovanni Lega called the next day at 
 the hotel, he was told that the 23arty had 
 gone away, leaving no address. 
 
 Clara had been too much taken by sur- 
 prise to offer any resistance ; but she vented 
 a good deal of ill-temper on both her com- 
 panions during the next few days. 
 
 A paragraph in the paper which thoy found 
 at Paris turned her thoughts once more in a 
 different direction.
 
 238 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter, that you have sudi a February face, so 
 full of frost, of storm, and cloudiuess ? " 
 
 The winter, wliich Clara had passed in the 
 manner we have been describing, had been a 
 very severe one at Eastport — an " unusual 
 winter," one would say, if it were not that 
 every sort of weather in turn is called " un 
 usual." At Eastport, frost and fog formed 
 the staple of conversation for many weeks. 
 The former brought much enjoyment to the 
 young people, who disported themselves daily 
 on the ice ; the latter caused mucli incon- 
 venience to every one, for tlie packets could 
 not run, and the mails were interrupted. 
 
 Charlie and Frances Drake were grand
 
 HUGH MOORE. 239 
 
 skaters. Frances blessed the frost for com- 
 ing in the Christmas holidays, and she would 
 have been out every day, and all day long, if 
 she had had her way ; but Lady Katherine 
 was very particular as to chaperons : she 
 could not stand the cold herself, and even 
 Charlie's light duties prevented him some- 
 times from escorting his sister. 
 
 There was famous skating on the moats 
 round the forts, and society became very like 
 a continual carnival on the ice. All Eastport 
 was there — from the Admiral and the General 
 down to the smart young ladies and gentle- 
 men who stood behind the counters in the 
 High Street shops. The company, liowever, 
 sorted themselves as they do at a public ball, 
 and the different " sets " kept very much 
 apart, eyeing each other critically, l)ut never 
 infringing that mysterious line which English 
 people know how to draw so accurately. 
 
 Skating was not Dorothea's strong point,
 
 240 B.UGR MOORE. 
 
 and she did not possess those buoyant spirits 
 which cold weather serves to exhilarate ; but 
 the others used to entice her to join them, 
 and she found it difficailt to resist their en- 
 treaties — so that it generally happened, when- 
 ever she made her appearance on the edge 
 of the moat, that a whole flock of devoted 
 squires were ready to take her in tow, and 
 give her any assistance she might require. 
 But there was no one who inspired her with 
 such confidence as Hugh : he seemed to 
 know by instinct what pace she liked to 
 go, and when she was beginning to get 
 tired ; and occasionally he would put her 
 into a sledge-chair, and take her off for a 
 long run, far beyond all the busy crowd of 
 skaters, where the ice was in unbroken black- 
 ness, or only marked here and there by a 
 solitary trail of skates. Who docs not know 
 the delicious sensation — the keen air whist- 
 ling against one's face while one is being
 
 HUGH MOORE. 241 
 
 propelled forward with swift invisible force, 
 only desiring that the end should never 
 come ? 
 
 Those were grand times for flirtations. It 
 was said in Eastport that more engagements 
 were announced that winter than had been 
 heard of for years before. The fresh open 
 air seemed more propitious, more encourag- 
 ing, to timid lovers and startled young ladies, 
 than the heated atmosphere of a ball-room ; 
 and certainly the despairing chaperon might 
 watch her charge disappearing hand in hand 
 with the man whom she had been carefully 
 snubbing for months past, and yet would be 
 unable to stir hand or foot (the latter most 
 literally) to prevent the catastrophe she fore- 
 saw and dreaded. 
 
 But Miss Harvey's name did not appear 
 among the couples who had been made happy 
 on the ice. Some said she was too free with 
 her tongue, and frightened the men away ; 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 242 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 others declared she was flying at too high 
 game, but that it was very ridiculous, for 
 every one could see how infatuated Sir John 
 Hawker was with Dorothea Nevill, — and he 
 was so rich, and might very well be my lord 
 some day, — and you could not expect him 
 to look at a girl like Blanche Harvey, with- 
 out beauty, title, or money. 
 
 As for Dorothea, she felt something very 
 like contemjDt for young ladies who laid them- 
 selves out to attract admiration, dressing and 
 talking with the object of being noticed and 
 praised by men — girls, in short, of Miss Har- 
 vey's stamp. Oh ! if women would only 
 realise that it is they who keep up the stan- 
 dard of manners and morals, and that if, in 
 a general^ way, they only follow the men's 
 leading, they are but too apt to lower that 
 standard, and debase the tone of society. 
 
 Sir John Hawker never skated, but he 
 used to come and look on, and sometimes
 
 HUGH MOORE. 243 
 
 even perambulate along the ice (mucli to the 
 embarrassment of the skaters), with an eye- 
 glass in his eye, carefully supporting himself 
 on his gold-headed cane, in a wonderful seal- 
 skin coat, which he said he had brought from 
 Canada. 
 
 One day, almost the last of the frost as it 
 proved to be, Dorothy was not on the ice. 
 It was a Friday, and she had been as usual 
 to her mothers' meeting, and returned just 
 at dusk to find the skating-party congregat- 
 ing in the drawing-room at Admiralty House, 
 eager for a warm fire and tea. Charlie and 
 Frances had brought Huo;h back with them, 
 as they often did, and for a wonder Sir 
 Edward had walked to the fort, and they 
 had come home all together. Frances was 
 in high spirits. 
 
 " We had such fun, Dolly," she said ; '' Mr 
 Moore and I had a race, and I should have 
 beaten — shouldn't I, Charlie ? — only, just
 
 244 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 when I was close to the winning-post I caught 
 sight of " 
 
 *' A sealskin coat ? " suggested her cousin. 
 
 "Just so — and I was so startled, I 
 shrieked." 
 
 " You just about did yell," said her bro- 
 ther ; " they must have heard you all over the 
 fort. I wonder they didn't imagine that the 
 French or the Russians, or some one else, had 
 taken possession of the harbour, and promptly 
 opened fire." 
 
 " I thought for one moment I should have 
 to carry you fainting over the ice," said 
 Hugh, laughing. 
 
 " I should like to have seen you ! " cried 
 Charlie. "Fancy Moore balancing himself 
 on his skates, and supporting Fan's fainting 
 form ! He wouldn't have found her such a 
 light weight, would he, Aunt Katherine ? " 
 
 " I cannot imagine what there was to be 
 frightened at," replied her ladyship, rather
 
 HUGH MOORE. 245 
 
 sharply; " it seems to me all a ridiculous fuss 
 about nothing." 
 
 " It's not about nothing where Sir John 
 Hawker is concerned," retorted Frances, 
 nothing daunted. " I would go to the other 
 end of the w^orld to avoid him, and so would 
 Dorothea." 
 
 " I hope Dorothy isn't so silly," said Sir 
 Edward, in his gravest and most decided 
 tones. " To hear all you young people talk- 
 ing, one would think the poor man was guilty 
 of some awful crime. Now, for my part, I 
 like justice, and in common fairness you 
 ought to give a man a trial, and not condemn 
 him oifhand." 
 
 " It was great fun, though, this afternoon ; 
 wasn't it, Mr Moore ? To see his face peer- 
 ing round the corner of the fort at us, and 
 then to see his hand coming up to his liat in 
 preparation for that elaborate bow, and then 
 to turn sharp round as if one hadn't seen
 
 246 HUGH MOOKE. 
 
 him, and know all that was for nothing. Oh, 
 it was lovely ! I know what it would have 
 been : ' How d'you do, Miss Drake ? ' (well 
 through his nose) ; and, ' I see your cousin is 
 not here to-day; I hope she is well ? What a 
 fine afternoon,' &c. &;c. It is always the 
 same." 
 
 " Frances, you talk too much," interposed 
 the Admiral. "You forget you are the 
 youngest person present. I think you had 
 better be silent a little more, or go up to the 
 schoolroom." 
 
 Frances blushed violently, as she always 
 did at her uncle's rebukes, and said nothiug ; 
 and Dorothy, taking pity on her, said^ — 
 
 " Well, father, it is perfectly true we know 
 nothing against Sir John Hawker, but, on 
 the other hand, we know nothing in his 
 favour." 
 
 " I don't agree with you, my dear. He is 
 on the right side of politics, and I hear, by
 
 HUGH MOORE. 247 
 
 the by, that his chances are excellent at the 
 next election ; and he is a most charitable 
 man, and is making very good use of his 
 money." 
 
 " And the two facts have nothing to do 
 with one another," said Charlie, in a whisper 
 aside to Hugh. 
 
 Just at this moment the door opened, and 
 — Sir John Hawker was announced ! There 
 was dead silence for a minute — they all felt 
 so guilty, and had not self-possession to start 
 a new topic as if it were a continuation of 
 the old one. Under these circumstances, an 
 entrance into a room full of people is always 
 a formidable thing. You hear the pleasant 
 hum of voices ; then the door opens, the 
 voices cease — every one is listening for your 
 name. If the voices begin again at once, it 
 is a good sign ; if not, they have either been 
 talking of you, or you are at least interrupt- 
 ing a conversation you arc not meant to hear.
 
 248 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Sir John Hawker did not come through 
 the ordeal very well. He was a man who 
 might have been any age between thirty and 
 forty-five — dark, with a sallow complexion, 
 moustache and imperial, and rather small 
 restless eyes, which were apt to look round 
 the corner at you rather than straight in the 
 face. He was not tall, but strongly built, 
 and dressed with elaborate care, which some- 
 times, however, failed in producing the de- 
 sired effect. His whole appearance and style 
 suggested too much effort, too little ease. 
 He was so careful to be polite, that one felt 
 he must have been taking lessons in manners 
 quite lately, and did not yet feel perfectly 
 comfortable in the society of ladies. 
 
 Hugh watched Dorothy greet him, and 
 felt she certainly wasted no cordiality on 
 him. That very chilling dignity, that very 
 calm and passive hand held out for him to 
 touch, and then promptly withdrawn, would,
 
 H[JGH MOORE. 249 
 
 he felt, soon have extinguished him ; but Sir 
 John only became more elaborate in his bows. 
 Dorothea sank down on an ottoman near the 
 fire, and made a half motion to Hugh to sit 
 beside her ; so he brought her her cup of tea, 
 and taking his own, made himself comfortable 
 by her side. 
 
 " Have you heard from Cannes to-day ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Yes," he said, — " good news, I am thank- 
 ful to say. My brother seems to be ever so 
 much better and stronger, and my father is 
 quite cheered about him." 
 
 " I am so glad," said Dorothea, with very 
 genuine sympathy ; " and now so much of 
 the winter is past, we may get over the rest 
 more easily." 
 
 *' Yes ; it is a grand thing for him to 
 escape the frosts : not that we often get much 
 frost at Glengarn, but this year I think even 
 there it would have been pretty cold."
 
 250 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Is it nice country about your part ? " 
 asked Dorothea. 
 
 "Well, it's not exactly what would be 
 called pretty country — not much wood nor 
 much variety, but wide stretches of moor 
 and heath, and bits of marsh, — splendid rid- 
 ing, if your horse knows his way." 
 
 " But rather dreary ? " 
 
 " I daresay you wo aid think it dreary, — 
 most English peo]3le do. I was brought up 
 in it, you see ; and when one thinks of the 
 place, one can't help thinking at the same 
 time of all the fun one has had there — 
 splendid gallops on ponies of different sizes, 
 from one as high as a big Newfoundland, 
 which I remember having as a small boy, 
 right up to a regular hunter : how proud I 
 was, to be sure, the first time I got on his 
 back ! " He laughed, and so did she ; and he 
 went on — " How funny it is to think of all 
 one's little bits of ambition ! they seem so
 
 HUGH MOORE. 251 
 
 awfully grand in the distance when one looks 
 forward to them, and so awfully small to 
 look back on ! " 
 
 " Yes, a boy (and a girl too) is always so 
 anxious to grow up, and when they are 
 grown up they regret their childhood." 
 
 " I don't quite believe, do you know, iu 
 tliat great happiness of childhood. I don't 
 honestly think I was happier as a child than 
 I am now, taking things all round. One 
 had less bothers, of course, but less free- 
 dom, and I think, on the whole, less enjoy- 
 ment." 
 
 " It depends on so many different things," 
 said Dorothea. " Of course some children 
 are so badly treated. Injustice makes chil- 
 dren miserable. They have such a keen 
 sense of fairness." 
 
 " Yes, that's true. And now I come to 
 think of it, I believe you have hit the right 
 nail on the head ; and it was just a sense of
 
 252 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 unfairness which used to make me unhappy 
 as a child." 
 
 " At school ? " 
 
 " No ; at home. At school I got on well 
 enough. But at home Ion was always the 
 favourite. I believe I was an awful duffer, 
 always in mischief; and he was so much 
 better-behaved, that it was no wonder my 
 mother liked him the best. I came between 
 the two, you see — Ion the eldest, and Nora 
 the youngest, and the only girl besides ; so 
 it was always — * Hugh, give way to your 
 eldest brother ; ' or, ' Hugh, you must give up 
 to your little sister.' " 
 
 " That teas hard." 
 
 " It seemed so sometimes — good discipline 
 perhaps," he said, with rather a bitter smile. 
 
 It was quite new to Dorothea to look at 
 him in the light of a person who had not 
 always had everything his own way, and it 
 made her feel more interest iu him.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 253 
 
 ** I suspect the real reason why children are 
 supposed to be so happy," she said, " is that 
 they forget their troubles so soon. However 
 bitter they are at the time, they don't dwell 
 on them long. I know that is a truism, but 
 it is perfectly true, I think." 
 
 " Yes," answered Hugh, gravely ; " and 
 then, you see, they have nothing to be sorry 
 for as regards their own conduct. Of course 
 there are their little naughtinesses, but they 
 are confessed and formven and foro^otten all in 
 a moment, and leave no traces behind them ; 
 while, by Jove ! when one grows up, one finds 
 that one can't even do a foolish thing without 
 perhaps having to repent it all one's life long." 
 
 He was thinking of Clara, though what 
 should have reminded him of her just then 
 he did not know. It seemed suddenly to 
 flash across him how very different this talk 
 with Miss Nevill was to the many conversa- 
 tions he had had with the Consul's daughter.
 
 254 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 He felt as if Dorothea were some superior 
 being bending down from her height to lend 
 him a helping hand — not so much by her 
 words, as by the very expression of sympathy 
 on her pure face, the trust and candour in 
 her eyes. He was not surprised that she did 
 not altogether understand him. No doubt 
 she had nothing to repent of — no folly, still 
 less any sin — and he said as much to her. 
 But Dorothea was shocked, and told him he 
 was very much mistaken — only she did not 
 know whether perhaps he was referring to 
 something in particular, or only talking in 
 a general way of what was of course true of 
 every one. 
 
 Hugh was sorely tempted to tell her of 
 the Corfu episode, for he often longed to 
 know what a good woman, who knew all 
 the circumstances, would say of it. Nora 
 had expressed herself strongly enough, but 
 then she was prejudiced ; and Miss Nevill, as
 
 HUGH MOORE. 255 
 
 an outsider, would, he thought, have been 
 able to take an impartial view. Perhaps if 
 he had known what Charlie had told his 
 cousin in his letter, and the impression it had 
 made on Dorothea's mind, he would have 
 taken courage and told her all the story ; 
 but he never supposed she knew anything 
 about it. Dorothea, on her side, often won- 
 dered why Hugh never said a w^ord to her 
 on that subject, though he seemed to like 
 discussing every other thing in heaven and 
 earth with her. The fact of his supposed 
 attachment to Clara was never absent from 
 her mind when talking to him ; but in the 
 present instance she fancied that perhaps he 
 thought she had gone too fcir, for he changed 
 the subject rather abruptly by telling her 
 that his sister Nora, with her children, was 
 coming for a short time to Eastport, as the 
 eldest little boy had not been well, and was 
 recommended sea-air.
 
 256 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 Lady Katherine overlieard the words, and 
 thought it a good opportunity for making the 
 conversation a little more general. She knew 
 Sir John Hawker wanted to talk to her 
 daughter, and that he had been watching ]\Ir 
 Moore with jealous eyes for the last quarter 
 of an hour ; so she seized the first pretext for 
 joining in herself, and Sir John's political 
 discussion with the Admiral ceased abruptly. 
 Hugh raised his voice to answer Lady Kath- 
 erine, but did not leave his seat by Doro- 
 thea ; and the young lady did not address 
 her adorer until he compelled her to do so 
 by saying — 
 
 ** I was telling your father. Miss Nevill, 
 that I hear a man named Macartney, an Irish 
 fellow whom you know something of, I be- 
 lieve, is a regular stump-orator down in the 
 slums of Eastport." 
 
 " He is a very respectable man," said 
 Dorothea, stiffly.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 257 
 
 " Oh, that may be ! I have no doubt any 
 of your j^^^oteges would be most delightful, 
 charming people ; but I only understood this 
 moment from Sir Edward that you had taken 
 him up in your charitable kindness." 
 
 " I have not taken him up. I know his 
 wife a little. Mr Moore can tell you more 
 about him than I can, if you want to find out 
 anything." 
 
 *' Mr Moore ! " said Sir John Hawker, ad- 
 justing his eye-glass for a deliberate examin- 
 ation of Hugh, who appeared singularly un- 
 moved by the honour. Dorothea could not 
 help smiling a little, and Hugh looked at her 
 and smiled too, and Sir John was very much 
 annoyed at this manifestation of friendly 
 intimacy. He saw everything through his 
 eye-glass, or perhajDS through the eye which 
 did not wear a glass ! But Mr Moore was 
 quite polite, and answered tliat he should be 
 very happy to give any information Sir John 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 258 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 required as to Macartney, but he had not 
 very much to give. He had been in his 
 regiment for some time, and had rather come 
 to grief, but was on his legs again now. He 
 had been somewhat given to drinking, but, 
 he heard, had taken a turn lately, and been 
 very steady. 
 
 '' The reason why I ask," said Sir John, 
 "is that, as I said, this fellow is making a 
 commotion among the poorer people down 
 in the town — Irish eloquence, I suppose ! I 
 hear they have started a club, and that he al- 
 ways takes the extreme Eadical side, as such 
 fellows would, don't you know ; and my 
 assent tells me I had better look out, for 
 he is getting a lot of influence among a 
 dangerous set." 
 
 " Do you anticipate a revolution ? " asked 
 Dorothea. The shade of irony in her voice 
 was a little too marked. 
 
 " Upon my word. Miss Nevill, it is all
 
 HUGH MOORE. 259 
 
 very well to laugh, but more extraordinary 
 things than that have happened. I could 
 tell you stories of what I have seen — heard, 
 I mean," he corrected himself — "which 
 would make that seem the most natural and 
 likely thing in the world, by the side of 
 them." He got a little mixed in his gram- 
 mar, for his attention was distracted by the 
 entrance of Captain Newman. " Confound 
 these fellows ! " he muttered to himself ; 
 " they are always hanging about the place." 
 
 There seemed a sort of fatality with regard 
 to these three gentlemen. They were always 
 meeting each other — at balls and dinners, on 
 the ice, and now at an afternoon call. On 
 Captain Newman's side, at least, it was 
 partly intentional ; for since the dance at 
 Admiralty House, when Dorotliea had ac- 
 cepted his protection, he was uneasy unless 
 he was somewhere in her neighbourhood 
 
 o 
 
 when Sir John Hawker was present, and
 
 260 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 often went to a ball solely for the purpose 
 of being at hand in case she might require 
 him again. He did not dance much himself, 
 and he was always at her disposal when she 
 wanted a partner— never in the way, but 
 never out of the way either. Tliis could 
 not be repeated several times without Sir 
 John making a very shrewd guess as to the 
 state of affairs, and his feelings to Captain 
 Newman were not those of friendship. You 
 could not have told from Captain Newman's 
 face and manner what he thousrht of Sir 
 
 o 
 
 John Hawker ; and as he did not talk much, 
 the conversation proceeded as before. 
 
 Lady Katherine was speaking to Hugh. 
 
 " We met your sister, Mrs Fitzgerald, last 
 year in town," she said. " How pleasant it 
 will be to meet ao;ain I " 
 
 " Yes, Nora will be awfully glad," he 
 answered. " She was talkins: to me about 
 you when I went home. Her husband,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 261 
 
 Willie Fitzgerald, is out shooting some- 
 where in the Kooky Mountains, but she 
 expects him here before very long. He is 
 always out in those parts. Savage people 
 seem to have a fascination for him." 
 
 *' You can hardly call the United States 
 savage, Mr Moore," remonstrated Lady 
 Katherine, with a half glance at Sir John 
 Hawker, who was looking at Hugh with a 
 very curious expression on his face. He 
 had quite dropped the thread of what he 
 was saying, and was listening intently to 
 Mr Moore. 
 
 Hugh did not notice him at first, and 
 answered Lady Katherine lightly, " Well, 
 the States are hardly savage, perhaj)s, till 
 you get 'Frisco way. Then you meet with 
 some curious specimens of humanity, I ima- 
 gine. What do you say. Sir John ? " 
 
 He looked up as he spoke, and was aston- 
 ished himself at the black look of minirled
 
 262 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 anger and terror, which made the American 
 appear positively repulsive for a moment ; 
 hut Sir John recovered himself immediately, 
 and said with a short laugh, " Is that what 
 your brother-in-law Fitz — what's his name ? 
 — tells you about America? Really, don't 
 you know, I am not an American. My 
 father was Eno;lish, and I w^as born in En<^- 
 land ; and, as it happens, I am not ac- 
 quainted with 'Frisco, as you call it, and 
 can't tell you much about the natives. 
 But perhaps I had better be going, since 
 we are in such bad odour." And he made 
 his adieux rather hurriedly, hardly noticing 
 Hugh's offered apology. 
 
 There was a general murmur of surprise 
 when he was gone, and Hugh felt bound 
 to express his regret to Lady Katherine that 
 his remarks should have offended her visitor, 
 which was, of course, the last thing he had 
 intended. *' But on my honour," he said,
 
 HUGH MOORE. 263 
 
 " to look at the fellow, you would have 
 thought I had accused him personally of 
 some crime. He positively glared at me. 
 I didn't know a human being could look 
 so ferocious." 
 
 " Let us turn the conversation," said 
 Dorothea ; "he is not a j)leasant subject 
 to discuss." 
 
 Captain Newman was ready to fill up the 
 breach. He said he had a new piano in his 
 cabin which he was anxious Miss Nevill 
 should try. Would Lady Katherine and her 
 daughter come to tea with him one day as 
 soon as the frost broke up ? 
 
 The ladies both said they should like it 
 of all thino;s ; and Huofh asked — rather wist- 
 fully, the Commander thought — if his were 
 a " show " cabin, full of curiosities, like some 
 he had seen on Ijoard men-of-war. 
 
 " Oh, nothing much," said Captain New- 
 man. " I have only a few little things I
 
 264 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 have picked up. But will you come and 
 have a look at them ? Come to tea the 
 same day; I will let you know when Lady 
 Katherine has fixed the time." 
 
 Hugh " accepted with pleasure," and then 
 the two officers took their leave. 
 
 "There is something uncommonly fishy 
 about that fellow Hawker," said Moore, as 
 they walked through the dockyard together. 
 
 " I have often wondered what his history 
 is," said Captain Newman. " One sometimes 
 does a man injustice ; but certainly his ex- 
 pression to-night was most peculiar." 
 
 ** So it was ; and such an awfully sudden 
 change ! He was all right a minute before ; 
 and if he isn't, strictly speaking, a Yankee, 
 all the world knows he has lived out there 
 pretty well all his life." 
 
 " Talking of changes," said Captain New- 
 man, " look at the moon. That means a 
 thaw."
 
 HUGH MOORE. 265 
 
 The moon had, indeed, that ominous ring 
 of vapour around it which always precedes 
 rain. But Hugh was not much interested 
 just now in the state of the atmosphere, 
 and he only said — 
 
 "No more skating, then. I say, Newman, 
 it will be an abominable shame if such a 
 girl as she is should be sacrificed to that 
 fellow." 
 
 " Oh, I hope it won't come to that. Miss 
 Nevill has a will of her own, and I hardly 
 imagine her parents would force a marriage 
 on her." 
 
 " I can't conceive how people like Sir 
 Edward and Lady Katherine should care 
 to have a man like Hawker about the place 
 at all." 
 
 *' He is very rich, I believe." 
 
 " Bother his riches ! I do think money is 
 the greatest curse that ever was invented." 
 
 " So it is, very often ; but one can liardly
 
 266 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 get on without it," said the older man. 
 " The love of money is likely to be the 
 ruin of England, I think. Well, here's my 
 moralising cut short by the stairs. My boat 
 is waiting, so I must not stop. Good night 
 to you." 
 
 Hugh watched the firm, vigorous strokes 
 of the sailors till the boat was lost in the 
 darkness, and then turned and went home — 
 not in the happiest or most contented frame 
 of mind. Sir John Hawker s presence at 
 Admiralty House disturbed him very much. 
 True, Dorothea disliked him ; but then one 
 
 could never tell Ah, Mr Moore ! Did 
 
 you never ask yourself wdiy you were takino- 
 such an interest in Miss Nevill's future ? 
 
 The next day Captain Newman's predic- 
 tion was fulfilled. The frost broke, and 
 very rapidly the ice melted, and Eastport 
 was plunged into all the horrors of a thaw. 
 The roads became almost impassable, for the
 
 HUGH MOORE. 267 
 
 snow which had fallen weeks before had not 
 ^been properly cleared away, and it was with 
 many inward groans that Hugh wended his 
 way through the mud and slush from his 
 rooms to the General's house. But his 
 thoughts were diverted from the miserable 
 appearance of the outside world by a curi- 
 ous and unexpected encounter with a former 
 acquaintance. He was walking down the 
 High Street, when he was suddenly accosted 
 by a gentleman on the other side of the 
 road ; but not recognising him, Hugh was 
 about to pass on, when the stranger hailed 
 him by his name, and began to cross the 
 road towards him. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr Moore ? " he said ; 
 " you don't recollect me." 
 
 Huo;h now remembered having seen him 
 somewhere, though where, he could not think, 
 and answered, " I know your face, Init I'm 
 afraid I can't put a name to you."
 
 268 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " The last time I saw you, you were very 
 much engaged in entertaining a pretty little* 
 
 girl." 
 
 " A pretty little girl ! That doesn't help 
 me much." 
 
 *' Too frequent an occurrence, eh ? Don't 
 you remember your voyage in the Austrian 
 Lloyd ? " 
 
 " To be sure I do ! Mr James," cried 
 Hugh ; " what an idiot I am ! I beg a thou- 
 sand pardons." 
 
 " No reason to," returned the correspon- 
 dent of the * Kadical Mercury.' " I was the 
 last person you expected to see here, no 
 doubt. Now guess my business. What do 
 you imagine brings me to this part of the 
 world ? " 
 
 " Picking up more information on the 
 Eastern Question ? " asked Hugh, laughing. 
 
 " Not a bit of it. Something much more 
 magnificent — at least from your point of
 
 HUGH MOORE. 269 
 
 view. From mine, of course, nothing is 
 grander than discovering Truth, wherever 
 she can be found." 
 
 Hugh had not seen Mr James before in 
 such a jocular frame of mind, and wondered 
 what had put him in this high state of good 
 humour ; so he answered lightly, " They say 
 Truth is to be found at the bottom of a well, 
 and from my experience you have got to dig 
 a good bit below the bottom of a newspaper 
 to find her ! How^ever, if your business is 
 not searching for hidden treasure, I give up 
 guessing." 
 
 " I shall startle you, I am sure. What do 
 you say to my fighting Sir John Hawker ? " 
 
 " I shall be heartily glad if you beat him," 
 said Hugh, incautiously. 
 
 ^' I congratulate you on your conversion," 
 exclaimed Mr James ; " may I ask what has 
 changed you ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know that I am much
 
 270 HUGH xMOORE. 
 
 changed in a general way. What made you 
 think of contesting Eastj)ort ? " 
 
 " I didn't think of it at alL We do as 
 we are told in politics, just as you do in 
 military matters. No discipline, no success ; 
 that's our motto." 
 
 " And uncommonly well it answers. So 
 the people in the North sent you ? " 
 
 "Yes. I am here as the political-econo- 
 mist candidate ; and from what I under- 
 stand, I don't think I shall have great 
 trouble in overthrowing my antagonist in 
 that line." 
 
 "Well, I should not think Sir Jolm 
 Hawker is much posted up in political 
 economy." 
 
 " I tell you what," said Mr James, con- 
 fidentially, " since you were good enough to 
 express hopes for my success, I may venture 
 to tell you — entre nous — that he is about 
 as bad a candidate as the Tories could
 
 HUGH MOORE. 271 
 
 well have chosen. I hear, by the way, that 
 these same Tories have great difficulty in 
 getting men to stand at all. The young 
 sparks won't take the trouble, and they don't 
 somehow much relish coming down — as they 
 consider it — to workino; men." 
 
 '^ You see, the discipline in the Conserva- 
 tive camp's faulty," replied Hugh ; " the men 
 don't do as they are told." 
 
 " Bad manag:ement ! " said the Eadical. 
 
 *' No doubt ; and bad management in 
 the House, too, where a gentleman can no 
 long;er sit in comfort and be treated like a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " Like a fiddlesticks ! — begging your par- 
 don. There you are at it again, with your 
 aristocratic prejudices. You fine gentlemen 
 will have to learn a finv lessons within tlic 
 next year or two, I can tell you." 
 
 " We are learning; tlicni fast enouLili in 
 Ireland, at any rate," said Hugl], good-
 
 272 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 humouredly. He did not at all mind plain 
 Bpeaking, and Mr James amused him. " But 
 to go back to Hawker : why is he such a 
 bad candidate ? " 
 
 " In the first place, he is an alien, or 
 next door to one. Of course he is not a 
 Yankee, or he couldn't stand ; but he is 
 generally looked on as an American by the 
 people here, I find, and he talks through 
 his nose like a born New Yorker. In the 
 next place, he is a very bad speaker : he 
 has few ideas, and no notion of expressing 
 those he has. Then he is quite a new 
 man, and the county people only give him 
 a very half-hearted support. And last, but 
 not least, he is a deal too free with his 
 money — and we shall catch him tripping 
 there, or I am much mistaken." 
 
 " Perhaps, as you know so much about 
 him, you could tell me something of his 
 history ? "
 
 HUGH MOORE. 273 
 
 " There I can't help you much. They 
 say he keeps it dark. I know this much — 
 he is a Cockney born. His father was a 
 City clerk, or something like that, and 
 went out on spec to some mines in the 
 States — where, I don't know, but I fancy 
 out West somewhere. He made a fortune 
 there, or his son did after his death ; and 
 then Sir John Hawker came back, and was 
 knighted for some reception of the Prince 
 of Wales, or something — I forget what. 
 Then, don't you know, naturally your 
 moneyed man wants to get into * society,' 
 as you are pleased to call it, and looks about 
 for a suitable place in the country, l)uys 
 it, l3uilds a big house — and there you are ! 
 The next thing is to stand for Parliament, 
 of course. Once in the House, and writing 
 M.P. after your name, no one can say much 
 to you." 
 
 " I think that theory is evaporating, to- 
 VOL. I. s
 
 274 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 getlier with most of the other advantages 
 of being in the House — that, for instance, 
 of being in an assembly of gentlemen, as 
 I said before, when you laughed at me 
 so unmercifully. When M.P. meant what 
 it used to mean, it w^as something to be 
 proud of, if you like ; but now I wouldn't 
 give that for it ! " — and he snapped his 
 fingers. 
 
 "That is just what I was saying. You 
 young fellows, who ought to stick to your 
 guns and make a good fight of it at least, 
 get disgusted and run away, because you 
 think your adversaries aint dressed quite 
 in the fashion, or maybe have a few un- 
 pleasant odours about 'em. Well, it will 
 be your own look-out if you are driven from 
 your ground ignominiously, and that pretty 
 soon too. I am sorry for it — upon my word 
 I am. I like a good fight, and it is demoral- 
 ising to any party to get too easy a victory.
 
 HUGH MOORE. 275 
 
 And, after all, when you talk of tlie hon- 
 our and glory of being an M.P. in the old 
 days, what was there so specially honour- 
 able in being returned by a handful of 
 drunken boors, voting according to their 
 landlord's orders ? It only meant a few 
 hundreds or thousands of pounds in hard 
 cash down, that's all." 
 
 " And did you not yourself say Sir John 
 Hawker was bribing, or as good as bribing, 
 now? In the old days it was above-board, 
 and there was no shame in it ; now it goes 
 on just as much, but you add a lie to it. I 
 had rather by a long way have been returned 
 for a pocket borough than a constituency 
 like this, where the voters don't really know 
 much more about it, and where they want 
 their minds inflamed by party oratory, or 
 their pockets made hot, or both, before they 
 will take enoua:h interest in it to vote one 
 way or another."
 
 276 HUGH MOORE. 
 
 " Come, come, my dear Mr Moore ! — fair- 
 ness and truth, if you please. I see your 
 conversion has not advanced very far yet. 
 You must come to one of my meetings, and 
 see if the people care one way or the other. 
 And mind you, if Hawker bribes, we shall 
 be down on him — no fear. I must leave you 
 now and go to my committee meeting. I 
 go up to town to-night, but am back here to- 
 morrow. AVe can't yet get the old fellow to 
 accept the Chiltern Hundreds and have done 
 with it ; but he may do it any day, so we 
 must be prepared, and I am busy canvassing. 
 We shall meet again soon ; " — and, with a 
 friendly salute, the Eadical candidate hurried 
 down a side-street, full of importance and 
 self-contentment. 
 
 "He is about right in saying he enjoys a 
 fight," thought Hugh, "but he likes still 
 better being a prominent j^ersonage and
 
 HUGH MOORE. 277 
 
 constantly before the public. And yet he is 
 no fool. I .shall bless him if he thrashes 
 Hawker. I wonder whether Miss Nevill 
 takes any interest in the election ? " 
 
 END OF THE FIKST VOLUME. 
 
 TKINTni ItY WIU.IAM HLACKWilOD AND SOKS.
 
 !^i«f.Sf'y.^.,?!.!':yf!^»-u«BANA 
 
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